Team Mónica # 2 MASTERMIND

MASTERMIND

YA Suspense

66,000 words

QUERY

Seventeen-year-old Dee is used to solving crimes faster than the police. Unfortunately, the chief's inferiority complex turns her sure-fire internship into an unfair ban from the police station. Wallowing in self-pity isn't her style, though, so Dee decides to show the chief exactly why he needs her on his side. She creates a perfect crime, one she's sure only she can solve, and posts it online, claiming it's fiction. Days later, someone actually commits Dee's complicated theft, and rewards her with an anonymous envelope. It's stuffed with cash. That's when, through a series of encoded emails, Dee starts to sell her "foolproof" plots.

Instead of calling Dee for help, the chief gives the internship to Quincy Connors, Dee's college-bound rival who sees connections between the recent cases. The closer Quincy gets to the truth, the more risks Dee takes to keep his investigation at a distance, even as she develops feelings for him.

Then Dee gets a note demanding she join forces with “M” or have her scheme exposed. She brushes it off, but "M" won't be ignored and bombs the chief's car. With all her leads coming up dead ends, the only way to outsmart the bomber before someone gets killed is to make an alliance with Quincy -- even though that means she has to risk getting thrown behind bars by her own partner.

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I caught the office door with my fingertips before it could close behind me. The whole station would hear Chief Keane finally admit that I was the best choice for that internship. I deserved it. After all, he'd basically made chief thanks to my hard work. A debt like that doesn't get paid back easily, but I sat down prepared to accept a public commendation.

He reclined in the chair on the opposite side of his desk and steepled his fingers, watching me over them. I'd seen the pose so many times in interrogation that it had lost its effect. He seemed to forget that playing the time-hardened gumshoe didn't work as well when he hadn't gotten his first wrinkles yet.

It took actual effort not to laugh. "Still working on that comic villain impression, I see. Very nice." It was always like this. I'd make hilarious comments; he'd pretend he didn't think they were funny. It was kind of our thing.

In typical chief fashion, he didn't crack a smile. "I think it's about time you headed home," he said in his I'm-serious tone. "As a civilian, having you look at cases is unethical." One hand reached up to rub circles against the freshly buzzed stubble at his temple.

"Go on." I could already feel the smirk coming. Filling out the paperwork for my internship was a formality I'd gone along with for the sake of protocol. None of the other applicants even came close to what I could do, and Keane knew as much.