“The meeting is in ten minutes. Buddy up?”
I shrug on my coat and gloves, winter holding tight now that it’s December. As we walk toward the coffee shop Clara used to work at, RJ glances around, catching sight of our now lazy PI a few blocks back. “Do you think we still need the buddysystem?” he asks.
I shrug. “Bryce has been quiet, but he’s still out there, sending us messages.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “I haven’t checked the audio Jay’s gathered or the tracking data. There’s just so much to do right now. Once we deal with Trips’ dad…”
“Yeah. I’m with you, man.”
The coffee shop’s busy, everyone buckling down on last-minute assignments and upcoming finals. It’s our last semester, and we’re hardly focusing on our schooling. The past year has put everything into perspective, and for the first time, it only stung a little when my parents compared me with my brothers over the holiday. What my brothers are doing is important. But what we’re doing is so completely different that they can’t even be compared.
I won’t ever be like them, and there’s no reason to keep wishing my parents would be proud of what Ihaveachieved. I’d never want them to know my highest highs as a forger. They’re better off thinking I’m a failure.
Reed joins us a few minutes after we claim a table, his cheeks red from the cold. “You have something?” he asks without preamble.
RJ pulls out his tablet, navigating to what looks like a normal website. But he’s taught me enough to recognize the dark web by the way he types in the address instead of looking it up. “Here,” he says, laying the tablet flat on the table.
It takes me a minute to figure out what he’s showing us, but as soon as I do, I curse under my breath.
“An auction,” Reed says. “They’re hosting an auction.”
“Not they,” RJ corrects. “Representative Trevor Westerhouse is hosting an auction of underage girls.”
The curses Reed voices are colorful and creative, reminding me, just for a moment, of Trips.
“He’s using Clara’s wedding as cover. They’re all his guests,” RJ adds.
He glances behind me, his eyes getting big, before he scrambles for the tablet. I blink back my dread, turning to see a woman I’ve only met once, but a face I still remember: Clara’s boss Carrie.
“Hello, sorry to bother you, but you’re a friend of Clara McElroy, aren’t you?”
I plaster on a smile, not liking the mask I’m donning. “Sure am. Carrie, right?”
She grins, seemingly glad I remember her name. “I won’t distract you for long, but I haven’t heard from Clara for a while. I thought she’d stop in after she quit, but she hasn’t been here in almost a year. Do you know if she’s okay?”
RJ shifts his weight beside me, but I keep up my facade. “She’s great. She’s just been abroad. When she gets back, I’ll tell her you asked after her.”
“Oh! How fun for her! I look forward to hearing about all her adventures,” she says, waving as she returns to the counter, a frazzled woman helping the current guest.
Reed raises his eyebrows. “Abroad?”
“True enough,” I say, probably giving away more than I should.
“You kids lie much too easily,” he says.
RJ gets the tablet back on. “Not as often as you’d think. So what should we do about the auction?”
Reed taps through the listing, getting more information. “I can’t crash a Westerhouse wedding. There’s no address, notime, just a handle and a date on this website. Unless we have somebody far enough undercover to get an invitation to the auction, this isn’t enough.”
I turn to RJ. “Where are we at with our invitation?”
“To an auction of underage girls?” Reed’s face is tight with rage.
“No, of course not. To the wedding.”
“You’re getting an invitation to your girlfriend’s wedding to another man?” Reed scoffs.
He doesn’t get it. So many people won’t. But I won’t explain it to him. Maybe someday he’ll be lucky enough to love a girl…and that girl will love a whole slew of other men. Poor officer Tom Reed wouldn’t handle it with an ounce of grace. A fitting punishment.
