CHAPTER 3Ping and Sam dashed out the back door of the bakery into the dark, drizzly alley, jogging through the headlight beams of Mara’s Subaru Outback before reaching the passenger doors and jumping inside. Ping sat on Mara’s backpack in the front passenger seat and had to lift his hips to extract it from beneath him.
“Oh, sorry about that,” Mara said, reaching for the backpack. “I thought I should bring along some tools and things, in case I needed them while I worked on Cam, even though he specifically said I was not to use our archaic instruments on his body.”
She handed the bag over the seatback to Sam, who was settling into the backseat. Turning around, she put the car in gear and slowly navigated from the alley into the slow-moving end-of-workday traffic on Woodstock Boulevard. After going less than half a block, heading east, they stopped at a traffic light.
“I appreciate you coming with us, but I think Sam and I probably could have dealt with getting Cam’s body out of the hospital storage room,” Mara said.
“I’m sure that’s true, but I thought it might look odd if someone were to observe two teenagers removing a body from the hospital. It’s less likely to draw attention with an adult on hand. If nothing else, it can’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands or someone to act as a lookout. Besides, I feel a little responsible for putting you in this position. After all, I was the one who suggested you wait before doing something about Cam. Now that federal investigator is on his way,” Ping said.
From the backseat, Sam extended his arm between them, holding out a paper coffee cup, its lid sealed with several layers of tape. “Why do you have this old cup in your book bag?” he asked.
Mara glanced into the rearview mirror to see Sam and said, “I would appreciate it if you would not root through my belongings without my permission.”
“It’s just a bunch of tools, the Chronicle, a couple rocks and this cup. It’s not like it’s your underwear or something,” he said. He shook the cup. “It feels more like powder than liquid. What’s in it?”
The traffic ahead cleared, and Mara pressed the gas hard enough to force Sam to sit back, thereby retracting the cup from the space between Mara and Ping. Keeping her eyes forward, she said, “I think those are Juaquin Prado’s ashes. I found them on a shelf in the office at the shop when I was gathering some tools.”
“Gross. What are you doing with a dead man’s ashes in a cup?” Sam asked.
Ping turned and said, “Prado turned to ashes after being shot during a bank robbery, and Detective Bohannon brought them to us. Your sister used them to identify the correct node to select to travel to Prado’s realm via the Chronicle. That’s how she learned Prado’s spirit had gone viral and caused the shedding to spread.”
“Great. So why do you have them in the book bag?” Sam caught Mara’s eye in the rearview mirror.
“I had forgotten we even had them. I was just going to ask Ping how we should dispose of them.” She looked to Ping. “What do you think?”
He shrugged and said, “I suppose, technically, they are evidence in the bank robbery case. Perhaps you should return them to the detective.”
“Excellent idea. That’s why you’re the brains of this operation. I was thinking I would have to bury them or something.” She glanced toward Sam in the backseat and added, “Put the cup in the bag and stop snooping.”
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