Chapter 16: Dead Angle
Shawn made it home with time to spare, hanging his keys by the door and slipping his shoes off, holding the second part of their task tightly in his hand. His stomach reminded him that taking his mom up on what she said before he left would be a good idea. Walking into the kitchen, he anticipated seeing her, but she was nowhere. The study was empty when he walked past it. He curiously perused the kitchen, searching for a quick lunch option to take to his room and continue working. His last few hours of work would need his full attention, and he intended to buckle down.
"Plenty to eat, my ass..." Shawn grumbled, shutting cabinets and closing the fridge.
Everything he found required some form of prepping and cooking, which he didn't have the time or patience for. He finally found a frozen dinner of questionable origin in the back of the freezer. It had seen better days and looked freezer-burnt to hell. He sighed, tossing it into the microwave. Lunch was lunch at this point, and he needed to get back to work. He grabbed a fork as the microwave sounded, taking his lackluster meal and ascending the steps. Times like this made him wish his mom cooked breakfast every morning.
As he reached the final step, he peered down the hallway and stopped walking. His door was open. Shawn distinctly remembered closing it when he left. His head curiously turned, looking down the hall in the opposite direction at his parents' door. He had a faint suspicion that his mom may have looked through his room while he was gone. He quickly entered his room and shut the door, setting the plastic tray on his desk and tossing their new secret weapon onto his bed. Shawn scratched his head as he nervously looked around his room to see if anything was missing or tampered with. Everything looked exactly as he left it, and he wondered why anyone would need to come into his room. The sheet with the cum stain was still in his hamper. Brief thoughts of Grace sneaking into their home again crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed them. He saw his mom lock Kendall's window back, and she would have seen Grace come through the front door.
A sudden knock on his door made Shawn jolt and turn around in a panic. His mom slowly peeked in, noticing his alarmed expression.
"Um... Did you take care of what you needed to?" She asked awkwardly, wondering why he seemed on edge.
"Y- yeah!" Shawn answered, struggling to fix his nervous posture.
"Alright," she nodded, stepping into the room, "you just never leave for anything. You okay?"
"Totally," Shawn answered, sitting at his desk and sliding his microwaved meal in front of him.
Avery saw it and immediately grabbed it, sliding it away from him.
"Uh, don't eat that," she mumbled, questioning its appearance, "I'll make you something."
"You don't have to do that, Mom," Shawn said with a modest look.
"I know I don't," she grinned, "but I'm surprised you didn't grab anything while you were out, so let me fix you something."
"You told me not to," Shawn mumbled.
"I did," she answered softly, "that's why I don't mind making something for you."
"Okay, thanks, Mom," Shawn slowly grinned, happy to dodge his sketchy freezer meal.
"You're welcome, Honey," she smiled, taking the tray from him, her eyes suddenly wandering to the bed, "what's that?"
Shawn followed her gaze, forgetting he had tossed the small brown box onto his bed upon entering.
"Oh! That's just something I grabbed while I was out," he timidly answered, hoping she wouldn't ask questions.
She gave him a curious look, not wanting to pry too hard.
"Um, okay," she mumbled, finally closing his door.
Shawn exhaled, leaning back in his chair. The momentum caused his chair to roll back and slowly spin him toward his bed. As he deflated, his mind returned to figuring out why she'd come into his room while he was gone. His eyes scanned the room, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. He stood up and checked the bathroom, scratching his head, unable to come up with anything. Eventually, he rationalized that his mom likely searched his room for something trivial like a phone charger, and he was overthinking it. He grabbed the unmarked box from his bed, double-checking to make sure his door was closed. After pulling the tape off, he ripped it open, revealing a cheap, disposable cell phone. He analyzed and rotated it in his hand, wondering if it would be enough to get them out of trouble when it mattered. It powered on successfully, and Shawn sent Kendall a quick text message to test it.
"
Hey. It's 'Jake.'"
Grace and Bradley arrived at the shady mobile service store in a rough part of town, itching to find answers on Kendall's whereabouts.
"I hope you're right about this," Bradley mumbled, shutting the car door and following Grace inside.
"Trust me," she answered, "I've cracked bigger cases than this. You wouldn't believe me if I told you how many peoples' accounts I've snooped through to catch liars."
"Isn't that illegal?" He asked with an attitude.
"Nothing's illegal until you get caught," she smirked at him.
He shook his head at her, disliking how unhinged she was.
They approached the counter where a single guy stood, playing on his phone and ignoring them. The building was rundown and looked painfully unprofessional. The smell of weed stained the air, and every device on display looked damaged or dirty.
"This is where you got her phone?" Grace quietly mumbled as they approached the counter.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Bradley whispered, offended, "I buy everything straight from the manufacturer. No way I'd set foot in-"
"Hi!" Grace interrupted Bradley, nudging him with her elbow.
The guy at the counter looked up from his phone, unenthused.
"You looking to start a plan?" He asked, seemingly not caring what the answer was.
"Nope," Grace answered, "we're actually here to track a stolen device."
Bradley listened to her weave lies as if it were her job.
"M'kay," the man straightened up, logging into the computer between them, "what's the account number?"
Grace looked at Bradley, letting him know it was his turn. He sighed, stepping toward the counter.
"Eight, five, five, seven, five," he grumbled.
"Are you the primary?" The man asked, punching his number in.
"Mhm," Bradley answered.
"I need to see an ID," he responded.
Bradley reached for his wallet and opened it, letting him read the information. The man then clicked around, pulling up his account details. Bradley and Grace awkwardly exchanged glances.
"Is it the phone under Kendall?" He asked dryly.
"Yes!" Grace answered, lighting up, "that's me. Can you tell me where my phone is?"
Bradley gave her a profound look, almost disturbed at how natural she was at deceiving others.
"Says it's at the hospital over on Kemper Avenue," he answered.
Grace raised her eyebrow, giving Bradley a victorious smirk. He was shocked to know they could track Kendall's phone so easily.
"That's weird," she continued her act, "what about last night? That's when it went missing. Can you tell me where it was at, say, one in the morning?"
The man sighed through his nose, clearly not wanting to help them find their allegedly stolen phone. Grace and Bradley listened in suspense as he clicked around.
"I'm not allowed to give residential addresses," he said with a plain tone, "it's against policy. Can't have people going and barging into strangers' houses looking for their phones."
"That's okay! We don't need the address," Grace answered without hesitation, "can you just tell us what street it's on? Pretty please?"
