Caleb stands close on my right side. His pinky finger hooks around mine and squeezes, and soon I’m squeezing back hard enough to bruise. He edges closer, hiding our clasped hands from the director, and when his shoulder rises with a steadying breath, I follow suit.
But I don’t chance looking at him, not here before Dr. O. This man controls our fates, and I will not forget the power he wields over us.
“Is this real life?” Henry blurts out. “Because I had a dream just like this once, only I’m pretty sure I was a lot taller—”
“All done,” says Dr. O, rising from his chair like a king greeting his subjects. His red sweater is offset by a crisp, white collar and black slacks, all tailored to fit him perfectly. The smudges beneath his eyes, present ever since I told him about his sister, are more prominent today. If I had to guess, I’d say that was probably because of Grayson’s presence.
“How were the SATs?” Dr. O asks, as if he didn’t just face the boy responsible for his sister’s death. As if he can’t send me packing, can’t make me disappear, with little more than the snap of his fingers.
“Okay?” Henry looks over to Caleb and me for help.
“What is Grayson Sterling doing here?” I have to force the words out of the straw that has become my throat. Caleb’s grip on my hand is unfaltering, and I hold it like a lifeline.
Dr. O’s chin lifts slightly.
“We’re going to have a visitor for a few weeks while some things get sorted out. The other students have been informed, but as we didn’t have much time to prepare for his arrival, I wasn’t able to give you fair warning before your tests.”
“He’s going to stay here?” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. It’s too low, too unsteady. If Grayson’s staying here, that can only mean that I’m out.
“He is.” Dr. O’s focus reduces me to the size of a mouse. “And while he’s here, it’s imperative that we make him feel welcome and safe. His life has been a bit chaotic recently.”
Because of me. Because I told him to run.
“I don’t understand,” says Caleb. “We’ve never had a mark come to Vale Hall before.”
“Does he know what we do?” asks Henry. “Is he a new student?”
“No.” Dr. O raises a hand. “Nor is he to be part of any conversation regarding your work here. We are an elite boarding school, nothing more. As of today, Vocational Development is on hold, and any discussion regarding your assignments is strictly off-limits. With the exception of Brynn.”
The pressure in my lungs increases. “What do you mean?”
“You’re to resume your work with him,” Dr. O says. “He knows you. Make him comfortable. Make him understand that we’re on his side while I deal with his father.”
What is this, a resort? What does that even mean, deal with his father? I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Dr. O just invited Grayson Sterling to live under his roof, and we’re supposed to pretend like everything’s fine?
I squeeze Caleb’s fingers harder. “How is that supposed to work?”
Grayson was a mark. He knows I conned him. I can’t fool him twice—not now that he knows the game.
Lines tighten around Dr. O’s eyes, then relax. “Gentlemen, you’re excused. I need to speak to Brynn alone, please.”
Caleb releases my hand, stepping forward. “Sir, I don’t think it’s safe for him to be here given how things went the last time they were together.”
Caleb may have tried to pull that smooth conning voice with Moore when we were caught in the car, but he doesn’t now. He is one hundred percent Caleb, and fully vigilant.
“Let me and my staff worry about safety concerns,” says Dr. O.
“He could’ve killed her,” argues Caleb.
Sweat dews on my hairline as I remember those final moments coming around the turn on Route 17 when I thought Grayson meant to crash us, the way he had Susan.
Dr. O circles his desk, passing Caleb to stand before me. “Do you think Grayson means to harm you?”
Caleb opens his mouth to interrupt, but is stopped by Dr. O’s flat hand. Henry is watching me, but I can’t break from Dr. O’s pointed gaze. How can he ask me this? I doubt Susan Griffin thought he meant to harm her before that day, either.
“No,” I manage. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s not very reassuring,” says Henry.
“Grayson will be watched.” Dr. O inhales. Exhales through his teeth. It’s the first hint of discomfort he’s shown since we came into this office, and I find it mildly reassuring. “Until he’s gone, I expect you to treat this like any other assignment. Protect our secrets.”
A tense silence fills the room.
“Yes, sir,” says Henry finally.
Dr. O motions toward the door. When Caleb doesn’t move, Henry reaches around me to grab Caleb’s sleeve.
“Yes, sir,” Caleb concedes in a hard voice.
He passes me a look that says find me later, then I’m alone in the office with Dr. O.
A change falls over me, a fusing of my muscles, the crystallization of my nerves. With my friends close, danger is able to seep into my pores, reminding me that however competent I may be, there is much to lose.
But without them, when it’s only Dr. O and the job, I am reduced to my old self. I am Brynn Hilder of Devon Park, and my skin is my shield.
“He knows who you are,” says Dr. O as soon as the door closes. “He thinks you’re a con artist.”
Because I told him I was, after my ex-boyfriend Marcus outed me.
I stand tall.
“It was the only way to win his trust.”
“Trust isn’t won, Brynn,” Dr. O says carefully. “It’s earned. Painstakingly. Through deliberate efforts to prove yourself.”
I swallow.
“You risked everything by giving him that information.”
In the blink of an eye, I see Caleb. Henry. My friends Charlotte and Sam, upstairs right now, with no idea how I’ve jeopardized their safety. If the police become aware of this program, we could all go to jail. Every student here who’s conned their way into someone’s life stands to lose the scholarships and dreams they were once promised.
I know the costs.
“You risk more by bringing him here,” I say quietly.
Dr. O is quiet. He runs a hand over his face. Sits on the edge of his desk.
“You can’t kick me out,” I say. “I’m the only one he trusts.”
“I know that.” His spine bows. “Brynn, I don’t want to kick you out.”
My shoulders fall an inch. This version of Dr. O is familiar; it’s what drew me to him in the first place. Beneath this mantle of privilege, he’s trying to do the right thing.
But even when he yields, he holds power.
“I can’t turn Grayson away,” he says. “He’s on his own because of me.”
This is true—if he hadn’t sent me to con Grayson’s secrets out of him, Grayson might still be at home with his father.
Living in fear.
But Grayson was already walking the line before Dr. O pushed him over it. Matthew Sterling had been violent with Grayson before—who knows what he would have done if his son had made the cover-up of Susan’s death public.
“How did he find me?” I ask.
“He didn’t.” Dr. O sighs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the desk. “I’ve been looking for him since he left you on the road that day.”
“You have?” This shouldn’t surprise me; I told Dr. O what Grayson had done. Of course Dr. O would attempt to find the person behind his sister’s death.
Ice settles in the pit of my stomach. Dr. O tracked down Grayson but didn’t turn him over to the police. He brought him to Vale Hall—to our home—likely without informing his mother or anyone else that he’d been found.
As far as they know, he could still be missing.
“What are you going to do with him?” I ask.
The director’s gaze lifts, his blue eyes bloodshot and tired.
; “I’m asking him to testify about what happened to my sister.”
My fear takes on a sharp, jagged edge. “His dad will kill him.”
Grayson isn’t a 4-H project. You don’t name and befriend the pig you send to slaughter.
“We’ll trade his confession for protection, so we can put the right man behind bars.”
The right man. Not Grayson, but his father, Matthew.
Dr. O’s still going after the senator, even though he has the guy who committed the actual crime in his house. It doesn’t line up. Either Dr. O has bigger plans for Grayson that he’s not telling me, or he has a serious vendetta against the senator.
An image of Grayson’s father fills my mind, his smooth jaw tilted with his trademark smile, his clothes neatly pressed. Senator Matthew Sterling may look like an angel, but he’s a snake. In the three months Grayson’s been missing, he hasn’t even made a public announcement of his son’s disappearance. There’s been no missing person report, no manhunt. A senator’s runaway son should have made national news, but not even our local celebrity gossip site, Pop Store, has picked up the story.
The Sterlings are keeping this quiet, but they must be looking for Grayson. He has too big of a secret to be cut loose.
“You’re going to use the phone,” I realize. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”
For three months, Dr. O has had the proof that someone was with his sister the night she died—a cell phone Grayson took from Susan’s car before the police arrived at the scene—but he’s sat on it, waiting for Grayson’s confession.
“It’s not enough. This isn’t the first time Sterling’s covered his own tracks. We must be careful. Diligent.” Dr. O shoves off his desk, pacing to the oil painting on the wall beside the fireplace. A woman in a white dress sits in a chair, looking over her shoulder.
Susan painted it herself, Dr. O told me once. From a picture he’d taken on her birthday.
“Grayson may have been behind the wheel that night, but his father is the one at fault. He lied. He bullied his son into hiding the truth, then threatened him when he tried to do the right thing and go to the police. All Matthew Sterling cares about is power, and it doesn’t matter who he steamrolls in order to keep it.” Dr. O’s voice goes low and gravelly as he pounds a fist against his thigh. “I will stop him. He will be held accountable…”
He drifts off, staring at the portrait. His grief is a well, big enough to drown this whole room. It pulls at me, makes me want to help him.
This is dangerous ground. There is a fine line between working for Dr. O, and getting used.
“What do you mean this isn’t the first time?” I ask, retracing his words.
Dr. O continues to stare up at his sister. “There was another before Susan. An intern named Jimmy Balder who was working on the senator’s staff. He went missing last year.”
“How come I didn’t hear about this?” It should have come up in the news. At the very least, I would have dug something up in all the research I did on the Sterlings.
“Susan mentioned him once, right before she died.” His shoulders heave in a tight sigh. “I didn’t know what she was talking about at the time. She just said he was causing problems in the campaign.” He shakes his head. “There’s nothing online. I’m afraid he’s already been wiped out of the system, like so many other of Matthew Sterling’s roadblocks.”
My jaw tightens. The senator isn’t the only one who can make people disappear. Dr. O has that power, too—when Caleb’s ex-girlfriend, Margot, broke the rules, any record of her association with Vale Hall became nonexistent.
Dr. O taps his knuckles against his thigh. “I need someone connected to the Sterling campaign to tell me what happened to Jimmy Balder. Someone who knows what this family is capable of and can conduct themselves with a certain … discretion.”
He moves closer, like a tidal wave of anger and grief. I have the sudden sensation that my legs are being swept out from beneath me, sucked into the undertow.
“The Sterlings own a private club in Uptown where the campaign staff conducts most of their business—The Loft. It’s in the same building as the senator’s office.” He stops, and his brows pinch together. “Mr. Moore’s already submitted your application for the hostess position. I hadn’t anticipated finding Grayson before discussing it with you.”
A tingling starts at the base of my neck, spreading through my shoulders. I knew another job would come—that’s the price for enrollment here at Vale Hall—but playing politics with my old mark’s dad isn’t exactly what I expected.
“You want me to spy on their meetings?”
Dr. O’s eyes lift, a hopeful light gleaming in their depths. “All you need to do is ask around. Make friends. Get people talking. See what you can find out about Jimmy Balder. The senator is rarely there, and when he is, we’ll make sure you aren’t.” He holds my gaze, and I can’t help the swell of pride that comes with his confidence. “And when you’re home, I want you to see what Grayson knows about it.”
A grim feeling crawls up my spine. The director is normally reserved, methodical about his assignments, but because of Susan this is personal. And personal can mean messy.
It doesn’t matter. If Dr. O’s taking this chance to send me in, it’s got to be worth the risk.
“I understand,” I say.
His smile is tight, lips pulled over teeth.
“Mr. Moore will give you the details. He’s preparing your alias now.”
Would have been nice of Moore to give me a heads-up this was coming, but of course that isn’t how it works. His loyalty is to Dr. O, just like all of ours.
“This must be handled quietly,” the director says. “I don’t want you speaking to anyone about this job. Not Grayson, not the other students here.”
“Why?”
“It’s imperative we secure Grayson’s trust. If you tell your friends, and they accidentally let it slip when he’s around, how do you think he’ll react? He believes we’re here to help him. That we are a traditional, elite boarding school. If his only friend takes an internship with the man he fears, that destroys any chance at rapport.”
Dr. O is right, but I don’t like the idea of lying to my friends.
“As does any relationship you might be engaged in. Grayson does seem … fond of you.”
At Dr. O’s knowing look, my hands fist at my sides. What I have with Caleb is my business and no one else’s. But as with every order Dr. O delivers, there’s a whisper of threat.
If I refuse him, I lose Vale Hall. This roof over my head. This food in my belly. The safety of my friends.
My head falls forward. He’s right. Grayson is singularly focused, and he doesn’t like to share. Intimacy is often formed in times of stress—we learned that one week in conning class. When the mark feels alone, and scared, they’re more likely to fall for any gesture of kindness.
If I’m going to keep Grayson’s trust, I’ll have to put whatever Caleb and I have on hold. He’ll understand. He’d do the same thing in my position.
It’s not like it’s forever.
“What am I supposed to tell people when I leave?” I ask.
Dr. O gives a small shrug. “Tell Grayson you’re visiting family. Tell your friends I’ve asked you to investigate a potential student. You’re creative, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
I glance to the stone tablet to my right, near the door. Etched in it are three words: Vincit Omnia Veritas. Truth conquers all.
Caleb and I promised we wouldn’t lie to each other, and the thought of betraying Charlotte or Sam or Henry drives twin spikes of anger and desperation straight through me.
These are some of the first real friends I’ve ever made. I don’t want to lose them.
“They’ll understand,” Dr. O says, reading my unguarded expression. “It’s the nature of your positions here.” His smile is laden with sympathy. “Send Caleb in when you leave. There are a few things we need to discuss as well.”
“Y
es, sir,” I mutter on my way out.
CHAPTER 3
Caleb is waiting for me at the top of the spiral staircase, at the mouth of the girls’ wing. Pinched lines have formed between his brows, and the carpet is a wash of his pacing footprints. As I come into view, he rushes toward me.
“What’s going on?”
“Grayson’s staying until Dr. O can put his dad in jail.” I glance over his shoulder. The hallway appears empty, but anyone could be listening. We’re going to have to be careful about what we say in the open from now on.
“How long will that be?” The hitch in Caleb’s tone triggers an automatic hush from me. I grab his hand, pulling him into an alcove beside the supply closet. The thump of the bass from Paz’s radio will muffle our conversation here.
“He can’t stay here,” Caleb growls. “He killed someone. He could’ve hurt you.”
I dig my thumbs into my temples. “It was an accident.” There are so many factors at play Caleb doesn’t understand—that no one could have, unless they were there. Grayson isn’t just a criminal, he’s a victim. He’s a teenager, afraid of his father.
I’ve lived with violence long enough to know that fear makes you do crazy, desperate things.
“How many people have you accidentally run off the road?”
I sag, and Caleb’s hands move to my shoulders. His grip is warm and steadying. I want to fall forward into him. To rewind to before Grayson got here.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just … I don’t like it.”
“I know.” But there’s nothing I can do about it. Grayson is here, which means I’m on, and the sooner I can get what Dr. O needs, the sooner everything will go back to normal.
“It’s going to be fine,” I say, maybe for him. Maybe for me. “Grayson trusts me. He won’t hurt me.”
“You’re sure of that?” Caleb’s arms drop. “How well do you really know him?”
“Are you kidding? I probably know him better than I know you.”
Caleb scowls.
I was joking. We research our marks extensively before setting up a con—Grayson is no exception—but what Caleb and I went through last summer with the Wolves goes deeper than any amount of digging. He has to know that.
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