Exposure (10 page)

What, exactly, had Cooper carried?

What happened after Tory took him home?

Chance didn’t know. But he was going to find out.

At that moment, a startling thought occurred to him. Something that, shockingly, he’d never considered before. The implications shot ice through his veins.

Chance quickly dug out and opened his MacBook. Fingers flying, he accessed his secure database and scanned the research protocols for Brimstone, the first project he’d commissioned at Candela. His anxiety level rose.

Dear God.

He’d green-lit the secret venture immediately upon discovering Karsten’s files, content to improvise, learning as he went. Hoping hard science would give him answers, even without knowing the exact questions.

But had he taken the proper precautions?

Switching to an outside server, Chance reviewed several encrypted files with an entirely new set of concerns. What he discovered sent his heart hammering.

Chance’s hands found his forehead.

Was it dangerous?

I don’t know.

Popping from his seat, Chance strode for the door. He hurried down two flights of stairs and into the grand entrance hall.

At the massive front doors, he paused.

Squeezed his eyes shut.

Drawing a deep breath, Chance straightened his tie and smoothed his hair.

Then he stepped outside and called for his driver, desperately hoping he hadn’t made a colossal mistake.

“A
ll hail MegaDock!”

Hi led us across the marina parking lot, heading for the southernmost section known as Pier Group Z. There we’d meet
Hugo
for our trip home.

The afternoon sun had ramped up the heat. I stopped a moment to shed my jacket. Shelton shuffled along beside Hi, loosening his navy-blue-striped Bolton tie.

The Charleston City Marina is a behemoth, with over nineteen thousand feet of dock space covering forty acres of water. Located in a sheltered zone where the Ashley River flows into the harbor, the sprawling facility is packed with amenities, including restaurants, stores, bars, and a floating boathouse.

And MegaDock, of course.

At a whopping 1,530 feet, MegaDock is the longest freestanding, floating fuel dock in the Southeast. Equipped with state-of-the-art power uplinks, boat-side assistance, and twenty-four-hour security, plus every other nautical perk you can imagine, its length is always crammed with massive yachts and expensive pleasure boats.

We trooped through the marina twice every school day. I barely noticed the opulent crafts any more, though at first I’d gawked like a tourist.

I trailed the boys, stuck in a funk.

Chance was in my head. I couldn’t shake a feeling of impending doom.

Was it coincidence we’d run into each other? Or had Chance been waiting? And what was up with his new job?

I’d assumed that, after graduation, Chance would relax into a life of playboy luxury. Work on his polo game. Collect oil paintings, or Italian sports cars. Date Victoria’s Secret models. After all, he didn’t have to work. Didn’t
have
to do anything but spend his money.

So why take on a dreary job at Candela? It made no sense.

We passed a small outbuilding crammed with yacht sales offices, then swept by the Variety Store Restaurant. As we approached the pier walkways, I heard a TV newscast floating from inside Salty Mike’s Deck Bar.

The faint audio caught my attention.

“Hi! Shelton!” I pointed, then ducked through the open door.

Salty Mike’s interior was rough but clean, with neon beer signs adorning a large central tiki bar. A pair of gnarly dartboards flanked a flat-screen TV on the right-hand wall.

I raced over, tried to figure out the volume. Heard feet behind me.

“What is it?” Hi asked. “I thought you were anti-booze. Plus, it’s three o’clock.”

“Shh!” I jabbed a button, then hissed in frustration as snow filled the screen. The bartender shot me an irritated look.

“Here, let me.” Shelton somehow corrected the feed and jacked up the sound.

A tinny voice filled the room. “Repeating our top story this morning, police sources have told Channel Five News that two Charleston teens have officially been designated missing persons . . .”

Smiling pictures of Lucy and Peter Gable flashed onscreen. Each wore a Bolton uniform.

“Holy crap,” Shelton breathed. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

Hi snorted. “Color me
shocked
that those ace cops couldn’t maintain radio silence.”

“Quiet!” I barked. “There’s more.”

The image shifted to a live shot of Bolton’s front gates, where a breathless female reporter took up the story. “The Gable siblings are both juniors at Bolton Preparatory Academy, the same prestigious private high school that recently made headlines for its connection to the sensational Gamemaster trial.”

The three of us groaned in unison.

“Headmaster Declan Paugh declined to be interviewed for our broadcast—” they cut to a clip of Paugh, red-faced, waving the camera away, “—but stated that the school will cooperate fully with the police investigation. Currently, there are no leads regarding the twins’ disappearance.”

Shelton covered his mouth. “Oh, man, he looks upset.”

The program jumped to a noticeably annoyed Commissioner Riggins, standing on the steps outside police headquarters. “At this time we have no evidence of foul play, or even that a crime has been committed. We ask the media to refrain from creating undo panic and let us do our jobs.”

The scene shifted to a large waterfront house with several police cruisers parked outside. A deep male voice began narrating. “Rex Gable, father of the missing teens, is a prominent local businessman who serves on the Charleston University Board of Trustees, and is an alderman at Saint Michael’s Church. Channel Five has learned that police investigators searched the family’s Daniel Island home early this morning.”

The coverage shifted to a flashy news studio, where a silver-foxed anchorman addressed the camera. “The Gable family has temporarily relocated to assist with the investigation.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Hi offered. “This should bump the Gamemaster’s trial from page one.”

Shelton slapped Hi’s shoulder. “C’mon, man. Not cool. We know those guys.”

The anchor continued. “If you know the whereabouts of Lucy or Peter Gable, please contact the Charleston Police Department. A reward is being offered for information leading to their safe return.”

The broadcast switched to an empty-headed weatherman predicting partly cloudy skies. Shelton turned the volume back down and we stepped outside.

Absently, I began walking toward our slip, where
Hugo
would arrive any minute. The boys followed. But my feet slowed as we approached the long wooden walkway to Pier Group Z. Halfway across, I stopped altogether.

The boys halted behind me, uncertain, matching puzzled expressions on their faces.

For a long moment, I stared out over the harbor in silence.

A feeling was hardening inside me. A resolve.

“We
have
to do something,” I said finally. Forcefully. “We
have
to get involved.”

Shelton scratched the back of his head. “Okay. Fine. But what?”

“We’ve got that voodoo card,” Hi suggested. “Let’s find out what it means.”

“More,” I urged. “We need to fully investigate the twins’ disappearance.”

“I distinctly remember being told this was a police matter,” Shelton grumbled. “More than once, yo.”

“But we can help.” I spun to face them. “What
are
we doing these days, anyway?”

Hi’s face scrunched. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s our purpose? We have these—” I stepped closer and lowered my voice, “—
abilities,
but no direction. No goal. We should be doing more.”

“We’re keeping our heads down,” Shelton countered. “Avoiding the spotlight while we figure out what happened to us. Jeez, Tor. Isn’t that enough? I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“No. Not anymore. I was wrong.”

Both boys gave me confused looks. I couldn’t blame them.

I tried to express what I was feeling. “We need to
do
things. Accomplish something. Make a difference with . . . whatever it is these powers are.”

Hi spread his arms wide. “With great power comes great responsibility. Ask Spider-Man.”

“So now you two wanna fight crime?” Shelton shook his head, incredulous. “Where is this coming from? Should we make costumes?”

Hi’s face lit up. “I’ve
definitely
got some ideas in that area, if—”

“Of course we don’t need costumes!” I paused, took a breath. “Look, I’m not even sure what I want. And, yes, I realize this is coming straight out of nowhere. I was the one who said we shouldn’t be flaring at all.”

I glanced at the door to Salty Mike’s. “Maybe it was seeing Lucy’s and Peter’s pictures onscreen. Like mug shots. It just hit me—we
have
these powers, why not
apply
them to something worthwhile? Solve problems normal people can’t.”

Shelton’s eyes narrowed. “You sound like a guidance counselor.”

I ignored him. The more I thought about it, the more I believed in what I was saying.

We
did
need a purpose. Could this be it?

“Hey, why not?” Hi shrugged. “We know the twins, and they seem all right. And it’s only a missing persons’ case anyway. What are you afraid of, Devers?”

“The unknown,” Shelton snapped. “Jail. Being dissected by Navy Seals.”

He petulantly kicked a rock. I crossed my arms, waiting.

Shelton removed his glasses and ran a hand across his face. Finally, he sighed. “I guess we could help out a little. Can’t see the harm in that.”

“So what’s the plan?” Hi cracked his knuckles. “Head into North Charleston and shake down some perps? Buy hand grenades? I’ve mapped out the first couple verses of a Virals theme song, so—”

“The Gable house,” I said. “The report said the family relocated, probably so the cops can tear it part. No one should be there. Let’s snoop around a little.”

“
Arrgh.
” Shelton pressed both fists to his skull. “More midnight black ops. We’ve done so much B and E this last year, we should apply for college credit. I think my black sweat pants are dirty, and I don’t—”

“No, doofus. Let’s go right now. If the Gable family isn’t staying there, the house should be deserted. Hi, can you—”

“On it.” Hi began tapping his iPhone. A moment, then, “Daniel Island. Nice digs, too, not that I’m surprised. The lot borders the Wando River.”

“Waterfront,” Shelton said quietly. “They probably have a dock.”

“Easiest way to avoid detection,” Hi added in a singsong voice.

Both boys looked at me.

There was no way around it. We needed Ben. He had the damn boat.

“Fine.” I practically growled. “Text him.”

Shelton punched in the message. His iPhone buzzed back in moments.

“Ben’s in.” Shelton rolled his eyes. “Snarky as hell, but he’ll pick us up at the Morris dock.”

“Getting the band back together!” Hi tossed Shelton a high five, then aimed one my way. “Look out, world!”

I raised my palm in reluctant acceptance.

Look on the bright side. We’ll do this at full pack strength.

If only I knew how to feel about that.

Sewee
’s nose kissed the Gables’ private dock.

Ben killed the engine and running lights. Shouldering my pack, I vaulted the port rail and tied off the bowline while Shelton and Hi tightened the stern ropes. Vessel secured, Ben and Coop leaped to join us and we hurried down the planks.

The sun was setting in a fiery tangerine ball, giving a hint of cover. I prayed the neighbors wouldn’t notice our boat, but it was a risk we had to take. Thankfully, the Gable property was tucked into a tree-lined cove that blocked an easy view by passing watercraft.

An hour earlier I’d managed to beg off dinner. Kit and Whitney had accepted my study group explanation without too much fuss. After all, I’d promised to be home by eight. What trouble could I possibly get into?