Free Dead Ringers 1: Illusion by Darlene Gardner

the room. I’m forming the questions I’ll ask Mom on the drive home when I come across another fresh hell in the waiting area. Max Harper and my mother are sitting side by side, their bodies angled toward each other, their expressions serious. I nearly break Usain Bolt’s record in the hundred meters to reach them.
    Mom looks up, her brow creased as deeply as Yoda’s. “How did it go, sweetheart?”
    “Fine. It was a formality.”
    “That’s exactly what Max said.” Mom nods at him, like he’s her new best friend. “He told me he was with you last night. I’m so grateful for that.”
    My mother showed up at the beach last night to drive me home after someone—I’m still not sure who—called and told her what was going on. From me, she got next to no information.
    “Have you two been talking about me?” The only worse topic would be my mother’s suspicion that I’m schizophrenic.
    “Guilty as charged.” Max is wearing that half-grin. His khakis and cream-colored short-sleeved shirt call attention to how pale he is. Either he uses sunscreen with vampire-level protection or he doesn’t spend much time outdoors.
    “Do I want to know what you’ve been saying about me?”
    “Heavens, yes.” Mom puts her hand to her breast, exactly like a TV sitcom mom from thirty years ago. “Max has your best interests at heart. He thinks you’re terrific.”
    Neither of those statements would score very high on a truth meter. “He does?”
    “I do,” Max jumps into the conversation. “I mean, we came across a dead body and you didn’t even scream. How cool is that?”
    His eyes are laughing, and I wonder if he knows about the bloodcurdling scream I let loose in the funhouse. With any luck, that’s old news by now. Then again, with Maia on the case, I doubt it.
    The text tone on Mom’s cell phone goes off. She pulls the phone from her purse and makes a face while she checks the message. “My clients are waiting. They got to the house early. Jade, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.”
    “That’s okay, I’ll—”
    “I’m happy to drive Jade home, Mrs. Greene,” Max interrupts.
    “That would be wonderful.” My mother accepts his offer before I can reject it. She lays a hand on his arm. “I’m trusting you to keep an eye on my girl. See you later, Jade.”
    The high heels of her sandals click on the linoleum floor, and she wastes no time in getting out the door.
    “What was that all about?” I ask.
    He shrugs. “You heard her. She trusts me to get you home safely.”
    “I was about to say I can walk home.”
    “In this heat? In those shoes?” He points to the flip-flops I’m wearing with my sundress. “It’s gotta be two miles to your house.”
    “I’m young and healthy. I can walk two miles.” Something occurs to me. “Hey, how do you know where I live?”
    “I know a lot of things about you.” He winks and starts walking for the exit.
    I hurry after him. “Like what?”
    “Like you’re really tuned in to the Midway Beach scene.”
    “Duh. I have lived here all my life.”
    He pulls open the door and indicates I should precede him into the sunshine. “Then you must know where you can get the best pizza in town.”
    “Mario’s,” I tell him when we’re outside.
    He descends the steps that lead to the sidewalk before he says, “Sounds good. That’s where we’ll go for lunch.”
    I keep pace, looking at him instead of where I’m headed. “I’m not going to lunch with you!”
    “Hey, careful!” someone says.
    I barely avoid running straight into a short, rumpled-looking guy who’s wearing glasses and a Wilmington News ball cap. A guy I’ve seen before. He was at the beach last night, notebook in hand.
    He points a finger at us. “Aren’t you the two who found the Black Widow?”
    Max moves close to me like we’re a team. “We are.”
    “I’m Stuart Bigelow from the Wilmington News . Mind if I ask a few questions?”
    Being interviewed for the newspaper isn’t