I stow the mess of gear around me, the bag tied to the back of my bike almost the size of another person. I wish Clara could be behind me instead of a drysuit and gadgets, but that was never part of the plan.
Pushing my bike closer to the road, but staying in the wall’s shadow so the neighbor’s cameras won’t see me, I grab the last piece to the puzzle—the one that was supposed to bring in the cavalry. Without a flurry of cops, I’ll just have to hope this is disruptive enough for Reed to have a chance at getting in.
Clearing the wall again, this time closer to the road, I follow rabbit trails until I’m able to see the mansion through the naked trees. I pack snow into a rectangular base to stabilizeWalker’s contraption, then build the frame to hold the guns Jansen bought with a fake ID. I finish the Rube Goldberg-looking thing by threading a twisted dowel through the trigger guards, hooking it to a mechanical wheel pinned on one side. When the wheel spins, the dowel turns, and based on the unloaded tests Walker did, the guns go off at random intervals until they run out of bullets. It’s a bigger disturbance than we’d initially planned on, but with the girls in there, we’d decided on the biggest bang we could make. It gets even easier to save them if the guests call nine-one-one, too.
And if the cops find the frame, so be it. It’s three pistols loaded with blanks, pointed straight up, on a remote-controlled frame. They’ll have no idea what to do with it. And the bigger problems will all be inside.
I flip the receiver on, flick the safeties on the pistols off, then walk back to the wall, blurring my footprints as best I can in the sheltered space of the woods. Over the wall and back to my bike, I can’t deny that I’m dreading how cold this ride will be. At least my helmet is warm.
With one last look at the forest behind the wall, the faintest tinkle of music drifting on the wind toward me, I hit the button on the remote in my pocket. Step nine is a-go. The first bang of a gun reverberates like a backfire as I rev up and take off down the slick road. I drive slowly, not wanting to skid out, passing a dingy sedan with its windows cracked as its headlights flash on. A second shot rings out.
As much as I want to nod to the only cop who listened, I don’t, skirting around the corner instead. The wind covers my thighs with goosebumps as I drive back to campus. All that’s left is the easiest part of the plan—stashing my bike atBlack, walking back home, sneaking out to grab Jansen’s car, and retrieving him.
But I did it. I got in and out without a hitch. Now all that’s left is getting the cops in and encouraging them to look in all the right places.
Here’s hoping things work out the way we planned.
Chapter 61
Clara
The dinner is tense—Trips’ father keeps whispering to guards, sending some off as others appear. I have no idea how the plan has changed since August, but I assume RJ found a way to mess with the cameras, if the way the evil mastermind glares at the ceiling during one of the guard’s visits to his seat is any measure.
His scowl turns to me a few times, as well as Walker on the other side of Trips. Because he’s a sexist fool, he doesn’t spare Summer a single look. Meanwhile, Mattie pokes at her food, avoiding conversation with either Summer or me as she scans the crowd. “Looking for someone?” I ask, trying to be sociable with my new sister-in-law.
“Yeah, my boyfriend’s here,” she says, not elaborating.
My cheeks hurt from all the forced smiles I’ve worn tonight, and I wish she could know that this one is genuine. “That’s awesome! Your dad okayedyou dating him?”
“Of course not. My boyfriend found a mutual acquaintance who had a plus one and came in that way.”
“Oh.” This could definitely blow up in her face. “Well, at least you’ll get to spend some time together without having to sneak around.”
Her droll look is almost normal for her. “You’re forgetting Father’s surveillance.”
I bob my head at the man in question. “I don’t think the cameras are working right now. He freaked out on Trips and me earlier. I think that might be why.”
Her gaze locks on her father’s barely masked frustration, then shrugs. “He won’t tell us one way or the other. Better safe than sorry.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“We’re meeting down in the gym—there’s no reason for Father to have surveillance down there when all the guests will be on the main floor. After the dance starts, I’m out of here.”
I chuckle. “Be safe.”
Summer leans over, her smirk irreverent as she cues us in to her eavesdropping. “If you’re open to some advice from a big sister—if he doesn’t want to go down on you, lose him.”
I snort as Mattie’s eyes almost bug out of her face before the three of us all laugh, bringing some much needed mirth to my dreary wedding.
Trips raises a brow in question, but I shake my head. This is not a conversation for his ears. But the laughter feels good. Genuine in a way I’ve missed over these last few months of stress and disaster.
The rest of dinner goes off without a hitch, then we’re shuffled back to the ballroom, the space freshly spruced after the happy hour. Next up, drinking and dancing. In just a few hours, we can calmly pop open the safe and point the cops to whatever RJ stashed in there, as well as Walker’s pile of forgeries intermingled with the photo albums. Then, while we wait on the glacial pace of justice, hopefully the guys can free everyone from the blackmail. I imagine at least a few of Trips’ father’s victims will be brave enough to go to the cops about all the worse things he’s done over the years. And if the cops have a reason to dig deeper, they’re going to find more than enough dirt to keep him out of our lives forever.
All these months, this wedding, the torture—it was just to start the ball rolling. This version of the plan felt like overkill when we came up with it. At least until we realized how deeply entrenched the man was, how many layers of protection he’d built around himself. Blackmail yes, but also weaponized charm coupled with promises of Trevor’s time, Trips’ fists, and Mattie’s future, all made to his business partners, both legal and not. This summer we could see only the barest outlines of his web. I can’t even imagine what RJ found once he was nested inside the network here.
We had to give everything to the plan, or we’d never get free. And staying tied to the man was never an option.
He’s going to be taken down by his own crimes eventually. But without knowing where to send the cops, let alone how to get them to take us seriously, we had to be certain there was enough solid evidence of wrong-doing—even if we’re the ones who put it there. He might be old andsick, but he’s still a very dangerous man. And I never want to experience that fact at his hands again.
