“I can’t keep doing this. Someone’s going to catch on. And I can’t stop people from wandering the grounds. That would be suspicious. I found another student out there yesterday. She said she walks every day.”

“You’ll have to control that.”

“How?”

Several beats of silence ticked by.

“We’ll see if we can give you an excuse to suggest to the administration that it would be best if students and staff confine their wanderings to the main campus around the buildings and stay away from the woods.”

A muscle beside Will’s eye twitched. “What sort of excuse?”

“That isn’t your concern. When does she walk?”

An ache began to throb in his temples. “After school on weekdays, I guess. She said she’s always back in the dorm by dark. I don’t—”

“Text me the student’s name and photo.”

His pulse surged, and he pushed off from the wall. Began to pace. “Look—I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“And we don’t want our arrangement exposed. I’ll be in touch with dates soon for delivery and pickup. While we wait for that information, I suggest you take advantage of any convenient excuse that arises to restrict access to the far reaches of the property.”

The line went dead.

Will stabbed the end button and muttered a string of words he would never use on campus.

This was out of control.

If the person who’d bailed him out of his troubles was willing to target another innocent person to create a safe zone for illegal activities, nothing was off-limits.

His only hope was that a glitch would develop and render the Ivy Hill location less desirable.

But he couldn’t create that glitch. Not without risking his life. The methods these people used to get rid of problems were lethal.

Nor could he go to law enforcement with the information he had. He was too complicit—and he couldn’t even bargain for leniency by offering to identify his contact. The brains behind this had gone to great lengths to remain anonymous, as evidenced by the use of a voice-changing device for phone calls.

Will dropped into a chair at the dinette table and stared at his laptop screen.

Only one activity could distract him for a few minutes, give him a brief respite from the pressure cooker that had become his life.

Yes, he’d vowed after his previous lapse not to slip again—but he could control his impulses once he was online. Hadn’t he done so last time?

He clicked on the bookmarked site, and the familiar page opened.

Give in—or walk away?

But what would he do if he resisted temptation?

Worry? Drink gin? Overdose on sleeping pills?