Page 105 of Wicked Games

“Your parents have been raving about you,” he continues. “Grades are good. You’re going to get involved in an extracurricular activity?”

“Yes,” I agree, although I’m still stuck onparentsand notfoster parents.

“And the school newspaper,” Riley inserts. “To cover the hockey team.”

I bite my lip, but the professor just smiles.

“Riley Appleton,” she introduces herself. “Currently a junior but eager to join your university, sir.”

They shake hands.

He dips his head. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, young lady.”

Riley’s dad joins us. We finally break away from the professor, who wishes Riley and me good luck with our applications, and load plates at the outdoor buffet. There are clusters of chairs and tables scattered around, and we end up at a freshly vacant one.

“There’s another seminar about housing,” Riley’s dad says. “We were hoping to attend that. While the school has some housing for freshmen, we’d like to be prepared in case there’s a more reasonable option.”

Riley turns to me. “Imagine, we couldlivetogether!”

Oh my God.

I offer her a weak smile. “Sounds great.”

She doesn’t notice any hesitancy, and the conversation sweeps away.

“You guys should go,” I say to Robert. “Riley and I can keep busy for an hour. Maybe get a little taste for the city?”

Len and Robert exchange a glance.

“You want to go wander?” Robert confirms.

I nod.

“I rented an apartment for grad school,” Len says. “But you’re a lot younger, and we’d worry if you were completely on your own. So maybe we should check it out…”

I’ll be honest—time moves slowly until the three of them depart for the housing seminar.

“We’ll meet you here when you’re done!” Riley calls after them. To me, she says, “I pulled up his office on my phone. It’s only ten minutes from here.”

My stomach erupts with butterflies. “What if he isn’t there?”

“He will be. I made an appointment under a fake name.”

Oh my God.I’m pretty sure that’s against some law… or maybe it’s an ethics thing.

We head down the street, following the map on Riley’s phone.

This part of the city is different from Times Square. Less busy, more trees spaced evenly down the sidewalks. No glaring screens over our heads. Just regular storefronts and tall office buildings once we get out of the residential section.

Finally, we round a corner and stop in front of a large building. It’s noisier here. Cabs and cars rush by on the street. Businessmen and women flood the streets. There’s a smell of burning coming from the grates beneath our feet.

“Tenth floor,” Riley says.

We go in. Unlike the office building Caleb and I went to, this one doesn’t have much in the way of a lobby. Just a few rows of metal benches facing glass walls. No receptionist desk. We go to the elevators, then up.

Tobias Hutchins. I don’t know if he’s going to be the same man Caleb and I ran into, or if he’ll recognize me. Maybe I can lie about who I am, get him to open up before I ask him about a seven-year-old case.

“Good afternoon,” the receptionist greets us once we push through the frosted-glass doors to the law office. “Are you here for an appointment?”

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