Forensics Squad Unleashed Read Free Page B

shake out my wrist. Except for Nathaniel, the others are also taking tons of notes.
    “I’m glad you guys are psyched about forensics camp.” Samantha does not look at Nathaniel when she says that. Probably because he has just yawned and not bothered to cover his mouth. “Now that you’re equipped with cameras, notebooks and pens”—Samantha glances at Nico— “we’ll head back outside. You have forty-five minutes to record your observations and take the three kinds of photographs we discussed. But before we go, we need to brief you on the facts of the case.”
    I open my notebook to a fresh page.
    Lloyd takes the fact sheet out of a file folder and reads it to us in a solemn voice. I close my eyes, and for a moment I let myself imagine that I am a forensic scientist being briefed by a police officer.
    “A cyclist was struck by a car at twenty-one hundred hours last night.” I get a little thrill when Lloyd says twenty-one hundred hours instead of 9 PM . I know from my Junior Encyclopedia of Forensic Science that forensic scientists use a twenty-four-hour clock to avoid confusion. “The cyclist was taken to hospital by ambulance. The driver fled the scene on foot.” Lloyd looks up at us. “Any questions?”
    Mason bites his lip. “Is the cyclist all right?”
    I nudge Mason. “News flash. It’s a made-up case. There wasn’t really a cyclist. So you don’t have to worry about him.”
    “Actually, it’s an excellent question, Mason,” Samantha says. “And it also demonstrates your compassion for others.” Is it my imagination, or does she shoot me a stern look when she says that? I hope she doesn’t think I lack compassion for others. It’s only Mason I lack compassion for. “We want you to take this case as seriously as you would a real one, and information about the victim is always important. For your information, the cyclist remains under observation at the hospital. Had he remembered to wear his helmet, he probably would have been okay.”
    I don’t bother writing that down, though Stacey seems to be recording every word. She has the smallest handwriting I have ever seen. Maybe it’s a way of saving trees. I feel slightly guilty that I am already on page three of my notebook.
    When we get outside, the others crowd around the bicycle. Nico and Muriel argue as they snap photographs. Muriel elbows her brother. “Move! I’m trying to get a closeup shot.”
    “Me too!”
    “I’m older than you are!”
    “Three minutes doesn’t count,” Nico mutters, but I guess they do, because he moves over.
    Mason and Stacey take notes. Nathaniel’s notebook is open, but as far as I can tell, he has not written anything down.
    “Hey, hey, no touching!” Lloyd calls out when Mason squats down and runs his fingers over the dented bike bell. “You’re tampering with the evidence!”
    I am the only one who thinks to check the inside of the car. Samantha is behind me, and I can sense her reading over my shoulder as I record my observations. I hope she is impressed. Six beer bottles, four open, on the floor, passenger side.
    I take three sets of photos, including overall photos of the whole scene, mid-range photographs of the car floor and close-ups of the open beer bottles.
    Afterward, when I tell the others about the beer bottles, Samantha points out that the driver might have been drinking, which could explain why he or she fled the scene.
    First a missing bike helmet and now beer bottles? If you ask me, it’s a suspicious combination. Forensics Camp better be about solving cases—not about life lessons for thirteen-year-olds.
    The others do not seem to notice—or mind—that Samantha and Lloyd have slipped in the life lessons.
    “Whose car is it anyway?” Nathaniel asks. “Once we know that, we’ll know who did it.”
    “Not necessarily,” Samantha tells him. “The police ran the license plate in their system. It turns out this car was stolen.”
    “Which means,” Lloyd adds, “we’re