I need to go back. Reanalyze my crime wall. Every Death Mob victim must be linked to someone tied to the Lakefront Project. It’s how the mayor gets people to agree to his plans. And he’s controlling those already involved with the project too, like the men in that picture. The Swarm can’t exactly attack everyone. My eyes dart around the ceiling, connecting invisible dots like a constellation that’s always been there but is finally crystalizing. That’s what the blackmail is for.

Ryan said his dad did something illegal. Maybe they all did. Bribery? Extortion? Embezzlement? One of a million other possible scenarios I can’t even imagine? Maybe they were coerced into it. Maybe they were already corrupt. Either way, every single one of them had a kid in high school. That’s more than coincidence. The mayor must have chosen those men so he could force their kids into the Swarm.

I rub both eyes with the palms of my hands. I’m so close to figuring it out. I know I am. And still, so many unanswered questions spin through my head in dizzying circles with two more nagging than the rest. Why didn’t the tweet about the next attack include the location? And how will I catch the Swarm on video if I don’t know where it is?

Unless the attack is meant for me.

I inhale. Air crackles against the back of my throat like vinyl record static. Whatever the mayor is planning for the night of the gala, I’m running out of time. The day I cut my foot, Ryan asked me if I’d responded to the tweet about the Navy Pier attack, if I’d signed in. There has to be something to that.

I jump out of bed. The sheets, still twisted around my ankle, tumble to the floor. I kick them away and scurry to my bag. Squinting in the dark, I rummage through it for the phone Emi gave me, the one I’ve been avoiding for the last three days. I tap Google Maps. Like Emi promised, Ryan’s house is pinned. And it’s only a few blocks away. I still find it hard to imagine him living so close.

I throw on an oversized pair of sweats, wrap my scarf around my neck, and pull my wool hat low over my eyes. I’ll need to skirt the Escalade camped out front, which shouldn’t be too hard. The bigger challenge is getting to Ryan’s without a hallucination overpowering me.

Dr. What’s-His-Name would bank on me failing. Which is all the motivation I need.

Just before I walk out of my room, I listen for movement coming from my mom’s room.

Nothing.