Principal Reynolds had been at Westbridge for twenty-two years.
Teachers trusted him.
Parents trusted him.
The school board trusted him.
And Maya had trusted him too.
That changed the next morning.
She didn't tell anyone about the photograph.
Not even Brielle.
Instead, she went to the library.
She searched old newspapers.
There it was.
Fifteen years earlier, Reynolds had been the assistant director of the Hartwell scholarship foundation.
Three months after Eleanor Hart's death, he became principal of Westbridge.
Maya stared at the article.
Brielle sat across from her.
“You found something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Maya turned the laptop around.
Brielle read the article.
Her face changed.
“Oh.”
“Exactly.”
“But that doesn't prove anything.”
“No.”
Maya closed the laptop.
“So we need proof.”
They spent the afternoon searching financial records.
Most of the documents had disappeared.
But one old newspaper article mentioned a school fundraiser.
A photo accompanied it.
Maya zoomed in.
There was Reynolds.
There was Daniel.
There was Eleanor.
And behind them was Maya's mother.
Maya noticed something in Evelyn's hand.
A notebook.
The same black notebook appeared in another photograph six months later.
This time, Evelyn was standing beside Reynolds.
Maya zoomed in again.
A number was written on the notebook.
214.
The old records room.
“The ledger wasn't the notebook,” Maya whispered.
Brielle looked at her.
“What?”
“My mother wasn't hiding the ledger in Room 214.”
“She was hiding the clue to it.”
Maya remembered the photograph.
Her mother had been looking directly at the camera.
Not smiling.
Warning someone.
Then Maya noticed another detail.
A small silver pin on Reynolds's jacket.
She had seen it before.
On the envelope.
The same symbol.
An oak tree.
Brielle suddenly stood.
“I know where that symbol comes from.”
“Where?”
“My grandmother's private foundation.”
Maya's phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
Stop looking.
Maya stared at the screen.
Another message arrived.
Your mother stopped before she found the truth.
Then a third.
Don't make the same mistake.
Brielle reached for Maya's phone.
“Show me.”
Maya handed it over.
Brielle read the messages.
Then her face went pale.
“What?”
She turned the phone toward Maya.
The unknown number had sent one more thing.
A photograph.
It was taken that morning.
Maya and Brielle were sitting in the library.
Someone had been watching them.