“Wow. You are seriously upbeat today,” I said, tossing the book aside. “What’s your deal?”
Ivy grinned. “I woke up this morning and realized that in one week, I’m graduating. One week and I will never have to sit in one of those awful hard chairs and listen to some obnoxious Easton teacher spout off about something no one in the real world will ever care about. And then I can spend the entire summer looking forward to Pepperdine, looking forward to getting as far away from Easton and Boston and my depressing-ass family as I possibly can, and taking whatever classes I want to take while staring at the Pacific Ocean all day long.” She grabbed my arm and shook it. “One more week!”
I groaned out my jealousy and flopped back on my bed. “I’m really starting to think I should have fewer senior friends.”
There was a quick rap on my door and it flung right open. I sat up straight in surprise as Carolina rushed in, out of breath, a laptop tucked under her arm and a pencil shoved behind one ear. She looked Go Green! camera-ready in a plaid shirt unbuttoned over a lace-trimmed tank top and jeans flared over tan work boots, but the intense vibe she was giving off was definitely not fit for TV. Unless she was guest-starring in a new episode of Southland.
“Carolina!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but you have to see this.” She shoved aside my own computer and placed her laptop down on my desk. Ivy and I exchanged a nervous look as we both stood up from the bed and gathered behind her. It took Carolina about thirty seconds to boot up her computer and open up a video screen. “We were going through some of the footage from yesterday, and you’re never going to believe what we found.”
I gulped back a surge of fear as I leaned in toward the screen. The Go Green! trailer appeared in the shot, the logo painted in bright kelly green on the side next to the door. Carolina walked out, talking to the camera. Her lips were moving, but there was no sound.
I reached for the volume button.
“There’s no audio on this one,” Carolina said. “What I’m saying in this clip is not what matters.”
“Carolina, what’s going on?” I asked.
Her face was like stone. “You’ll see in about five seconds.”
On the computer screen Carolina gestured to her right and Mike panned the camera in that direction, taking in the moving construction vehicles, the other trailers, and eventually the foundation of the new Billings. It looked like they were trying to give the viewer a tour of the site—a kind of “before” shot.
“What are we looking for?” Ivy asked, leaning one hand on the desk’s surface.
‘There!” Carolina hit the space button and the video paused. She pointed at a spot near the top right-hand corner of the screen, her finger trembling. Ivy and I both leaned in as far as we could, but all I could really make out were two people standing close together, one in a hard hat, the other in a straw fedora, and the person in the fedora was handing over a heavy-looking duffel bag. “That’s someone paying off one of the workers. The worker who was operating the crane,” Carolina said pointedly.
“How do you know there’s money in there?” I asked shakily.
“Oh, come on! Just look at it! Haven’t you ever seen a spy movie?” Carolina exclaimed, her face reddening. “What else could it be?”
Ivy and I exchanged a dubious look, but said nothing.
“Do you realize what this means?” Carolina continued. “Someone paid him to drop that pallet. Someone was actually trying to kill us. You see it? Do you have any idea who that is?”
I leaned closer. Whoever was handing over the bag was wearing a black trench and jeans. It was obviously a girl, by the short height and the thin waist, but I couldn’t make out her face. Still, the idea of a stylish female hanging out around our construction site, handing things off to one of the workers, didn’t exactly sit well.
“Hit play,” I demanded.
Carolina did. The video kept rolling, and the girl turned away from the camera. There was never a good shot of her face. But as she walked off, I saw something that stopped the breath in my lungs.
“Holy crap,” I said unde
r my breath. “Rewind it.”
“What? What did you see?” Ivy asked.
My mouth was so dry I could taste my lunch from four hours ago. I reached for the space button and waited. And waited. As soon as the girl started to turn, I hit pause. Now I was certain that Carolina was right—there was money inside that bag, and probably a ton of it.
“There!” I stood up straight and looked at Ivy. “You see her hair? I only know one person with hair like that.”
Ivy squinted at the screen, taking in the one, short, silky auburn curl that flew out from under the fedora’s brim. Slowly, realization flooded her face and she straightened her posture.
“Who?” Carolina asked, whipping out her phone.
Ivy and I nodded slowly. My blood pulsed in my ears. “That’s Paige Ryan.”
HONORS