Scammed

by Kristen Simmons

  “Not much,” I say. “The senator’s internship supervisor remembers him, but they weren’t close.”

  Dr. O examines me through a narrowed gaze. Our places have switched—now he’s the one trying to gauge if I’m giving the full story.

  “What does that mean? Were they at odds?”

  “Not from what I can tell.”

  Dr. O knows I’m stalling. I have to give him something.

  “He said he heard Sterling talking to Jimmy before he disappeared. Told him to leave and never come back.”

  “When?”

  “After some fund-raiser. That’s all I know so far.”

  I look away so he can’t see the truth on my face—that Susan was there that night, too.

  “Keep at it,” he says. “If anyone can bring light to the truth, it’s you.”

  “Is there a possibility that Sterling didn’t kill Jimmy Balder?” I blurt. “That he was just fired, and skipped town?”

  Dr. O scoffs, then flips open the top of his laptop. After clicking a few buttons, he turns the screen to face me.

  On it are a couple in their forties, dressed in coats and scarves. The woman is crying, her head tipped forward. The man is holding her tightly against his side, a grave expression painted on his face.

  “Those are Jimmy’s parents,” says Dr. O.

  I guess not all the devices were wiped clean when the detectives came through.

  A closer look at the couple reveals that they’re walking down a set of stone steps in front of a columned building in Uptown I recognize. The police station.

  “They insisted their child had been abducted, but the police—cops in Sterling’s pocket—never investigated the case. Jimmy was nineteen when he disappeared—legally an adult. He’d packed a bag of belongings. Withdrawn some money from an ATM. If he wanted to leave town, nothing was stopping him.”

  Dr. O turns the laptop back around, staring at it with something between pity and anger in his eyes before closing the screen.

  “He had straight As at the university. Friends in the dorms, who cared enough to organize a search when he didn’t come home. He’d never shown signs of depression or other mental health issues, and saw his parents for dinner every Sunday night. If he’d lost his job, why didn’t he go to them? Why does a boy like that abandon everything?”

  The answer is clear: he doesn’t.

  Still, this seems impossible. “No one saw anything suspicious? None of those friends? What about a girlfriend or boyfriend?”

  Dr. O’s gaze lifts to mine.

  “He wasn’t dating anyone. Not seriously, anyway.”

  Which leaves me back with Mark, the senator, and Susan Griffin. How do they all connect? Where did Jimmy go? And why were the cops so quick to drop the case when his own friends seemed shocked he was gone?

  I slouch in my chair. I’m not a detective, and it’s not my business. My job is clear: find out what people know about Jimmy and tell Dr. O. But something’s wrong about all of this. I can feel it.

  A knock on the door makes me jump in my seat.

  “Come in,” calls Dr. O.

  The door opens to reveal Henry, standing in the threshold. His hair is neatly combed, but he’s wearing the same clothes he did on Family Day. A hockey shirt and jeans, too baggy for his usual style.

  He straightens when he sees me and walks over, a nervous bounce in his step. “Hey.”

  I eye him suspiciously. “You all right?”

  He looks away.

  “Henry,” says Dr. O, voice stern. I wonder if he blamed Henry for those two detectives showing up. I never asked Henry what came of that.

  I am seriously failing at this whole friend thing.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Henry says. “I need—”

  “Of course.” Dr. O’s tone softens. “Excuse me, Brynn. This will only be a moment.”

  Henry stands beside me as Dr. O steps around his desk toward the fireplace. My breath catches in my throat as he carefully moves aside the chair and crouches on the ground in the exact same position I caught Grayson in on Family Day.

  He’s going into the safe.

  “What’s he getting?” I whisper. Is Susan’s phone in there, like Grayson said? Are our files?

  “Henry, will you need identification?” asks Dr. O.

  Henry’s gaze flicks to mine. “Um. Yes. I should take it just in case.”

  It takes me a moment to realize Dr. O’s talking about our fake IDs—the various aliases we use on a job. I’d forgotten Mrs. Maddox hid them when the detectives came.

  Henry’s going out on an assignment.

  My blood begins to hum as I wonder where he’s going, but that worry is quickly chased away by curiosity. Henry plants things on people—I’ve witnessed this firsthand when he planted the pills in Grayson’s house last summer—but he doesn’t have the best poker face.

  Before I can get Henry’s attention, there’s raised voices in the hallway, followed by a loud crash, heavy enough to vibrate the floors.

  Sparing Henry a bewildered glance, I spring toward the exit, Dr. O on my heels. Outside the door I find Sam and Grayson, staring at a fallen statue—one of the black marble ravens from the twin pillars bracketing the outside of Dr. O’s office—on the floor between them.

  “Someone should anchor that thing,” Grayson says, a line of sweat racing down his temple. “Could have knocked someone’s head off.”

  I look to Sam, who is glaring at Grayson.

  “How did it fall?” asks Dr. O, brows furrowed. He kneels beside the statue, cradling its stone head like a beloved child.

  Neither boy answers immediately.

  “I bumped the column,” says Sam. “My bad.”

  “Are you all right?” I jump at Henry’s voice, finding him suddenly behind me. His gaze bounces off Grayson to the raven.

  “Fine,” says Sam evenly.

  Dr. O stands, bumping the pillar with a flat hand as if testing its stability.

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen,” he says. “I’ll have this looked at immediately. I’m glad no one was hurt.”

  Grayson backs away, probably wanting to disappear before he gets in trouble.

  Sam’s tight glare says there’s more to this story, but I’m smart enough not to ask in front of Dr. O.

  “Sam, can you ask Mr. Moore or Mr. Belk to take care of this? Make sure they secure the statue. I’m a little busy at the moment.”

  “No problem,” says Sam.

  No, there’s definitely a problem. No one accidentally bumps these columns unless they were shoved into them, or crowding at the door to eavesdrop. The raised voices I heard before the statue fell make me think there was some kind of fight, and by the way Sam’s seething, my bets are that Grayson started it.

  I’ll deal with that later.

  Back inside the office, Dr. O strides toward the safe, and when Henry goes to follow, I snag his arm.

  “What are you doing?”

  His cheeks are already stained red.

  “Cleaning up my mess,” he answers.

  My worry multiplies by a hundred as Dr. O shuts the safe door. He passes Henry three stacks of green bills and a small, rectangular ID card, which Henry tucks into his large pockets, out of sight.

  What is Henry going to do with that kind of cash?

  “We’ll talk when you get back,” says Dr. O, replacing the stone in front of the fireplace.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Henry heads toward the door. I try not to make a huge show of following him, but that’s exactly what I intend to do.

  “Is that all you need from me?” I ask Dr. O.

  “No.” He runs a hand over his jaw and waits for the door to close behind my friend. “I actually have a concern I’d like to talk to you about.”

  My stomach goes rigid. This is about what happened last night with Grayson. I knew it.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m concerned about Caleb.”

  Of course he is. Dr. O wanted me to put our re
lationship on hold, and I didn’t. Now I’m busted. My concern over Henry’s assignment, and whatever is going on between Sam and Grayson, is put on temporary hold while I scramble to figure out how to save my own ass.

  “Have you noticed anything … off with him lately?”

  Caleb’s words from that night on the roof echo through my head. This doesn’t work if you don’t trust me.

  Something’s definitely off. A week ago he wouldn’t have said that. He would’ve known I did, and he would’ve been right.

  “How so?”

  “You remember that everything said in this room is confidential.”

  I nod.

  Dr. O frowns down at the papers on his desk. “He’s been distant lately. Troubled. He says he’s going somewhere, then heads another—you know how important our tracking system is for your safety.”

  “Yeah.” I may have deliberately left my phone someplace once or twice in order to avoid being followed by security.

  “It’s not like him to be dishonest. If he’s struggling with his assignment, I need to speak to him about it.”

  I nearly choke.

  I suspect Caleb’s assignment has something to do with me—that’s why he was at the restaurant that night when I was with Mark and the other interns. But Dr. O’s just thrown it out as if it’s common knowledge what he’s doing, which makes me wonder if I misjudged the entire situation, or if he has some greater, twisted plan that I can’t see.

  “What is his assignment?” I ask.

  Dr. O makes a sound in the back of his throat. “That’s between him and me.”

  Damn.

  “I haven’t heard anything,” I say.

  “No problems with school?” Dr. O asks. “I know Ms. Shrewsbury keeps you all on your toes with your classwork. Any big projects he’s been having a hard time with?”

  If Caleb were struggling in school, I would know. We study together. We talk about that kind of stuff.

  At least we did, before Grayson came here.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” I say.

  Even if there was something going on, I’m not telling the director. Caleb and I might not be in a good place, but I’m not about to snitch on him.

  “You’re sure?” Dr. O is nearly pleading now, and it makes it even harder to balance on those eggshells he’s put under my feet. “Caleb’s been here a long time. He knows things about this program—about you and the other students—that could be very … damaging.”

  I bite hard on the inside of my cheek.

  “I want to make sure he’s doing all right,” says Dr. O. “That he’s making good decisions.”

  Fear seeps over my doubt, bringing on a new layer of suspicion. What is Dr. O talking about? What wrong decisions could Caleb possibly be making? Everything he does is with the purpose of maintaining his position here and protecting the rest of us.

  If he’s struggling with his assignment, I need to speak to him about it.

  Something’s been going on with Caleb since Grayson got here. He’s been following me. Hiding things. After the detectives came, he was angry that Grayson was still here, and after Caleb and I kissed in the garden, he couldn’t even tell me where he’d gotten the information about Susan Griffin.

  The police report said she had head injuries not caused by the accident.

  I researched Susan Griffin’s death extensively. If there had been a police report filed, I would have seen it. Dr. O may not have told me everything, but this wouldn’t have slipped by without his knowledge. He would have told me about it so I could see what Grayson knew.

  Was Caleb lying to me?

  There are about a hundred things I need to tell you.

  Why can’t he say them?

  “I’ll talk to him,” I say.

  “Thank you.”

  Finally excused, I head to the door and reach the foyer just in time to see a black SUV pulling around the fountain. I can’t see who’s inside the passenger seat on account of the tinted windows, but my money’s on Henry.

  CHAPTER 25

  Henry doesn’t return by noon, and when I ask around, no one seems to know where he went or if he’s gotten a new assignment from Dr. O. I keep my phone on me at all times, but he doesn’t answer my texts. He’s as good as any of us, but the way he said my messes makes me think he’s in trouble, and that plus the load of cash he stuffed into his pockets feels like a recipe for disaster.

  He’s been hanging out a lot with Grayson this week, though Grayson has yet to come downstairs—probably because he’s avoiding me after last night’s train wreck. I’m just getting up the nerve to confront him about his fight—if that’s what it was—with Sam, when I see Caleb coming down the stairs. He’s not in his usual Sunday morning lounge pants or sexy white V-neck T-shirt, nor does he have a bag hooked over his shoulder like he’s off somewhere to study.

  He’s going out.

  Every worry Dr. O expressed comes alive in my mind as I follow Caleb to the front door. He grabs his coat off the rack, and like he knows I’m tailing him, he looks back over his shoulder.

  I step into view, racked by a sudden burst of nerves.

  “Hey,” he says, a guarded hope in his eyes as he shrugs into his coat. He looks over my shoulder, probably for signs of Grayson, and stiffens when the stairs above my head begin to creak.

  “Heading out?” I ask.

  He nods. “I have to go meet someone.”

  “The new recruit from Sycamore.” I can’t hide my sarcasm.

  A brief hesitation trips up his flow. “Yeah.”

  He’s lying. It’s so clearly painted across his face and posture, I doubt anyone would believe him. There is no recruit from Sycamore. It was all a story to cover for the fact that he was tailing me.

  But I’m here and he’s leaving.

  He says he’s going somewhere, then heads another.

  It’s one thing that he’s hiding why he followed me and how he knows anything about Susan Griffin, but it’s another if he’s got Dr. O worried. Caleb wouldn’t put us all in danger—he needs this program too much.

  So what is he doing?

  I step closer, steeling myself to that magnetic pull that’s always between us. “How’s it going with her?”

  “All right. She doesn’t seem very careful. What happened last night…” He trails off. Someone’s close now, rounding the bend in the stairs.

  “Want some company?” I ask.

  He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and scowls down at the clock on the screen. “Maybe next time? I’m kind of in a hurry.”

  “Sure.” My smile is thin.

  He adjusts his glasses.

  Charlotte comes down the stairs, pausing when she sees both of us and then continuing with a thin-lipped smile.

  “Oh look. My friends.”

  I cringe. She’s not pleased, and I don’t blame her. She was jacked about her birthday, and for all she knows, we ditched.

  I have to fix this, but I can’t right now with Caleb lying to my face.

  He’s wincing. “Great party last night.”

  “Oh.” She feigns surprise. “Were you there?”

  Guilt worms its way through suspicion. I shouldn’t have left with Caleb. If I hadn’t, Charlotte wouldn’t be pissed, Grayson wouldn’t be mad, and it wouldn’t sting quite so much that Caleb’s lying to me now.

  With a muttered, “Sorry,” Caleb gives her wide berth and strides down the hallway toward the garage. Worry works down my spine as I consider what he has to lose—what we all have to lose—if he’s breaking the rules.

  Charlotte tries to pass, but I dodge in front of her.

  “Want to go for a ride?”

  She tucks her still straightened hair behind one ear. I’m already slipping on my shoes and grabbing my jacket off the rack.

  “Not particularly.”

  “Please,” I say. “I need your help.”

  “And where were you when I needed you last night, huh?”

  My heart gives a hard, br
eath-swallowing pang. She needed me last night? As soon as I settle this with Caleb, I’m officially figuring out a way to kick my own ass.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ll tell you if we can go somewhere right now.”

  Outside I hear the crackling of gravel as a car pulls out onto the roundabout.

  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  She sighs.

  “Fine,” she concedes. “Where’s security? We need to tell them—”

  “I’ll call Moore from the road.” I usher her toward the door. She’s still wearing her pajamas, so I grab a coat off the rack. It’s not hers, but it’ll do the job.

  Muttering complaints, she grabs the keys to the Jeep, and I all but shove her through the garage into the driver’s seat.

  “Come on,” I tell her. “We have to move.”

  With a bitter look, she starts the ignition, and we pull out onto the driveway.

  I need my license ASAP.

  “You want to tell me where we’re going?” she asks. “I’m guessing this isn’t school-sanctioned, otherwise you’d ask Moore to take you.”

  “We’re going that way. Hurry.” I point to the end of the long driveway, where Caleb’s car is passing through the gate onto the street.

  The Jeep slows.

  “Are we seriously stalking your boyfriend?”

  I press a hand on her knee, and when her foot slams down on the gas we lurch backward.

  “It’s just some light stalking,” I say.

  “Why?”

  “Call it curiosity.”

  Her frown unlocks, and soon enough, we’re racing after the black car.

  “So what’d he do?” she asks.

  “I don’t know yet. He’s just acting funny.”

  “You think?” she deadpans. “That dance at Family Day with Geri? What the hell was that?”

  Jealousy prickles through me. “Don’t ask me.”

  We follow at a close distance—close enough I begin to wonder if Charlotte’s done this kind of thing before.

  “Where’d you guys go last night?”

  I grip the door as she swings around a turn.

  “We had to talk.”

  “Is ‘talk’ code for ‘make out’? Because don’t think I didn’t notice that Grayson was missing, too.” She smirks across the car at me.