Finn glances at the screen, suddenly remembering the Crimson Edge page is still up from when he was researchingthe envelope he’d found at the Allards’. “Wait, what do you know about Crimson Edge?”
She gives him a look, eyebrows raised. “I went to Washington Prep! I know about Crimson Edge.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“I forgot you’re not from around here.” She shakes her head, a ringlet falling loose. “One of my friends from high school got into Brown. Rowing team. Her parents bought her an erg. I was the one who took the pictures of her on it, but in my defense I had no idea what they were for.”
“What are you talking about? What’s an ‘erg’?”
She laughs. “For real? An erg is a rowing machine. Rowers use it to train. So her parents buy her one, she takes a few action pics, and then Crimson Edge pitches her to the Brown rowing coach as a recruit. Even though she’s never set foot in a boat once in her life.”
“Why would the rowing coach want someone who’s never rowed on their team?”
“They don’t want her, they want her money.” Ellis rubs her fingers together. “Her parents make a donation to the rowing program, and voilà, she gets in to college as a walk-on. Coaches are allowed to, like, hold a few spots for walk-ons. You know, athletes that aren’t good enough to be recruited, but the coach sees potential and needs someone to fill the bench.”
“And your friend admitted she did that?”
Ellis smirks. “I happen to know what her grades were, and I was like, no way you got into Brown on your own. It’s kind of like an open secret.”
“That’s so unfair.”
Ellis rolls her eyes. “Welcome to the real world.” Shetouches his arm, her fingers cool against his skin. “But you’re right. It is unfair. It’s basically buying your way into a college you couldn’t study your way into. But what can you do? If you have enough money, the rules don’t apply to you.”
“You really believe that?”
“I work at a coffee shop, Finn, and it’s my second job.” Her voice carries the weight of experience. “Hell yeah, I really believe that.”
They talk for a while about music and upcoming concerts at the Anthem and 9:30 Club, the late-afternoon light shifting through the high windows, casting long shadows across their table. Ellis’s attention wanders back to his screen.
“What’s that tab?” With a finger tipped by a chipped navy polish, she points at a Google search for Tori Price.
“That’s me trying to track someone down.”
“Why, she owe you money?” Ellis’s eyes sparkle with mischief.
He laughs. “You’re very fiscally focused. But no, she was my friend’s employer.” He takes a deep breath. “My friend Autumn. She was killed about a year ago when a robber broke into the house she was living in—with this woman. I just want to talk to her, but I can’t find her.”
“That is super intense.” Ellis cocks her head to one side, her playfulness evaporating. “What do you know about the woman?”
“Her name. But no address. She moved. No social media. She seems to have scrubbed herself from the internet.” Frustration colors his words as he counts off the dead ends on his fingers.
“Kids?”
“One. A little boy.”
“What school?”
“No clue.”
“Where does she work?”
He shrugs. “She’s not at her old job.”
“You got nothing, my friend.”
“I know one thing about her. She shops at American Plant on River Road.” He sighs heavily. “So unless I want to stake out a plant store on the off chance that she shows up—” He catches a smile breaking out on Ellis’s face, her eyes suddenly bright with possibility. “What is it?”
“I wonder if she’s a loyalty member.” Ellis leans in closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “I have a friend who works there. If she’s a regular customer, and she’s a loyalty member, she’s in their database.”
