The Truth About Us

by Tia Souders

  Hearing nothing, she stretched her right leg over the sharp daggers of glass, careful not to cut herself. A cold sweat dampened her clothes. Her eyes soaked in the files strewn across the room, his desk a virtual tornado of paperwork.

  The hairs prickled the back of her neck as she moved behind his huge mahogany desk and noted the smashed computer screen and the hard drive pummeled into a pile of twisted debris.

  Abby concentrated on her breathing, trying to kill her rising panic.

  In. Out.

  “Bright side. Bright side. Bright side,” she repeated. There had to be a dang bright side!

  Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about how she’d get in, she mused.

  Okay, Abby, just breathe, grab your file, and go.

  She closed the gap between her and the wall of filing cabinets behind Mr. Klein’s desk. Opening them, she quickly determined they were in alphabetical order by last name, so she opened the drawer marked ‘A – F’ and flicked through the folders.

  ...Galveston, Greg, Griffin, Godden, Gumby, Guttridge...

  Abby frowned, sure she must’ve missed it. Starting at the beginning, she looked for her grandmother’s file again, being sure to go through every folder in case it got misfiled. Again, nothing.

  Impossible.

  She stepped back from the cabinet as her eyes scanned the room. She searched the scattered files on the floor, the papers on his desk. It had to be there. Yet, even as she frantically turned over every paper, every folder, and every corner of his office, she knew she would find nothing.

  GG’s file was gone, and with the hard drive of his computer smashed, there was virtually no record she was ever even a client there, with the exception of whatever information Klein may have backed up somewhere.

  Abby gnawed on her lip as her stomach lurched. A coppery taste coated her tongue. Blotting her lip with her fingers, she pulled them away and realized she had bitten them so hard, they bled.

  With a groan, she gripped her hair by the roots and sunk down into Mr. Klein’s chair.

  A horrifying realization swept over her.

  GG’s letters.

  Whatever letters may be left were probably now gone, along with any other evidence or information Mr. Klein may or may not have regarding GG’s secret.

  Tears stung the back of her eyes as she tried to come to terms with her situation. Someone had wanted those files so badly they stole them.

  Someone other than Abby.

  She covered her face with her hands, just as the sound of crunching glass and footsteps approached.

  She froze at the sound. All the blood drained from her face, pooling in the center of her chest where her heart worked overtime to expel it.

  When she lifted her gaze, Mr. Oliver stood in front of her, dressed in his uniform, his gun at the ready as he pointed it at her with wide eyes, blinking with recognition.

  He lowered his weapon, shock replacing the adrenaline from seconds ago as his mouth pressed into a thin line. “You again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Mr. Oliver turned his head to his right, pressing down on his radio as he spoke into the mouthpiece. “This is Unit 2102. Cancel that backup.”

  Something unintelligible came through the other line. Regardless, he must’ve understood because he answered. “I’m on the scene. I checked all the perimeters. The place is secure, and the assailant is already gone. I’ll assess the damage and call back.”

  He let go of his mike, then crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at her. “You wanna tell me what you’re doing here and what this is all about? Because from where I’m standing, this doesn’t look good.”

  His eyes surveyed the wrecked office, and when his gaze returned to her, she tried to say something but found it impossible. Her tongue turned to sand, her throat raw and dry like the desert. Wincing, she forced herself to swallow, then cleared her throat as she realized the severity of her situation. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Mr. Oliver’s eyes sparked like he enjoyed her discomfort. Then again, he dealt with criminals every day, and Abby’s situation, well, it didn’t look good. Never mind the fact had Klein’s office not yet been broken into, she planned to do it herself.

  “Mr. Klein is my grandmother’s lawyer. He is handling my trust fund, among some other things for me after her death, and I came here to see him.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “I thought he might be in. It’s not uncommon for him to work long hours and weekends.”

  Totally plausible. He was a lawyer, after all. Weren’t they supposed to be workaholics?

  She twisted her hands in her lap. “When I got here, I saw the broken lock and the shattered door, and I freaked out. I thought someone might be here that needed help, so I came into his office. I found it like this.”

  “So you just happened to come here. Today. With the place in disrepair?”

  Abby nodded, knowing how implausible it sounded.

  Mr. Oliver pursed his lips. “The same week you convince my son to sneak out of the house, and two weeks after you came to the precinct asking questions about a guy’s murder. You want me to believe you had nothing to do with this?”

  Abby’s stomach clenched as Mr. Oliver’s narrowed gaze bore into her.

  “Yes. Because it’s true.”

  Mr. Oliver shook his head, then stared at the ground a moment before lifting his eyes to hers. “Funny thing is, I do believe you. But if the detectives find one tiny piece of evidence against you, that’s it. You’re done. Do you understand me?”

  Abby blinked, confused. “Wait. Are you letting me go?”

  “On one condition.” Mr. Oliver’s jaw clenched. “Stay away from Kaden. You’re trouble, and you’re no good for him. You stay away from him, and I won’t say a word about finding you here.”

  Ice filled Abby’s veins. She stared at him in the silence, debating on calling his bluff.

  “You’re sneaking him out of the house, snooping around and poking your nose into old cases, and now you wind up here? In an office that’s been mysteriously broken into.” He shook his head. “You keep your distance, and we have a deal. But if you don’t follow through on your end, and I find you running around with him again, the detectives will have reason to believe you were involved. Do we understand each other?”

  Everything in Abby wanted to say no. Everything inside her wanted to tell him he was wrong about her, but deep down, she worried he was right. Hadn’t she, herself, questioned whether she should freeze Kaden out of this, to cut him off and avoid any further involvement in unraveling whatever mystery GG died with?

  Whatever this secret was had cost at least more than one man his life. Someone had broken into her room and rummaged through her things. And, now, breaking and entering and stealing could be added to the list of crimes.

  She cared about Kaden, and though she wanted his help and craved him in her life, she wanted him to be safe more.

  She nodded, knowing what she would say before the words left her mouth and already hating herself for it.

  “It’s a deal,” she whispered, then stood and left Klein’s office with a heavy heart.

  SHE SAT UPRIGHT IN bed and brought a hand to her chest, where her heart raced. Sweat beaded her brow, and her breath came in ragged puffs as she tried to erase the image of Klein’s office from her head. Only this time, Kaden was there as Mr. Oliver carted her away, cuffed, in the back of his cruiser as he watched.

  She closed her eyes and caught her breath, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Twisting in her blankets, she reached for the bottle of water she always kept on her nightstand. The cool plastic pressed against her palm. She snatched it up and pressed the bottle to her lips, drinking in greedy gulps until it was almost gone.

  Sighing, she put the empty bottle down and threw the covers off her sweat-soaked body and leaned over her bed. Her fingers grappled at the box she now kept hidden underneath it, and she pulled it out.


  She had nothing but time to solve her grandmother’s secret now that she was grounded until the end of time, and no, she wasn’t exaggerating. Her mother, literally, used those words. When she had returned home from Mr. Klein’s office, punishment rained down on her, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to care. She could no longer see Kaden, and suddenly, he seemed the only thing worth leaving her room for, so she resolved herself to weeks of piecing together the puzzle of her grandmother’s secret until she got it right.

  Abby placed the box on the pillow-soft comforter and tucked her legs underneath her, then opened it and spread everything out in front of her—the letters, the journal, the property documents, images she captured on her phone of the Nazi paraphernalia—and stared at it all. The items culminated to create one virtual question mark she was sure held a meaning she had yet to piece together.

  Her grandfather owned property in Austria, purchased for him by a German soldier. He appeared to be the Yoel Gutman from the journal, but his cousin—at least it’s the woman believed to be his cousin—insisted they were not related. She also insisted he was not the Yoel who wrote it. And whatever secret GG and Lawson discovered, it was big enough to get him killed, and if Lawson was murdered in the name of her secret so was McBride to cover it up.

  Then there was the storage unit and the chest. Was it blackmail material? Certainly, if Lawson discovered Grandpa had been blackmailing a war criminal all these years, which is how he acquired his money; that would be huge news. It would rock the foundation of their family. Grandma was not the type to keep quiet about such things. She was always one for justice. Could this have been the secret? And if so, was the chest the missing evidence GG had needed to link her grandfather to Irma Mentz?

  The only way Abby would know if the blackmail theory was legit would be by finding Mentz. Could he be the man Abby saw at the coffee shop? Did he sneak into her room to see what evidence she had against him?

  Abby shuddered. The idea of a German war criminal spying on her was beyond creepy.

  If her grandfather were blackmailing him though, there should be more of a paper trail leading to him. Abby just needed to find it and pray it had not been destroyed in Klein’s office.

  She shuffled the papers together and placed them back in the box, shut the lid, and locked it. Hopping out of bed, she made her way to her closet, but her reflection in the full-length mirror caught her eye.

  A night of restless sleep hadn’t done her any favors. Her hair tangled and puffed at the top of her head in a wild mass, resembling a bird’s nest. A giant indentation from where the comforter had bunched underneath her ran from the side of her neck, down beneath the collar of her sleep shirt.

  She ran a finger over the angry mark, and a familiarity bloomed in her chest. Needles prickled her spine at the flash of a scar in her head. One she knew well.

  The image of the puckered line of flesh over her grandfather’s neck came to mind. She had been told it came from his time at Auschwitz, in the camps. A German officer had given it to him during a beating. But...

  The hair rose on the back of her arms as her grandmother’s words ran through her head.

  “...family can be the very devil in disguise. More powerful than any drug, more alluring than any sin. They can demand a loyalty that will rip your heart out and chew it up...”

  She tried to swallow but couldn’t. Her tongue swelled in her mouth, a reaction to her venomous thoughts as dawning bloomed in both her head and heart like poison. The excerpt from the journal flashed in her head like a silent picture. The one where Yoel Gutman watched as the young Jew struck the German officer they called The Butcher of Auschwitz.

  Abby shuffled back, unable to wrench her eyes away from the indentation in her skin that reminded her so much of her grandfather’s, unable to see herself but instead seeing her grandfather. His impenetrable eyes, the jagged pink flesh reaching from the top of his neck down to his clavicle. The one he always tried to hide.

  She thought of the journal entry, recalling the words written there like they had imprinted themselves on her heart.

  When the back of her thighs contacted her bed, she sank down onto the mattress on legs that felt more like putty then flesh and bone.

  Unlocking the box for the second time that morning, she took the journal back out from its hiding place and opened it to one particular entry, hoping and praying she was wrong.

  She flipped until she found it, her eyes scanning the words.

  ...Kuni, red-faced and hands fisting into balls of fury, runs full bore. Like a freight train, he crashes into The Butcher. Until the day I die, I will remember and appreciate the look of shock on his face as the boy lunged at him...

  ...Kuni somehow manages to grab a dagger off the officer’s belt. In one swift motion, so fast no one can react, much less The Butcher, he raises his hand, blade poised above him, and brings it down onto the officer, missing his head, but catching his neck just as the officer raises his pistol and fires, sending a bullet into the boy’s skull. Kuni slumps to the ground in death, his blade missing The Butcher’s throat by inches.

  Numb to violence, the commotion didn’t horrify me. If anything, it impressed me that Kuni had somehow remained victorious, even in death. Because he had left his mark. The Butcher of Auschwitz deserved a scar as monstrous as his soul...

  The journal shook in Abby’s hands.

  “No. No. No.” She reached behind her as her vision blurred with tears. This can’t be. She refused to believe it.

  A million thoughts fought for precedence, as she glanced up from the book and stared at her reflection in the mirror from across the room. Dull and lifeless blue eyes stared back at her, looking even more fatigued than moments ago. Her skin drained of color, and she dropped the journal to the ground.

  Her eyes flicked from the mirror to the papers inside the box. Suddenly, it all made sense. The missing piece to the puzzle had been right there in front of her all along. Just like Kaden had said.

  Reaching toward her phone, she grabbed it, clutching it in her hands until her knuckles turned white. She prayed for strength as she typed “The Butcher of Auschwitz” into the search bar and waited as the results loaded.

  Her throat closed, her mouth turning to sawdust. There, staring back at her in bold print was the name Irma Mentz. The man from her grandfather’s documents. The German officer from the journal, the one with the scar. They were one and the same.

  Her grandfather did obtain his scar during his time at Auschwitz, only not in the way he said he did.

  Abby had been all wrong. He was not blackmailing Irma Mentz.

  He was Irma Mentz, the Butcher of Auschwitz.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Abby slammed her locker shut, a spurt of hysterical laughter escaping her lips. Several people turned toward her, eyeing her like she was crazy.

  You have no idea, she thought.

  Just don’t think about it. You can do this. Just make it through the day. One class at a time.

  If she hadn’t already been in so much trouble with her parents, she wouldn’t have even bothered to come to school, but knowing she would be dead if they got a call about her absence, she decided she’d better show.

  For now, she took it one minute, one hour at a time.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Kaden, his sandy crop of hair bobbed as he entered the classroom they shared for math. He wore cargo shorts and a t-shirt she knew from experience would smell like citrus, fabric softener, and sunshine, and she longed to go to him. She wanted so badly to fall into his arms and unload everything she had discovered in the last twenty-four hours but couldn’t. And it wasn’t even about her deal with Mr. Oliver. Yeah, she had agreed to stay away from Kaden, but it was more than that. How could she tell him the truth? Never in a million years did she think this would be the secret, and the thought of explaining who her grandfather really was slayed her. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to see the look on his face or the thought it mi
ght somehow change the way he felt about her.

  “Earth to Abs.” Cammie snapped a finger in front of Abby’s face, causing her to jump. “Where were you? Staring at lover-boy?” Cammie wiggled her brows.

  Abby tried for a laugh, but the sound stuck in her throat. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she adjusted her backpack over her shoulder. “Hey, do you think you can do me a favor?”

  “If you go to the boys baseball game with me Friday. I know you’re taken now and all, but I’m not, and I’m dreaming of hot boys in baseball pants.”

  Abby tried for a smile but failed miserably. “I don’t know if I’ll be allowed. I’m grounded,” she said, thankful for the punishment. The last thing she wanted was to go to a high school sporting event and pretend like her entire identity wasn’t just called into question.

  “What?” Cammie scrunched her nose. “How could you do anything wrong? You’re like the world’s best daughter. You hardly ever even leave the house.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Cammie gasped, eyes wide. “Spill!”

  “It’s no big deal. My mom got mad because I snuck out to see Kaden, that’s all.”

  “Oh, midnight rendezvous? I guess this earns you a favor.” Cammie smirked. “As long as you at least ask if you can go to the game.”

  “Done. But don’t expect much.”

  “Okay, shoot. Whatcha need?”

  “I need you to somehow get me out of lunch. Find an excuse to pull me away. Anything. I just can’t see Kaden today,” Abby said with a sinking in her gut.

  “Uh-huh. So, something happened between you two? Something bad, I take it?”

  “You could say that. It’s a long story.”

  “Done. I’ll come up with something. I’m the queen of lies, remember?”