Millie
“What do we do now?” I keep my gaze on Frankie, who’s pacing around the room.
“Nothing,” Lucy says, exasperated. “We let the people in charge figure it out.”
Frankie taps her chin with her finger then shakes her head once. “No.”
“No?” Lucy’s eyes narrow, her frustration obvious.
“No,” Frankie says again. “Someone sent me that note, which means I was onto something. And if it’s not Erica, then it’s someone else.”
“What note?” I lean forward, confused.
Frankie reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, creased and soft. The words are stark against the white: Stop looking, Frankie, or someone will get hurt.
“I’m not about to be intimidated by some stupid anonymous threat.” Frankie scoffs. “All this means is that someone did something, and I’m close to finding out. I’m not going to stop.”
“Unbelievable.” Lucy throws up her hands.
“She’s right.” My voice is small, but I clutch the paper in both hands, suddenly so aware that despite the fact that someone threatened Frankie, that can only mean one thing: There’s a darkness out there, one that no one has uncovered. “We have to keep going.”
“But—” Lucy sputters.
“Girls!” Mom’s voice rings out from the first floor. “It’s time for the tennis tournament.” No one says anything for a beat, and Mom calls again. “Girls?”
“Coming!” we say in unison.
“This is actually perfect,” Frankie says. “Everyone will be there.” She turns to Lucy. “You can talk to Olivia again and see if she lied—”
“She didn’t lie.”
“And you,” Frankie says, pointing to me, “can talk to Trevor. Maybe see if he has any idea who sent me this note.”
“Okay.” I nod slowly. “And what are you going to do?”
“Me? I’m going to try to sneak around and see if Mr. Godwin does anything suspicious.”
“But what if he saw you on the boat?” I ask, fear pricking the back of my neck.
Frankie shakes her head. “I’ll keep Alex with me. Besides, there will be a million people there. It’s not like he can hurt me in broad daylight at the Club.”
“Okay.” I nod, determined. “So that’s the plan, right? Are we all in?” I dare to look at Lucy, who has her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes narrowed in a glare.
“Are we?” Frankie asks.
Lucy doesn’t look at either of us, but she springs to her feet and moves to the door. “Fine,” she says. “I’m in.”