Olivia Decoded

by Vivi Barnes

  This was such a mistake.

  I should’ve asked Jack to call his detective contact and follow up on Derrick instead. If Jack knew what we were doing right now, he’d be upset. As it is, he’s already texted me to ask for an update. I had no idea what to say, so I haven’t replied at all yet.

  “There’s no dark truck in the parking lot,” I tell her. “That’s something, at least.”

  “Uh-huh,” Sam says. She nudges me. “Give me your hat. I’m going in.”

  She doesn’t bother waiting for me to give her my beanie, taking it off my head and pulling it down on hers. She puts on her sunglasses and pulls her coat on. “He doesn’t know me, don’t worry.” She jumps out before I can grab her, slamming the door behind her. Damn it. Sam is going to get in serious trouble one of these days.

  She returns in about a minute, sliding into the seat. “He’s off today. I asked what kind of car he drives and the guy in there just looked at me like I told him his momma smells bad.”

  I breathe out a sigh of relief.

  “So let’s go to his house,” she says.

  My stomach clenches. “No, let’s go drive by Frank’s instead.”

  “But the PI is at Frank’s house.”

  I’d forgotten. Sam’s staring at me like I should be more worried about the guy who’s been stalking me than my last crappy foster parent. She has no idea.

  “I know you’re freaked out about it,” she says quietly. “But Derrick won’t hurt you. I promise.”

  Right now, I’m not worried about him hurting me. I’m worried all the horrible memories I’ve worked the last eight months to get over will float up to the surface and smother me. But…if I turn away now, the helpless fear that nearly paralyzes me whenever I think of him won’t stop.

  I start the car. No way in hell do I want to have to do this again.

  “Excellent,” Sam murmurs, shifting in her seat like we’re in a race car. Derrick’s house isn’t far, maybe five minutes. It’s a run-down duplex next to an adult superstore. Figures.

  “So what now, Captain?” Sam asks as I pull into the duplex parking lot.

  “I don’t know.” Honestly, I’d only gotten this far in my head. But now that we’re here, I realize I don’t want to go up and ring his doorbell and confront him. Derrick isn’t Denise. As cold as Denise is, she’s still a normal person. Derrick is evil. A pervert. A rapist. Who could very well be my stalker and the person who tried to kill Jack. I can’t take in enough air to keep up with my pounding heart.

  Sam places a cool hand on my arm. “Breathe, Liv. You’re not alone, you know. I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I nod, closing my eyes briefly and taking deep breaths. Calmly, calmly. You promised yourself you wouldn’t let him get to you again. You’re the girl who bested Bill Sykes, remember?

  I’d rather drive off the James River Bridge again than go up and face Derrick.

  “The good news is that there’s no truck here,” Sam says. In fact, there are only two other cars in the parking lot. As we watch, an older man and woman walk out to one of them and drive away. That leaves a beat-up silver minivan.

  “I don’t see Derrick driving a minivan, do you?” I murmur.

  “If he did, wouldn’t he park it in front of his own door?” She points at the door on the far left. “That’s number four. Dude’s not home.”

  I look again at the clock on the dash. If we’re going to do this, it’s now or never. “Can you pick a lock?” I ask Sam.

  She grins.

  Five minutes later, we’re climbing into the side window of Derrick’s duplex apartment. The lock on the window was obviously cheap and worn—it took us seconds to break it.

  “Hurry,” I tell her as Sam crawls through the window after me. I peer back through the panes but don’t see anyone watching us. In this neighborhood, maybe nobody would care.

  “Stinks in here,” Sam says, wrinkling her nose. The apartment reeks of moldy soccer cleats that have been locked in a hot trunk for a week. I flip on a lamp sitting on a side table in the living room. My heart is beating so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if Sam can hear it. And I wonder if she’s as scared as me. Doubt it, the way she’s wandering around, poking at the dirty dishes in the sink and the open bottle of ketchup on the table. I’m actually shocked at the mess. When I lived with the Carters, Derrick was always dressed in pants and tie for work, and their house was perfectly clean. I guess Denise enforced that rule, because this one is anything but clean. The dingy tan sofa looks like it might’ve been white a long time ago, and several water rings scar the cheap coffee table.

  “How could someone this nasty be a foster dad?” Sam asks in disgust, flicking a finger against a glass with the remnants of something like whiskey on the kitchen table. It reminds me of the short glasses Denise used to fill with her vodka every night.

  “Yeah.” I grit my teeth and step into his bedroom, trying not to gag at the idea of being in here. A computer is set up in one corner. I turn it on. “Maybe you should keep an eye out for him,” I tell her. We ended up parking at the unit behind his so he won’t see Emerson’s car if he comes back, but I have no desire to hide in his nasty closet if he suddenly shows up.

  “Okay. I’ll go back into the living room and look around for clues,” she says.

  “Thanks.” I bypass his security and start searching through his computer, looking for documents or images that may have my name on it. I breathe out when I don’t find any. And in his browser history, there’s nothing that indicates a search for me at all, nor anything that involves the jewelry store or even Norfolk. I feel like crying, I’m so relieved.

  “Anything?” Sam calls from the living room.

  “Nope. Thank God. Because I was really— Ew!”

  Sam runs to my side, her face screwing up at the porno sites that fill the history. Yeah, apparently Derrick doesn’t look for me online, but he sure loves looking up smut. I remember seeing that magazine with a naked woman in his closet when I was looking for my laptop…yuck.

  “Guys are so gross,” Sam says as I close out the window.

  “No one’s as gross as Derrick.”

  “He has a lot of random shit. Who even uses blank CDs anymore?”

  My eyes immediately flick up to the CD Sam is holding. There’s no label on it. Just like the one I found in his closet—the one that showed me walking around my room in my underwear. My blood turns to ice. I take the CD from her and shove it in the disk drive on the computer. The whirring of the system matches the whooshing of my pulse in my ear.

  A window pops up and I press play. Please, please don’t be me. Please.

  The video is shaky at first, like someone’s holding a camera. I breathe out, my muscles relaxing in relief. It’s not from an overhead surveillance camera like the one he’d installed in my room.

  “Who is that?” Sam asks, pointing at the person in the background. I peer at the monitor. It’s too dark to see many details except that it’s a woman’s figure lying on a bed. I wonder if she’s aware of the camera. She leans up on her elbows and I catch a glimpse of dark curls before the person who set up the camera blocks her. Derrick is still the world’s worst pervert. And hopefully, whoever this is isn’t some teen who’s been drugged, like he once tried to do to me. I eject the CD and look at the others lining the bookshelf. Could there be any of me?

  “Hey, didn’t you want to at least see who he was with?” Sam asks.

  “No, thanks.” I freeze as someone coughs right outside the door. I can hear voices and something jangling—keys! Shit! I hold down the power button to do a hard shut-down as Sam rips the CD from my hand and shoves it back on the shelf.

  “Come on,” she hisses, running to the side window. I follow, slipping out behind her and pulling down the window. It gets stuck an inch from the bottom. “Forget it,” Sam says, tugging on my arm. We take off at a crouching run toward the parking lot behind the duplex.

  “Crap,” she mutters. “I forgot to turn of
f the lamp.”

  “Too late now,” I tell her as we get to the car. “He’ll probably think he left it on.”

  We yank open the doors and lock them as soon as we’re inside, slumping down in the seats and looking around to see if anyone noticed us. No one seems to be around. We both start giggling hysterically out of relief.

  “We suck at this,” I tell her, starting the car.

  “That is one creepy guy. Did you find anything else on his computer besides porno sites?” she asks as I pull away.

  “Nope.” Glancing over at the parking lot in front of the duplex, I see a white car, a green car, and the silver minivan. No black truck. Sam laughs as I whoop loudly. I give her a high five.

  “Thank God,” I say, relief swimming over me and making me feel almost dizzy. I’d rather deal with someone trying to get money out of me than Derrick stalking me, putting roses in my bedroom.

  I drop Sam off at Briarcreek, noticing that Jen’s truck is still not at the house. “You’re not going to tell Nancy about today, right?” I ask Sam.

  “No. She’d be pissed about us breaking into Derrick’s house, and it didn’t give us any new leads anyway. Keep me updated if you hear anything on your end and I’ll do the same.”

  I promise to do that, then head to the hospital to see Jack before I go back to Norfolk. I’m definitely not looking forward to telling him about breaking into Derrick’s and almost getting caught. I know exactly what he’ll say about that.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  JACK

  Lying here waiting for Liv and Sam to come back is more torture than the pain in my ribs. The last text was vague enough to tell me they’re probably doing something I’d disagree with. Not that it’d stop either Sam or Liv. A million things go through my head, and none of them are acceptable.

  I also text Maggie, but all I get is a smiley face in return. I’m worried about her. She’s getting weird on me, more so than normal. I start to wonder again if she knows more than she’s letting on.

  The nurses come in to help me walk around the hallway. It hurts like a bitch but they say it’s to keep me from getting pneumonia. I ditched the hospital gown for a pair of black pajama bottoms and long-sleeve T-shirt Micah brought me. At least I don’t feel like as much of an invalid now. As soon as we get back to my room, I notice a bunch of people gathered around the nurse’s station, including a photographer.

  “What’s going on there?” I ask the nurse.

  “One of our interns’ father is visiting. He’s a big deal, I think.”

  Without even seeing him, I know who it is. My father, here to show off his successful doctor-in-training. More of the “family values” promotion for his campaign. I step into my room, staying by the door to see if I can hear his voice.

  “Let me help you into bed,” the nurse says.

  “I’m fine. Can you just leave me here? I want to hear the senator,” I add. My father isn’t senator yet, but at this rate, I’m sure he will be.

  “Senator? Oh, my. Okay, well, I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”

  I nod as she leaves. I press my hand to the doorjamb. Just a few steps out and to the left and I’ll be in his view. I force one foot out.

  I can see him now: tall, blond, bright smile for the camera. His arm is wrapped around his son Jeremy, who looks slightly put out. The annoyed expression on Jeremy’s face is like a shot of courage. I can do this.

  A little boy runs by me, almost knocking into me and making me jump back. “Watch it, kid,” I say, grabbing my side and gritting my teeth at the pain.

  He skids to a halt. “Sorry.” He tilts his head and stares at the side I’m holding. “What happened to you?”

  “Motorcycle accident.”

  His eyes light up. “You ride a motorcycle? That’s so cool!”

  “Yeah. Except when you’re flying off it. Then it’s not so great.”

  “Do you crash a lot?”

  I shake my head. “Where’s your family?” I ask him. I need to refocus before my father leaves, and this kid’s not helping. “Aren’t they wondering where you are?”

  “Nah.” He waves toward the nurse’s station. “My dad’s busy taking pictures. So what kind of motorcycle do you drive?”

  I don’t answer him. I remember now—a picture of John Winslow’s family posted in the Times. Older son Jeremy, younger son… “Caleb,” I say softly. He can’t be older than seven. Same age I was when my mother killed herself. Was I once this happy, too?

  The boy’s eyes widen. “How’d you know my name?”

  “I…I think I heard someone calling you,” I tell him.

  He looks over his shoulder. “Guess I better go back. If I see you again, will you give me a ride on your motorcycle?”

  I smile at his enthusiasm. “Sure.” I hold out my hand and he slaps it, then runs back to his family. I take a shallow breath and start forward again. Just get it over with, then all the pain will be gone. You won’t have to think about your father again. I can destroy John Dawkins Winslow III. Family, reputation, shot at the senate—all gone with one word from me. The moment I’ve waited for almost my entire life.

  But my steps stall as I watch Caleb swing into his father’s arms, laughing as his father kisses his cheek. Their affection looks real, not the kind put on for the cameras. It hurts worse than the pain in my body. If I do this, if I out my father’s true shitty self, I’ll not only destroy him, but his family, too. Caleb would learn that the world sucks like I did, though without the added horrors of foster care. He would no longer be this happy little kid running around asking about motorcycles. He’d hate his father as much as I do. He’d hate me, too.

  Caleb points me out to his father, who glances over. His smile slowly drops as recognition dawns in his eyes—he remembers me. And there’s something else—fear. It’s gratifying to see that fear. The one time I went to confront him at his New York office, years ago, he pretended like he didn’t know me. He didn’t acknowledge how much we looked alike, and the only thing I walked away with was confirmation that he was an asshole.

  I step back into the cover of my room as other eyes turn to see what he’s staring at. The last thing I notice is Caleb’s grin. I don’t care about my father or Jeremy, but I can’t do that to Caleb. He deserves the childhood I never had.

  I climb back into bed, knowing my father won’t show up at my door. He won’t be curious as to why I’m in the hospital. He won’t wonder how I’ve been all these years.

  And for the very first time in my life, I’m finally cool with that.

  ...

  A half hour later, when the excitement around my father has dwindled and a nurse comes in to check on me, Liv walks in, a white sack tucked under her arm.

  “That looks really painful,” she says, her eyes on my bruised torso.

  “It is. They’re making me get up and walk and cough and do all sorts of stupid sh—stuff.”

  The nurse clicks her tongue at me. “You’ll be fine,” she says, pulling my shirt back down. “You don’t want pneumonia to set in.” She adjusts the pillow behind my back. “Are you in any pain?”

  “No, not at all,” I tell her. When she leaves, I roll my eyes at Liv. “It’s like having a bunch of grandmothers around, the way they click their tongues and disapprove of anything I do. What’s that?” I point to the bag under her arm.

  “For you.” She hands it to me, looking pointedly at the untouched cardboard meat and carton of gelatin at the side of my bed. Hospital food deserves its reputation. “Thought you might be hungry.” Inside are—hallelujah—two beef tacos.

  “You’re the best,” I tell her, biting into a taco with a satisfactory crunch. I offer her the other one but she tells me she already ate. She sits on the bed next to me. I shock her with the news about my father’s visit.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I am. Surprisingly.” I hesitate for a moment. I want to tell her that I’m not tied to my father anymore. But I can’t say for sur
e that I’m over everything that happened, that I can leave it behind. “I think things will be better for me from now on,” is all I can say.

  She nods, smiling, though her lips seem to struggle to lift. I put the wrappers in my bag and take her hand. “You’re exhausted.”

  She nods. “Long day, and I’m not looking forward to the drive back.”

  “Did you find Jen?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I don’t think it’s her, though.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, we followed her to a high school where she met up with this guy. That’s why she’s always sneaking out. She doesn’t want anyone to know, especially Nancy.”

  “Sam actually bought that?”

  Liv smiles. “Yep. We both did.”

  I wait, but she doesn’t say anything. I get the feeling she’s toying with me. “That makes no sense. Why would Nancy care if she’s seeing someone?”

  “Well, the guy probably wouldn’t meet Nancy’s standards.”

  I grit my teeth. “Liv, I swear, if you don’t tell me the damn story, I’m going to push this call button and have the nurse kick you out of here.”

  She laughs lightly and kisses me. “I doubt you’d do that.” She leans back and threads her fingers through mine. I notice how warm they are, a welcome contrast to the cold room. “Jen is sneaking around with this guy because he’s not just older like college older. I’m talking forties or fifties. He’s a teacher.”

  I bark out a laugh, wincing when the pain shoots through my side. Liv jumps up, her face full of worry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you laugh.”

  Which makes me laugh again. “I’m fine,” I gasp. “I guess I can see why she’d hide that. I hope she’ll be happy now.” I say that last part with sincerity. Hopefully, it means Jen is finally moving on. Though she’s still not off my list. “Did you hear from Maggie?”

  “Nope. We were busy tracking down Denise,” she says. “Trying to figure out where Derrick was.”