Today's Reading
PROLOGUE
They run. Run with a primal fear knowing that if they slow down, all five of them will die.
It's hard to think in this fog of terror. Earlier this week their biggest fears were a mom finding his stash of edibles, a dad finding those condoms in her dorm room nightstand. A mom finding her fake ID. A dad finding his crumpled exam with the D circled in red.
But now, with sand in their shoes, waves crashing, the bonfire burning in the distance, they leave those trivialities behind.
And they run.
They reach the narrow path to the sea cave, link hands in a chain as they navigate the perilous waves and jagged rocks into the hollow.
Huddled in the gloom, they stay still as stone. Thoughts swirling, they wonder what clues the police will find. The group chat?
The social-media posts? The video of the horror that brought them here?
Another wave breaks. Another flashlight beam gets closer.
Another whimper escapes a hand clutching a mouth.
What clues will they find?
Or will they find nothing but their cold, lifeless bodies?
FRIDAY
Three Days Earlier
CHAPTER ONE
THE ROOSEVELTS
Blane basks in the morning sun, his skateboard clack-clack-clacking on the campus sidewalk. He marvels at the palm trees and pretty classmates stretched out on towels in the grass, wearing bikinis and pretending to study. He's attended Santa Clara University for only a few months and already decided that he's never leaving California. His hometown, Washington, D.C., with its swampy weather, its status and power infatuation, its boring old marble buildings, has nothing on Cali.
He juts his cruiser to a stop and kicks the back so it flies up and into his grip, a move he's been working on since drop-off day. There's a crowd outside Campisi Hall, a spectacle of some sort. He sees his buddy Mark Wong.
"What's up? Fire drill?"
Mark shakes his head. "I don't know. They cleared everyone out of the dorm. It's like a Secret Service sweep or something." Blane follows Mark's gaze to the four SUVs parked in the lot out front. At the men in dark suits standing erect.
Ugh. How could Blane have forgotten? Parents Weekend starts tonight.
"It's just my mom's advance team." Blane rolls his eyes. Mark digests this, then his eyes flash. "That's cool as shit, bro. What, is she, like, important or something?"
Blane shrugs. He watches as two stoic men with earpieces glower in their sunglasses. They love the attention.
Blane turns to his friend, offers a lopsided grin. "Watch this."
He takes out his lanyard, finds the small device attached to the key chain, then directs the laser pointer at one of the agents. A tiny red dot appears on the man's chest. It takes only a moment before more agents fly out of an SUV.
The din of the crowd rises as the drama unfolds. Then comes the recognition from the detail that this isn't a sniper's laser sight. The lead Diplomatic Security Service agent's glare snags on Blane from the distance, and the guy marches over.
"Oh shit," Mark says, already stepping back as the massive agent stands before Blane, a scowl on his face.
The giant looks like he'd love to take a swing at an entitled college kid, but instead holds out his palm. "This isn't a game," is all he says.
When Blane doesn't hand over the laser pointer, the agent rips the lanyard from his hand. Shaking his head, the agent says, "Your mother's waiting in your dorm room."
Might as well get this over with. "I'll catch you at Benson for lunch," Blane says to Mark.
...
