“Hey, Hadley,” DJ said with a small smile, like he was still trying to apologize. “Amelia said the whole swim team was coming tonight but you two are the first I’ve seen.”

I raised my eyebrows at Amelia. “Doesn’t have a problem with dog years?”

She waved her hand at me, then said to DJ, “I said the whole swim team might come tonight. I guess I was wrong.”

Amelia bounced up and down as we walked toward the entrance. “I’m so excited for the museum tonight.”

“I didn’t realize you had such an appreciation of art,” DJ said, clearly oblivious to what our true mission was.

“We do,” I assured him. “Very much so.”

“How do you say art in Spanish?” Amelia asked.

“La arte. El artes. It all depends on how you use it in a sentence.”

There were a few people waiting to get in at the entrance ahead of us. The sound of the waves crashing just beyond the building reminded me that it had been a while since I’d been to the beach.

“If I push my way through them, will we get kicked out?” Amelia whispered.

An older woman looked over her shoulder at us and we both stifled laughs. When we finally made it inside, we all stopped in the entrance. Huge jellyfish hung from the ceiling three stories up, their tentacles dangling nearly to our level.

“Is it an underwater theme?” Amelia asked.

I looked at my ticket. “It doesn’t say.”

As we stood in the lobby, looking up at the three floors above us, I felt like I was in a fishbowl. Not just because of the circular shape of the museum and pale blue walls but because people on each floor stood at the gleaming silver railings, staring down.

“Where should we start?” I asked.

“Let’s find Abby. She’ll tell us if she’s seen anything interesting yet.”

We found her on the second floor by a huge piece made of paper. She wore a cute knee-length dress and a blue blazer. She smiled when she saw us. “Well, hello. It’s my conspiracy theorists.”

“I take it nothing out of the ordinary has happened?” Amelia asked her.

“Not yet, but we’re just getting started,” she said. “We have time.”

“Exactly,” Amelia answered.

“Is there a program that shows the artists on display tonight? This is a local art show, right?” I asked.

“It is. And yes, did you not get a program at the door?” She handed me a trifold, shiny white program. I looked through it as DJ and Amelia studied some paintings down the hall. Was Amelia losing interest in the Heath Hall investigation?

The program was completely unhelpful. There were names next to each and every piece, none of which I recognized. I sighed. “You don’t have any pieces in the show tonight?”

“Not this time. I’m gearing up for a summer art program I’m doing.”

“That’s cool.”

“It should be.”

“Well, I’m going to look around.”

“Yes, enjoy,” Abby said.

I found Amelia and DJ on opposite sides of a large fish statue. Their heads were angled to the side. “What are you guys doing?”

“It says to find the hidden shapes in its scales,” DJ said.

I stared at the fish for a moment, then found myself tilting my head. Maybe I didn’t appreciate art because I didn’t get it at all. I rolled the program in my hands and turned a circle. That’s when I saw Brady across the way heading up some stairs. I elbowed Amelia’s side and nodded toward him.

“You think he knows where this thing is going down tonight?” she whispered.

“I think that’s our best bet.” Our only bet at this point. DJ wandered a bit, leaving us by the fish. “And, seriously, DJ is kind of cramping our style. How are we supposed to investigate with him here?”

“I hadn’t thought about that before now.”

“Obviously.”

“His cuteness blinded me to logistics. Let’s send him on an impossible quest.”

“Like what?”

“Leave it to me.” She approached DJ. “I heard there was this art piece here tonight that I’m dying to see. I don’t remember the artist’s name but it’s of a boy looking at the ocean. We’re going to check the third floor. Will you look around this one?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, we’ll meet up again in a little bit.”

He walked away and we went for the stairs. By the time we reached them, Brady was gone but someone else was climbing them.

“Isn’t that Dylan Sutter?” Amelia asked as we headed up.

“Is it?” I shuffled us sideways so we could get a better look. Dylan was using the handrail and walking slowly up each step, almost as if he had to make the decision to continue up for each and every stair he took. “It totally is. Do you think he’s . . . ?”

From behind us a voice said, “Hadley Moore. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. And without your earphones.”

We turned to see Jackson Holt.

Ten

“Maybe Jackson is Heath,” Amelia whispered.

I considered that thought for a moment. It wouldn’t surprise me. “Jackson? What are you doing here?”

“I think I’m here for the same reason you are.”

“Heath Hall?”

He nodded, which meant he wasn’t Heath Hall . . . right? He held his elbows out, one for each of us. “Shall we?”

Amelia immediately let go of me and latched onto him. I kept my hands to myself but walked next to him as we all continued up the stairs.

“I’m Amelia, by the way,” she said.

“Oh, right.” I realized it was my job to introduce them. I’d thought they knew each other. “Jackson, Amelia. Amelia, Jackson.”

“We’ve met at school before, right?” he said.

“I’ve seen you around,” she said. “Last time was in the lake behind Sarah’s house, challenging my best friend to a competition you knew she couldn’t refuse.”

“Did I win that competition?” he asked with a half smile. “I don’t remember.”

I grunted.

Three flights of stairs in heels wasn’t easy, and Jackson’s company wasn’t helping. I would find the elevator for the way down for sure.

When we finally made it upstairs, everyone was filing into a room called the Diamond Room. Jackson went in ahead of us. I grabbed hold of Amelia’s arm so she wouldn’t join up with him again, and we stepped inside. At the far end of the room several people were moving a giant painting into place as though they’d just brought it in. It wasn’t labeled like the others in the museum had been but it was amazing. Reds and blues and purples created an abstract ocean. Tossed in the waves was a ship that was falling apart, wooden pieces strewn in the water around it. Goose bumps appeared along my arms. Now that was art.

“Is that painting his?” Amelia asked. “Heath Hall’s?”

“Fake Heath Hall,” I said under my breath. “You think that painting has something to do with his post?”

“I don’t know but are all these people here to support him?”