And it was working.
We had eight days to figure it out.
***
The dorm was dark when I got back. Noah's desk lamp was on—the only light—casting a warm circle across his notes.
He looked up when I came in. Read my face in about two seconds.
"That bad?"
"Hale's going to pull us from the Charles."
Noah closed his laptop. "Shit."
"We have until the end of the week. If we can't row together, he puts Marcus and Collins in the double. Or Braden." I dropped my bag on the floor. Sat on my bed. The mattress sagged under me.
"He won't do that."
"He will. He meant it. How are you?"
"Prepping for this debate."
"How's it going?"
"It's good, but I wanted to tell you something else. Not great news."
Noah was quiet for a second. Then he swiveled his chair to face me fully.
I looked up.
"The number." Noah pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolled to a text thread. "Burner. Prepaid. Bought with cash. No name on the purchase. No card. Nothing."
"So it's a dead end."
"Yeah." He set the phone on the desk. "Chris ran it twice. There's no trail. Whoever bought it paid cash, activated it from a public Wi-Fi network, and only used it to text you and Alex. No other calls. No other messages. Then it went dark."
"Went dark?"
"Turned off. The number hasn't been active since the last text." He leaned back. "This isn't some kid messing around, Liam. Whoever did this, planned it."
I stared at the floor.
"So we've got nothing."
"We've got nothing on the number." Noah paused. "But we know something about the person."
"What?"
"They're patient. They sat on the illegal race video for weeks before using it. They sat on the kiss photo for weeks before sending it. They're not impulsive. They're strategic." He folded his arms. "And they want something. If they just wanted to destroy you, they would have sent the photo to Eldridge or your coaches or—"
"Alex's father."
"Right. But they didn't. They sent it to you guys privately. Which means they're holding leverage, not using it." He looked at me. "The question is what they're waiting for."
The radiator clicked. Someone's music thumped through the wall—bass, muffled, the soundtrack of every night in this building.
"You know what I'm going to say," Noah said.
