“Have you heard from your parents at all?” I dare ask.
He shakes his head, staring out the window. “They won’t call me, Isa. They’re glad I’m not their problem anymore.”
I rack my mind for something else to talk about, something that will bring him out of his funk, but suddenly, he sighs and turns toward me.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t be complaining to you.”
“You’re fine. With your parents kicking you out, you’re allowed to complain.”
“Yeah, but… You’re dealing with all this shit with your family, and I’m sulking because I’m eighteen and have to start taking care of myself.” He carelessly bangs his head against the headrest behind him. “And cracking into this flash drive…. I just really wish I could do it. It’s getting to be so frustrating. I’ve even started dreaming about passcode boxes.”
I force myself to grow a pair of lady balls, and I reach over and take his hand. “I know it’s been stressful. That’s why you need to stop worrying about it so much.”
“Not as stressful as it’s been on you. I just want to do this for you so I can—I don’t know—give you a silver lining in all of this madness. I want you to not have to worry so much and feel safe. I want you to”—he shrugs—“be happy again. I miss your smile.”
“I still smile,” I say, but on the inside, all I can think is, Wow, that’s the most ridiculously sweet thing I’ve ever heard.
“Not as much as you used to.” He starts stroking my palm with his fingers. “I can tell it’s wearing on you.”
I shudder from his touch. It feels deliciously good, like melted chocolate and whip cream and sprinkles. “And vice versa.”
His lips lift into a lopsided smile. “I think we should do something fun this weekend. We could both definitely use some fun.”
“Sure. I’m down.” Wait? Like on a date? Or as friends.
Gah!
Before I can think too much into it, my phone vibrates from in the cupholder. I tap the read-aloud button.
“Message from unknown,” the automated voice says through the speaker. “It’s game time.”
I grip onto the steering wheel. “What the heck does that mean?”
“I have no idea.” Anger burns in his eyes. “But I’m getting really sick of this shit. Whoever it is is going to get their ass beat when I find them.” He heaves a frustrated sigh and then messes with my phone for the rest of the drive to school, pushing buttons and mumbling to himself. By the time I’m parking the car, he looks like he wants to bash it against the dashboard.
I, on the other hand, am a beehive of nerves, worry stinging at me from every angle as I replay the message. Game time? What does that mean?
The second I step foot into the school, I get the answer. Almost everyone stops what they’re doing and gawks at me. I start to shrink behind Kai, wondering what’s going on. Then I spot papers in peoples’ hands and hundreds scattered across the linoleum floors.
I bend down to pick one up at the same time Kai does. He starts to read it at the same time I do.
“No, Isa, don’t read it,” he sputters, snatching the paper from my hand.
But it’s too late. I’ve already read enough. It’s an article of my mother’s crime with a photo of her at the bottom. And copied to the corner of the page is a photo of me taken while I was at the park that day I played basketball with Kyler. The flash I saw… It makes sense now… Someone took a photo for this.
My hands start to tremble as I pick up another paper from off the floor and note what’s handwritten below the photo: Meet the daughter of a killer. She looks just like her mother, doesn’t she?
That’s not all I see. I see that the trial took place in Virginia, that the writer of the article referred to the crime as horrendous. I also see the name of the person my mom was accused of killing.
Jamison Anders.
I suddenly realize why Kai didn’t want me looking up stuff on the internet.
I stand there in shock, willing my mind to forget what I just read. But it’s right in front of me, on the papers on the floor, over and over again for everyone to see.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move… I don’t…
The paper is suddenly snatched from my hand, and then I’m being dragged out of the school. I lifelessly follow Kai, letting him haul me to the car. Without saying anything, he lets go of my hand, sticks his fingers into my pocket, and digs the keys out. He opens the door and gently guides me down into the passenger seat. After he gets me buckled in, he closes the door, climbs into the driver’s seat, and starts up the engine.
As he’s exiting the parking lot, I manage to find my voice again. “Where are we going?"
“Away.” One word, yet somehow, I feel safe.
I hug my knees to my chest and watch the trees, homes, and stores blur by, trying not to think about what I read. But it’s all I think about. Every thought I have centers around that name. Jamison Anders. Who is he? An uncle? A grandfather? A brother? There are so many possibilities, and all I want to do is get my phone and search and search and search until I find some answers. But I’m afraid of what I’ll find, afraid it’ll somehow be worse than what I’m thinking.
“Who is he?” I whisper. “Jamison Anders. Who is he…?” I swallow hard. “Or, I mean, who was he?”
Kai grasps the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. “From everything I’ve read, I think he was your stepbrother.”
“You mean, my half-brother?” My voice cracks.
“No. Before Lynn and your dad married, Lynn had a son. His name was Jamison, and your father legally adopted him as his own son. I’m not sure why, though. I think he was a few years older than we are.”
“Oh.”
Lynn had a son before she met my dad? Lynn had a son my mom killed? Lynn had a son, and now he’s gone because of my mother?
Tears sting my eyes. “No wonder she hates me. I represent this person who took away her son. I just don’t get … why. Why would she ever agree to let me live with her? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know it doesn’t,” he says, making a sharp left-hand turn. “That’s exactly what I thought the second I found out. Why would this woman let the daughter of a woman she thinks killed her son come to live with her?”
“Maybe to make my life a living hell.” I hug my knees more tightly against me. “Maybe, by torturing me, she’s releasing her anger toward my mom.”
He shakes his head, slamming the car to a stop. “I don’t think that’s it. Well, not all of it. When Big Doug gave me that folder, he said something about how he couldn’t see why your mom was ever found guilty, which is why I really need to get into that flash drive. I think it might have some answers.”
“Answers to what?” I feel so helpless, like I’m falling into a hole and can’t find anything to grab on to. “If there were evidence that she didn’t do it, then she wouldn’t be in jail.”
“That’s not entirely true,” he says, turning off the engine. “There have been cases where people spend years in jail after being charged for a crime, and then new evidence gets found that proves they were innocent the whole time.”
“Yeah, I know, but … It’s hard to think of it that way right now, and it kind of seems like false hope to think that’s going to happen.” I slip my fingers through my hair, pulling at the roots. “Kai, who do you think did it? Put those papers all around the school?”
“Probably the same person who stole that folder. And my bet is that the same person has been sending you those texts,” he answers, his voice barely audible.
I let my hands fall to my lap. “The photo on those papers … It was taken the day I saw the blue car following me around.”
“Really?” he asks and I nod.
With his jaw clenched, he slides the keys out of the ignition and opens the door.
When I look out the window, I realize he’s driven to the park with the hollowed out tree.
“Come on a walk with m
e?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me with hope in his eyes.
I nod, get out of the car, and meet him around front. He threads his fingers through mine, and then we start across the grass, heading for our tree. Once we’re situated inside it, sitting side-by-side with our feet sticking out of the entrance, Kai wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him.
“I know everything seems really shitty right now, but I promise you that I’m going to fix this,” he says.
I angle my chin up and take in his bloodshot eyes and the dark circles beneath them. For the last week, he’s been so worried about this, and it’s starting to take a toll on him.
“Kai … I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, but I’m not sure this can be fixed.” I stare at the hole in the tree where our feet are sticking out. I remember a time when we were small enough to both easily fit in here. Now we’ve almost outgrown this place. It’s sad, but it’s life: always moving forward, changing, no matter what you do. “I think maybe it’s time to just accept and figure out how to live with all of this. I know you have your problems to worry about; you don’t need to worry about mine.”
He fixes a finger underneath my chin and forces me to look at him. “If you want to accept it and move on, that’s fine. I get it. But I’m going to get into that flash drive so I can figure this out for you. And I’m going to figure out who put those fucking papers around school and make their lives a living hell.”
“I don’t want you getting into trouble.”
“I won’t.” He winks at me, trying to appear calm, but I can tell he’s all worked up. “I know how to pay someone back without getting caught.”
“You look so tired, though,” I say. “It’s starting to worry me. You haven’t given yourself time to really heal from the concussion and the broken rib. And the doctor said you need time to heal.”
“Tired-shmired.” He dismisses my worry. “I can sleep when I’m old. And my rib and head are fine.” He knocks his knuckles against his head, and the noise causes a tiny laugh to escape my lips.
But the laughter shortly vanishes as thoughts flood my head again.
“Maybe I should visit her,” I say more to myself. “My mom, I mean … I can do that, right?”
“Maybe you should wait until I find out more information,” he says warily.
“Why? I mean, even if it’s terrible, I think I still want to talk to her.” I realize the truth as I say it. One day, I want to face my mom, even if it’s behind bars. While I don’t know what I’ll say to her, it feels like something I need to do. “I want some answers. I want to know … why.”
“It might not be that simple.” He hugs me closer to him. “She might not want to tell you why. Or she might not have an answer. There are a ton of ways that conversation could go.”
“I know, but I think I want to try.”
Silence wraps around us. I can feel him looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to look at him and see the pity in his eyes.
Instead, I stare at my shoes. I’m wearing a pair of converse sneakers I bought when I was in London. They have gray stripes and studs on them. I remember thinking how different they were from the normal shoes I wore. When I tried them on, I felt different, too: more confident. That confidence let me dream of a different life where I was a different girl who didn’t let her family walk all over her, who didn’t hide in the shadows, who was happy.
For a while, I had that light—well, sort of. Now I feel like I’m about to tumble into the depths of despair. But I know I can’t. I can’t go back to that life of feeling insignificant. I have to keep going forward, changing, figuring out a way to live with this.
“I want to talk to her,” I tell Kai determinedly. “And I want you to go with me.”
I realize the truth of my words the moment I say them. It’s crazy how much I need him to go with me. Indigo might have been right. I might not be in love with Kai, but the potential is there. Kai … He knows everything that’s going on. And I have to ask, why is that? Why is Kai the one I tell everything to? Yes, Kyler is sweet and calls me, and I like him, but that’s about it.
But the idea of falling in love with someone and someone loving me like that … It seems so out of reach, something I could never have. I don’t feel worthy of it, and I’m not sure if I could handle it right now. There’s too much stuff going on.
I don’t know what to do … about anything anymore.
Kai brings his hand to my face and guides my head toward him until my cheek is resting against his shoulder. “If that’s what you need, then I’m in,” he says.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
We sink into the quiet. Kai stares at the entrance of the tree, his knuckles brushing across my cheek, seeming lost in his thoughts.
I get lost in my fears: the fear of finding out the truth, the fear that my mom is guilty, the fear that I’m somehow evil, the fear of falling in love and being loved back. I have so many fears. I just hope I can face them all.
Chapter 19
Kai
I’m going to crack the damn code on this flash drive if it freakin’ kills me. It’s pushing two o’clock in the morning, and I’ve been up for over thirty-six hours straight. I drank, like, four energy drinks, and my blood is pumping so fast my heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest.
I know I have a million other things to worry about, like getting money to pay T back. I have less than two weeks left to come up with a thousand bucks. Plus, I’m eventually going to have to find a place to live because living on Isa’s grandma’s couch is getting old for everyone. However, I can’t think of anything else until I get access to this stupid flash drive.
I know Isa’s mom’s appeal just got approved, and sooner or later, Isa will start learning stuff about the case, but I can’t stand the idea of making Isa wait to see if her mom is innocent. I want her to have some facts, especially before she goes to see her.
While I think she has every right to do that, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. If her mom turns out to be guilty, it might mess with her head. And with this thing going on with the blue car and the flyers at school, the last thing she needs is more stress in her life. She’s going to crack. I could see it in her eyes when she asked me to go with her to Virginia. I couldn’t say no, though. Not when she was looking me like that—her big eyes pleading with me to be there for her.
I want to be there for her more than anything. It’s something I’m quickly realizing: I would do anything for her, even risk my ass getting beaten on a whim that maybe whatever’s on this flash drive will be able to erase some of the pain Isa’s going through.
I know what that means. I know why I care more about her than I do myself.
I’m falling in love with her.
And that kiss in the store… the one on the neck… the biting… God, she tasted so good. I don’t even know why I did it. I promised myself I wasn’t going to go there with her, but suddenly, all the desire and need I’d been keeping trapped inside me took over. I thought she was going to push me away, but she didn’t, and I started to wonder if maybe she wants me as badly as I want her.
Right now definitely isn’t the time to be confessing my undying love to her, though. After what happened at school, she couldn’t handle me dumping my feelings onto her. I’m going to have to just suck it up and hold it all in, resist the urge to shout it from the rooftop, be a freakin’ sap, because yeah, that’s where I’m at. I’m fucking whipped. I know it. And I don’t really care.
What I care about is getting into these files.
Violently clicking the mouse, I run the password cracking program for the umpteenth time. It flashes a warning at me, and another password box pops up. I about lose my shit.
“Goddammit!” I curse through gritted teeth, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake everyone up.
I click on the program again and again. Just when I think I’m about to lose my mind, that I can’t take another second of seeing a box pop up, I’m granted access.
“Holy effing shit.” I slump back in the chair, letting out an astonished laugh because, honestly, I didn’t really think I could do it.
I start opening files and reading through them. The first ten or so don’t pertain to the case and contain records of random people, a map of what looks like a large building, and links to some security system.
I’m just starting to wonder if maybe Big Doug left me the wrong flash drive when I find the folder labeled: The Bella Larose Case. I immediately click it open and start reading.
I’m not even sure where Big Doug got some of this information. From case records? No, it’s way more than that, like he did some research on the case or knew someone who’s working closely with it, like maybe the lawyer. He scanned files, forensic records, the detective notes, witness statements, photos. And some of it definitely points toward Bella Larose’s innocence.
Tucked away in one of the files is a scanned piece of paper of a list of suspects. It’s handwritten and doesn’t look very official, like someone was jotting down ideas. One in particular jumps out at me. I blink a few times, wondering if I’m seeing things wrong. But the name stays there, jumping out at me.
Lynn Anders.
I have no idea why someone would think it was Lynn, what kind of evidence they have, or whether it’s just some random assumption. All I know is that I have to keep Isa away from Lynn and her family until we find out, especially after that thing that happened at school. I haven’t had the heart to tell Isa, but I’m pretty sure that photo on the papers scattered around at school—the photo of her on the basketball court—was taken by someone who was on the basketball court with her. At least that’s what it looked like from how close it was and the angle. I’m not sure if there was someone else there that day, but if not, it might mean my douchebag brother took the photo.
Whether it’s Kyler, Hannah, Lynn, or someone else, someone’s definitely determined to make Isa’s life a living hell.
But I’m not going to let that happen.
The Year Falling in Love (Alternative Version) (Sunnyvale Alternative Series Book 2) Page 21
