he driver dropped Boone off first. He said good night to me and Lily, and then stammered unintelligibly in the general direction of Sadie-Grace. After the car door closed behind him, I raised an eyebrow at Sadie-Grace, trying to focus on the here and now—and not my mom’s parting shot.

“What?” Sadie-Grace frowned. “Do I have something on my face?”

I decided that subtle really wasn’t the way to go here. “Boone likes you.”

Sadie-Grace wrapped the fingers on her right hand around her left. “Boys always like me. Or at least, they think they like me, until I’m… me.” She cleared her throat. “I have an unfortunate habit of breaking them.”

“Breaking them?” I repeated.

“As in…” Sadie-Grace ducked her head. “Physically. We try to do things, and then I break them.”

I turned to Lily for a translation.

“She is kind of… accident-prone,” my cousin said delicately.

I made the executive decision that I did not want to ask any further questions. It was just as well, because an instant before the limo pulled away from the curb, the door opened again.

Campbell slid in. Her face was pale, and she stared straight ahead, like the rest of us weren’t even there.

“Commit any major crimes lately?” I asked.

That jarred Campbell out of her uneasy reverie. She picked her team shirt up off of the limo floor, and a moment later, she was wearing it.

Like she’d been here the whole time.

Like whatever she’d been doing for the past five hours was nothing.

“I take it we had fun tonight?” she chirped.

Lily caught my eyes for the briefest moment. “You could say that.” She paused. “You seemed to particularly enjoy taking the evening into our own hands, frolicking through an abandoned lot in the sticks, and belly dancing at a dilapidated rural gas station.”

Campbell turned her head forty degrees to the left, poised and ready to strike. “Did I?”

I shrugged. “We may have gone off script.”

Her green eyes caught the interior lights. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“If you don’t want the footage that establishes you were a good forty-five minutes outside of town most of the evening…”

“No.” Campbell forced a smile. “I’m sure what you have will be fine.”

Lily hesitated for a second or two, then placed the camera in Campbell’s open palm. The flicker of relief I saw cross the senator’s daughter’s face was more concerning than any threat she’d issued in the past six weeks.

“What are you going to do with it?” I asked. All of that precious footage, Campbell’s alibi for who knows what.

“Exactly what our instructions say to do with it.” Campbell shimmied across the seat and lowered the privacy glass. “Excuse me, sir,” she said, molasses-sweet. “But I think we’re supposed to leave this with you.”

Watching the glass go back up felt like watching a curtain fall—or a sword.

“He’ll turn it in,” Campbell said. “The committee will review our video, and at our event next month, the winners of the scavenger hunt will be announced.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I prompted. Lily’s tablet. The security footage.

“After the next event,” Campbell promised. “As soon as the winners are announced, I’ll give you everything I have. You won’t hear a word from me about Secrets or anything else in the meantime.”

That wasn’t the deal.

Campbell’s gaze was intense. “I mean it, Sawyer. I won’t be a problem—for any of you—and at the masquerade next month, every trace of evidence I have is yours. You have my word.”

“I, for one, find that extremely comforting,” Lily murmured, soft and sarcastic at once.

Sadie-Grace’s reply was somewhat less elegant. “Uhhhh… guys?”

I was still giving Campbell a hard look when Sadie-Grace repeated herself.

“Guys,” Sadie-Grace repeated, her voice going up an octave. “Look.”

I looked. The limo had just turned onto Camellia Court. ­Sadie-Grace’s house was on one side of the cul-de-sac; my ­grandmother’s was on the other, and down at the end, on the largest of the oversized lots, was the only house on the block set back from the street by a wrought-iron gate.

Tonight, that gate was open. There were police cars in the ­driveway—three of them. Flashing blue and red lights drilled themselves into my brain with the strength of an ice pick—again and again and again.

Lily whipped around to look at Campbell. “That’s your ­grandfather’s house.”

I searched for any hint of weakness on Campbell’s face, any of the unsteadiness I’d seen when she’d climbed back into the car.

All I saw was steel.

“Oh, dear,” Campbell said, the very picture of concern. ­“Grandfather’s house. Whatever could have happened there?”