MILA 2.0: Redemption (16 page)

My scanner alerted me to Claude Parsons in the history building. He bit a pencil and typed into his laptop while the teacher lectured via PowerPoint.

That accounted for all the Watson kids but Hannah. So far, none of them were doing anything unusual.

J.D. led us down a hall that connected to another building, housing the first of two dormitories. They were separated by gender, and visiting hours were posted prominently on the front door. “School policy doesn’t allow dorm visitors while the students are in classes,” J.D. explained.

“Is security tight overall? I can’t help but worry, sending my daughter away from home,” said Daniel.

J.D. nodded. “Montford has very tight security. You probably noticed the video camera on the front gate, and we have others scattered across the campus. The cameras are always on.”

I filed that information away as Samuel got down to
what most average kids would want to know.

“Anything crazy happen here? Urban legends?” Samuel asked. “It can’t always be so perfect, can it?”

J.D. shot a quick look back at Daniel before lowering his voice. “Room parties get wild sometimes.” Then he raised it and said, “Not that I’m aware of.”

Daniel snorted and glanced away.

We headed into the quad, then veered off at an angle on the opposite side, where J.D. pointed out the sports field.

“We’re hosting the first soccer game of the season there tonight—you all should come check it out. Our team ranked number two in our league last year, but we’re going to kick . . . uh, some great balls, this year. I’m number fourteen, just so you know.”

Samuel made a face behind J.D.’s back.

“Sure, that sounds great,” Daniel said. We wouldn’t turn down an extra chance to poke around.

“Do you have football here?” Samuel asked, scanning the fields.

J.D. shook his head. “Nah, no football—the parents are too scared of their kids getting head injuries. But we have every other sport you might want—field hockey, baseball, swimming, tennis. Did I mention soccer?”

Tucked away partway between the soccer field and the administrative building was a smaller building that didn’t connect to the others.

Security system: Activated.

Powered by: NuTech CVA.

I frowned. All the buildings so far had security systems—but this one was locked up as tight as a safe.

Even more perplexing—NuTech. This security was connected to a different server. A private one.

“What’s that?” I asked, when J.D. walked by without comment.

J.D. followed my pointing finger and shrugged. “I think it’s going to be some kind of science lab when they finish renovating. It’s totally sealed up, though. Keeps the riffraff out.”

I reached out to connect with the security network. Right away, I brought up a list of people authorized to enter.

Regist . . . d Users: C . . . e . . . on . . .

The connection slipped away, leaving behind a void.

A flicker, and then:

Out of range: Signal lost.

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.

W
e made our way along the winding path, passing under an explosion of autumn colors. The air was ripe with the earthy must of decaying leaves and mulch. Hunter’s shaggy hair tousled in the intermittent breeze, and I was transported back to Clearwater, Minnesota, where we’d first met. I couldn’t believe that when this all began, we were still in the same season.

I shook off the nostalgia flash. Those days might as well have been in a different life. I needed to focus on the present. On our plan. It was pretty basic. During the game, I’d walk to the building with Abby, find out what I could about the registered users and what the building contained, and leave without looking suspicious. Meanwhile, the others would try to scout out other grant students and Daniel
would schmooze the dean.

The courtyard had gone from peaceful and quiet to teeming with life. Students filled the paths now, their voices combining to form an excited buzz. A few still had on their uniforms, but most had changed into casual attire: jeans, Montford T-shirts, tennis shoes or Uggs. The red and gold of the Montford Lion dominated the color scheme.

The students here didn’t seem so different from the students at Clearwater, though I did notice a flash of a fancy watch here, a glitter of diamond studs there. Shoes that looked both trendy and pricey. Less skin, more-polished hairstyles.

But none of that made Montford ominous, exactly. Just different from home. Or what I’d thought was home, back then.

The breeze shifted, and the autumn fragrance was overpowered by the smoky-sweet aroma of hot dogs on the grill. The scent tickled my memory.

Around me, cheers erupted, and I jumped to my feet to yell along with the crowd. I felt happy, caught up in the excitement to be part of something new. If only Chloe were here, everything would be perfect. I couldn’t wait to email her later. . . .

I shook my head and the past faded, leaving behind a warmth that slowly fizzled into an icy chill. Everything had started out so well for Sarah. What had happened here
to make her do such an abrupt about-face? None of those memories were coming back to me at all.

A trio of students wearing giant
M
capes streaked past us, whooping as the material streamed behind them like banners. What must it be like, to be one of these students? I wondered. To worry about nothing beyond who kicked a black-and-white ball into a net? This should have been Sarah’s world.

Scanning the crowd with my sensors, I located Sharon Alexander with a group of girls in the bleachers.

“See the dean anywhere?” Daniel asked.

I craned my head until I had a visual of the administrative building, where I could make out two figures starting down the path.

Zoom: Activated.

The image expanded. I zeroed in on the faces.

“Looks like he’s on his way.”

Target: 102 ft. away, approaching from northeast.

Current RPH estimates target will reach destination in under 60 seconds.

“Should be here in under a minute.”

“Good. Let’s wait here until he passes, then we’ll split up.”

“You ready, Abby?” I said, but Daniel interrupted.

“Actually, change of plans,” Daniel said. “I want Abby to go with Samuel. I realized that Sharon might respond better
to a girl. Even if Samuel could probably talk to a tree.”

“I’m on my own, then?”

Daniel shook his head. “No, take Lucas with you—Hunter can hang back as a lookout. It’s a better cover anyway; you’d be more likely to sneak off with a boyfriend, and that can be Lucas’s cover if the dean asks where he came from.”

Beside me, I sensed both boys recoil. I wanted to sink into the ground—did I have that functionality? I wanted to kick Daniel, too. How could he be so clueless about the awkward he’d just unleashed?

“Bad idea,” said Hunter, crossing his arms. “I’ll go with her, and Lucas can hang back.” Then he added, “That way I can keep an eye on her.”

Lucas bristled. “That’s insulting to Mila. And insulting to me.”

Hunter turned to face Lucas. “You’re so obviously wrapped up in your . . . sick fascination with her . . . that you can’t be trusted, either.”

Lucas’s jaw dropped. And then his cheeks flushed a bright red. “You have no idea,” he started, pausing to breathe.

“Enough!” Daniel said, his voice booming. “We don’t have time for this. Hunter, you go with Mila. Lucas, you stay back—that way you’re on call if I need expert backup.

“Now that we’ve got that important detail settled,” Daniel said, his words heavy with sarcasm, “let’s get to work.”

We were standing behind a tree and concealed by the groups of students milling about when the dean passed. He was immersed in a conversation with another teacher and didn’t even glance our way.

As soon as he passed, Daniel made a motion to follow.

“Samuel, Abby, time to head out. Lucas, if you stay in this general location, you should be good.”

I bolted in the direction of the building, mainly because I didn’t want to see Hunter pretending to be my boyfriend. It wasn’t until I was several feet down the path that I realized that I needed to wait for him. He was supposed to be my cover.

While I waited, a massive cheer arose from the field, followed by the screech of a whistle.

The game had started.

Hunter caught up so I started walking again, trying to act at ease. Pretending to be dating my sort-of ex who hated me because I’d killed his stepfather, all while scouting out secret buildings and a madman’s plots—well, that didn’t exactly make it easy to channel relaxation.

I watched a trio of latecomers hustle down the path toward the field. Faculty.

With an eye on the approaching staff, I grabbed Hunter by the elbow and veered him off our trajectory toward the suspicious building and instead toward a cluster of trees. One of them split down the middle into a low V shape, so I
settled into that as a makeshift seat.

“Look at me like you like me,” I muttered, keeping track of the teachers’ progress. I noted that even the faculty here kept up appearances—all shiny wool coats, snazzy hats, and polished shoes.

Hunter opened his mouth as if to say something, then shrugged and closed the distance between us. He leaned an elbow onto the trunk above me and smiled down, looking for all the world like a typical guy hanging out with a typical girl.

If I squinted my eyes just so, I could almost believe it.

Otherwise, I read the mistrust in his eyes like a banner. And the tension in his neck, and in the way he rocked into the balls of his feet. Like a frayed wire that suddenly snapped, our connection was gone.

One of the teachers glanced our way, but dismissed us and returned to a discussion with his colleagues. See? We even looked like we belonged. Just a young couple enjoying some fresh air.

No other staff seemed to notice us, so I turned to eye the mysterious building, which was only a short distance away.

Security system: Out of range.

Close, but not close enough. We’d have to get even closer for me to determine the names of all the registered users.

I hesitated only a second before looping my arm through Hunter’s. “Care for a stroll?”

I pretended like Hunter’s flinch didn’t tear at my heart. “Sounds good,” he said, though his body language screamed otherwise. Still, our arm-in-arm walk made us look like a happy pair, and that was all that mattered for now. I steered us toward our target.

As we closed in on our goal, I felt the squish of manicured grass beneath my shoes and the crinkle-crunch of dead leaves. Overhead, branches swayed and rustled.

We were less than thirty feet away when I felt the sudden burst of connection. A flash of red code followed.

Security system: Armed.

“Let’s sit down by that tree,” I said.

I lowered myself to the grass, leaning against the trunk and careful to face away from the building. Hunter hesitated before taking a seat. One that was a good three feet away.

“You’re supposed to look like you’re into me, not like I have the measles,” I said. “As challenging as that may be.”

My voice sounded distant, unfazed. Completely at odds with my battered heart.

He scooted closer without arguing. I bunched my knees while he spread out his long legs. Then he did the unexpected. He dropped an arm across my shoulders. “Better?”

A thousand responses battled in my head. Yes? No? Maybe if you meant it?

I just mumbled, “Yes,” and wished like hell that Lucas
could have accompanied me instead.

I turned my focus to the security system.

Registered users
, I prompted. A short code exchange later, the names swam before me. I gasped, and the sound was swallowed by a roar from the field.

“Someone coming this way?” Hunter directed the question to me in a calm, pleasant voice, but the arm around my shoulders tensed.

“It’s the registered student users. They’re all grant recipients.”

Hunter frowned. “So there are only five.”

“Six,” I whispered. Another roar from the crowd, a sound that echoed the cacophony in my own head.

“Six?” he said, clearly puzzled. Once again, I found myself yearning for Lucas. He would have understood immediately.

“The five current grant students . . . plus Sarah,” I said.

His mouth widened into a surprised oh. His expression was a slide show of emotions. Wonder and fear. Pity. Sorrow.

On that last one, the hard line of his mouth softened, and I saw a hint of the Hunter he used to be. A glimmer of concern, of shared pain. But before I could even process those thoughts, he retreated to his touch-me-not posture.

Meanwhile, the data spun a never-ending circle.

Claude Parsons: Active account.

Ben LaCosta: Active account.

J. D. Rothschild: Active account.

Hannah Peckles: Active account.

Sharon Alexander: Active account.

The final one had a special note by her name:

Sarah Lusk: Account inactivated.

I swallowed a lump full of emotional sludge—regret, sorrow, excitement, and fear. “Sarah’s account’s inactive.”

The security system was mocking me with a euphemism. Inactive. So much kinder than the reality of dead.

No other students had access; no faculty I could see, except for Dean Parsons. But there were some guest accounts that weren’t specified.

Hunter brushed his hair away from his eyes. “What now?” he said.

“We need to get closer. I want to see if I can sense anything else inside there. Barring that, there’s the old-fashioned way to snoop—peeking through windows.”

After performing a quick scan to assure me no one was paying attention, I stood, and Hunter followed suit. This was the riskiest part of our venture. The closer we got to the building, the harder it would be to disguise our intent if someone saw us.

We’d just have to ensure that didn’t happen.

As we headed over, my thoughts ran wild. At some point before her hasty departure, Sarah had been inside that building. We couldn’t know what that meant until we saw
whatever the structure concealed.

We approached from the south side. As much as I wanted to head straight for the main entrance, we’d be safer inspecting the rear first.

I yanked Hunter’s hand, hurrying until the stone facade hid us from view of anyone who might decide to make an early retreat from the game. Four stately trees towered in a row to our left, forming a makeshift path. Along the back of the building, the windows had been more than boarded over. They were also covered with sheet metal. The door had met the same fate. Dead ends.

“Someone certainly went to a lot of trouble,” Hunter said. We made a right turn when the building ended.

It was dim over here—not much light from the main campus paths reached this far. But the closer we got to the front, the more illuminated we would be.

As we neared the edge, I performed one final scan. No one within one hundred feet. I still felt uneasy, though, and I realized with a pang that some of my anxiety came from Hunter’s presence. Doing a mission with someone who thought you might go serial killer at any moment didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

Hard to believe that only weeks ago, we had been a team.

Another planter lined the front of the building, so we edged along it. The hedges were tall, rising almost to my shoulders. Large windows rose behind them, but from this
angle, they were completely blacked out.

“Let’s get a closer look.”

I slipped between a gap in the hedges, the tiny branches grabbing at my shirt. Hunter turned sideways to push his way through behind me.

I still couldn’t see a thing through the windows. I peered more closely at the glass, my nose only inches away, frowning. Something about the glass seemed unusual. In fact, I wasn’t even sure it was glass at all.

I followed the window until I reached the elevated platform that housed the front door. A
KEEP OUT: AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY
sign hung there, while a small sign next to it read
MONITORED BY SECURITY
. The door itself I recognized as a metal monstrosity camouflaged to look like old wood. Difficult to open, unless you defeated the security system that kept it sealed.

I told Hunter. “Looks like our only way in is through hacking the system.”

Another quick scan alerted me that someone was eighty feet away now, but they weren’t heading any closer. I turned back to the door, allowing the data to stream into my head so I could probe and prod it into submission.

I summoned one of the usernames for a test run.

Sharon Alexander: Grant access.

In the instant I waited, I hoped for something as simple as a password. I should have known better.

A red line streamed from the video camera over the front door, aiming directly at whoever stood below.

Initiate retinal scan.

I slumped. Unlocking the door? No problem. So long as we had a grant student’s eyeball handy.

“What is it?” Hunter whispered.

I turned to share the bad news, only to discover worse news. In the short time I’d been focused on the camera, the person had continued in our direction.