by Vivi Barnes
My heart sinks. The last thing I wanted her to do was track down the asshole who turned her last home into a nightmare. “What made you do that?”
She strokes her thumb along the outside of mine. “Don’t get upset. I thought there’s a possibility he could be stalking me.”
“He doesn’t know where you live or your new last name.”
She shakes her head. “I’m as smart as you are, Jack. You know you’d track him down, too. I know you’re trying to keep me from getting hurt, but I’m not going to let him. And Sam was with me.”
“So you found him?”
“We found Denise, who didn’t seem surprised that he might be stalking me. I guess she’d caught him looking up stuff on the internet and hiring hookers.”
“Hookers?”
She nods. “What a scumbag.”
I close my eyes for a moment, and the image of Liv’s teary face after Derrick hurt her comes to mind. The pain in my ribs is nothing compared to the pain I felt the day I found her crumpled on the bathroom floor at school, crying from what Derrick had done—or tried to do. She’s right—I would’ve gone after him myself. And I wouldn’t have let him walk away this time.
“So did you go to his house?” I ask, hoping the answer is no.
“Um, yeah.” She toys with the blanket on the bed, not meeting my eyes.
“And?”
“He wasn’t home, so Sam and I broke in and—”
“You broke in?” I jerk up, the pain jabbing again at my side. I try to ignore it. “What the hell did you guys do that for?”
“To see what he’s up to, obviously. I needed to rule him out.”
“I want you to stay away from him,” I tell her firmly. “At least until I can go with you.”
“Jack.” She slides off the edge of the bed, her face looking like mine probably did after being interrogated for stealing money from the house—mad as hell. “I care about you more than anything. But you don’t get to tell me what to do. And you have got to trust me. If you don’t, I’m going to leave you here in the hospital, continue my own investigation without telling you anything, give my findings to the police, and only come back when it’s all over. Got it?”
I reach for her hand but she steps away. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She huffs. “Because I’m a girl? Really? Do you remember who drove that car off the bridge and killed Bill? Not you.”
I sigh. It’s a losing battle, arguing with her. Liv’s still the amazing, kick-ass girl I fell for, though, and I’m glad of that. “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Good.”
She smiles then, and my heart immediately responds, lifting in my chest and numbing all the pain around my ribs. Who needs painkillers when she’s around?
“We figured if he knows that you and I put him on the sex offender list, then he’d be mad enough to come after us. But I found nothing on his computer. No searches that related to me, nothing at all. Except porn.” She screws up her face in disgust.
“You aren’t planning on going back there, right?” I ask nervously.
“Of course not. I’m done with him.” She smiles a little. “It’s weird, but I’m actually relieved to have done it. Like breaking in to his apartment helped me see he’s just a pathetic person. Not a powerful monster who can hurt me, like in my dreams. I think all of that is behind me now.”
I slide my fingers back through hers and pull her closer. “Just try to take Sam with you whenever you go investigate anything, okay?”
She cocks her head. “If you’ll promise the same.” She pops a carrot into her mouth from my untouched tray of food. “So the next step is figuring out who was with Frank.”
“Look, I’m getting out of here tomorrow. We can do it together.” I pause. “What’s wrong?”
“Tomorrow’s too late. If I don’t get back soon, my grandfather will freak.”
“Stay with me,” I tell her. “Frank might be in Norfolk, waiting for you.”
She smiles, which fades as she looks at her phone. “Crap. Emerson says Grandfather came by her house, and she told him I left already. I need to call him.” She slumps back in the chair, her eyes on the ceiling. “He’ll guess that I’m here. Maybe he’ll kick me out. Send me back to foster care, since I suck as a granddaughter.”
I carefully swing my legs over the side of the bed. “Liv, come here.” I pat the space next to me, and she comes to sit at my side. I take her hand and hold it tightly. “He’s not going to send you to foster care. You’re every parent’s and grandparent’s dream, believe me.”
“He doesn’t tolerate lying,” she says, the tears in her words rather than on her cheeks. “He’ll know I’m a liar, just as terrible as my father. He’s going to cut me out of his life, and I deserve it.”
“No. You don’t deserve that. You’ll never deserve that. If he doesn’t appreciate you for the amazing person you are, then something is wrong with him, not you. And you are not your father.” Like I’m not mine.
She sighs and leans her head on my shoulder. Her phone buzzes, and she looks at the text. She holds it up to me so I can see the message from her grandfather. You need to come home right now. “I should’ve called him earlier.”
She presses the contact for her grandfather, lifting the phone to her ear. A couple seconds later I can hear her grandfather answer.
“Grandfather, I—”
He’s loud enough that I can hear him telling her to come home right away. She starts to say something else but he interrupts her, telling her again he’ll talk with her when she’s home. I hear the click on the other end. Liv stares at her phone. “I need to go,” she says quietly. “I hate leaving you like this.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. So will you.”
She kisses me briefly, then she’s gone. As glad as I am that she’s not going to be tracking down some deranged stalker now, I have to admit I’m nervous for her. Annoyed, too. I know her grandfather doesn’t like or trust me. He thinks I’m responsible for her getting kidnapped by Bill. Nothing I can ever do or say will change his mind, I’m sure of that. As much as I’m glad Liv found family—one that actually wants her—I hope she won’t put up with that. She’s strong, but if he pulls out the family card, or dangles Princeton in front of her, how much will she be able to take?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
LIV
It sucks knowing that I screwed over the only family I have in the world. The guilt fits uncomfortably, yet familiarly, like an old shoe that’s a size too small.
I wait for the truck in front of mine to move out of the parking lot so I can leave, but it doesn’t budge. I press the horn, but the rear lights turn off. It occurs to me that the truck is dark—black or blue. Does everyone drive a truck these days? I can see the driver’s door swing open and—crap—the guy is getting out. My heart is now playing a snare drum in my throat. I put my hand on the gear, ready to throw it in reverse. Could it be Frank?
As the person comes closer, I can tell it’s not a man, but a woman bundled up in a coat and hat. She waves, her face apologetic. I take a deep breath, feeling like an idiot for freaking out like this. I roll down my window as she approaches.
“Do you need to call someone?” I ask.
“Already did,” she says, waving her cell. She pulls her coat tighter. “I need to get a vehicle that doesn’t collapse every time the temperature drops. Either that or move to Florida.” She laughs, her breath coming out in huffs of smoke barely illuminated by the overhead lamps.
“Is someone coming to pick you up?”
“My son-in-law should be here in five minutes. He lives just a few blocks over. The car just needs some antifreeze and she’ll be good as new. At least for a couple days.” She nods toward the hospital. “My husband’s in the hospital recovering from surgery. Thought I’d get him a real meal instead of the hospital food. Know of a burger place around here?”
Burgers? The only place that comes to mind is Burg
er Box. The very thought of it gives me shivers, even knowing Derrick’s not the guy stalking me. And here I am, freaking out at the sight of a truck. This trip was supposed to help, but I have more anxiety than ever. Am I going to panic every time I see a dark truck from now on?
“You okay?” the woman asks.
“Um, I think there’s a Burger King on the next street.” I have no idea, but it’s a busy street. She should find something. I’m already throwing my car into reverse. “I forgot something inside,” I tell her. She wishes me luck and gets back into her truck while I return to the parking space I just vacated.
For a long moment I stare at my phone. If I do this, I’m probably wrecking any chance to patch up my relationship with my grandfather. But if I don’t, if I go back, I’ll end up sitting around the house all day, hoping the bad guys don’t come in. Hoping they don’t attack my grandfather or Mrs. Bedwin.
The idea of someone hurting either of them—
My chest tightens. Forget it. While this asshole is on the loose, I’m not allowing myself to be locked up at home, doing nothing.
I call my grandfather’s number and wait.
“Olivia,” he says gravely when he answers. “I assume you’re calling to tell me that you are going to be detained in traffic for a few hours. Am I right?”
I take a deep breath. “No, but you’re right about me not coming home just yet. I’m not going to lie to you about it, though.”
“I fail to see the difference. I know you are in Richmond right now with that young man you already know I disapprove of. And driving your friend’s car without regard to the fact that someone is trying to find you, possibly kill you.”
I cringe at his businesslike voice. I may as well be one of his office staff. I’ve heard him do this on the phone when he’s talking business. He’s trying to scare me into saying something incriminating. It doesn’t matter anyway. “I’m in Richmond, like you guessed. But I’m not here just for fun. One of my friends is in trouble—”
“Trouble as in drugs?”
Seriously? I keep my temper in check. “No. Trouble as in someone ran him off the road this morning, and he’s in the hospital. That’s why I came here.”
“He can recover without your help. Have you forgotten that someone slashed up roses with a knife on your balcony? Yet you decide to pull one over on the detective who is trying to protect you and go hang out with your friends instead. This isn’t a game, Olivia.”
“Believe me, I know that. I told you, I’m not here to goof off. I’m here because my friend is in the hospital.”
“I know your friend is Jack, the very same boy who has come up here at least once before and whom you pretended not to have anything to do with. I’m not a fool, Olivia. I won’t be lied to again. What exactly are you doing in Richmond?”
“I know it’s hard, but you’ll have to trust me,” I tell him. “I can’t tell you anything else.”
“Olivia. if you want me to have even the slightest bit of faith in you again, you need to come home right now.”
The words burn into my heart. I almost put the car in reverse and head back to Norfolk, tail between my legs. But images pop into my head of someone creeping around my house, waiting in the shadows until I fall asleep, or deciding to go directly to the source of my fortune—my grandfather—and holding him at gunpoint. Or shooting Mrs. Bedwin to get her out of the way—
I steel myself. “I can’t. I’m sorry you don’t trust me, but I can’t just sit around the house, Grandfather. And Jack’s family—”
“I’m thinking the word family is more like gang, am I right?”
My blood rushes faster through my veins at that one. “No.”
“I think I’m going to launch an investigation into—”
“No, you will not do that,” I tell him sharply, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
“As your grandfather—”
“You should love me enough to understand that I can’t just wipe away my past.” My voice is rising, and tears are sliding down my cheeks. I’m losing control, but I don’t care. “I know you think I’m acting like my father would, and that I’m a bad person because of it. You think that the only thing that could possibly redeem me is the half of me that is my mother, but you didn’t know much about her, either.”
“Olivia…”
“Do you know what happened to me when your precious daughter Aggie died?” I continue relentlessly. “She collapsed in the middle of the street in the worst part of town, with her pimp standing over us, watching her body convulse with drugs. I remember crying over her dead body, begging her to wake up. I was in foster care for years after that. You have no idea what that’s like. I’ve lived through more hell than I will ever tell you or any lame therapist. I’m your granddaughter, but that doesn’t mean you know everything about me. And it doesn’t mean you own me.”
I brush the angry tears from my cheek. I hate reliving those memories as much as I hate throwing them in his face. “I love you, Grandfather. If you love me like you say you do, you’ll let me do this. I’m not here partying or getting into trouble. I’m here with one of the very few people who actually gave a crap about me in my life, okay? The one who turned me over to the only family I had when I didn’t even know it existed. It’s because of Jack that I came to live with you in the first place.”
Another pause, and this time his voice is subdued. “I don’t think there’s an easy answer to any of this, Olivia. For either of us. I want what’s best for you, and I don’t believe this is it. We will continue this discussion when you are back home.” He pauses for a moment. “I do love you. Be safe.”
He hangs up. I drop the phone in my lap, leaning back on the headrest and letting the tears fall freely. The conversation didn’t go exactly as I expected, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad. He won’t send the PI after me, I don’t think. But this wasn’t the end of it as far as he’s concerned. In my mind, I picture armed security guards outside my window and door day and night as well as my car keys being locked up. At the very least, he’ll set a strict curfew, which is fine with me. Not like I stay out late partying anyway.
Guilt jabs at my gut, but with it comes a strange sense of relief. I’ve always let him think the best about his daughter. I never wanted him to know the real story of how I ended up in foster care. I never intended to make him feel bad about what happened when my mother ran away from home. But now that he knows, maybe he’ll understand I’ll never be the perfect angel granddaughter he hoped I’d be. But neither will I be the thug troublemaker he thinks of my father as.
Maybe eventually he’ll learn to appreciate that I’m just me, Olivia.
I swallow the bitter taste from the conversation and start to get out of the car, then stop. Jack can’t help me from here. All that I’ll accomplish by going upstairs is to get him worried again about my investigation.
Instead, I drive to the house on Briarcreek. Sam is waiting for me when I arrive. Many of the other kids are home, too, staring at me like I just flew in from Mars. “I told them you were on your way over,” she tells me in a whisper as she takes my coat and hangs it on a hook next to the door. “They want to see what you’re planning to do.”
“Do?” Uh-oh. Dutch is staring at me with wide eyes. Remembering his close relationship with his “big brother,” I smile at him. “Z is doing fine. I think he’ll be able to come home tomorrow.”
Dutch smiles, relieved. In fact, the entire room relaxes. A glance at Sam’s approving face tells me that was the perfect thing to say. I know how much Jack means to everyone here, and the words coming from me probably mean more than from Nancy, who’d say anything to keep them from worrying. I gaze around the room and notice Maggie sitting next to Micah on the sofa, her arms around her legs. Instead of looking at me like everyone else, her eyes are focused on the ground. She reminds me of Eponine when Grandfather took me to see Les Miserables—thin, sad, and lost.
She looks up and sees me staring at her. Imme
diately, she stands and heads upstairs.
“Want to go to my room?” Sam asks. I nod and follow her upstairs. She stops in front of one of the first doors. “I’ll go see if we have any spare toothbrushes. You can look in Z’s closet for a T-shirt to wear. And in his dresser for underwear.”
She giggles and opens the door for me. Jack’s room is small, very much like the one at Monroe Street, with the scent of spice and leather that makes all my nerve endings go on high alert. I sit on his bed and run my hand along his rumpled bedspread, wishing more than anything that he were here. The guy I should’ve known better than to trust is the one I ended up trusting more than anyone. Funny.
I text him. I’m sitting on your bed.
His response is almost immediate. You’re killing me.
Grinning, I put the phone away. Sam comes back with a brand-new toothbrush and hands it to me. I notice the sound of sobbing coming from down the hall. Doesn’t take a genius to know it’s Maggie.
“Does she cry like that a lot?” I ask Sam, who rolls her eyes.
“Like all the freaking time. She’s been a total zombie since Z got hit. Nancy’s worried about her. I think we spend half our time these days worried about Maggie.”
“I wonder if there’s anything else going on that we don’t know about.”
Sam’s eyebrows lift. “Like…?”
I lean back on my elbows. “She’s that upset all the time but more lately, right?”
“Yeah, but you aren’t suggesting she was in on the plot to run Z off the road, are you? She’s all about that guy.”
I shake my head. “But maybe she knows who did. Or maybe she knows who broke in to your bank account here. Maybe someone’s blackmailing her, and she can’t say anything.”
Sam tilts her head, thinking about that. “It’s possible, I guess. Sometimes she looks like she’s dying to say something. But she’s not close enough to anyone here in the house to spill secrets to. Except Z.”
“Maybe we should try talking to her,” I suggest. I know I’m not Maggie’s favorite person, but could it really hurt?
Sam nods slowly. “We have to be careful, though. Nancy thinks Maggie’s on the verge of a breakdown. Her roommate Sunny told Nancy she wants to move out because she’s sick of Maggie crying all the time. I think she might snap if we so much as look at her funny.”
