Don't Tell

by Violet Paige

  “Emilyt, I woke up and you weren’t here.”

  “Mom, I’m fine. I’m with Garrett.”

  “Oh, God. Thank you. Thank you. Where is he? I want to talk to him.”

  “Hold on.” I glared at my twin and shoved the phone in his hand. “Here you go.”

  “Hey, Mom. Yep, I’m fine.”

  I listened while he explained that he and his new girlfriend had gone on some kind of spiritual retreat together to detox from the digital world. They had made a commitment not to use phones or the Internet. He felt at ease with his decision.

  He handed the phone back to me.

  “Emily, are you coming back?” Mom asked.

  “Yes, I’m leaving soon. I have to get to D.C. tonight since my brother isn’t dead.” I shot him a quick glare.

  “Stop saying that. Be glad he’s ok.”

  “I am. He seems perfectly fine. I need to go, Mom.”

  “I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and called our father. I went through a quicker greeting before passing the phone this time.

  Garrett didn’t go into as much detail. And he was shorter with his words.

  In the end, they both knew their son was ok.

  My hand landed on the doorknob. “Next time you decide to digital detox, let someone know, ok?”

  He grimaced. “I really am sorry.”

  I pulled him into a hug. “Me too.”

  “Safe flight home.”

  I nodded. “I’ll call you this week and maybe you can tell me more about Morgan. That is, if phones are still ok,” I mocked his trip.

  “I think you’d like her.”

  I laughed. I didn’t know how I felt about a woman who had kidnapped my brother on a mission for self-discovery, but it was better than the toxic girlfriend.

  “I’m sure I will.” I paused. “No matter how angry I am, I’m glad you’re safe. That’s all I thought about.” I held back the tightening in my throat. I hadn’t cried since I found out he was missing. I wasn’t going to cry now that he was found.

  “I know.” He rubbed the scruff of his beard. “I’m sorry for being such an ass about you moving. Do you like D.C.?”

  I grinned. The pain in my throat eased. “You’ll have to come up and visit. Greer would love to see you.”

  “I’ll talk to Morgan about it.”

  “Ok.” I smiled. Maybe later I would tell him about Vaughn. I had to stop keeping my own set of secrets. “Bye.”

  He followed me to the landing and watched as I walked down the stairs.

  There was a calmness that usually didn’t come when I left Garrett. We had that quirky twin bond. That unspeakable link that united us when everything else around us was in shambles. But as I looked at my brother leaning over the landing, I didn’t have the fear that something devastating was around the corner waiting for him. It might have been overly optimistic, but maybe there was something good that came out of his digital detox. I waved over my shoulder, until he was a dot in my rearview mirror.

  Mom was waiting at the door when I got home.

  I spotted the bag at her ankles.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “I’m going to see your brother.”

  I shook my head. “No, Mom. You shouldn’t do that. He’s fine. He’s going to be ok.”

  She tugged on the pearl studs. “You’ve seen him. I haven’t. There’s a difference.”

  I sighed. “I realize that. Why don’t we call him? You can screen call and see his new beard.” I pulled out my phone. He’d better answer this time.

  “He has a beard?” She looked confused.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s a full mountain man beard. I didn’t know he could grow something that impressive.”

  “You’re calling him now?”

  The screen showed nothing but my face, but Garrett answered.

  “There’s someone who wants to see your beard,” I explained. “I thought this might be better than a visit.”

  “Oh yeah. Right. Put her on.”

  I handed the phone to my mother and walked to my room to pack. I heard her mumbled conversation with Garrett travel down the hall. I hoped it was enough to soothe her. To give her comfort. To give him space.

  By the time I walked back to the kitchen she was sitting at the table.

  “Mom?”

  “It looks good. I like the beard.”

  I sat across from her. “I do too. I think he’s going to be ok. For now.”

  “And if he isn’t?” She looked at me.

  “We’re here for him. Keep checking on him. Call him, but not every hour.” I eyed her. “And on the days he’s not ok—we’re here.”

  She nodded. “Yes, we’re here.”

  “I need to take the rental car back and get to the airport.”

  “Want me to go with you?” she offered.

  “That’s ok. But thank you.”

  I stood to hug her. She seemed frail in my arms. I wondered how much of Garrett’s illness had worn the weight from her limbs. She was thinner than I had ever seen her. She smelled like vanilla. She kept a jar of hand crème next to her bed. It was the same scent she had used since I was old enough to sneak in her room and dab it on my arms.

  I let go and looked at her.

  “He’s going to be ok, Mom. We all are.”

  “I know. I know. Call me when you land in D.C.?”

  “I will.” I took my suitcase through the garage entrance.

  Thirty minutes later I was in the New Bern airport, waiting in the terminal for my flight home. I left Vaughn a message, explaining that I had found Garrett and was headed back to D.C. I prayed his business trip was over and we could spend the night together. If there was one thing I needed more than anything else in this world after the past two days, it was him.

  I tucked the phone in my bag and watched the passengers gather in the picked and worn seats around me.

  22

  The Uber deposited me on the sidewalk. The driver popped the trunk and I walked to the rear of the car for my bag. My phone buzzed at the same time I dug in my purse for my keys.

  I read the text from my father.

  Did you make it back?

  Just got here

  Glad, kiddo. See you in a few weeks.

  He was referring to Thanksgiving. It wasn’t much. But it was something. A crumb. A morsel that showed he cared. He was thinking about me now and making plans for the holidays. It was more than I’d had from him before.

  I tugged on my suitcase as I reached the top floor of the brownstone. I exhaled. Home.

  A place I had made a sanctuary. It wasn’t only an escape from the memories of New Bern, it was a haven for my future. For everything that was ahead of me.

  I slipped the key in the lock and realized it was already open. I pushed the door, kicking it out of the way for my bags. I was starving. I thought I might have a box of pasta in the cabinet. At least some rice I could cook.

  “Greer?”

  She rose from the sofa slowly. Her face stained with tears.

  I looked on either side of her. She was surrounded by men in suits. Tall men. Serious men.

  “Emily,” she whispered, choking back a sob.

  “What’s going on?”

  I tried to piece things together, but they quickly spun out of control. I couldn’t grasp it. I couldn’t assemble the fragments fast enough. I could sense her pain and fear. I tried to reach for her. I couldn’t find her. They shuffled me to the right and left. The black suits flanked me.

  “Just stop. Stop,” I pleaded.

  One of the men grasped my elbow, pulling my arm to my back before taking the other one. I heard the clicking sound of metal. Did he have handcuffs?

  “Emily Charles, you are under arrest for conspiring to commit theft against U.S. property. We will present you with a full list of charges at the Bureau.”

  “Charges? Theft?” I squealed. “Greer, what’s happening?” My head spun to my friend.

  She cried. “I-I can’t help you. You
helped him.”

  “What?”

  The men urged me to the door. “What is going on?” I tried to dig my heels into the floor, but they were strong.

  One of the men read me the complete Miranda Rights, but I wasn’t paying attention to him. Everything echoed around me. Greer cried in the background, while they led me down three flights of stairs and stuffed me in the back of an expensive Town Car parked by the curb.

  I was in a daze. My heart pounded so loudly, nothing else sounded clear.

  The men mumbled to each other. What bureau were they talking about? From low in the backseat, I didn’t know where we were going. The white buildings raced past until we pulled inside a parking garage.

  I was jerked from the backseat and led through a set of double doors.

  Fluorescent lights flickered overhead as we walked through a hallway lined with tan doors. There was nothing discerning about the inside. I still had no idea where I was. There were no signs. No markings. Not even a lit exit box.

  Finally, we stopped and a door opened.

  “Wait here.”

  I stumbled inside. There was a table and two chairs. Along one wall, a mirror that was at least six feet long. I knew someone was on the other side. I looked up and noticed the small cameras in all four corners of the gray walls. Red lights blinked under the lenses. They were on.

  I twisted my hands, only to be pinched by the cuffs.

  I didn’t know how much time passed before the door opened. I spun on my heels.

  A tall man walked toward me. He extended the key for the handcuffs.

  “Would you like me to take care of those?”

  I nodded.

  He flicked the lever and freed my hands. I massaged the skin where the metal had scraped.

  “Please, Miss Charles. Take a seat.”

  He pointed to the chair that faced the mirror. He took the other one.

  I was reluctant to sit. Reluctant to talk.

  “I’m Agent Kenneth.” He placed two folders on the table. “I thought we could have a conversation. Would you be ok with that?”

  I stared at the white diamonds woven into his red tie.

  “Miss Charles?”

  I nodded. “I suppose. You realize I am attorney.”

  He smiled. His lips were almost paper thin. It was an unsettling feeling sitting across from him. “Yes. We know exactly what you do.”

  I wrung my hands together in my lap. “Should I ask for counsel before we begin?”

  He flipped open the first folder. “You have that right, as you know, but I hope that we can talk a little first. If you cooperate, we are willing to work a deal on your charges. I can do that for you.”

  “I was told I would receive a list of charges,” I stated. “What are they exactly?” I hadn’t wrapped my head around any part of this experience. I needed to retreat to the part of me that worked seamlessly no matter the circumstances. The place where I could become emotionless. Logical. The law.

  “Conspiracy to commit theft of government information.”

  My eyes locked on Agent Kenneth while he spoke. He had a northern accent. I was spending too much time trying to place it, instead of listening to my alleged crimes. Crimes. I hadn’t committed crimes. I shouldn’t be here. I realized there was still the possibility they had arrested the wrong suspect. I debated whether I should threaten the agent with a false accusation suit.

  “These are federal charges with penalties that include fines up to a million dollars and over twenty years in prison.” He seemed certain he had the person he wanted in custody.

  The roll of nausea lurched in my stomach.

  “Oh God.” I jumped from the table and ran to the corner of the room. There was a small waste basket.

  “Miss Charles?” The agent waited at the table.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I stood, trying to catch my balance. My hands shook.

  “This can’t be happening,” I whispered.

  The door opened and a hand reached in to remove the trash can. It was immediately replaced with a new one. I felt the embarrassment wash through me.

  I sat across from him, encased in humiliation and fear.

  When I looked down at the table there was a picture in front of me. A black and white photo of a man.

  My fingers touched the corners and I held it toward my face.

  It was a man with a distinctive angular jaw. He had dark hair. Dark eyes. And long eyelashes that took my breath away. It was Vaughn.

  I looked up at Agent Kenneth. “Why did you hand this to me?”

  “Do you know him?”

  I stared at Vaughn’s face. I wanted to trace over his full lips. I didn’t know if this meant he was in danger. If something horrible had happened to him. A new sickness whirled through me. What if that was what this was about? Vaughn needed me. He needed my help.

  “Y-yes, I do. Is he all right?” I asked quietly.

  The agent laughed. “I’d say he’s about five million dollars all right.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He shook his head. “I apologize. I realize this isn’t a humorous situation.”

  “No it’s not.” I pinched my lips together.

  He closed one folder and opened another. “Can you please identify the man in the picture?”

  I sniffed. “Yes. His name is Vaughn Hunter.”

  He scribbled the name down. “So he’s going by that now.”

  I placed the picture on the table. “What is going on? What has happened to him?”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “A few months,” I answered.

  The knot in my stomach tightened.

  “Can you be more specific?”

  I thought back to my first day at American. To the night Greer and I went out for drinks to celebrate. “Yes, it was my first day in the residency law program at the university.” My voice started to come back to me. “The very end of August.”

  “And how did you meet Mr. Hunter?”

  “I bumped into him with my chair,” I explained. “What does this have to do with why I’m here. I don’t understand any of this.”

  The agent laughed. “He’s done that one before.”

  “Done what before?”

  “I’m sorry. Let’s continue. How many times has Mr. Hunter been in your apartment?”

  I stared blankly. “I haven’t taken count.”

  My mind raced. Did I need to protect Vaughn? Was he in trouble? Was I saying too much or did he need me to tell them every detail to keep him safe? I didn’t know. I didn’t know whether to talk or clam up.

  “But you are sleeping together?”

  My eyes widened. “I don’t think you can ask me that.”

  “I can. It’s part of the investigation.”

  “What investigation? You said we would talk through this. So far you’ve only asked me questions. I think I should know why I’m here. Why I’m being recorded. Why there is someone on the other side of the glass watching. Why I’m in a building I can’t identify.” I folded my arms. “I think I want to evoke my right to counsel.”

  He shook his head. “Wait. Wait. Let’s talk. You’re right.”

  It was the one bit of leverage I had over the agent. He wouldn’t want to bring anyone else into the room. As soon as he did, I wouldn’t be any use to him. Another attorney would demand official charges. Require evidence. Insist on a subpoena.

  I felt a slice of victory. But it was the briefest of moments. Before my entire world crashed and shattered around me. Before Agent Kenneth pulled my heart from my chest and butchered it on the interrogation table. Yes, it was a tiny, momentary victory.

  “This man, Miss Charles. The one who has claimed to be Vaughn Hunter, is in fact a contract operative by the name of Jeremy West. We believe you have colluded with him to steal highly classified documents regarding the sale of weapons to the U.S. government.”

  “No. No.” I shook my head, creating a dizzying sensation that spread through
my limbs. I couldn’t feel my body.

  “You and Mr. West used your proximity to Greer Britt to obtain documents that are worth billions.”

  My palms flattened on the table. “No. That’s not possible.”

  “We have already questioned Miss Britt extensively. We are aware you and West had access to work files. She contends that you wouldn’t steal.” He sat back in his chair. “That’s not up to her, but to me to decide. I need to know how far your involvement goes.”

  “Greer? Vaughn?” I looked at him as the room spun in circles.

  There was no way to hold on to the attorney in me. The woman with the calm rational legal expertise. I couldn’t keep her locked in and absorb the words at the same time. I couldn’t process what he said as part of the law and not as a woman who had learned the unthinkable.

  “When? When did this happen?” I mustered a few words.

  “The Senate Defense Committee alerted us to the breach immediately. The way this works is you give me information and then I share information.” He tilted his head. “There is no question that West was behind the information attack. The question is what role you played.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick again,” I whispered before what was left in my stomach spewed across the table.

  23

  When I dressed for the flight home I had chosen stretchy yoga pants and a long-sleeve running shirt. It was supposed to be comfortable on the cramped airplane. A female agent stood behind me in the ladies’ room while I used a scratchy paper towel from the dispenser to try to clean the cheerful fabric. I had bought it so I could run at night ane be seen by cars. The vibrant tangerine was like an arrow pointing to me when I walked through the halls.

  She watched me in the mirror. Her arms folded. I could see the gun on her hip. I washed my hands and wiped the smudges from my face. She led me along the hall, but guided me to a different door.

  The interior of the room looked the same as the last one, only it wasn’t filled with the stench of sickness.

  I sipped on a bottle of water while Agent Kenneth waited for me.