Chapter 40 Carter
Carter
Carter stepped up next to Adi, enraged that Jarius would make such a blatantly false accusation.
“Cut the cameras!” yelled a voice—not the director this time, but Ranielle. The camera lights blinked off. “Jarius, what the hell are you doing?”
“Calling out an injustice,” said Jarius, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Isn’t it weird, executive producer, that there’s been so much scandal associated with this show lately and you’re always in the middle of it?”
Carter traded looks with Beck, who seemed as perplexed as she was. Sierra scowled suspiciously.
But Adi’s jaw was so tight a muscle was spasming in his cheek. And he wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes.
“I’m not in the mood for mind games right now,” said Ranielle. “I got enough of that from my late husband. May he rest in peace.” She said this with a flippant wave of her hand. “So whatever you’ve got to say, spit it out.”
“I don’t have anything to say.” Jarius grinned. “You and Adi have already said it for me.”
He opened an audio file on his phone. At first there was only silence, and Carter hoped this was some pathetic joke. But then she heard Ranielle’s voice.
“Team Dread is planning to use their snag to make Carter do the dexterity challenge, which is popping balloons with darts. I can’t help you with that. But the balloons you’re looking out for are the first few digits for pi. Three, one, four, and—”
“Pi, sure, I get it.”
Everyone turned to Carter, whose face warmed by twenty degrees. She shook her head. “I didn’t . . . He didn’t . . .”
What was happening?
That was Adi’s voice on the recording. Taking answers from the producer.
Cheating.
Fitzy’s jaw had dropped. Everyone on Team Mind Hack looked disgusted.
“There are tickets in the balloons,” continued Ranielle’s voice over the recording. “You’re going to get a code on the tickets—”
On it went. On and on and on and on, with every clue given in detail. Carter covered her mouth with both hands as Ranielle mentioned the answer to the pigpen cipher. And here she’d thought Adi was a genius.
After an agonizingly long time, Jarius paused the recording.
The air in the studio was too hot, too stifling.
Carter glanced at Sierra. As team leader, she had to do something. But . . . what could she do? What could any of them do? Sierra looked positively livid as she glowered at Adi.
Carter turned to face Adi, too. He could’ve stabbed her in the chest and she wouldn’t have felt so betrayed.
“No,” said Adi. His voice was rough. For a split second, he glanced at Carter and said it again, more forcefully this time. Almost . . . pleadingly. “No. I—”
“That was you,” said Carter slowly. “Or are you saying it was someone who sounded exactly like you?”
“No. Yes, that was me, but I’m not—” Clenching his fists, he stomped off the risers, approaching Jarius and Ranielle. “Where the hell did you get that recording?”
“From your phone,” Jarius said. “Found it while you were in the fun house, sent it to myself. Needed proof, didn’t I?”
“This is bullshit. I didn’t record anything, and I didn’t cheat. You’ve seen the footage.” Adi raised his voice. “Have the editors check. I didn’t use the cheats! I already knew pigpen cipher, and the rest of the team—”
“Ah, so you admit you were offered the cheats,” said Jarius.
“I . . .” Adi’s eyes flashed, like he wanted nothing more than to haul his fist back and give Jarius a black eye.
“My team solved every puzzle without help from Ranielle or anyone else. And Carter?” He thrust an arm in her direction.
“She figured out the pi clue on her own. She has the number memorized to a hundred places.”
Jarius took a step closer to Adi, putting them toe-to-toe. “You walked right out of that meeting with our esteemed executive producer and told your team everything. And how could you just ‘know’ the pigpen cipher? It was a cheat. All of it.”
“I—”
“Adi, enough.” Ranielle’s tone was glacial. “The nerve of you to record our private conversation and think it wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass—”
“I didn’t,” said Adi. “I don’t know where the hell that recording came from, but I didn’t do any of this.”
“Like Kick It Carter pointed out,” said Jarius, “that was either you or someone who happens to sound exactly like you.”
Adi opened his mouth but slammed it shut again.
Jarius smirked. “That’s what I thought. So here we are. The semifinal airs in less than a week, and if this gets out”—he wagged his phone in Ranielle’s face—“you’re gonna have a lot of disappointed fans demanding a lot of answers.”
Ranielle snatched the phone away from him, but Jarius shrugged.
“I’ve got that sound clip saved in a number of places, waiting to be shared with the world.
” He glanced around the studio. At the other contestants, Fitzy, the crew.
Vera leaned against one of the large cameras, practically salivating at the juiciness.
A hot ember of shame burned in Carter’s gut.
If word about this got out, if people believed she’d cheated, her reputation as a Solve Specialist would be over.
The platform she’d built for the past three years would turn on her.
She would never be able to show her face on the Domain again—not even her avatar.
And somehow that didn’t hurt half as much as the betrayal. Adi hadn’t trusted that his team could win. He’d never believed in them.
“Here’s what I suggest,” said Jarius. “Because ultimately, we all want the same thing. Well . . . most of us do, anyway.” He glanced dismissively at Carter and her team before turning his focus back to Ranielle.
“A little clever editing, a few clicks of a button, and those times rewrite themselves.” He gestured at the scoreboard.
“We refilm this elimination, and aww, too bad, so sad, Helsing goes home.” He pouted.
“But great news! The Escape Game gets to continue without anyone knowing how the executive producer tried to cheat on her own show, and in the end . . . may the best team win.” He gestured between himself and Mind Hack, who had been watching in deeply uncomfortable silence.
“Yeah, right,” said Adi, scoffing. “You’re going to throw me under the bus and think I’ll keep quiet?”
“Yeah,” said Jarius. “I think you will. Unless you want your reputation—and the reputation of your precious teammates— slashed to pieces.”
Adi’s gaze flickered to Carter and his mouth tightened into a thin line.
Ranielle’s nostrils flared.
She had to know her time was limited. She had to know that a secret like this would never stay secret. That even if The Escape Game could continue on—past murder, past proof of unfair play—the show was coming to an end.
“All right,” she said, barely a whisper in the otherwise silent studio. “We’re going to film the last few minutes again. But . . .” She glanced at the camera. “The times will be different, and Helsing will be in last place.”
“No,” said Adi, his voice raspy. “Let my team compete in the finale. Disqualify me. They can be a trio. They can—”
“This conversation is over,” said Ranielle, spinning on him. “You and your team had better look convincingly disappointed when your revised time is posted, or so help me, I’ll make all your lives hell.”
Then she marched away.
Carter looked past Ranielle to see Fitzy gaping at her from the other side of the stage. He opened his mouth, and for a second Carter thought he would say something to Ranielle, something to come to Carter’s defense. But he hesitated and shut his mouth again. His gaze tightened, apologetic.
Carter nodded tersely. She didn’t blame him. This wasn’t his battle to fight.
This was on Adi. He had betrayed them.
And now it was over.