Exposure (18 page)

D
innertime snuck up on me.

Whitney pounced as soon as I opened the front door, foreclosing any notion of examining Karsten’s files right away.

“You ready to eat, dear?” She wore a pink taffeta dress with matching flats. To dinner. On a Wednesday. At home.

Suppressing a groan, I allowed myself to be ushered to the table.

Kit was sitting on the couch watching
Jeopardy,
drinking a glass of red wine. Whitney continued to putter about, setting out dishes and straightening the place settings. The whole scene felt
very
domestic, like a glimpse into my future.

That thought nearly sent me screaming down the beach.

Coop trotted over and brushed against my leg.

“Hey, dog face.” I knelt and rubbed his cold, wet nose.

Cooper yipped. Pawed at my shoulder.

“I know. I left you behind today. Sorry about that.”

Whitney was smoothing her dress, a stink-eye on the wolfdog. “The table is set, sweetie.”

“One sec.”

I scurried upstairs, unzipped my bag, and shoved the CD and flash drive into a desk drawer. Then I trudged back down, bracing for an hour of forced smiles and stilted conversation.

That evening’s spread was pork chops with country ham gravy, green beans, and Gouda mac and cheese. We don’t eat healthy, but we damn sure eat well.

“Anything interesting going on, kiddo?” Kit dug into his meal. “We missed you at dinner yesterday.” He left the question unspoken.

Oh, sure, Kit, lots! The gang and I broke into Lucy and Peter Gable’s house last night and discovered a bloodstain the size of Texas, but were chased off by a stalker before we could be 100 percent sure. This afternoon, we took a clue Hi swiped from the district attorney’s office—the only piece of evidence in the twins’ disappearance—and had a witch look it over. After that we stopped by a hacker’s apartment to break in to your old boss’s research files. You know, the ones from his secret medical experiment, which accidentally gave me superpowers. How was your day at LIRI?

“No. Same old.”

Kit nodded as if he’d expected my response. “I’m just glad the trial is over. Things can finally get back to normal.”

“Here, here!” Whitney, hand to chest. Then she folded her napkin and placed it on the table. “Now, Tory, please don’t get upset.”

“Upset?” Not a good opener.

“You’ve been distracted lately, so I took it upon myself to help you along with the Magnolia League. I filled out all the paperwork for you, so it wouldn’t be a bother.”

My eyes closed. Snapped open.

I didn’t scream. Didn’t stomp my foot. Didn’t storm from the table.

At this point, we were past all that.

Instead, I met Whitney’s gaze directly. “You anticipated this would upset me.”

“Whit’s just trying to be helpful.” Kit’s hazel eyes were pleading.

“Thank you for explaining her actions,” I said coolly. “Again.”

Whitney’s lips parted, but I raised a hand for silence.

Awkward pause. Then I slowly shook my head.

In the end, I
always
lost these battles. Why bother fighting them?

Sighing, I speared a green bean on my plate. “What
exactly
is this going to entail?”

Whitney goggled at my unexpected surrender, but quickly recovered. “Being a Magnolia isn’t hardly work at all. You’ll
love
it! First-year girls attend two chapter meetings a month, then perhaps join a committee, or help organize a charitable event.”

“The deadline is approaching fast, and those ladies are sticklers for rules.” Her shoulders tensed, as if expecting a blow. “I went ahead and submitted your application yesterday.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course you did.”

Whitney nervously giggled with me, but her eyes betrayed her anxiety.

Screw it. Done is done.

“I assume you’ll let me know their response?”

Whitney covered her mouth with both hands, as if she couldn’t believe her luck. A child who’d gotten a coveted Christmas present. “Tory, you’re
assured
of acceptance. Trust me.”

Whitney unleashed a torrent of words about all the “rewarding” activities the Magnolia League had to offer. As she droned on and on, something nudged my foot under the table.

Kit’s loafer.

I glanced at my dad. He mouthed a thank-you.

My eyes nearly rolled through the ceiling, but I nodded. We both knew this would make life easier.

“And we can go shopping for hats!” Whitney prattled. “I know a
great
boutique on King Street that will have just the thing, plus—”

“You owe me,” I whispered from the side of mouth.

Kit nodded ruefully. “I know it.”

“What’s that?” Whitney, just now discovering she’d been talking to herself. “Tory, you’ll still help with the neighborhood party, won’t you?”

Ugh. I’d forgotten that gem. Though, admittedly, it wasn’t her worst idea.

“Yes, Whitney. Just let me know what you need.”

“Wonderful! We should’ve hosted an event like this
ages
ago.” She tapped her bottom lip with a manicured fingernail. “I think invitations would be fitting, even though everyone lives close. We can hand deliver them.”

As Whitney ramped back up, something in the living room caught my eye.

Breaking News was interrupting Alex Trebek.

“
Ssh Ssh Ssh!
” I pointed to the television.

“Good evening,” intoned the same oily anchorman, with all the grave solemnity he could muster. “There’s been a shocking development in the disappearance of Lucy and Peter Gable. In a
Channel Five News
exclusive, we’ve obtained footage from a
ransom video,
received by police officials mere hours ago, confirming that the Bolton Academy twins have been forcibly abducted.”

“Oh my God!” I shot from my seat and ran to the screen.

“A warning to our sensitive viewers.” If possible, the anchorman’s face grew even more somber. “The following images are disturbing. You may wish to look away.”

A grainy image appeared. I watched in horror.

It was a boy and a girl, trapped behind rusty metal bars in a stone chamber. The five-second clip contained a single shot of their dirty, haggard faces.

I recognized both.

We were right.

The enormity of the video sank in.

This was no game we were playing. No lark to kill time, or soothe my frustrated psyche. The Gable twins’ lives were hanging by a thread. Two kids I saw nearly every day.

The anchorman’s face filled the screen. “Channel Five News has confirmed that a ransom demand of five million dollars accompanied the video.”

The program cut to an apoplectic Commissioner Riggins, barking into a half-dozen microphones shoved before his face.

“This tape is part of an
ongoing police investigation,
” he snapped. “Releasing it publicly was
highly
irresponsible. I ask the media to
please
respect the gravity of the situation, and make no unauthorized disclosures that could further jeopardize the safety of these children. I will personally investigate these leaks. And when I find who’s responsible, they’ll be prosecuted!”

Beside Riggins stood Detective Hawfield, arms crossed and visibly seething.

Big week for Channel Five. They must have a solid source at police HQ.

The anchorman resumed, without the slightest twinge of guilt. “Tune in this evening for up-to-the-minute details of the astonishing Gable twins’ kidnapping. Good evening.”

Final Jeopardy blipped back onscreen. I sat down, stunned.

Kit was by my side immediately. “You okay, Tor? Do you know those kids?”

“I’m fine.” Trying to pull myself together. “We have a few classes together.”

“How dreadful!” I was surprised to see tears leaking from Whitney’s eyes. “Those poor babies!”

Kit seemed about to say more, but I needed to process.

“I’m going to my room.” I bolted upstairs before they could say more.

My door closed with a bang. I heard Kit climb halfway up in pursuit, then stop. A few beats passed, then he slowly descended back to the main floor.

I sat in my chair, mind-blown. Everything was suddenly real, and I didn’t like it.

Then
do
something about it.

But what?

Then I knew.

Before, there’d only been one piece of evidence.

Now there were two.

And the Virals needed both if we hoped to help Lucy and Peter.

A plan began to form. The boys weren’t going to like it.

But a simple truth was inescapable: we needed a look at that videotape.

And there’s no time like the present, right?

T
he Explorer’s dashboard clock read 1:00 a.m.

“Now or never,” Ben murmured.

I didn’t move. Watched the building across from where we’d parked.

This was unquestionably the riskiest stunt we’d ever considered pulling.

Charleston Police Headquarters is tucked away on the northwestern edge of the downtown peninsula, overlooking the Ashley River. The compound consists of several structures of various size, shape, and level of security.

Some were dark. Others were lit up like Christmas trees.

The boys in blue never fully close for business.

We were casing a two-story compound outside the main cluster. An ugly, dreary pile of bricks, surrounded by a ten-foot chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Though flickering floodlights illuminated the enclosed yard, none burned within the building. A sign at the gate proclaimed it “Annex A.”

“We’re really doing it this time,” Shelton muttered. “We’re gonna break into a freaking
police station.
And not some backwoods precinct. Ho, no! That wouldn’t be
stupid
enough. This team of geniuses is about to invade the damn HQ.”

“We need the ransom tape,” I replied. “It’s in there.”

“Why not hit NASA next?” Shelton squawked. “Or CIA headquarters?”

“We
could
visit Channel Five first,” Hi suggested. “They have a copy.”

I shook my head. “We don’t know if they have the whole recording, or just a clip.”

“Tory’s right.” Ben’s fingers drummed the steering wheel. “Plus, our plan is solid.”

I watched Ben from the corner of my eye. Worried. While I appreciated his enthusiasm, Ben seemed unnaturally excited to undertake something this dangerous.

An hour ago, he’d picked us up on Morris. I’d barely made it out—slipping past Whitney was significantly more difficult than eluding Kit alone. While Kit slept like a hibernating polar bear, Whitney woke at the slightest floorboard creak. And lately, she’d begun setting our security system every night.

That actually worked in my favor. Whitney’s not a tech-savvy person—she thought the alarm couldn’t be deactivated without beeping. Not true. A quick read of the instruction manual had introduced me to silent mode.

That night I’d snuck downstairs, killed the alarm, slipped outside, and then reengaged the system from my iPhone. If the bimbo woke up she’d see a steady red light, and wouldn’t suspect a thing.

The trickiest moment had been getting by Coop. Even bribed with two Greenie bones, the wolfdog hadn’t been pleased to be left behind. Thankfully, he hadn’t blown my cover.

“You’re sure about this tunnel?” Shelton asked for the fifth time.

“Absolutely.” Hi wiped orange Doritos crumbs on his black sweatshirt. We all wore dark, athletic clothing. Our ninja garb, Hi called it.

“Explain it one more time.” Sitting there, on the brink, I wanted to visualize our strategy step by step.

Hi sighed theatrically, but repeated the story. “Last fall, my dad had to come down here to reclaim the LIRI hardware stolen from Lab Three. He brought me along to help lug the gear. That afternoon there was a baseball game up the street, snarling traffic around headquarters, so the detective took us on a shortcut.”

He pointed to the building across the street. “We went in there. Annex A. That ugly shack has a tunnel to the main building. Even better, the passage connects to the basement, right where evidence storage is located.”

“So we enter here, sneak along the tunnel, find and copy the tape, then retreat.”

I sounded much more confident than I felt.

“Exactly.” Ben was actually smiling. “It’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” Shelton began ticking points on his fingers. “We don’t know how to get inside this building, if the tunnel will be manned, or if the video is actually
in
the evidence room, which is almost certainly guarded, alarmed, and recorded twenty-four/seven.”

I tried not to cringe. Shelton was right. Our plan was borderline suicidal.

But it didn’t matter. I couldn’t get the twins’ faces out of my head.

“We’ll improvise,” was all I said.

“Nope.” Shelton wagged his head fatalistically. “We’re getting caught, and going to jail. At least they won’t have far to take us.”

“Enough wasting time.” Ben killed the engine. “Light ’em up.”

“Do we have to?” Shelton glanced at me with troubled eyes. “Flaring is starting to feel a little like playing Russian roulette. How do we know the powers won’t suddenly go sideways on us while we’re sneaking past the po-pos?”