Nova shook her head. "I don't know."
"You know Mason and Shane killed Ethan, right?"
It was a fact I don't think she wanted to admit. Her lips tightened. "Mason was never a violent guy. He just got caught up in the wrong crowd.”
“Something tells me Shaneisthe wrong crowd.”
She huffed, knowing all too well what kind of trouble Shane was.
“What’s your relationship with Shane?”
She glared at me. "My relationship with Shane doesn't exist.”
I got the impression there was something there. "What did it used to be?"
"What used to be is none of your business."
It mattered not.
"Have you ever met Chad?”
"One time. I was with Shane. This was back when we were dating.”
"How long have they been working for him?"
Nova shrugged. "Maybe a year. Maybe a little longer.”
"I need you to get in contact with Chad. I need you to get him talking.”
"You want me to wear a wire?"
I nodded.
Fear bathed her eyes. "He'll kill me if he finds out I’m working with the cops.”
"Then make sure he doesn't find out.”
From what little I knew of Chad Hensley, he didn't have the balls to kill anybody. He had other people do it for him.
We rigged Nova up with a pair of sunglasses that had cameras hidden in the frame. You could look right at them and not see the lenses. Hidden behind tinted plastic, the cameras were practically invisible. The glasses sent a wireless signal via a mobile network. We were able to track, watch, and record footage on our phones.
The plan was simple—get Chad to admit to something on camera.
Easier said than done.
Chad was running this whole operation from the Wharton Tower. It was an upscale high-rise dorm on campus.
The Porsche would have been a little cramped for the three of us. We grabbed a nondescript white van at the station and drove to the university. We parked in the Founders’ Court and hustled across campus to the Wharton tower.
Vanden broke for spring break next week. Campus was still packed with harried students, hustling about, taking midterms. Plenty of cute girls with hair in ponytails and sorority letters embroidered on shirts, shorts, and handbags.
The Wharton lobby smelled like fresh coffee and sandwiches. College kids lounged around, tapping on laptops, listening to ear pods. There was a coffee shop, a sandwich shop, and an overpriced quick mart in the lobby.
I had Isabella check Chad’s cellphone before we set out. She told me he was, in fact, in the dorm at the moment.
We took the elevator up to the 17th floor.
JD and I stepped into the TV lounge across from the elevator bay.
