“I got you in at twelve thirty, but you need to leave now,” Adam calls out across the library like he’s in a giant rush. “Here are your intake forms. The secretaries get all fussy if you don’t bring them.” He throws papers from his dad’s practice down on the table, ignoring Mr. Mater and the serious conversation he’s trying to have with me. I try not to look confused.

“Hey, Mr. Mater,” Adam says as he grabs my arm like he’s helping me walk.

I grab the stack, noticing the picture of Ryan poking out from the bottom.

“My dad generously squeezed Lia in to take a look at her foot.”

“What happened to your foot?” Mr. Mater asks with doubt in his voice.

Adam answers for me. “Giant gash. She needs stitches. Crazy week for her, right?” I wonder if Mr. Mater recognizes Adam’s condescending tone or that he’s making it up as he goes. The wound has closed. I don’t need a doctor.

Mr. Mater rocks back and forth on his heels. “Sounds rough.”

“Luckily, she’s well connected to a nationally recognized plastic surgeon.” Adam flashes a giant fake grin as I wonder if people actually hire plastic surgeons to stitch up a cut on the bottom of a foot.

“Good thing.”

Mr. Mater is just going along with it at this point.

As Adam leads me out of the library, I accentuate my limp as if it might sell the story.

“See you later, Mr. Mater!” Adam says, laughing at his own rhyme. I follow Adam through the turnstile and out of the library, clutching the printouts of the Lakefront team and of Ryan’s family like my life depends on it.

Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

When Adam and I walk into the lunchroom, we’re assaulted by the smell of grease and cooked vegetables. We snake our way toward our corner table with our packed lunches, where I have every intention of spending the period on Adam’s iPad. But as we get closer, Cullen Henking approaches Katie from the other side of cafeteria. Her bottom lip curls into her mouth as she sketches in her notebook. He leans over the table and says something to her. Her body turns rigid. She glares at him.

Adam grabs my forearm. “Go home. I’ll rescue Katie.”

I open my mouth to protest as Cullen flashes his one-dimpled smile and winks at me.

“You don’t need this,” Adam says, lifting a brow. “And I happen to relish every chance I get to remind him of his deficiencies.”

I want to hide in our corner like I usually do and bury myself in research. One of the men in that picture heads the Death Mob. I know it, and I need to figure out who. I owe it to Dopney and my dad and every other dead victim.

Adam adjusts his black-rimmed glasses. “Go,” he says, leaving me behind.