Page 90 of Wicked Brutal

Ryan thought he needed to find a way deeper into my father’s world.

He doesn’t. I’ve been inside it my entire life.

Three hours. That’s what we have, and I’m not wasting a fucking second of them.

Roman is in Boston until sometime tonight. Jane has a migraine and went back to bed after breakfast. As far as either of them knows, Ally took Tobias to spend the afternoon with one of his friends, which is close enough to the truth that I’m not going to complain about it. He has friends here. They’re just all significantly older than him.

“This isn’t going to work,” I say.

Tobias looks up from the sheet of paper spread across my parents’ coffee table. “Yes, it is.”

“You have a couch, a laundry basket, two pieces of string, and what appears to be a drawing of a hole.”

“It’s a trap for the leprechaun.” Tobias twists around on the rug. “Walter heard him.”

Ally looks up from the notebook balanced against her knees, already smiling. “Did he?”

Dad finally lowers his book. “I did.”

“You did not.”

He ignores me. “Last night. Around midnight.”

Tobias abandons his trap completely. “What did he sound like?”

Dad considers it. “Sneaky.”

“What does sneaky sound like?”

“Very quiet.” Tobias waits, and Dad lowers his voice for effect. “I was right there on that couch. Didn’t move for almost an hour.”

I stare at him. Ally is trying not to laugh.

“And then?” Tobias asks.

“Then I heard it.”

“What?”

“A crunch.”

Tobias gasps. Ally loses it.

I rub a hand over my face. “You were eating pretzels.”

“That is one theory,” Dad says. He points toward the kitchen. “Your Cassandra heard it too.”

Mom appears in the doorway with a mug in each hand. “Your Walter ate half a bag of pretzels at midnight and then blamed a mythical creature when I asked what he was doing.”

Tobias looks devastated. Dad immediately sits forward. “That does not prove there wasn’t also a leprechaun.” Mom gives him a look. Dad shrugs. “I’m keeping an open mind.”

Tobias’s face brightens again. “Can I stay here tonight and help you catch him?”

“No,” Ally and I say at the same time.

He looks between us. “Why?”

“Because your father thinks you’re at a playdate until five,” Ally reminds him.