Chasing Secrets: A YA mystery thriller (Gregory Academy Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Chasing Secrets

  Prologue: 2004

  Chapter One: Present

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five: Amber 2003

  Chapter Six: Amber 2003

  Chapter Seven: Amber 2003

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten: Amber 2003

  Chapter Eleven: Amber 2003

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen: Amber 2003

  Chapter Eighteen: Amber 2003

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Amber 2003

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty: Amber 2003

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Amber 2003

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Fourty: Amber 2004

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three: Amber 2004

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six: Amber 2004

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight: Hector Chase 2004

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  C H A S I N G S E C R E T S

  G R E G O R Y A C A D E M Y M Y S T E R I E S

  B O O K 1

  J I L L C O O P E R

  Copyright 2020, All Rights Reserved. Jill Cooper

  Editor: Danielle Diamond

  Proofreader: Samantha Wiley

  Cover Designer: Andrew Dobelle

  Chasing Secrets

  Bay Harbor has everything I hate: Rich kids, handsome jocks and a private academy with a school uniform I’m now forced to wear. The real kicker: a decades old unsolved murder case it seems I’m supposed to solve.

  The dead girl in the mirror said so. Plus? She looks just like me. Or rather, I look just like her.

  The police are no help. The trouble I’ve had with the law doesn’t exactly make us besties but with a ghost whispering in my ear and someone who wants me dead, I have everything to lose. It’ll be a race to the finish. I just hope I get there first.

  Lies, betrayal, and hot guys I can’t have is just the tip of the iceberg in Bay Harbor. The dead girl in the mirror might want me to solve her crime. But someone out there will stop at nothing to keep this dark secret buried AF.

  And they just might bury me.

  Prologue: 2004

  Bay Harbor, Massachusetts. It’s my home and one I never thought I’d see again.

  But I have unfinished business here. It just took me awhile to realize it. Once I sent my last letter, I realized I wouldn’t be happy until I told him face to face why I had to go. What I had to do.

  I sent one final correspondence to his house—my hail Mary pass. I prayed he got it and no one else. Calling wasn’t safe. The reach of his family’s arm is long and if they knew… they would make sure those I care for suffered.

  What I had to say had to be said in private. I had no choice but to return home. Few here were on my side and I had to make sure not to be seen. If I could get in to see my parents… well, that’s not exactly possible anymore, is it?

  I drive up through the Bay Harbor cliffs and park among the trees, then travel on foot and jump a fence onto the private property. It’s raining and my foot slips on the rocks as I hurry toward the boat house. I still have the spare key dangling from my neck.

  I unlock the door and slip inside. In the dark, it’s almost impossible to see. I turn my flashlight on, illuminating the row of boats hanging on hooks and the supplies lining the walls. There’s a few wire racks being used as storage but so far I appear to be alone.

  Blowing out a deep breath, I put my hand down on a hardcover book on the table by the door. The embossed name on the top is Sinclair, the renter of this cabin. I flip through the book and see the family’s signature and a black and white picture falls out.

  “Jackson,” I whisper and hold it to my chest.

  Outside a rumble of thunder causes me to jump. In the corner of the room, something falls. “Hello?” I ask and spin around and face the rear window.

  Lightning crackles outside and illuminates the cabin. A dark silhouette hides by the window.

  I’m not alone.

  “Jackson?” My voice trembles.

  I lift my flashlight as the figure rushes me.

  And then I scream.

  Chapter One: Present

  Bay Harbor

  Jessica: September 4, 2020

  If hell was paved with good intentions, it was also painted pastel pink and lined with grey curtains. And hell was the name of my new bedroom.

  “What do you think?” Mom asks. The sound of her hope curdles my blood.

  What’s there to say? As far as bedrooms go, it’s standard for a toddler. My old white furniture line the walls and the queen-sized bed has no sheets on it yet. There are stacks of boxes in the center of the room and the windows facing the street let in a nice steady stream of light. It’s cheery and it breaks through my angsty disposition. Tight skinny jeans cover my thighs as I slap them. “It’s a room. It’ll do.”

  Mom doesn’t appreciate my answer by how the corner of her lips twitch. I don’t mean to be such a bitch but it comes out no matter how hard I try to control it. She runs her fingers through my long chestnut colored hair. “I know the house is small but this is a second chance for us. I got a job and there’s a school for you. We can paint the room any color you want in a few months.”

  I nod. I want to play nice and get along, and the colors of the walls shouldn’t matter so much. Not everyone gets the second chance I’ve gotten but how Mom got the job leaves a bad taste in my mouth. She’s forgiven me for a lot, so the least I can do is smile and put my best foot forward. “It’s a great house. I’m sure we’ll be happy here.”

  Mom genuinely smiles. It’s the best one I’ve seen in months. I can’t help but feel a rise of happiness and it makes everything a little bit better. The way only your Mom can, even if you fight against it.

  “Unpack some of your things and come down when you’re done. We’ll walk to that Chinese food place we passed and have some dinner. It’s going to be fantastic. You’ll see!” Mom hugs me extra tight before she makes her exit from the room.

  I sigh when she’s gone and glance at the stack of cardboard boxes. Five stacks, to be exact. I don’t know how I’ll ever finish but it’s not like my social calendar is rocking. As far as unpacking goes, I can deal with it tomorrow.

  My eyes are drawn to the closet and the few clothes I have hanging up inside. I rub the fabric of the school uniform and can’t believe the dark navy mini skirt and blazer are my new life. I guess when you end up arrested for joy riding in the neighbor’s car, you run out of getting a say in what happens to you. I’m lucky any school would bother t
o take me. But man, I’m going to miss my skinny jeans and t-shirts.

  Joy riding. Me. I was a perfect kid once. Then my dad left and I spiraled. Did anything that popped into my head to cover up the pain. Yay, abandonment issues.

  Mom’s words ring in my ears and they offer me no solace. You’re a good kid. You fell in with the wrong crowd. You just need some space. Ever since your father left… My eyes burn hot with tears and I slam the closet door shut. I step into the en-suite bathroom as a way to escape the demons left behind in the bedroom.

  The bathroom’s sparkling clean with baby pink tiles along the sink and under the window. Cheerful yellow duck decals are stuck to the wall. Somehow, they’ve got to go. Four bulbs gleam above the mirror and illuminate my red patchy cheeks and nose. Normally I’m what Mom calls cute but my eyes are bloodshot from my tears. My feathered hair falls right across my eyebrows. I’m tall, but not too tall and I wear mostly skinny jeans and long sleeve t-shirts.

  Wearing a uniform with knee-high socks is not what’s in this season and I don’t want to do it. I hate being forced to be someone I’m not. I hate that my voice is gone. I hate this burning hole of pain in the center of my chest. Me in loafers? Whose idea of Hell is this?

  I pick a razor blade up from the cardboard box on the toilet and roll up my sleeve. The cuts on my arm are in various forms of healing. I haven’t cut myself in two weeks but I’m ready to break that trend today if it means an end to my heartbreak—even if only for a few minutes. My foot perches on the edge of the toilet and I’m ready to make my move.

  As the blade presses against the soft flesh of my arm, the overhead lights flash. I pause and look up, catching a shadow in the mirror. It could just be my eyes playing tricks on me but it catches me off guard. I move my foot from the toilet to the tile floor and drop the razor blade onto the sink’s vanity.

  The lights turn off and back on again. The shadow in the mirror is gone and my heart pounds. I feel stupid I got upset over nothing. I stare at my perfectly normal reflection but behind my eyes, something darkens. I blink my eyes until it’s gone again.

  New houses sure could be spooky. It makes me crave to find Fuzzy Nose—my teddy bear since I was just a kid.

  “Everything okay up there?” Mom singsongs from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Yeah,” I shout, so my voice will travel well enough that she won’t come up. I hope the fear isn’t audible in my voice. “Everything’s fine!” I pick the razor back up but I already know I’m no longer in the mood.

  The light gleams off the razor blade and I bite my lip. “Everything’s fine,” I whisper and drop the razor blade back onto the waiting box. I’ve lost my nerve and while part of me regrets it, another part of me feels relief.

  Maybe I can make it another day. I roll my sleeve down and grab a light purple cardigan from my closet. I slam the bedroom door shut on my way out, hoping it’ll keep my demons locked inside. Hoping they won’t follow me down the stairs into our new home.

  But behind me something howls like the wind.

  Chapter Two

  For the most part, the house is nice, even if it is older. It has character, with a built-in china cabinet in the dining room, old rich wood on the living room walls, and a grandfather clock in the corner. The rugs are clean, and you can hear the grandfather clock ticking from anywhere on the ground floor. It adds a homey, if not annoying, feel.

  Mom is on her knees as she unpacks a box of old picture frames. I cross my arms and push my hip out to one side, ignoring the pain I feel when I see a picture of Dad. “It’s like living in that old house at the Bates Motel.”

  She glances up and laughs, her blonde plait falling over one shoulder. “I’m surprised you’ve seen that movie.”

  It was one I’d watch with Dad, so I don’t comment. I shrug, feeling incapable of words. I’m angrier at him than she is. He’s a traitor. I don’t even want to think his name, but it’s too late, and the image of his smiling face flashes in my mind. “I like old movies. You as hungry as I am?”

  Food is always a welcome topic of conversation.

  Mom rises and brushes her hands together. She’s still a hair taller than me. “Very. Let me grab my jacket, and then we can have some fun, grab some egg rolls.”

  I snatch my gray knit jacket off the back of a dining room chair and slip it on. Mom slings on her denim jacket and yanks her braid off her shoulder as we step outside. I take a deep breath and enjoy the cooling air blowing in from the harbor. It smells like salt and seaweed. A horn blows and it reminds me how different things are there.

  There’s still enough sunlight to see the edge of the harbor across the way, boats ebbing up and down. It’s quite the place we’ve moved to and much different from Hamilton Springs that I’m used to.

  The view is at least nice. Tranquil. I almost feel calm.

  Mom pulls the door shut and locks the house down tight. “Ready?” She says, and we walk side by side down our street. It curves to the right and has a steep slope, but it gives us a good view of the downtown area. There’s a string of canopy lights outside a coffee café with patio tables and bright-colored umbrellas. Across from that is a small convenience store advertising ice cream, and past it all, a row of small restaurants.

  Our destination is a small Chinese place. There’s only a few tables inside, but the smell wafting out the open door is an amazing combination of sweet sauces and fried dough.

  I’m immediately hungry for egg rolls, chicken fingers, and all the fixings. I can’t wait to step inside, but a group of teens step out. They’re dressed like a bunch of yuppies. The boy in the lead stares me down with intense blue eyes. They’re almost hypnotic. The only thing more attractive than his eyes is his thick black hair. He almost elbows me out of the way, but his eyes never deviate from my face.

  “Hey,” he says, and I can’t find the will to say anything in return.

  I clear my throat and glance down, feeling Mom step protectively closer. Her arm goes loosely around my shoulders and my stomach drops. Great, now everyone knows what a weeny I am before the first day of school. And to think I wanted things to get started off on the right foot here.

  There are two girls behind him in tight jeans and casual tops and one guy rounds out the group. The guy has blond hair that’s curly on top and green eyes. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt which makes him the most normal of them all, in my eyes. He offers me a slight smile and looks the friendliest of the bunch.

  “Troublemakers. I can feel it,” Mom says as judge and jury. “If you see those kids at school, stay away from them.”

  “Mom,” I roll my eyes and step into the Chinese restaurant and pick a menu off the red counter.

  “What?” Mom steps up beside me. “I just… We can’t repeat the mistakes we made in Hamilton Springs. I know why you did what you did, but we have a second chance now. We can’t—”

  “You mean I can’t, right?” My tone cuts sharply through the air, but I don’t want it to. “Can we just order egg rolls, please?”

  “I’m sorry,” Mom sighs. “You’re a good kid, Jess. I don’t mean to imply differently. I want this school year to be amazing for you. I really do.”

  Her eyes are haunted and sad. I know I’m not the only one hurting. Mom gave up a lot to move us here so I can have that second chance. She was forced to start over, not just because of me but because of my dad. I mean, she wasn’t the one caught joyriding. None of this is fair to her, and I wish I knew how to say that. Instead, I mutter, “Thanks.”

  Daughter of the year, that’s me.

  Mom places an order for enough food that we’ll be stuffed for days—not that I’m complaining. I grab the two soda cans off the counter and bring them to an empty booth. An old man shuffles by, gripping a newspaper in his hand. His white hair is unkempt and he adjusts his glasses as he sees me. His eyes widen as if he’s just woken from a long nap.

  “Amber? Amber, is that you? I thought you were…”

  He must be senil
e or something. I shake my head. “No. I’m not Amber. I’m Jessica.” I don’t know why I feel the need to prove I’m not this Amber girl, but I do. The old man still stares at me and hasn’t moved on as Mom approaches with her purse strap clutched in her hand.

  “Can we help you?”

  The old man shakes his head. “Could’ve sworn… she looks just like Amber. Just like her.” He shuffles off, out the front door, and a chill races through me so fast I shudder. As he leaves, I can’t take my eyes off of him through the window until he turns the corner down the street.

  Who could this Amber person be?

  Mom puts a hand on my shoulder. “He’s an old man, Jess. Probably confused about a lot of things.”

  “Yeah.” I bite my lip. “I’m sure of it.” I continue to stare through the window, terror mounting in my chest. I see my reflection in the glass, but instead of a braid, my hair blows free behind me, and there’s something wrong with my face

  It’s cut. Bloodied. I shriek and touch my cheek, afraid.

  “Jess?” Mom grips my wrist. “What’s wrong?”

  My eyes dart over to Mom before returning to the glass. My heartbeat won’t stop racing. “Nothing,” I reply breathlessly. I try to cover up how scared I am. “I’m fine.” I can’t find anything else to say that isn’t crazy. The reflection in the window fades, but not before a jewel glints on my head.

  A crown.

  Chapter Three

  Bay Harbor

  Jessica: September 7th, 2020

  By Tuesday morning, I’m in my new school uniform, and it feels like wearing someone else’s clothes. My navy and black socks are pulled up almost to my knees, and I’m in a pleated mini skirt with a matching jacket. My hair flows loosely around my shoulders except for the sides that are pinned up with a barrette. It’s navy, too, standard issue for this place. I hold the scholarship information in my hand as Mom pulls the car around to the front of the main campus building.