“What’s not them?” Sydney asks, looking at me.

“It’s not one of the boys,” she says. “The investor doesn’t have a son. He has a daughter.”

“You found him?” I ask. “How do you know?”

“Because we found the money,” Brynn explains, far away at first and then into the line like she’s taken the phone from Marcella. “It’s a Mr. Goodwin. He contacted Jonah’s dad for a loan, a pretty large sum. He then funneled it through Ridgeview. He …”

But my mind drifts for a second, stuck on that last name. When it hits me, my stomach sinks.

“Who’s the daughter?” Sydney demands.

“Adrian,” I say before Brynn can.

“Wait, you know her?” Brynn asks, surprised. Sydney swings to face me with a pained expression.

“Is it possible she knew who we were from the start?” Sydney asks.

“I’m not sure,” I murmur. I think back to our conversations, any moment where Adrian could have given herself away, but nothing stands out. Then again, I wasn’t looking closely. With the boys, we had our guard up all the time. I guess I had my own double standard.

Still … I’m convinced that Adrian is my friend. I don’t think she’s faked that.

“What’s her address?” I ask Brynn.

“You’re not going there,” Sydney says, incredulous.

“I am,” I say. “I have to know why her father would invest in something so awful. I mean … Goodwin pays money for an academy to create AI to abuse, all while his own daughter is being abused in the private school he sends her to.” My voice begins to ratchet up. “Does he know what she’s going through? Does he know what he’s put us through?”

Sydney bites her lip, thinking it over. All we needed was his information. We could pass it along now to Leandra, to Winston Weeks. We could give it to the newspaper or even Rosemarie.

But we’re the ones who need answers. We need to know why the academy was created. We need to know why it’s continuing to be funded.

“She’s right,” Marcella says into the phone line. “We need to talk to him.”

“Okay,” Sydney agrees. “Come pick us up.”

She gives Marcella the closest cross streets, and we head that way, readying ourselves to face down the investor.

27

Brynn looks me over worriedly as Marcella drives us toward Adrian’s house. It turns out, Adrian doesn’t live in an average neighborhood, not full-time. Her parents are divorced, but her dad is incredibly rich. Or, at least, he puts on the pretense of being incredibly rich. I suppose he’s not anymore if he’s borrowing money.

“Why’s he still paying?” I ask the girls. “If he can’t afford it anymore, why borrow money to pay Innovations Academy?”

“Good question,” Marcella says.

“Are you okay, Mena?” Brynn asks me. “You … You have bruises all over your arms.”

Surprised, I look down to see dozens of them, large and small, as well as spots of blood on my dress from where I scraped my thigh on the roof. It’s as if seeing them makes them hurt even more. But beyond that, it opens a wound in my chest, and I quickly turn toward the window, shivering.

I’m still scared. And the night seems even darker.

“I’m fine,” I say quietly.

“Well,” Marcella says. “Raven let us know she got the recordings, including yours, Sydney. She’s putting them together now, and they should be sent to reporters tonight. She’s even reaching out to Mr. Marsh.”

“I’m glad it’s over,” I murmur.

“By the way,” Marcella says, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Has anyone heard from Annalise? Raven said she wasn’t at the house, and I’ve been calling her phone but she hasn’t answered.”

I close my eyes. She’s already gone. I’ll have to tell the girls soon, but I promised Annalise that I’d finish this mission first. It’s dishonest and unfair … but I promised.

“No,” Sydney says, surprised. “But I did get a call from Lennon Rose. She’s been trying to get in touch with you, Mena.”

“Jonah threw my phone off the roof,” I say, looking back into the car. “Did she say what she wanted?”

“Nope,” Sydney says, leaning back in the seat. “She just said she needed to talk to you and wouldn’t tell me why. So, you know. Usual Lennon Rose stuff,” Sydney adds, flashing a fake smile to show her annoyance.

“I’ll find her later,” I say.

We arrive at a set of massive metal gates with a guard posted in a windowed booth at the edge of Adrian’s neighborhood. Marcella pulls up anyway and rolls down the window. The guard comes out, examining the car before glancing inside at us.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“We’re here to see Adrian Goodwin,” Marcella replies.

He checks a list, an actual list of approved guests. “Name?”

“We’re surprising her,” Marcella says. “Tell her it’s her friends from school.”

The guard studies us again. “I’m sorry,” he says. “If you’re not on the list, I’m not going to call and disturb a resident.”

Sydney slides her hand over her purse, but I reach out to stop her and shake my head no.

“Fine,” Marcella says, annoyed. “Give me a second.”

She takes out her phone, dials, and brings it to her ear. “So much for the surprise,” she says, glancing in the mirror at us.

“Yes, hi,” she says when someone picks up. “Can I talk to Adrian? Good, hold on.” She then passes the phone back to me. I fumble with it for a second.

“Hello?” Adrian says, sounding just like she did when she befriended me on my first day.

“Hi … Adrian,” I reply. “It’s Mena, from, uh, history class.”

“Mena! I’m happy you called.”

“I’m actually calling from your gate,” I say. “Do you think you could tell the guard to let us in?”

“Us?” she questions.

“It’s me and Sydney and two other girls. We … We need to talk to you.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “All right,” she says. “Yeah, let me call down there right now.”

We hang up and I give the phone back to Marcella. We wait, silently, until the guard gets the call. He writes down a few notes before hanging up.

He comes next to the window again and taps on the roof of the car.

“Welcome to The Gardens,” he says warmly, and then walks back to the booth.

We all freeze, and Marcella looks around until she points out the name posted on the stone waterfall at the entrance.

The name of the neighborhood is The Gardens. But we can’t help but think there’s a deeper meaning.

Adrian’s house—her father’s house—is the grandest estate I’ve ever seen, including in movies. It even puts Winston Weeks’s property to shame. It’s funny, though—if Adrian is this rich, she certainly doesn’t behave that way, accessorize that way. I wonder what the story is.