My faux pulse quickened. I’d lost the signal too quickly to get more than a glimpse of the data, but that one partial name had been more than enough to pique my interest.
C . . . e . . . on. . .
I compared the letters to the student directory stored in my head.
Two potential matches:
Claire Wilson.
Claude Parsons.
The names danced before me. At least one student had access to this building, and it might be one of the grant recipients.
I stored an image of the building to inspect later. It looked similar to the others, with oversized hedges filling the planters, and concrete steps leading to a double door. But it was smaller. And the windows were dark.
I wanted a closer look.
J.D. led us back to the administrative building. “And this concludes your tour. Feel free to let the dean know what an amazing job I did,” he said with a cheesy wink, “and maybe I’ll see you at the game tonight.”
There was no more word from the dean about visiting classes, so we just followed Daniel back to the front gate. I expected that it would open immediately, but we had to stand there for a bit—10.2 seconds—until someone inside clicked the lock open for us. I kept my face downcast to avoid the whirring and watchful eye of the video camera.
Why would they keep track of people leaving the school? I wondered. Surely the worry was trespassers and threats from the outside?
Daniel spoke up as he turned out of the parking lot. “Did you see that camera, on the gate?” he said. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his forehead a mass of creases.
“From what I could see, it was a pretty high-grade setup,” Lucas said. “The stuff you’d expect in the military or maybe a bank. Not a prep school.”
Abby frowned. “The place had more money than a college,” she said. “But why?”
Then I jumped in. “There was something off about that smaller building, too. It had its own security system, separate from the rest of the school’s, and it was armed.”
“We should be getting you closer to that building,” Daniel said. “Any thoughts on how to do that?”
Multiple pairs of eyes settled on me. “I don’t know yet. The security system had a limited range—only certain people could use it. But what I managed to intercept suggests that there’s a fifty percent chance one of the users is Claude Parsons.”
Samuel whistled. Meanwhile, Hunter tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, pondering something. In the past, I’d swoon a little when his overgrown hair would sweep across his forehead and almost-but-not-quite obscure his right eye, giving him a sleepy look. Now I found myself on edge. Waiting for another awkward question.
“Is that what you were doing, back when we broke into Daniel’s house? You sent me off so you could . . . what, talk? Is that the right word? . . . to his security system and override it?”
Sometimes, his questions made me feel like a three-headed monkey at a petting zoo: freakishly fascinating, but only from a distance. Lucas had never treated me like that. But he had the advantage of knowing what I was from the very start. Hunter was still processing the truth.
“Yes, I was. And talk works,” I said. I waited for more questions, but he seemed content. For now. “Tonight, while the soccer game is going on, I’ll try to sneak over for a closer look.”
Daniel stopped at a red light, scowling. “Not by yourself. It’s too risky. Take someone with you. That way, if you’re spotted, you can pass it off like you just wandered off together. The rest of you can act as lookouts or try to chat up grant kids, while I take another stab at the dean. I have a feeling that once he finds out how wealthy Simon’s family is, he’ll squeeze us in right away.”
Samuel stretched. “Perfect. And when you talk to my parents, can you tell them to send me money, too? As for the security cameras, who knows? Maybe this is all the rage with boarding schools these days.”
Maybe the security was in place for the purpose of soothing wealthy parents, but I doubted it.
“At the first sign of trouble, you ask for help. Do you understand?” Daniel said.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
For a moment there, he’d sounded exactly like a dad.