“What?” I looked around the room and realized it was full of people from our school. “I guess they saw his post just like we did.”

“True.”

“Split up?” I asked. I recognized so many people from the list we’d made and now they were all here in the same place. This would save me so much time.

She nodded, and we headed in opposite directions.

I wasn’t sure who to talk to first. Was one of these people about to whip out a mask and run around the museum? Or were they really all here just because they’d seen the post like we had?

I saw Brady again, and even though I’d already talked to him at school, he had confessed to knowing something. Maybe he’d be more likely to share if he thought I was in the know now. I joined him. “He should be here any minute,” I said.

“Yep,” Brady answered back. He was staring at the large canvas that leaned against the far wall, its movers gone. “I don’t believe he was worried about this,” Brady mumbled. “Misuse.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

Just when I was about to move on to talk to someone else, the lights went out. Then a single spotlight from someone’s phone lit up the large painting. Another phone shined on a guy dressed in a tux making his way through the crowd. I couldn’t see where Amelia had gone or if she had been anywhere near where this guy materialized. He walked until he stood in front of the large painting, back to us. So here he was, the guy who’d ruined my race.

“I think that’s Brad McCall,” I heard someone whisper behind me.

“Maybe but I heard Heath was Leo Morales.”

Both those names were on our list.

Up front, Heath Hall stared at the painting for a long time. Someone to my right gave a supportive holler and then several others joined in. Soon the room began to clap and cheer. At last, the guy in front of the painting turned around and bowed. He was wearing the mask.

His posture was slouched, his hands in the pockets of his tux. When he spoke, his voice was muffled, like he was distorting it on purpose. I had to strain to hear because it was also quiet.

“Thanks everyone for the support. Showing my work has been a fear of mine for a long time. And the reactions I’ve gotten from you all on my piece tonight mean a lot to me.” He lifted his hand in a wave and then stepped away from the painting.

“That’s it?” I asked no one in particular.

“Yep,” Brady answered. “That’s it. Until next time.”

I couldn’t wait that long. My eyes hadn’t left him since he stepped away from that painting. My vision had adjusted somewhat to the dark and I watched him head for a back exit. I slid off my shoes, gripping the straps in my hand and ran after him.

The door closed just as I reached it and I pushed my way through. We were now in a back hallway, some sort of service area, nobody but the two of us. This was probably how he’d brought the unsanctioned painting into the museum. Heath was at the end of the corridor, about to round the corner. “Wait,” I said.

He stopped. “You’re not supposed to follow me.”

“Who are you?”

He turned but looked ready to bolt, so I stayed where I was, not wanting to spook him. His hands were shaking so much that I could see them moving even though forty feet separated us. I took him in from head to toe, trying to find some sort of clue. But his tux was generic and his shoes, standard dress shoes. He was even wearing gloves.

I took a slow step forward. “I liked your painting. It was amazing.”

“Thank you.” He glanced to the side, his escape route.

“I won’t tell anyone who you are. I’ll keep it to myself.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“How what works?” I pointed back toward the door we had both come through. “They know who you are. How come I can’t?”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“If you can’t tell me who you are, at least promise me this.”

He gave a small nod.

“Please stay away from the swim meets from now on.”

He gave another nod, bigger this time, then he took off. I ran after him but by the time I rounded the corner he was gone. The hallway split into two and there was no trace of him. I clenched my fists in frustration, a jolt of pain radiating through my shoulder as I did. I cringed and massaged it away. Not bothering to put my shoes back on, I made my way back to Amelia.

She was typing furiously into her phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Recording who was here before I forget. There were so many people. I swear it was nearly my entire list. This is really going to help us narrow it down.”

“Did you happen to see Brad McCall or Leo Morales?” I asked, remembering the names that had been whispered behind me earlier.

“Yes, actually.” She showed me her phone. “Already on my list. Why?”

I gave a frustrated sigh. “Nothing.”

“Where’d you disappear to?”

“I went after him.”

She stopped typing and looked up. “Did you catch him?”

“Sort of, but that stupid mask made it impossible to tell who he was.”

“That stupid mask was pretty awesome. I haven’t seen it in person before, only online. How do you even get a mask that realistic? That would cost a serious amount of money.”

I had forgotten she hadn’t seen the mask at the pool. “So our Heath Hall is rich?”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if it was Grant James wearing a Heath Hall mask?”

“It’s not.”

She shoved her phone into her purse. “I know. I said, ‘Wouldn’t it be funny?’ Work with me here.”

I smiled. “Yes, it would be funny.”

“Thank you.” She widened her eyes. “So what happened?”

“He ran off. I have no idea who he is. He was as skittish as a baby rabbit, though.”

“That’s a clue. Maybe one that will help us.”

I sighed. “I accomplished my mission. I told him to stay away from the pool. I don’t really need to know who he is anymore.” This was becoming more trouble than it was worth.

“And you think he’ll listen.”

“I think you were right anyway,” I said, gesturing to the art around us. “I don’t think he likes to do repeat appearances.”

Two security guards talking into walkie-talkies rushed by us, toward the painting.

“They’re a little late,” Amelia said.

“We should probably go find DJ and rescue him from the cruel mission you sent him on,” I said.

“Yes. We should’ve just told DJ about the Heath Hall thing. After seeing so many people from school up here, he probably wouldn’t have found it weird.”

“Probably not.”

It took us searching every floor before we found DJ on the first. His tie was loosened, his collar beneath it unbuttoned, as if he was done being dressed up for the night. When he saw us, he smiled. “Still haven’t found it. Did you have better luck?”

“We had no luck,” I said.

“I found something else I want to show you.” Amelia took his hand. As she pulled him away, she looked back at me and mouthed, Do you mind?