Genevieve hadn’t taken her eyes off the principal. “He’s not going to help you, not anymore,” Genevieve said firmly. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Mattison? Because you’ve been standing outside listening all this time, and now you know the truth.”
Looking at Miss Love with bottomless sorrow, he said, “That is correct, Miss Winterland. Sam, it’s over.”
“What?! No. You—you coward. After everything—” Miss Love started to sit up, but Butterscotch bared her teeth and gave a low, warning growl, and she hastily leaned back again. She glared up at the principal. “You’ll go to prison,” she jeered.
“Perhaps. Perhaps that’s what I deserve.” The principal spoke softly, sounding completely defeated. “Like you said, I’m a fool.”
“You were manipulated,” Genevieve said, “by a very skilled thief and liar.”
Mr. Mattison finally dragged his hurt gaze away from his former paramour and looked at Genevieve. “Your generosity and magnanimous spirit know no bounds, Miss Winterland,” he said with a little smile. “It has been a real pleasure seeing you through your high school years. Remember last week when we had that discussion about teachable moments?”
Genevieve simply nodded; there was a growing lump in her throat. In the distance, the sound of sirens could be heard, and Miss Love began to cry. Principal Mattison held Genevieve’s eye and said, “This is one of mine.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FOREVER BUTTERSCOTCH
“Istill can’t believe you drove out there alone,” Brandon grumbled over his coffee. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and peered at her accusingly from underneath his shaggy russet hair. “Hiking. Into the woods. With no weapon. Knowing there was a raving lunatic murderer—”
“I had a weapon,” Genevieve said cheerfully, stuffing another handful of gingerbread muffin into her mouth and washing it down with a gulp of spiced chai. “I just didn’t realize it at the time.” She bent down to scratch Butterscotch affectionately behind the ears. The dog responded in kind by licking the crumbs off Genevieve’s palm.
“That was lucky,” Brandon admitted, tugging up the sleeves on his oversized sweater and leaning over to pet Butterscotch too. Their hands briefly met somewhere over the dog’s back, and Brandon slipped his warm fingers through Genevieve’s and squeezed. She looked at him. His dark eyes were shadowed with real concern. “Genevieve,” he said. “I’m serious. That could have gone wrong in so many ways. You’re my best friend...” he stopped. Genevieve squeezed his hand back.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it. “But it’s your own fault. Next time you go shopping with your mom and Charlotte, take your phone with you.”
Brandon laughed and pulled his hand away. “You mean, be available the next time you go chasing after a killer? Okay.”
The door to the bookshop opened and they both looked up, but Mr. Summers was at the front desk. Genevieve turned back to Brandon.
“Did I miss anything in English Comp?”
“Not unless you count about seven conspiracy theories on the whereabouts of our esteemed principal. I think Carly Jamison is responsible for all of them.”
Genevieve snickered.
Principal Mattison had, of course, been handcuffed and hauled off to jail, along with his former girlfriend. Detective Christie had received Genevieve’s message and immediately dispatched the Mountain Ridge police to the principal’s cabin. Detective Christie had herself arrived within the hour, looking crisp as always in her business suit and sleek blonde ponytail. They’d questioned Genevieve extensively, and she explained how she’d put the pieces together and linked Haylie Love with the robberies over the summer.
Detective Christie frowned deeply at her when she described questioning the neighbor, but Genevieve hoped her solving the crime would be enough to absolve her of the small matter of interfering with an investigation.
Her father hadn’t been too happy with her either. Genevieve still being a minor meant he’d had to pick her up and accompany her to the police station in Mountain Ridge, where she made her official statement, and then again to the Pinewood Police Department. They hadn’t gotten out until nearly midnight. Genevieve had been too tired to explain everything to Brandon; instead, she’d texted him to find his own ride to school in the morning and said she’d meet him at Hidden Treasures afterward.
“I’m still missing something,” said Brandon thoughtfully. “The whole thing with Tyler, what was that about, I wonder?”
Genevieve looked at him blankly.
“You know,” he prodded. “All the mystery phone calls, and that text...”
“Oh. That.” Genevieve actually blushed. “I feel kind of bad about that, to be honest.”
Brandon raised an eyebrow. “You? Feel bad about Tyler Caivano?”
“I mean,” she blundered, “he did act awfully suspicious. And irresponsible!” she added quickly. “But it turns out he does have a really good reason to be on edge.” She gestured for Brandon to move closer and then lowered her voice. “The reason Mr. Garcia lost his temper over the summer is because he’s suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s.”
“Ohhhh.” Brandon leaned back, his eyes lit with instant understanding. “That actually makes so much sense. Remember last year how he kept mixing me up with Jack Steinberg after we switched seats?”
Genevieve nodded. “And we made jokes about dementia,” she said regretfully.
“Well, how were we to know?” Brandon tapped a jar of cinnamon over his coffee and shrugged.
“At that point, nobody knew, apparently,” Genevieve said, reaching for another muffin. “He got the diagnosis after he was let go; Tyler had a hand in that. He left his own job and apartment in Mountain Ridge to care for his father and fight for his rights to his pension.
“Since Mr. Garcia hasn’t been working, his confusion’s been getting rapidly worse. Tyler was trying to balance all that—the new job at Sweet Dreams, his dad’s condition—”
“Having to wear a pink hat,” Brandon joked.
Genevieve shot him a look. “Mr. Garcia is confused and lonely. He’s the one who kept calling Tyler at work. I don’t blame Tyler for being frustrated. He and his dad never got along well, and here he is, giving up everything to try and care for him.”
Brandon sipped his coffee and eyed her thoughtfully. “How do you know all this?”
Genevieve winced. “My dad told me last night. He’s known all along—that’s why he gave Tyler so much leeway being late all the time.”
Brandon burst into laughter. “Here we are, suspecting Tyler Caivano of actual murder, and your dad had all the answers the whole time.”
“Yeah.” Genevieve rolled her eyes. “Funny.”
“So you confessed your prior suspicions to him last night?”
“No!” Genevieve set down her teacup and looked at him in horror.
