A Thousand Faces

by Patterson, Janci

  Still, if he was in California, that made looking for him more possible.

  "What I want to know," I said, "is why you want to help him. He murdered a bunch of people and lied to you about it. He tried to strangle me in front of you. He sleeps with everything that moves. I'd think you'd be happy to be rid of him."

  I felt a pang of regret for saying that within earshot of Kalif. He hated dealing with what his dad was, and I didn't mean to throw it in his face. But while I hadn't accepted Aida's job, talking to her was a job in itself. I had to play her if I was going to get anything out of it.

  He'd understand that, wouldn't he?

  Aida's voice was quiet, and if I hadn't known what a great actor she was, I would have believed her completely. "I don't want him dead. You shot him in the leg, so he'll have scar tissue, and possibly a limp. My parents will use that to find him, just as they'll use your mother's scars to find you. I want to get to him first."

  My eyes narrowed, and I fiddled with the straw to my smoothie. She'd put up with his philandering for years. Of course she now wanted to save him from her parents, even if he was the murderer she'd thought my parents to be. That was Aida's thing—she protected her people, no matter how horrible they were.

  Except when those people were my parents—some of the only people in her life who'd deserved her protection.

  Kalif stepped in for me. "Why do you want Jory to find Dad?" he asked. "You could do it. I could do it."

  "But you can't," I said. "Not with Wendy and Oliver Carmine looking over your shoulders. That's why, isn't it?"

  "You're clever," Aida said to me. "That's why I want you working with me."

  That's when I saw my opening—the best one I was ever going to get. "I'll do it," I said. "But I don't work alone."

  "I doubt your mother will want to—"

  The silence that followed told me she got it, but I continued anyway. "I work with Kalif. He comes with me or there's no deal."

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn't ready to leave Mom, but this was the best possible way for him to get away from his mother and her parents. If she knew where he was going, she wouldn't hunt for him. She'd actively keep her parents from following. And once we were gone, Aida couldn't control what we did. We could look for Mel, or not. We could turn him over to Aida, or to the Carmines. We could work it out together, which was how both of us worked best.

  I could hop between Mom and Kalif until Mom was stable, and then we could leave. I could keep up the double life for as long as I needed to. Mom wasn't exactly with it enough to notice. And we wouldn't have to stay in California. We could move to France or Barbados or the freaking Arctic circle for all I cared.

  This was it. This was the change I was looking for.

  "He can't," Aida said. "My parents will trace him if he leaves."

  "I thought you were better than that," I said. "You kept him a secret for seventeen years. You could cover his tracks if you wanted to. Tell them he ran. Tell them you can't find him. And then make sure they don't."

  Aida was quiet again. I tucked the phone into my shoulder and leaned my head into my hands. If Aida was telling the truth, this would be perfect. Aida would protect Mom; Kalif would come work with me. We could figure out a plan to stay one step ahead of the Carmines and his parents—especially if we actually could find Mel before he snuck up on us.

  Afterward, Kalif and I could walk away from all this, just like we'd planned. If I could get Mom to a more stable place in the meantime, everything would work out. And I'd have Kalif to talk to freely while I did it.

  But I had to be careful. If it was perfect, it was probably a trap. And a trap where I'd gotten the upper hand was still a trap.

  But if Aida's silence was any indication, she was actually considering my point. "Agree to my terms," I said. "And I'll think about it."

  "No," Aida said. I cringed. I'd pushed too hard, forced her to refuse. But then she added: "You take the offer now, while it stands."

  I let myself smile. She'd implicitly agreed to let Kalif help me, if only I agreed now.

  But again. Trap. I pitched my voice to sound absolutely confident. "You'll give me time. You wouldn't be asking me for help if you had another option."

  Then I hung up the phone, to drive the point home.

  I got up from the table. If she'd somehow traced the call, it was time to get out. Either way, it was time to get rid of the phone. I'd get in touch with Kalif later, after I'd had time to think about how I really wanted to handle this situation.

  Shifters didn't do rush jobs. If I made a snap decision in a case like this, Dad would have killed me.

  I stuck the phone inside my smoothie cup and walked to the end of the block and down the alley that ran along the back of the restaurants. I lifted the lid on one of the Dumpsters and lowered the cup inside.

  I was just about to let go when the cup vibrated in my fingers. I stood there for a moment, holding it over the edge. I probably should have let go of it anyway, but I couldn't—not if this was Kalif.

  Instead, I pulled it out of the cup, wiped off the peach-banana residue, and answered it. The receiver felt tacky against my face. "Hello?" I said.

  "Poodle armies," Kalif said.

  I smiled. "Rats with swords."

  "Hey," Kalif said. "I wasn't sure if I'd catch you before you got rid of the phone, but it took me a minute to shake off my mom."

  I paused. On a disposable phone, with so little time, there was almost no chance Aida could be listening, as long as Kalif had been careful.

  But I still didn't want to talk too long, or say too much. And I wanted a second verification, in case somehow Aida had found out about our code words.

  "So?" he said. "What do you think?"

  I was quiet. Verifying Kalif's identity was harder over the phone than it was in person. I needed a question that Aida wouldn't guess the answer to. "Remember that last night before we rescued my parents?"

  "Yeah," he said. "Why?" Kalif sounded suspicious, like he wasn't sure where I was going with this. Which would make sense, if he was actually Aida in disguise.

  "Tell me about it," I said.

  "We were sitting on the balcony in our hotel room," he said. "And we decided to run away together. But then later we decided not to, because of your mom. Jory, are you trying to torture me?"

  "No," I said. "Just tell me what we had for dinner."

  "Cold hamburgers," Kalif said. "It's really me."

  I smiled. "Took you long enough."

  "You should have started by asking about all the fabulous sex we had. Then I would have gotten it."

  I laughed. After the conversation on the balcony, I'd practically had to force Kalif not to sleep on the floor, and he'd kept his hands strictly to himself, because he was so afraid of taking advantage of me while I was worried about my parents. "I thought about telling you I was pregnant, but I thought that would be too obvious."

  "Or it would have made me insanely jealous, one or the other."

  My whole body ached for him. "Okay," I said. "So it's you. I still don't want to discuss things over a used phone."

  "Yeah, I get that." Kalif sounded disappointed. "Call me later, then?"

  I could feel my resolve weakening. I was already in San Jose. Had I really come down here to bother with Aida, or did I have something else on my mind? With as pretty as I'd made my persona originally, I had to be expecting something.

  "Come meet me," I said. "We can talk in person."

  Kalif was quiet. "Really?" he said. "You want me to meet you where I traced your email?"

  At least he was being careful. "No. The place where I bought those hamburgers. Meet me there."

  He sounded as eager as I felt. "Done."

  "Twenty minutes?"

  "You're that close?"

  His excitement might have made me nervous if I hadn't felt the exact same way.

  "I am. You?"

  "Give me half an hour."

  "You got it."

  When we hung up
, I did throw the phone in the Dumpster, and then I slipped behind it to change my hair and face again.

  And as I left the alley and headed for the hamburger place, for the first time in ages, I felt like a spy.

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