Dear Mr. Stark: We here at the University of West Alabama are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for our Distinguished Student Scholarship. Recipients of this scholarship must first submit to an in-person interview with a representative from the university. We would be happy to schedule this interview at any time that is most convenient for you. Kindly contact us so that we might set up a time as soon as possible.

Underneath that there was a phone number and a name, Blythe Collier.

Handing him the paper, I glanced over my shoulder. “Okay, what’s so weird about that? That’s a legit scholarship. I’ve heard of it.”

David leaned close enough for me to see my reflection in his glasses. “Yeah, it’s legit, but you have to apply for it, Pres. They don’t offer it to you. And there’s no interview for it.”

I flexed my fingers. “So someone might be trying to lure you out of town.”

“Maybe.” He was a little sheepish as he shoved the paper back into his pocket. “I know it sounds stupid—”

“David, you’re really going to have to stop saying that. And look, I admit, maybe this is a bit fishy, but why tell me? Why not tell Saylor?”

Snorting, David tugged at his hair. “Can you blame me for not trusting her right now, Pres? She’s lied to me my entire life. She’s not even my actual aunt.”

His voice rose on the last word, and I touched his arm. “Shhh. I know. But . . . she’s in this with you. I’m not.”

David looked down at me. “I’m not asking you to go full Paladin on this. But I . . .” He broke off and sighed. “God, I might actually choke on these next words. I trust you. And I wanna check this out, but I’m not stupid enough to go check it out myself, and I think I might . . . need you.”

No. No. Tell him no. You are not his Paladin and this is not your issue anymore.

But I watched David chew a thumbnail, his skin pale. His other hand, shoved in his pocket, jangled change nervously, and he looked more freaked out than I’d seen him yet. That had to be the only reason I heard myself say, “E-mail her. Make an appointment. And I’ll . . . I’ll go with you.”

Chapter 20

“THIS IS ridiculous. You know that, right?” David glared at me as he slid into the passenger seat, fastening his seat belt. “You could’ve come up to my house. Or I could’ve gone to your house. Basically, there were at least three options that didn’t involve me walking three blocks from my house and you dressing like Carmen Sandiego.”