The entrance to the mine sat silent and dark. Every time I glanced away from it, I expected to look back and find red eyes peering out, followed by a lick of fire.
Headlights swerved around the clearing. The cruiser came to a halt inside the chain-link fence. Chief Rivera climbed out.
“They took our memory card!” was the first thing I yelled to her.
She spared me a single look before finding Tad and the others. I twisted my arms together so hard my neck began to hurt. TheDMWproducer spoke to Rivera first; he’d been the one to put in the call. She got statements from him and every member of the crew, then went to look at their equipment. She searched through the bags in the SUV. Tad said something to her once she got to the bag with the memory cards in it. When she came to us, she wasn’t carrying anything but her notebook.
“They stole the SD card out of Artemis’s camera,” I said.
“It’s in with their other stuff,” Artemis said, “with the other memory cards. We’ll have to go through every one to find it.”
“Mr. Thompson insists they took nothing from you,” Rivera said, tight-lipped. “And I didn’t see anything out of place, so we’ll deal with that later. You girls are coming to the station with me. You can explain what you were doing when we get there.”
She shepherded us into the backseat of her cruiser and closed the door. Tad watched. He was pale in the cruiser’s headlights, everything except his eyes. I flipped him off.
Chief Rivera slammed the door and reversed out of the clearing. My heart thumped painfully; before we’d come here, I’d gone over the scenario of being caught, what I’d do, what I’d say, but my plan was gone now. Mom had gotten in her fairshare of trouble, running around trying to solve the mysteries of Addamsville and the firestarters, but Aunt Greta had always gotten her out of the worst of it. And this wasn’t good for more reasons than just that memory card: theDMWcrew could still go back into the mine tonight, and now we knew the firestarter was in there.
Small crowds had gathered outside the fence. All living. A lot of them woreDead Men WalkingT-shirts or carried cameras, standing in grass up to their knees. Here to get a glimpse of the cast or a glimpse of the ghosts. They watched silently, faces obscured by the darkness, their red camera lights following us like eyes.
The Chief waited until we were well down the road before she glanced into the rearview mirror and said, “What thehelldid you think you were doing? Zora, I expect something like this out of you—I don’twantto expect it, but I do—but Artemis? I thought your mother raised you better than that. Much better. I cannot believe you two. And in themine? Do you know how dangerous that place is? Do you know how easy it is to get lost or hurt in there?”
“No one was stopping theDMWcrew from going in,” I said.
“Because theDMWcrew had trained professionals with them, and someone had gone to check the mine earlier today to make sure they were safe.”
Andthatperson could have been killed, too. Was there no end to the list of people I was supposed to save?
“So we weren’t in any danger.”
“You had no way of knowing you weren’t in danger.”
“Chief Rivera,” Artemis said, leaning forward. “It’s really, really important we get that footage back. If they keep it, they’ll use it on their show.”
Chief Rivera was quiet. She kept her stony, white-knuckled hold on the steering wheel. Of course she wasn’t going to entertain this nonsense. “I’ll look into it,” she said finally. “But don’t expect anything.”
“Thank you!” Artemis almost bounced in her seat. “Oh, thank you, Chief Rivera, thank you so much.”
The Chief wasn’t looking at her. She was looking at me. We both knew why.
The police station sat on Handack Street a little north of where it intersected with Valleywine. It was a squat brown building with only one cruiser parked outside, a lone lamppost illuminating the parking lot, and an air of cleanliness and order. Inside, a front desk barred the way to another pair of desks and the chief’s office.
Rivera took us down a hallway to the holding cells. There were only three. The chief ushered us both into one.
“Is this necessary?” I asked.
“For her?” The chief pointed to Artemis. “Probably not. Foryou? I’m not taking chances. I told you to stay out of trouble and you do this. You’re not a minor anymore, Zora. You were trespassing. If you’d damaged any of their equipment, you’d be charged with criminal mischief. You were lucky Mr. Thompson grabbed you before you stabbed him—if you’d hit him first, they could’ve gotten you for assault, too. These are all things that send you to prison. You understand that, don’t you?”
I pretended to rub something out of the corner of my eye.
“Zora,” she said again, stepping closer to the bars. “I know you want to prove you didn’t set the fire at Masrell’s house, but I can guarantee you this incident has already gotten out, and in the morning, your reputation will befarpast saving. All you had to do was sit still, let me do my job, and wait for the storm to blow over. Now I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to help you.” She shook her head, then looked at Artemis. “I’m calling your mother.”
Artemis’s face drained of color. “Do you have to tell her what we did?”
Chief Rivera gave her a very pointed look.
“Don’t worry,” I said, dropping onto the cot. “She won’t blame you for it. She’ll think I poisoned you.”
“As for you, Zora,” the chief said, “I’m calling your sister.”
