Forensics Squad Unleashed Read Online Free PDF

talk about tomorrow. That’s when Lloyd and I are going to tell you about the case that will be the focus of the rest of forensics camp.”
    Nathaniel is back to slouching in his chair. “So are we ever going to find out who hit the cyclist?”
    “I’m afraid not,” Samantha says. “That was just a mock crime scene to introduce forensic photography, fingerprinting and note taking.”
    When Nathaniel groans, Lloyd does that thing he does with his arm—extending it like he’s a traffic cop at a busy corner. “Think of that bicycle case as the preview before the main attraction,” he says.
    Nathaniel’s cell phone vibrates in his pocket. “I hate that noise,” he mutters.
    “You can fix it,” Muriel tells him. “If you don’t like the steady pulse, you can adjust it. It’s under Settings . Want me to show you?”
    “My sister knows everything about cell phones and computers,” Nico says. “Unfortunately, she was not blessed with my sense of humor.”
    Muriel rolls her eyes. “You make enough bad jokes for the whole family. Including Stacey’s side.”
    Nathaniel’s cell phone vibrates again.
    “Don’t you want to see who’s calling?” Muriel asks. “What if it’s about the wedding?”
    Nathaniel shrugs. “What if it is?”
    My parents are always saying I need to work on developing my emotional intelligence. They should meet Nathaniel. Compared to him, I’m an emotional Einstein.

FIVE
    From the outside, our house looks a bit like a prison. An eight-foot fence barricades the property, and there are iron bars over the basement windows. When the house was broken into, the thieves got in through the basement. If the city would allow it, I’m sure Mom would put barbed wire at the top of the fence.
    “It’s me,” I call when I unlock the front door and tap in the security code for the alarm. I am so used to announcing myself, I do it even when nobody is home. “Mom? Dad?”
    I expect my parents to be waiting, eager to hear about my first day at forensics camp. But nobody answers. I kick off my sandals. There is still no sign of Mom or Dad, and I can’t help feeling a little lonesome.
    Dad’s car is in the driveway, so he must be back from work. Maybe they went for a walk. Mom’s boss is so happy with her sales numbers, he agreed to let her work from home three days a week. The only problem with the new arrangement is that she isn’t getting as much exercise now that she isn’t walking to her office as often. Which is why she’s been badgering Dad to join her for walks on her at-home days.
    I leave my backpack on the floor and head for the kitchen, where I open the fridge. How can a fridge be so full and yet have nothing in it that I feel like eating? Cheese? Red grapes? Greek yogurt? Nah. I’m in the mood for chocolate pudding or tortilla chips dunked in salsa. But ever since Dad was diagnosed with high blood pressure, Mom’s been shopping strictly according to the Heart and Stroke Foundation guidelines. There’s a Canada’s Food Guide poster on the fridge door. I grab a pen from the counter and write SALSA in the vegetable area.
    That’s when I hear the music. It’s thin and reedy-sounding, like it’s coming from a snake charmer’s flute. Definitely not the soft rock my parents usually listen to. For a moment, I stand in the kitchen and listen. I am trying to decide whether I like or hate the sound. I think I am closer to hating it.
    I follow the music downstairs to the den. The air smells sweet and sort of powdery. What is going on down there?
    “Mom? Dad?”
    They do not answer.
    My parents are sitting across from each other on the rug, an ivory candle in a brass candleholder between them. Their legs are folded under them; their hands rest in their laps.
    “Tabitha!” Mom says, popping up from the rug. “You startled me!”
    The powdery smell is coming from a cone of incense burning on the mantel.
    I could apologize, but I don’t. I haven’t done anything wrong. “What are