Hero Complex Read online

  Bodhi looked at his watch and shoved it in front of Devon. Thirty-five minutes until the Keaton bus would leave Waldorf. “Hate to cut this short, but we’ve got to get going,” he said.

  Devon took a deep breath and stood.

  Eric looked between them and nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He stood up, too. “You know, you’re actually the only people who’ve visited me. Not sure what that says about my friends, but … thanks.” He started to walk them back down the long hallway. “Devon, if I knew anything about who attacked you on some boat, I would tell you. I don’t know who it would be or why. You were just trying to do the right thing by Hutch. I can’t hold that against you.”

  Devon couldn’t bring herself to look him again. “Thanks, I think.”

  “You know, we knew about you before Keaton. Before Hutch even started.”

  She froze in midstep. “What? How?”

  Eric snickered as he opened the front door. The sudden bright sunlight burned Devon’s eyes. “You really don’t know, do you?” he asked. “You know, I don’t think I ever really believed that you didn’t know until this moment. I thought you were just playing the ignorant poor girl this whole time. Who do you think pays for your scholarship?”

  She whirled to face him, but he was already closing the door behind them. “It’s a trust. Some trust set up for Keaton kids that need financial aid. Isn’t it?”

  “Nosy in all the wrong places, as always …”

  “Wait. Who set up the trust?” Devon demanded.

  “I’d look a little deeper into that one if I were you.”

  The door slammed shut.

  CHAPTER 4

  The bus ride back to school seemed like an eternity. Devon tried calling her mom, then texting her, but there was no reply. She must be working, Devon reasoned. When her mom was at the hospital, all bets were off where trying to get hold of her was concerned.

  Bodhi had promised to call Raven on his way back to Reed’s to get a jump-start on looking up the scholarship trust. Alone in one of the rear seats, Devon stared at her phone, willing the answers to arrive. She couldn’t shake Eric’s words. We knew about you before Keaton. How? Why did he believe she was putting on an act? She was an ignorant poor girl. Well, not poor … but definitely not rich enough to pay for Keaton without help. Was Hutch and Eric’s father on a board or something that gave Eric an early look at the incoming scholarship students? She knew there were the basic admissions and financial aid conversations, but why would Bill Hutchins be involved in those? Sure, he donated heavily to the school, but that didn’t give him the right to decide who gets to attend Keaton, did it?

  Devon’s mind whirled. The school had granted her mom financial aid to supplement her tuition fees. It was that simple as far as she’d always known. Her mom worked as a nurse at the Trinity Hospital in Berkeley, so supplement was really a generous way of saying: We think you’re a good enough student to cover your ass. Without that scholarship, there was no way Devon would be attending Keaton.

  Up until now, she’d believed what she’d been told, that the money came from a general alumni trust. When alumni donated to the school, they could specify that their money should go to certain causes. There was no single person taking credit for that trust. But Eric had asked her, Who do you think pays for your scholarship? Was he implying that there was a single, anonymous person paying for Devon specifically? If so, why? And why would that information be withheld from her or her mom? Wouldn’t that person want it known?

  Devon glanced out the window as the bus wound its way down Highway 1 into Monte Vista, the Pacific Ocean rolling against the cliffs below. The farther they got from San Francisco, the more the pine trees and redwoods thickened on the hillside.

  “Where there’s money, there are breadcrumbs leading to that money.”

  That’s what Bodhi had said before he dropped her back off at the game. She closed her eyes and tried to keep the panic at bay. If anyone could find her anonymous donor, Bodhi and Raven could. She said a silent prayer that their discovery wouldn’t lead right back to the Hutchins family. If they were the ones who had been paying for her scholarship this whole time …

  Devon couldn’t finish the thought. Hutch would have known. He would have told her, wouldn’t he? Or even worse, if he’d known and had pitied her … And then for Devon to be the one who got Eric’s confession about Hutch on camera? That family must hate her. But that was the question. Did they hate her enough to want her dead?

  The bus shuddered as it shifted gears to begin the climb up the hillside from Monte Vista to Keaton. She couldn’t face the thought of Saturday night stuck on the hill. While she’d been preoccupied with her meeting with Eric, most students had arranged for overnights off campus, or even just a chaperoned trip into Santa Cruz. Raven and Bodhi could help her sneak away for a few hours after dinner sign-in.

  She sent Raven a text. Must escape tonight. Pick me up at 7? Fire road.

  Raven responded quickly. kk :p

  BY SEVEN IT WAS sufficiently dark on the hillside for Devon to sneak unseen along the hidden trail below Bay House. She shivered in the salty midwinter ocean breeze. Last time she’d gone down this trail, it had been to meet Eric Hutchins. Farther down the hill was the Palace, where Eric had given his only brother a fatal dose of Oxycontin. But right now she only hoped that she wouldn’t bump into any rogue students sneaking a smoke or a drink. The dirt road that connected the Keaton hillside to the Hutchinses’ hillside was still a secret that Devon hoped the Keaton faculty wouldn’t think to block off. Since Hutch’s death, it had remained her own little private escape route, the perfect way to steal a few hours from the constant chaos of her dorm.

  The familiar black Range Rover idled on the path up ahead. Devon picked up her pace with a last glance at the lights of Bay House. In the car, the green glow of dashboard lights lit up Raven’s silhouette.

  “You cool?” Raven asked when Devon opened the passenger door.

  The interior light lit up the car, making Devon wince. Bad move; somebody would be able to see that. She got in and quickly shut the door.

  “Now I am,” she said. She let out a long breath. Even the promise of getting off campus made her more relaxed. “Let’s go.”

  “Bodhi said today was kind of a doozy,” Raven said. She scrunched up one side of her face. “Sorry, but the house is a little nutty, gotta warn you. Probably not quite the peace you were hoping for.”

  Headlights off, she cautiously backed down the incline until the road was wide enough for her to turn around. Devon squinted as her eyes adjusted, taking in the black grapevines cutting across the mountain like a line of stitches. Raven downshifted as the car dug into the bumpy hillside climbing toward Reed’s property, its wheels kicking up the loose dirt behind them.

  “Is the family still ganging up on Grandpa Reed?” Devon asked. She gripped her seat as the car trudged forward in giant hiccups up the hill like an aging roller coaster. The top of the hill came into view, and Devon could make out the first of the lights lining Reed’s driveway.

  Raven gave the car one last burst of gas. It revved in place for a second before kicking into gear and lurching forward over the crest and onto the driveway in front of Reed’s guesthouse, where Raven’s beat-up Volvo and Bodhi’s VW van were parked. Farther up the driveway, Devon glimpsed a silver Audi sports car. Something that fancy probably cost six figures.

  “Yeah, ol’ Billy Boy is here,” Raven said, catching Devon’s squint. “He came to yell at Reed about something else he doesn’t care about. It’s been a real chill evening.” She smiled and shook her head. “Come on in. Bodhi’s waiting.”

  “Thanks. And hey, thanks for the bailout. If I stayed on campus, I was going to go nuts researching my scholarship thing.”

  “So you came here to research your scholarship thing,” Raven said with a playful smirk. She pulled the keys from the ignition. “We know why you love us.”

  Reed Hutchins’s guesthouse had become Raven and Bodhi’s full-time
residence since Reed asked them to move in after Hutch died. Devon still didn’t know the whole story with the Elliot siblings’ father, but they were clearly relieved to be out of his house and have the luxury of Reed’s high-end computers and desk space available. Plus, Reed had made it very clear that he was both impressed with and fascinated by what they could find with their hacking skills.

  Devon walked into the kitchen to find Bodhi pulling a burrito out of the microwave. “Ah, formal dinner tonight, I see,” she said.

  “It’s always formal dinner at chez Elliot.” Bodhi pulled a stool away from the counter for Devon. “What can I get you, mademoiselle? Our specials tonight are pepperoni Hot Pockets or bean-and-cheese burritos. Either of which could be ready for you in a cool minute and thirty seconds.” Bodhi bit into his burrito and quickly waved his hand in front of his mouth. “Ahhht. Oooh ahhht,” he managed to say.

  “Huh. So that’s what a real genius looks like.” Devon laughed as Bodhi hopped from foot to foot, frantically chewing. “How illuminating.”

  “Okay, now I’m actually hungry,” Raven said. She opened the refrigerator first (empty), then opened the freezer, which was packed with microwave meals for days. She pulled out a stack of mini-pizzas. “Dev, want one? Actually cooked in the oven?”

  “Sure, thanks.” Devon realized she was actually hungry, too. She sat down at the counter. Bodhi slid a laptop in front of her.

  “Here, we found you this.” He opened up a file labeled Marina Gourmet. “So this was the list of waiters and bartenders hired by the catering company. Most of them have worked with the company before at other events.”

  “Who knew caterers made such good money?” Raven commented across the room. “Like, twenty-five bucks an hour.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind when I’m looking for a summer job.” Devon scooted closer to Bodhi. “What else did you find?”

  “Okay, we’ve got who worked the event on the yacht. Everyone has to check in with the manager and swipe their ID cards. There were fifteen waiters, all checked in that evening. Here’s the picture of Isaac Green from his company card.” Bodhi opened an image of a regular-looking guy—brown curly hair, nice smile, but forgettable. “And here’s who showed up to work that night with Isaac Green’s ID.”

  The next image felt like a punch in the gut to Devon. The dimples … that was all she needed to see. They had pulled a picture of Cleo’s waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes from one of the security cameras.

  “He introduced himself to me as Eli,” Devon said.

  Raven chuckled. “What an idiot. Why would he do that?”

  Bodhi arched his eyebrows at his sister. “He hit Devon on the back of the head with a blunt instrument with the hope that she might fall off the yacht and drown. But why would he introduce himself as the wrong name? That’s what you want to know?”

  Raven shrugged. “Yeah. That’s what I want to know. Think about it. Why would someone, probably a professional that has most likely been hired to carry out this insane job, make such a huge mistake?”

  “Maybe he’s not that good?” Devon mumbled, more to herself than anyone else in the room. She stared at the black-and-white image. The short brown hair, the dimples set in a fixed smile as he walked, but his eyes looking off to the side … it appeared he was already surveying the scene. Raven had a point. Before New Year’s Eve, Devon had never seen him before in her life. Not that this was a prerequisite for attacking her, but it was hard to believe that this twenty-something guy woke up that morning and decided to steal someone’s identity, work as a waiter at a yacht party, and then randomly pick Devon to assault with a metal spyglass. Maybe who attacked her wasn’t really the question here. Why would someone attack her was the scarier thought to consider.

  Devon looked up from the computer at Bodhi and Raven, who were watching her reaction. “Anyone could be Isaac Green, or Eli, whatever his name is,” she said. “He’s not the point. Someone else is behind this, and I have a feeling we won’t be able to find them until we know why they want me dead.”

  Neither Bodhi nor Raven spoke.

  The crack of an intercom startled the three of them. “Raven? Bodhi?” a woman’s voice blared. “Is Devon there with you?”

  Raven and Bodhi scowled at each other.

  “We know you’re there,” the woman said. “Your cars are in the driveway.”

  Bodhi sighed and went to the small cream-colored panel near the door. He leaned in and pressed a button, his face lit up in a big phony smile. “Yes, Priscilla. We’re all here.”

  “Can you send Devon up to the house? Mr. Hutchins would like to speak with her. And Bodhi, I can hear your sarcasm from here.”

  Bodhi rolled his eyes.

  “What’s going on?” Devon whispered to Raven.

  Raven and Bodhi shared another glance, this one more troubled. Raven twisted her lips into a crooked line. “Reed’s gotten worse. He’s got a full-time nursing staff up there. Refuses to check into a hospital. That’s Priscilla; she’s been running things.”

  “And she makes sure we know it,” Bodhi added. “Come on, I’ll walk you up.”

  Devon followed him back into the cold of the front courtyard, where she caught a whiff of basil and rosemary bushes in the wine-barrels-turned-planters outside the front door. Above, the moon was in that awkward stage between full and half, but the light was bright enough to make the white flowers on the walk up the driveway glow. It was so peaceful here—aside from whoever this Priscilla woman was—that the Hutchins compound seemed farther away than ever from Keaton.

  “So do you think Eric has enough motive to hire someone to go on the boat?” Bodhi asked quietly.

  Devon shook her head. “Doesn’t fit somehow, you know? I know he hates me for catching him, which is fine, but kill me? He’s got too much else on his mind. Besides, he’s got too big of an ego to let someone else do something that big for him. He’s a total control freak.” Devon paused. “I mean, that’s my opinion, at least. What do you think?”

  Bodhi looked over at her before answering. “I don’t think this is about Hutch. I think we’re not seeing the whole picture.” He bit his lip, allowing his dreads to fall in front of his face for a moment before brushing them back. “Just so you know, Reed doesn’t know about any of this. He’s got enough to deal with.”

  “I … I’m sorry, Bodhi,” Devon murmured. She reached out and squeezed his hand. They were almost at the front door, and she realized she didn’t know what she was about to walk in to. She slowed until they were standing at the steps below the front door. “He’s really bad?”

  Bodhi nodded but couldn’t make eye contact with Devon. She suddenly felt like a jerk. All of this obsessing about one incident, and here were Bodhi and Raven, watching as their stand-in parent was flirting with Death. Hell, flirting was putting it mildly. Reed was in a relationship with Death.

  Devon realized she and Bodhi were still holding hands. She gave him another squeeze. “Hey, you know I’m here for you guys, too. It doesn’t always have to be the other way around.”

  “Thanks, but you know what? Dealing with your stuff is just way more fun than this.” Bodhi nodded toward the house looming above them, but held on to her hand for a few more seconds. “Shall we?”

  CHAPTER 5

  Before Devon had made it halfway across the front hall, she heard yelling. Bodhi ducked into the shadow behind the archway leading into the living room and put a finger to his lips.

  “There are still treatments you haven’t tried yet!” came a man’s voice.

  Devon couldn’t recognize it. He wasn’t Reed; this guy was too healthy, too dominant. But who would have the gall to yell at a dying man? She leaned forward and glimpsed the tightly cropped gray hair of Bill Hutchins—Reed’s son and Hutch’s father. He was bent over someone. “We’ve got some good options in R&D, and that’s not even including what Dover’s got. His company has a cancer-research division twice the size of ours. Why don’t you call Edward? You know he’d
help if you would just let him—”

  “I will have nothing to do with that man, and you know it.”

  Devon cringed at the sound of Reed’s voice. It was calm and firm, but fragile. The words were like sandpaper, followed by a few wheezing breaths.

  “Dad, listen to me.” Bill softened his tone. “We’ve got to make peace with them. It’s the only way to move forward. We’re losing money holding out for no good reason, and you know it.”

  Reed cleared his throat. “Not everything in life is always about money, William. I thought I raised you better than that. If you don’t listen to me now, you’re going to learn that the hard way later. Do not trust Edward Dover …” The rest was lost in a fit of coughing.

  Devon winced at the sound, so strained and sickly.

  More wheezing breaths, followed by the slurp of a straw in a cup. “Priscilla!”

  “That’s it!” Bill spat. His footsteps pounded toward Devon’s hiding place.

  She and Bodhi looked at each other, wide-eyed. Should they say something before being discovered? Bodhi leaned forward, about to take the first step, when a short nurse rounded the corner in front of them—in pink scrubs, squeaky white tennis shoes with pink laces, and her hair neatly pulled back into a long braid. She stopped short. Then she drew in a sharp breath and frowned at Bodhi, her eyes flashing at Devon. Shaking her head, she continued into the living room.

  “Priscilla, there you are,” Reed croaked.

  Bodhi hesitated another few seconds before he stepped out of the shadows with Devon. Bill turned at the sound. His eyes narrowed.

  Was that glare aimed at Bodhi or her?

  “Do you need to get up, Mr. Hutchins?” Priscilla went straight to Reed’s side.

  Devon tried to smile at Reed across the room. Her heart squeezed.

  Reed was propped up in a large hospital bed made up with dark-green-and-red plaid flannel sheets, with a thick tan blanket draped across his legs. The sleeves of his red robe were slightly rolled up to reveal his thin wrists. A square bandage across the top of his palm held an IV in place, with the plastic line extending up into a clear bag of fluid hanging by the top of the bed. He’d lost a lot of weight and color since the last time she’d seen him. The skin over his bones was practically translucent.