Free A Spy Like Me by Laura Pauling Page B

why. I couldn’t
remember if the pink and green flowered wallpaper, cracked and
peeling in places, was the same or not.
    “What’s our next lesson, boss?” His breath
tickled my ear. Shivers rippled down my spine. In a good way.
    I promptly moved into the room, desperate to
find proof she was on vacation. I strode over to her jewelry
box. Most of it was gone except for a necklace. I picked it up and
let the beads poke into my skin before letting them slide from my
fingers. I threw open the doors to her closet to find half of her
clothes gone. Except for a pair of hiking boots. She’d never leave
without her hiking boots.
    Malcolm fussed around in the room behind me.
“No ticket reservations or books on Europe or hotel reservations.
You might be right.”
    The reality that my best friend was most
likely kidnapped hit me in the gut. I slumped to the floor and
leaned against her dresser.
    Malcolm sat next to me. “I’m sorry.”
    He rubbed my shoulders, easing out the
tension, then he wrapped his arms around me. Slow-burning warmth
spread through my chest. I enjoyed the comfort of his body close to
mine a little too much, but did he think I was going to break down
and cry or something? Hardly. I whipped out my cell and sent an
email to my home computer, reminding myself to check up on Marie
next week. Until Aimee returned, or I’d rescued her, I’d make sure
Marie was okay.
    I shook off the temptation to call Dad with
proof that Aimee could indeed be missing. He’d already screwed up
his chance to work with me, and he’d probably find some way to
trivialize my evidence and point out all my overreactions.
    “What now?” Malcolm asked.
    We stood as I answered. “When we make a
mistake, we do everything in our power to fix it.”
    “Mistake?”
    “If Aimee was kidnapped, it’s my fault, and
I’m going to find out what happened.”
    And I was ninety nine percent sure I knew
who’d done it.

 
     
     
Fourteen
    The next morning, I whipped off the covers as
soon as Dad left. I changed into my favorite spy jeans, the ones
with the stylish rips right above the knee, and a grey long-sleeved
shirt. I had a mission. I was ready to spy—I mean train a spy.
    After waiting a few minutes to make sure Dad
wasn’t coming back, I opened the door and searched our non-existent
yard. Malcolm stepped out from behind the hedge.
    I cracked up. He wore black jeans, a black
shirt, and a black ski hat pulled over his dark hair. He also
carried a small black backpack.
    “What?” He pulled an innocent baby face quite
effectively.
    “Are you trying to get arrested for robbing a
bank?”
    “You said to wear spy clothes.”
    “Yes, I did.” I motioned him inside. “We
don’t have much time. My dad will take like an hour running, and I
want to be gone before he gets back.”
    “I have a few essentials like candy bars in
case we get stuck or trapped.” He stepped inside, and I realized
why spies dress like that in the movies. Because it’s totally hot.
Dang, he looked good in black.
    “What now?” he asked.
    “Right.” I shook it off. “Follow me.” I
headed back to Dad’s office/bedroom, which he leaves unlocked. I
strode across the room to his private filing cabinet.
    “No coffee this morning? Or perhaps a stroll
to the patisserie?”
    I scowled at him and pulled a paper clip from
my pocket. Then I proceeded to untwist it. “Lesson for the day. How
to pick a lock.”
    Malcolm glanced back at the door. “But this
is your dad’s office.”
    “Yeah, so?”
    “Why are you spying on your dad?”
    I’d like to say my dad is a high-profile spy
and this is where he hides the world’s best-kept secret. But I’d be
lying. “Client files.”
    On my knees, I wiggled the end of the paper
clip into the small keyhole of the bottom drawer. Malcolm crouched
close by. Sweat broke out on my forehead when I didn’t hear the
click. After several minutes of jiggling, I handed it to him.
    “Okay, I showed you how to do it. Now