“Name?” he asks, eyeballing me harder.
“Um, Wylie.”
The doorman takes a deep, disgusted breath as he picks up the phone. But he lights up when someone answers, and when he speaks, his voice is suddenly soft and polite. A woman he has a crush on—Oshiro’s wife or girlfriend, I’m guessing. “There’s a Wylie down here to see Detective Oshiro.” It’s code for they don’t even know his first name. He looks us up and down again. “Yep, no problem.” He hangs up the phone but still wants us to leave.
And this is precisely why being an Outlier is a gift and also definitely a burden: I don’t need to be in the doorman’s head that deep. Don’t need to know about his unrequited love. It’s not useful. But know it I do. To get a read on him at all that comes up first. When you’re an Outlier, you don’t get to pick and choose.
Finally, the doorman points toward the elevator at the back, still super grumpy. “Penthouse C.”
THE DOORS TO the elevator open into a spectacular loft—wood beams and exposed brick and lots of windows.
“Yeah,” Gideon says quietly. “We might want to make sure there’s an explanation for all this.”
A woman comes bounding around the corner, tall and fit-looking in her sleeveless T-shirt and jeans, biceps as defined as a yoga instructor’s. Her hair is light brown and shaggy and she has a dazzling smile.
“You must be Wylie,” she says, her handshake a vise. She turns to Gideon and shakes his hand, too. “And you’re Gideon. I’m Elizabeth, Evan’s wife.” She says this like it is supposed to mean something to me. I blink at her. “Oh, Detective Oshiro, I mean. Sorry, I forget that he never tells anybody his first name. He probably didn’t tell you anything about me, either.”
Detective Oshiro himself comes around the corner then, wearing jeans and a well-fitting T-shirt. Seeing him out of his sharp suit is like seeing him standing there in his underwear.
“You didn’t tell her about me, did you?” Elizabeth needles him playfully.
“Can we at least go sit down before you start berating me?” Oshiro asks.
“IT’S BEAUTIFUL HERE,” I say as they lead us into a vast open living room with even more windows. They wrap around the room, the Boston skyline on one side, the water on the other. “Like the nicest apartment I’ve ever been in.”
“My job isn’t nearly as noble as Evan’s,” Elizabeth says, sitting on one side of the modern sectional couch and crossing her long legs beneath her. Gideon and I take a seat on the shorter end. “But it does pay the bills.”
“Elizabeth works for a credit card company in risk and cybersecurity,” Oshiro says, and I can feel how in awe of her he is. It’s something way past love. “I expected she’d be able to find out what you needed much faster than I could through department channels.”
“A credit card company?” I ask. “To trace my dad’s phone?”
“Credit card companies could launch a rocket into space.” Elizabeth gets up to retrieve some printouts off a sideboard. “I’ll admit, it isn’t exactly how I pictured spending my career, but someday soon I will retire and help people properly like Evan. So, I can’t tell you who specifically called you. Not surprising, it was a disposable phone bought with cash, but I was able to get into the phone company’s database and—”
“She risked a lot doing that, you know,” Oshiro scolds. I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or Elizabeth. “I told her not to.”
“Thank you,” I say, looking first at Elizabeth and then at Oshiro, because that seems to be what he wants me to do. To be grateful. No, that’s not it. He just wants to feel less worried. What he cares about most is Elizabeth and her well-being.
Elizabeth shoots him a look. “Enough browbeating, Evan. And have a little faith. I am good enough not to get caught.” She hands me the papers she picked up. When I look down, it’s a list of addresses, as well as carefully collated sets of directions with corresponding maps between each location. “This is a list of where the phone was when each call was placed and each text sent. They started out in DC, then ended up here. That’s where the last voicemail was left, three days ago.” She points to a spot on the map. “It’s about an hour from here, in Framingham.”
“But you shouldn’t go there,” Detective Oshiro says, his arms crossed. He stops himself from adding something like: I won’t allow it. But he’d like to. “You have absolutely no idea what you’ll find. It would be extremely dangerous.”
Elizabeth keeps her eyes on me as she sits back down, closer this time. “He really does believe that. He didn’t even want me to tell you the address.” She glances at Oshiro. “But we agreed that the information is not mine to keep. It belongs to you.”
“No, I agreed after I called down to DC the second time,” he says. “And they told me your dad’s case was closed.”
“How can it be closed if our dad’s still missing?” Gideon asks.
“Exactly. Even more troubling was how fifteen minutes after I got off the phone with DC, my sergeant calls me into his office to tell me there’s been a complaint about me interfering in investigations in other jurisdictions. I was told if I did it again, it could cost me my job.” Oshiro shakes his head. “Now, I don’t know who’s covering up for what or why, but I am sure no one’s looking for your dad. I’m sorry.”
My throat tightens as I look up from the maps. “Thank you for telling me.”
“We are going to help, though,” Elizabeth says brightly, leaning over to grab my hands. “So screw the DC police.”
I hate that I have to ask for something else when they are already being so generous. But I have no choice.
“You’ve already done so much, I know, but can I ask—”
“No,” Oshiro says with a sharp wave of his hand. “Absolutely not.”
“Evan,” Elizabeth says, quiet but firm. “Of course you can ask, Wylie. We will do whatever else we can. Tell us everything you need.”
“Can you find out who’s behind a blog?” I ask. “It’s called EndOfDays.”
“EndOfDays?” Elizabeth makes a face. “Well, that’s cheerful. I should be able to do that, no problem. But before we do anything else, why don’t you go open a fresh Gmail account so we have a reasonably safe place to stay in touch?” She motions Gideon over to a computer on the coffee table.
“And could you also track down a license plate?” I ask, already bracing myself for Oshiro’s response.
“A license plate?” he shouts. Like I just said “cocaine.”
Elizabeth holds up a hand to Oshiro. “Evan, calm.” She turns to us. “These days, hacking into the DMV isn’t what it used to be, that’s what he means. They have so many flags, for terrorism mostly.” She turns to eye Oshiro. “But Evan, you can look up one license plate. On the books, officially. No one will even think twice.”
Elizabeth tilts her head to the side and smiles: Come on, honey. That’s the look. Just like the one that Lexi gave Doug, like the one that my mom used to give my dad. The kind of look that makes facts so much less important than feelings. The kind I might have used on Jasper one day, if I hadn’t written that— I push the thought away. One day—after I take the note back—I will.
Oshiro exhales, aggravated. But he is no match for Elizabeth’s look. “Fine, what license plate?” he asks. I dig the picture out of my bag and hand it to him. Oshiro is alarmed. “This looks like a surveillance photo. Where is this from?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
Oshiro holds the picture out to me, his finger pointing accusingly at the car. “That is a government license plate. What are you mixed up in, Wylie?”
“I don’t know” is all I can think to say. And it’s so true that I am afraid I might burst into tears.
“I’ll look into this license plate on one condition,” Oshiro says, setting the photograph down on the polished coffee table.
“Anything,” I say without hesitating.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Coming with us where?” I ask.
“Framingh
am,” he says. “Because I know that’s where you’re headed. And, as much as I’d like to, there is no way in good conscience I can let you go alone.”
November 17
Today a true believer was put in my path. She was a newcomer and came up to me after the meeting. She told me that the struggles I had shared with the group had really touched her. That my devotion to finding a cause was noble.
And then she told me a heartbreaking story about some horrific things that had been happening in my own backyard. I knew then that was where I needed to begin. Close to home. Helping girls being exploited by fame-hungry scientists is exactly the kind of cause I’ve been looking for.
And if I can save these girls from the wrongs a man I once knew is committing, I believe that will keep on saving me—one day at a time.
RIEL
MARLY PARKS A BLOCK DOWN FROM THE LEVEL99 HOUSE IN ONE OF THE FEW shady spots. The house looks empty, but Riel knows it isn’t. She had thought about telling Level99 to leave after what happened at her grandfather’s house. They all listened for some chatter about Level99 in connection with the camp. But it never came. Actually, there was hardly any chatter about the camp at all. Riel shouldn’t be surprised, but still it’s amazing how things, people, can just be erased.
And Riel still needs to be careful she doesn’t somehow lead somebody to Level99 now. She doesn’t think anyone followed her to Marly’s, much less from Marly’s to Level99. But Riel isn’t taking any chances with Leo’s life. If one of her grandfather’s henchmen—yes it is true, she’s sure of it, they’re his—catches her putting Level99 on the case, that will probably not be considered “staying away from it.” It could put Leo in even more danger.
But she needs to show up at least once with Marly so Brian has no choice but to acknowledge her going forward in Riel’s place. Riel just needs to do her best to stay out of sight. The plan is for Marly to head to their front door and for Riel to sneak around back.
“What happens after I dial the code?” Marly asks, turning to grab her bag from the backseat. It’s caught up on some big hand weights, and she has to tug hard. Having spent the night in Marly’s room, Riel can say for sure she’s a fitness fanatic. But even for her car weights are overkill.
“Ready to work out at a moment’s notice, huh?” Riel asks, motioning to them.
“Yeah, I work out whenever I get stuck in traffic,” Marly says with a shrug.
“Really?” Riel asks.
“No, not really,” Marly huffs. “The weights belong to a friend. I’m returning them. I thought you were an Outlier. Can’t you tell when someone’s joking?”
Marly is right: Riel is so wound up, she’s clouded. And she needs to be sharp as hell. Not only does she need to get to the back entrance of the Level99 house without anyone seeing her, she needs to be ready to deal with Brian’s shit once she gets inside. Because with Brian, there is always a lot of shit to be dealt with.
He’s angling to be Riel’s official successor, not just her temporary stand-in, and it’s making him even more of an ass than usual. Though what he should really be doing is trying everything to win Riel over. It will be her choice who will lead Level99 after her, whenever she decides to step down: today, tomorrow, ten years from now. There are moments when right now feels like the time, considering everything. But for the moment she can feel she needs to hang on—for the sake of Level99.
Regardless, she already knows for sure that her successor would never be Brian. Brian is an amazing hacker, to be sure. But being a hacker and being a leader are not the same thing. Also, he is just an asshole. It’s too scary to think about what might happen if Level99’s power fell into the wrong hands.
BENNETT BARA HAD shown up to see Riel shortly after Kelsey’s funeral. He had been her father’s friend for years, first his professor as an undergraduate, then a neighbor and a running partner for years. Bennett came to Thanksgiving often, the girls had been paid to rake his leaves. He always brought them science-y birthday gifts. Bennett had never had a family of his own, and so he had semi-adopted theirs, but was always careful not to impose.
Riel had known nothing about Bennett’s connection to Level99 before the day he turned up at the end of March, asking Riel to run the whole show.
“Your parents knew,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Really?” Riel felt vaguely betrayed, even if she knew that was kind of ridiculous.
“Your father was going to take over for me,” Bennett said, the effects of his advanced-stage pancreatic cancer visible now as he lowered himself with much effort into a chair. “I began making arrangements as soon as I was diagnosed. When I still had plenty of time.”
“Oh,” Riel said, not shocked that her dad had agreed to help, though she could not picture him at the helm of a bunch of young hackers. He never had patience for hipsters.
“Yes,” Bennett said. “And now I would like you to take his place, Riel.”
“Me?” Riel asked, feeling equal parts panicked and thrilled. Actually, no, mostly just panicked. “Why me?”
“Because you are the best person I know for the job. You’re a computer science major at Harvard University,” he said. “That makes you more than qualified and—”
“I was a computer science major. I dropped out, remember? I was only there for three months, and I didn’t learn anything useful. Nothing like hacking. It was a lot of theory. That’s it.”
“Technically, you took a leave. I checked. You and I both know you are welcome back anytime. Besides, computer skills matter, but other things matter much more,” he went on. “I need to be sure the person in charge will never use Level99 for personal gain or an unethical cause. Good judgment is the most critical skill.”
“And how do you know that I have good judgment?” Riel asked, hoping both to wriggle off the hook and get more deeply lodged on it.
There was something about Bennett showing up and saying he needed her. She did plan to go back in the fall when she was ready. Maybe this would make her feel like she was.
“I know your judgment will be sound because you are a piece of your parents,” he said. “Good runs deep.”
IN THE END, Bennett had been right. And having Level99 to throw herself into after Kelsey died had probably saved Riel’s life. Even the change of power had been much easier than Riel had expected. That was the benefit of Level99’s strict monarchy: there was no argument about the rules of succession, and the modest stipend that went along with being in charge.
No one bristled that Riel was an outsider—the new leader almost always was. Within days, Riel felt like she’d been born to lead Level99. She was that damn good at it, too. And with Kelsey gone, Level99 and Leo were all that mattered to her.
Now it was Leo and the Outliers. They needed her more than Level99 ever did. It was probably time to move on anyway. She had re-enrolled and was set to start classes at Harvard in September. But she would not leave things to Brian. No way.
“After you push the numbers, tell them Joseph Conrad sent you,” Riel says as Marly opens the car door. “Ask for Brian once you’re in. Tell him I’ll be coming around the back. He needs to unlock the basement door.”
RIEL STAYS LOW as she slips between two buildings and into the tightly packed backyards. She’s using Level99’s emergency escape route. Pretty fast, Riel realizes this “escape route” sucks. It would require scaling fence after fence through the neighboring backyards. Turns out climbing just one fence is really fucking hard, especially in the July humidity. Riel puts find new escape route at the top of her mental Level99 list.
She is huffing and puffing by the time she finally makes it to Level99’s backyard. Brian is standing at the basement door, arms crossed, looking, as usual, kind of like a hawk—white-blond hair, shadowy eyes, sharp nose, gameboard tattoo that Riel wishes he didn’t have. It makes him seem too permanent.
“Finally,” he snaps, turning back down the stairs.
It’s not the waiting that has pissed him off, though. Brian
really hoped Riel was never coming back. He’d been pretty sure that he wasn’t temporary after all.
Riel follows Brian down into the Level99 basement, to the familiar long table of hooded, headphoned twentysomethings hunched over laptops, none of whom look up. She feels such a wave of relief seeing all of it. Like she’s home.
By contrast, Marly is standing on the opposite side of the room, looking alarmed. Whatever she thought Level99 was going to be like, it wasn’t this. And it is true that it kind of looks, and smells, like a dungeon. An unfriendly one. But it grows on you—or it has grown on Riel.
“So, what’s up?” Brian asks, sitting aggressively at what has always been Riel’s desk. This is on purpose, of course.
“I’m back,” Riel says. This isn’t true. But Brian is already way too comfortable.
“You’re back?” Brian asks, trying to sound casual. But he does not feel that way. Farthest thing from it. “For good?”
“We’ll see, but right now I need something,” she says. “Or a few things, actually.”
And where to start: Wylie, Kendall, the Outliers, Rosenfeld? Her grandfather? So many questions, so few fucking answers.
Riel feels Brian trying to calculate the best way to play the situation. He knows he shouldn’t cave too fast. That he can’t be too accommodating or Riel will know he’s just trying to butter her up. But being helpful is also a way to get on her good side. He knows that, too. God, he is so goddamn obvious.
“Well, we are kind of busy,” Brian says, opting for a compromise: hard to get. “We got the presidential race heating up. Speaking of which, I didn’t know that your grandfather was—”
Her eyes shoot up. It’s not Brian’s words that piss her off, it’s his tone: it’s just so full-asshole. “Just so we’re clear, who my grandfather is has never been a secret,” she snaps.
Brian lifts his hands. “Whatever, if you say so.”
“And these requests aren’t optional. I’m still in charge, remember?” Riel says. “I need you to find out who Kendall really is, and I need you to find some girls for me.”