douchey” snob title. Whenever J.D. appeared online, he was dressed in trendy but expensive clothes, immaculately groomed to the point where one started to wonder if his family kept a personal hairdresser on staff. His claim to fame was creating a hedge-fund algorithm that increased his family’s wealth by twenty percent.
As I shared these findings with the group, I continued my research.
Cross-referencing names.
A few seconds later, I sagged.
“I can’t find any common link among these kids. Different towns of origin, different interests, no overlap in parents or relatives. The grant claims to be connected to Magnate Enterprises. But that seems to be a dead end—a dummy company.”
“So, they’re all exceptional . . . but in completely different ways,” Lucas mused.
“What about their parents? Are they all rich? Do they have government connections? Any . . . special abilities we should know about, beyond what you’ve mentioned?” Hunter this time, his expression guarded.
“I looked into that, and no,” I said, ignoring his subtle jab at my androidness. “Nothing. I mean, none of them are below poverty line, but that’s about it. No one worked for the government, or even a company with tight government ties. Their parents’ occupations range from doctors and CEOs to school teachers and administrative assistants.”
My useless information washed over the RV, rendering everyone silent. Abby was the first to break it.
“So now what?” she said, resting her chin in her palm.
Samuel slammed a fist on the table. Chips went flying. “Isn’t it obvious? We need to go to the school and investigate. Talk to these kids and see what’s up.”
“I agree,” I said. “We need to figure out what’s going on there that made Sarah run. Seems like the current grant students are key.”
Daniel flinched at the sound of his dead daughter’s name. He swallowed hard, then nodded, staring at the ceiling as if deep in thought. When he spoke, the words came slowly, almost as if he was reluctant to speak.
“I have an idea. While you were talking, I pulled up the Montford website myself. Looks like they encourage prospective students to come visit the campus and sit in on classes. They even have a program that allows kids to bunk with attending students, spend the night, get the feel of things. You could all pose as prospective students. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?” I asked.
“It’s dangerous, I think is what he’s trying to say,” Lucas said. “If Holland is connected to the school, he might be on the lookout for just this sort of thing. He doesn’t know what they look like, but you . . .”
Hunter’s gaze darted back and forth between Lucas and Daniel, his jaw slack. “Are you out of your minds? You’re not really considering letting . . . her,” he said, emphasizing “her” like he was granting me some kind of concession, “go undercover at a school?”
Lucas stiffened, but Daniel was the one who spoke. “We’re all very aware of what Mila is,” he said mildly.
“Then you should realize that sending her to a school full of teens is a bad idea. She’s unstable. You didn’t see her back at Quinn’s—I did.” His voice rose, and he paused, hands fisted. “It would be better—safer—for everyone if she stayed behind in the RV.”
He didn’t even glance in my direction.
I pushed to my feet, bumping the table in the process. Samuel’s chips flew off the edge, and he caught them by the edge of the bag.
Hunter hated me. Worse than that—he had reason to.
He’d have to get ready to hate me even more.
“I’m going. End of story. Look, Lucas altered my appearance once—he can alter it again. More. I don’t look exactly like Sarah, and she was only there for a week. I doubt people remember her, and once Lucas is done, it won’t matter anyway.”
I watched Abby and Samuel exchange an uncertain glance. “It’s not just that,” Samuel said, looking apologetic. “Holland—”
“Won’t be hanging out at the school. He’s too busy with his secret lab—he can’t just disappear for days to hang out at Montford. Plus, that would be pretty hard to explain to whoever isn’t a part of—whatever’s going on there—right? A high-ranking military general, showing up out of the blue?”
Hunter’s mouth tightened mutinously, but Lucas nodded. “I agree. And I’ve been tracing his cell phone signal by remote, anyway. I’ve got it set to alert me the second he steps out of a ten-mile radius beyond his office and home. Besides,” he said, staring straight at me, “Mila