The lone security guard is walking through the halls. I watch him come down one, then another.
I think he’s coming here. It’s a little hard to tell with the layout of the monitors, but I’m pretty sure —
He passes the bathrooms, then the break room.
He’s coming here.
“Shit,” I say, and turn to Silas. “Okay, if I—”
He’s already strapping the goggles to his head, a huge grin on his face.
“I got this, kid,” he says.
Then he’s gone.
“Oh, fuck,” I say, my hands over my face. “Fuck.”
“He’s fine,” Grady says, still leaning in, totally unconcerned. “He’s happier than a pig in shit right now.”
Silas is on the monitor. Silently, I watch him stalk a hallway, the sidle around a corner.
A second later, the guard rounds the corner at the opposite end of the hallway. He freezes for a second. It looks like he shouts something.
Then Silas runs, and the guard runs after him. I turn my attention to Grady, who’s still frowning at the laptop. There’s a popup window with a progress bar on the screen, but the bar seems to be frozen halfway.
I just sit. I don’t even bother asking Grady if it’s working, because I don’t think he wants to hear my dipshit questions right now. I just watch Silas and the security guard on the monitors, darting through hallways.
“That is not how I would do it,” Grady mutters, mostly to himself.
Then, to me: “You’re sure this was deleted?”
I try to swallow against the brick in my stomach.
“No,” I say, truthfully.
“Huh,” he says, and lapses back into silence.
I watch Silas and the security guard on the monitors. My heart pounds. I’m sweating, my stomach in knots.
What do I do if this doesn’t work? I think.
I have to do something. That’s not the question. There’s always the option of beating the shit out of Martin, but bruises heal and I’d prefer not to face assault charges.
There has to be a way to trace that email he sent Montgomery, I think. Maybe if I can find someone to hack into—
“Is this it?” Grady suddenly asks, and turns the laptop screen toward me.
It’s a video of the pool. It’s daytime. There are a few kids splashing around, a yellow float bobbing in the water.
“It’s labeled the 25th,” he explains, and I reach for the computer.
I scan through the video. It gets dark. The float disappears. Everyone leaves.
I scan farther, and suddenly, there’s Kevin on a stretcher, two paramedics attending to him. I sit bolt upright.
“Yeah, this is it,” I say, and go back.
On the monitors, something catches my eye, and I glance up. It’s a golf cart, wheeling around the side of the building. A moment later, there’s another golf cart.
“What the fuck?” I say.
“We should probably hurry this up,” Grady says, calm as can be.
I grit my teeth. I focus on the laptop, scan backward, skip through.
Pool closed. Night time. Nothing. Nothing.
Someone at the locked gate, carrying a box. We let it play.
He unlocks the gate. He comes inside. I can’t see his face, but it’s him. It has to be him. He comes round the side of the pool.
Show your face, I think. Show your goddamn face.
He sits on a lounge chair, pulls the mechanical bull out, and starts blowing it up. We skip forward. It takes him forever to blow the thing up, and his back is to the camera the whole time.
He knew it was there, I think.
I’ve gone through all this and I’ve still got nothing. Silas is leading a golf cart chase right now, and I’ve got nothing.
Finally, on the screen, he tosses the bull into the pool.
And then, for one second, he looks right into the camera.
It’s definitely, without-a-doubt Martin.
“There it is,” Grady says, and sticks another thumb drive into the laptop.
I look at the monitors again. The golf carts are still going, and my chest tightens. The guard must have called the police by now.
“How long does it take to — oh,” I say, as he pulls it out and sticks another in.
“I’ll make a few backups,” he says, clicking a few keys. “You take some, I’ll take some. Leave at least one in a secure location.”
He hands me four thumb drives. On the monitors, the golf carts are stopped. The security guard gets out of one, but Silas is nowhere to be seen.
On another monitor, blue lights flicker. Grady glances up. He does something else on the laptop. A box of code pops up. He types something, and then the screen goes black.
On the monitor, the cops pull into Bramblebush’s long driveway.
“Is there a back exit?” Grady asks. “Any way we can leave without being seen?”
“Come on,” I say, and we leave the security offices.* * *I come out of the locker room and practically throw an apron at Grady. He puts it on without asking, standing in front of the stainless steel counter.