Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) Read Online Free PDF

big hug.
    A laugh escaped me, and I covered my smile with my free hand, soaking in the scene. Emery had a nickname. How sweet was that?
    Mr. Phillips looked over Emery’s shoulder at me. The grin disappeared from my face.
    “Hello, Cassidy,” he greeted with a friendly smile, releasing Emery from the embrace. He seemed genuinely pleased to see me.
    I drummed up another smile, wrestling with my memory of him and the man before me now. “I’m fine, Mr. Phillips, thanks. Welcome home.”
    I truly meant it in that moment. Emery and Serena were so happy. How could anyone who made them this happy be all bad?
    “Thank you, Cassidy.” Mr. Phillips pulled his family to him, one on each side. “It’s good to be home.”
    “Well,” I said brightly, “I’ll let you all visit then. I’ve got dishes to do upstairs. See you later.” With that, I made my retreat.
     
    ~~~
     
    While rinsing and stacking dishes in the dishwasher, I ruminated over what had terrified me about Mr. Phillips the last time I’d seen him. He was totally intense and watched me like he thought I was going to steal something. Well, duh, I reasoned. His wife and son decide to move to this rental the same day they’re rescued from Junior. Who wouldn’t be suspicious? Then Serena had left her cushy Wallingford University position to do research in her basement, and Emery turned down Stanford University to go to high school. His excuse? “I have a crush on the girl across the street.” Yeah, that made sense. Mr. Phillips must have thought his family was taking crazy pills. No wonder he acted crazy himself . . .
    But what about his appearance when he finally did make it home last time? another part of my mind countered. He had looked beaten up, and he had lied that he had fallen down airplane steps. Obviously he had escaped from someone, someone who probably worked for Junior. Then Junior had talked about Mr. Phillips like he knew him, and the thought that Emery’s dad was coming for him terrified him.
    Of course they know one another. I palmed my forehead, feeling like I was seeing the situation clearly for the first time. When the military had contracted Serena to develop Assassin, she was working for Arthur King Sr. She hadn’t met Junior prior to his kidnapping her, but that didn’t mean her husband didn’t know him—
    I froze, hearing someone coming up the basement stairs. I knew the sound of Emery and Serena’s footsteps, and these weren’t theirs. My stomach knotted, and I started scrubbing the chili-encrusted saucepan harder, regretting my polite decision not to listen in. Due to that decision, I was clueless about why Emery’s father had come home. Last I had heard, he wasn’t due back until early spring.
    The door creaked open. My sponge moved faster over the pan, and I whistled to give the impression that I was unaware of Mr. Phillips’s presence. Why I felt the need to deceive him, I can’t say.
    He cleared his throat. I feigned being startled and splashed water over the front of my shirt.
    “Oh, sorry about that,” he said good-naturedly. “Usually people hear a big lug like me coming from a mile away.”
    I swallowed the lump in my throat and croaked out a laugh, casting a cautious glance over my shoulder. His expression was as amicable as his tone.
    “No worries. You just startled me,” I fibbed as he came closer. Another fib slipped out before I could stop it. “Plus, I’m a total klutz.”
    “You and me both,” he lied.
    Mr. Phillips opened the pantry and frowned, probably at how empty it was.
    “Um, I didn’t know you were coming home,” I ventured, trying to sound easygoing. I think it worked.
    “That’s because Emery and his mom didn’t know.” He moved to the refrigerator. “I wanted to surprise them.” He pulled the door open and groaned, “Serena.”
    “I know,” I commiserated. The shelves were occupied by a few straggling condiments, a carton of milk, and a couple of take-out containers that