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“Damn, I’d sign up twice though.”
She laughed. “I hear that. But for real, I zone out the second he opens his mouth. I don’t remember anything he said would be on the test.”
“Don’t worry. I got you.”
I fished my binder out of my pack.
No doubt bankruptcy wasn’t the most stimulating class. I forced myself to write down his lectures because he forced me to listen to them. Afterward, I highlighted the important bits—including the sections that would be on the test.
“Voilà.”
“Bless you,” she cried, dropping her head on my shoulder. “You are a blessed saint of the goddess. Let her strike down the assholes who jumped you and Paris.”
“If she’s taking requests, I’d definitely love a good smiting right about now.”
“—not worth it,” Violet hissed at Luciano. “You’ll be thrown out of school if you get caught.”
Rolling his eyes, Luciano stuffed a red card back in his pocket.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Violet looked around. Leaning across the table, she dropped her voice. “Word’s going around that someone hacked the system and got the answer keys for over fifty midterms. They’re selling them for five hundred bucks a pop.”
Darryl whistled. “Someone’s about to clean up.”
“Someone’s about to get caught,” Violet snapped. “You stumble on an answer key, you let two or three friends take a peek and then you destroy it and never speak about it again. Spreading word around the school, setting up shop, and giving them to whoever asks is a stupid move. Professors notice when their C students all of a sudden get hundreds. When dozens of C students get a hundred, they shut it down, reissue new exam papers, and go on the hunt for the cheat.”
She jabbed a finger at Luciano. “When they do, you’re going to wish you tossed that card in the trash.”
“Alright, alright.” Luciano got up and flung it in the bin. “I wasn’t actually going to do it. Someone slipped it to me in the hall and for a minute I got to hold on to the dream of an A. Instead of the B minus I’ve got coming my way.”
“You are getting that A,” I said. “I’ve got all the notes. I marked everything Stein said would be on the test. We’re all here. Let’s do this over a plate of butterscotch muffins, then make this exam our bitch.”
He grinned. “That’s what I’m talking about, de Souza. Slide those notes over here.”
Three hours, eight muffins, and a practice test later, I waved bye to the guys from the library steps. When they were out of sight, I dialed Gold. He answered on the second ring.
“Hello, this is Gold Investigations.”
“It’s Rainey.”
“Ah, yes.” His tone shifted. “I looked over the contract. It’s rather generous, isn’t it? An expensive land purchase just to get information on the people listed here.”
“It is, but I assume Steven Ellis is thinking he trades one patch of land for an entire town.”
“Yes, that’s possible,” he said to himself.
“Is something wrong? I read through the contract myself. Except for the wiggle room of the actual date of sale, it’s on the up.”
“It is ‘on the up’ as you say. I can’t see anything here that raises the alarm except for my own concerns on how much interest your farm has attracted. This is an extraordinary bribe.”
“Believe me, I thought the same. I’d be lying if I said I fully trusted the mysterious Steven Ellis, or his sons.”
“Hang on to that caution, Rainey. Trust no one until that deed is in your hands.”
“I won’t.”
“Just one thing... Your sister, Ivy. May I have her number?” he asked. “She’s older. It’s possible your grandmother shared more with her concerning the farm and what made it a magnet for trouble, since she was most likely to inherit and look after you if anything happened.”
I swallowed hard. “They could have had those conversations. I wouldn’t know. Ivy and I stopped speaking to each other soon after Gran died. She’s not doing anything to look after me or the farm.”
“I’m sorry.” He truly sounded it. “Would you like me to leave her out of this?”
“No,” I said. “This isn’t about us. It’s about Gran. I’ll text the number.”
“Thank you. Before you go, I thought you’d like to know that I did find a connection between AgriProspects and Bedlam.”
I shoved the phone back to my ear. “You did? Who?”
Scott Cavendish.
“A man named Walker Lewis. Heard of him?”
My brows crowded together. “Yeah. He was our old neighbor, technically. His land bordered ours.”
“He and Andrew Clein attended the same business school. Graduated the same year,” he explained. “It’s thin, and could be just a coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“Neither do I. My working theory is that when Clein’s company went on the hunt for land to acquire, Clein remembered his old classmate who grew up on a farm. That’s what brought him to Bedlam.”
