Olivia Decoded

by Vivi Barnes

  A shot blasts the air above us. “Stop,” Maggie calls out. She points the gun down at us, her hand shaking so hard I’m pretty sure one of us will end up with the bullet.

  “What are you doing, Maggie?” Derrick growls. Jack rolls to his side, gasping, his face screwed up in pain. I crawl over to him quickly. Maggie backs up and turns the gun on Derrick, then on me, then back to Derrick. Oh, lord. Pick a person.

  “Give me that gun, Maggie,” Derrick says, his voice coldly calm. She keeps the gun fixed on him.

  “We were supposed to get the money and tie them up and leave. That’s what you told me,” she says shakily, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Not kill him.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Derrick coos softly. He reaches for the gun but drops his hand as Maggie backs up, her gun firmly pointed toward his heart. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ll take care of you. Didn’t I promise you that? Haven’t I been there for you when no one else was? Z’s the one you hate. He’s the one you said you wanted to get back at.”

  “I didn’t want him to die.”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Derrick says, like he’s really torn up about it. “There’s no other way,”

  “No.” Maggie’s eyes flicker to Jack. “I loved you,” she whispers through the tears. “Now I’ll always haunt you.” She turns the gun toward her mouth.

  “No!” Jack and I shout at the same time as I lunge toward her. But Derrick gets there first, wrestling the weapon from her grip. He shoves Maggie to the ground and turns the gun on Jack.

  Jack holds his bound hands up in the air. “Derrick, I just have one button to press to get this transfer to go through. You’ll get a million dollars and you screw me over in the meantime. That’s what you want. But if you kill us, it’s not gonna happen.”

  Derrick grins, showing more teeth than a person should be able to. “You know, there are a lot of things that I want right now.” His eyes linger on me. “Let’s see how long you can hold off pressing that magic button while I work over our girl Olivia here.” His grin widens at my obvious panic. I get the feeling he’s saying it more to mess with Jack’s head, but it still makes me feel like I’m going to throw up. “This will be fun.”

  Jack propels himself toward Derrick, his face screwed up with rage. Derrick smiles, raising the gun as his finger tenses on the trigger. Maggie flings herself toward him, yelling “No!” Derrick’s finger presses the trigger and I scream as the shot blasts the quiet in the house. I grab the laptop from the tray table and swing it as hard as I can at Derrick’s back. He falls forward, pressing Maggie and Jack under him.

  For a long moment, no one moves. Nothing except a trickle of blood between the bodies that becomes a small stream. No!

  “Jack.” It comes out like a strangled whisper. Movement, then, and Derrick stands, staring at the blood covering his shirt and the floor, at the gun in his hand. Then at the unmoving bodies below him.

  “You should’ve stayed out of this,” he says to me hoarsely. He points the gun at me, but I’m no longer afraid. Now that I know I’m going to die, all that’s left is clarity. The smooth black metal of the gun, the round barrel that is now awake and ready for its next victim: me. I’ve rarely gone to church, but I find myself praying that there is a heaven and that Jack will be there.

  Derrick shifts slightly, muttering something. The movement pulls me out of my trance.

  “You will rot in jail for this,” I tell him. “And it was my idea to put you on the sex offenders list, you disgusting pervert. Mine.”

  His eyes narrow as he raises the gun. I close my eyes.

  A single blast of fire shatters the silence, and I stagger backward, ending up on my butt.

  Something’s wrong. Or right. The pain that should accompany the bullet is not there. I open my eyes to see Derrick kneeling on the ground, the gun hanging limply in his hands. He falls forward. Bright lights spill into the room. I shield my eyes as there are suddenly voices—police—everywhere.

  The relief I should feel isn’t in me. I crawl over to pull Maggie off of Jack. Blood is everywhere. Maggie’s body is heavy and limp. I lay her gently on the marble floor and turn back to Jack, who’s groaning, his face drawn in pain. Oh, hallelujah! I lift his shirt and gently run my hands along his stomach, his chest, to make sure the blood isn’t coming from him. His bandage is red—his stitches must’ve bitten it when they fell on him.

  “Liv!” Sam’s voice rings out. I look up to see her and Nancy pushing past the suddenly full foyer, ignoring the policemen’s shouts. Nancy gasps at the blood, tears streaking down her face as she falls to the floor at Maggie’s side. I tug my arm from the policewoman whose trying to pull me away. I won’t leave Jack.

  He coughs and groans, his eyes tearing up in pain. But he’s alive.

  Gloriously alive.

  Chapter Thirty

  JACK

  With the knife-sharp pain throbbing in my torso, my first thought was that Derrick’s aim was true and that I only have minutes or seconds left. Liv’s face looms over me, outlined by a ridiculously bright light. This is dying, I guess. Then I realize the pain is coming from the earlier injury to my ribs. But who took the shot?

  “Z,” Nancy says, sweeping my hair back over my forehead. Nancy? Sam is next to her, peering over her shoulder at me. Cops are moving around everywhere. I notice Derrick’s still body nearby.

  “Liv?”

  “I’m here,” she answers, stroking my face. I relax. Nancy and Sam and the cops are here. And Liv is unhurt. And—

  “Where’s Maggie?” I ask, looking around.

  “Rest,” Nancy says. She presses on my shoulder but I sweep her hand away. I grit my teeth as the fire in my side flares with the movement. Liv and Sam pull me into a seated position.

  “Where is she?” I ask again. Why is Liv not looking at me? Why is Nancy crying? I look around, focusing on the second group of policemen near me. Surrounding a body.

  “Maggie?” I choke out.

  I crawl over to her limp body, almost screaming with the pain, but I press on. Maggie’s eyes are closed, but what gets to me is her face. She looks so much younger now, her face full of the peace she wanted but never had. It’s not fair. I press my hand on her cheek, sweeping the curls back from her face.

  Arms wrap around my shoulders. “It’s not your fault,” Liv says quietly, as if she can read my mind. But it is my fault. Images of Maggie assault me—the first day I met her in school, a foster kid who looked like she was ready to take the world by storm. She had so much hope, so much excitement in her. She thought we’d be Bonnie and Clyde, and now that I think about it, I’m sure she wanted to use the feeling of power to get back at the foster care system she was trying to escape. Unlike Liv, it never got better for her. It only got worse.

  I remember her face when I brought Jen home, the asshole that I was, thinking it was all fine because I’d already broken it off with Maggie. Her expression was like I’d used a jackhammer on her heart. She ran to Bill because of me. Then ran to Derrick. Looking for one person who’d love her, because I sure as hell couldn’t.

  My body shakes as the sobs rip free from my body. I ignore the angry response from my ribs. I’m broken, but Maggie’s dead. And she had no one there for her at the end. Not even Derrick, the scumbag she thought loved her.

  Liv presses her cheek against my shoulder, holding me. Nancy joins us, taking one of my hands as Sam takes the other. Connecting our messed-up little family. But at least we are a family.

  More people arrive, including paramedics who examine my side. They tell me I should go to the hospital to get my stitches looked at, but I refuse a ride in the ambulance. Soon, policemen come over to take our statements. One of them—a detective—introduces himself with a sly wink and tells them he’ll take over. Jim Rush, a man I’ve worked with many times but never met in person. He’s smaller than I expected, a few inches shorter than me and wiry. I guess I pictured a big burly guy for someone who dealt so much with Bill Sykes. Some would cal
l him crooked, but I’d call him a hero for as many times as he’s bailed us out.

  We cover all the bases, that Derrick was some jealous psychopath Liv stayed with in her foster care days who started stalking her at her new home and going after me because he was jealous. We keep Maggie’s part a secret except to say she was another one of his victims.

  Liv and I sit on the staircase as the CSI unit arrives, their cameras and pads in hand. A couple of them talk to Nancy. I see Sam disappear with my laptop in her bag. I’ll have to thank her for that later.

  “Derrick said you’d been looking at the ICL account a lot. Why were you doing that?” Liv asks me, her arms wrapped around me as I lean back against her, finding a position that isn’t agonizing.

  “The ICL account is my father’s. I used to pilfer from it in the past. I’d decided not to do it anymore, so poetic justice, I guess, that he wanted me to break into it.”

  Her fingers weave through mine. “And the transfer didn’t go through?”

  “Nope. I knew Derrick would never let me live if I completed the transfer, so I tried to hold on to that leverage as long as I could. I knew we’d end up fighting for our lives, though.”

  I just didn’t expect Maggie to die.

  “I’ve screwed up so many lives, Liv. Now Maggie’s dead because of me.”

  “You aren’t responsible for what happened to Maggie,” Liv says firmly. “Or to me or Jen or anyone else.”

  She tightens her arms around me, holding me together. “I know you think you’re not worthy of a happy life. All the crap your father put you and your mom through was horrible. But every time you broke in to a bank account to get back at him, you were letting him control you. I’ve told you before you’re better than Z, but you have to believe it yourself. And you have to forgive yourself, too.”

  “I know,” I whisper hoarsely, though the scars go too deep to forgive myself for the things I’ve done. For Maggie’s death and for all the kids at Briarcreek who look at me as a role model. For Liv’s never-ending parade of nightmares that I’m partly responsible for. For my father’s family that I stole from in retaliation for something that I should’ve gotten past a long time ago. She’s right. Being top criminal hacker Z fed my need for revenge, but it did nothing to fill the emptiness inside me.

  No, the only one who does that is sitting here with me.

  The flash of the cameras pull my attention toward Maggie’s body. In different circumstances, Maggie could’ve been Princeton-bound, just like Liv. If she was dealt a better hand, she could’ve had a family who loved her and sent her to the best schools. If she’d never met me—

  Nancy gestures for us to come with her. Liv helps me stand, and I turn to look at her. “I’m a mess, Liv. I can’t just snap my fingers and be over this. I’m not good for you or anyone else right now.”

  She smiles gently. “I know. One thing at a time, Jack. Get through your senior year. Take care of your family. Once you’re ready, I’ll be there for you.” She leans forward to press her lips against mine.

  I kiss her back. It doesn’t feel like the last time I left her. Then, I really wasn’t sure if a future for us was possible. As hard as it is to quit being Z, being Jack for Liv is more important. The girl hacked her way right into the center of my heart, and nothing will remove her from it.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Liv

  Nancy, Sam, and I go to the hospital with Jack for a reevaluation after the scuffle at Monroe Street, but surprisingly, he’s no worse off than he was before. He begs me to stay in Richmond for the night since it’s so late, but I can’t think of intruding on his family’s mourning time. Maggie may have been crazy, and she did participate in Derrick’s scheme, but she was still just a sad, messed-up girl who got dealt a really bad hand in life. It’s something only another kid who’s been through the system could understand, I think.

  The police call my grandfather, who leaves Norfolk immediately to come pick me up. I want to argue that I could drive myself home, especially considering I’m responsible for Emerson’s car, but since I’m a minor, I can’t fight it. The police agree that I can wait at the hospital for him, since I’m being evaluated for trauma anyway. I have a feeling I’m in for more therapy sessions with Dr. Valerio when I get back to Norfolk.

  I call Emerson to give her a very brief rundown of the last twelve hours. After a lot of “are you serious” comments, she tells me how glad she is that I’m okay. She asks about Jack, too, with real concern in her voice. The conversation is warm and friendly, even with a couple laughs. The years that I spent without a best friend are being made up for in spades by Emerson. I’m grateful to have her in my life.

  Jack points out his half brother to me when the intern isn’t looking. I’m shocked to see the resemblance. And I’m proud of Jack for not making an issue of it. It’s a solid first step.

  Jack seems different now, too. His voice is lighter as he talks to Nancy and the doctor. Z may always be a part of him, but now that he’s letting go of the anger that gnawed at his heart for so long, he can be free to make choices that don’t relate to his father.

  If he can do it, maybe I can, too.

  Nancy offers to wait with me for my grandfather. Jack does, too, but I tell him that’s not a good idea. Not when my grandfather blames him for most of what’s happened.

  Jack and I don’t drag out our parting. A quick kiss and overly cheerful good-bye masks the heartache. The break is necessary, though. Jack has too much to sort out here, and I need to focus on graduating and moving to New Jersey for summer orientation at Princeton. I know he’ll find me when he’s ready.

  I know I love him enough to wait.

  The adrenaline fades before my grandfather gets to the hospital, and I’m both exhausted and nervous. Nancy keeps an arm around my shoulders as we wait, but it does nothing for the nerves doing battle in my stomach. I’m not looking forward to seeing the disappointment in my grandfather’s eyes. Or the anger. Either he’s going to yell at me and tell me I can never leave home again, or he’ll have that cold, calm businesslike air and tell me I’ll need to make other living arrangements because he can’t handle living with a teenager. I wouldn’t blame him for either.

  The doors to the ER finally slide open, and Grandfather strides through, his eyes searching. He looks so much like he did the last time I was in a hospital, after Bill Sykes kidnapped me and I ended up swimming for my life. His hair is mussed, the wrinkles in his face deepened, and he’s wearing a green sweater instead of the usual button-down. But what gets me is the look in his eyes when they finally land on me. There’s no anger. No judgment. Just concern and overwhelming relief to see me alive.

  I release myself from Nancy’s protective arm and walk toward him. All the pain that I’ve caused him, all the horrible things I’ve gone through, the emotions that have been building in me come rushing out through my tears. I start sobbing. He pulls me to him, holding me and stroking my hair. I can’t even get out the apology that’s lingered on my tongue for days out.

  Then he says the words I’ve longed to hear from a parent my entire life. From someone who loves me and always will.

  ”Everything will be okay. I promise.”

  Epilogue

  Nine Months Later

  I pick up Jack at his apartment after packing up my dorm. The finals at Princeton are no joke, and I’m glad it’s the holidays. Jack, on the other hand, would probably rather take ten more final exams than deal with what’s coming this evening.

  “You sure you want to do this?” he asks me. “I don’t mind staying here for Christmas by myself, you know.”

  I curl my arms around his neck, kissing him lightly. “Grandfather will accept you. You’re part of my life, and he loves me. Besides, I think it’s time you have a nice Christmas.” No more escaping on your bike to hide from the memories of your mother’s death.

  He heaves a sigh and buries his face in my hair. “Okay. Just remember that this was your idea.”

  It ta
kes about six hours to get to Norfolk. Jack is quiet for most of it, and I wonder if he’s trying to figure out a way to get into my grandfather’s good graces. The truth is that I worry about it, too. Grandfather would be a lot happier if I brought home practically anyone else. I kept it a secret that Jack had enrolled at Princeton until very recently, so maybe he hasn’t had enough time to let that sink in.

  When we arrive, the house is decked out inside and out in white twinkling lights, and one of the house’s three large Christmas trees gleams brightly in red and gold in the foyer. Presents wrapped in foil are stacked underneath—these are the ones that will be shared at a Christmas party my grandfather and his business associates host for kids from local group homes. It’s something he instituted after I came to live with him. I tried to get him to dress as Santa, but he wouldn’t go for it. One thing at a time, I guess.

  Mrs. Bedwin greets us with hugs and a cheery smile. She and her assistant Cara relieve us of our suitcases and armfuls of gifts. “Your grandfather is on his way home, so you have a few minutes to get ready.” She nods at Cara, who takes Jack up to his room.

  “Don’t you worry,” Mrs. Bedwin says as she escorts me to my room. “Your grandfather will see this young man for the good person he is.”

  “How can you tell he’s a good person?” I ask teasingly.

  “He’s with you, and anyone you let into your heart can’t be anything but a good person.”

  She leaves me to change into my dinner clothes—a long blue velvet dress I know my grandfather will approve of, with the pearl necklace and earrings he gave me last Christmas. I stare at my reflection, surprised at the confident, sophisticated-looking girl who stares back at me in the mirror. Such a long way from the clueless foster kid I once was. It feels like ages ago that I was wearing clothes a size too small and wondering how to approach my foster parents for money for something as simple as a pair of shorts that fit. Nerves twitch inside of me. If Grandfather tells me he won’t accept Jack, what will I do?