Vacant Voices (Blind Barriers Trilogy Book 3)

by Sophie Davis

  Blake gasped audibly, but Asher nodded as though this was exactly the type of trigger he was looking for. He scribbled on a notepad.

  “That fits. The fundraiser was in August, right?” He looked to Blake for confirmation. Lark’s boyfriend nodded. “Shortly after that fundraiser is when Lark started having gaps in her memory—when Lila stepped in. We believe it was during that next year—Lark’s senior year—that Lark became truly aware of Lila. Together, they learned the full extent of what was happening in Kingstown.” Hand poised over his notepad, Asher turned to me. “Did you remember the fundraiser just now? Or was there something in the journal you remembered reading?”

  Careful, Raven.

  “The journal,” I said without hesitation. When Asher’s bright, shiny gaze turned dubious, I was quick to add, “Well, sort of. Lark didn’t say anything like super obvious or whatever. There was an offhand mention about a conversation with Annie that happened at a fundraiser that summer, and I’m pretty certain Lark said that fundraiser was the first night her mother wore the Kingsley Diamond.”

  Stop rambling.

  The lie was smooth, but if I kept inventing details that weren’t actually written down anywhere, Asher would eventually see through it.

  “How do you know the Kingsley Diamond is the same one Jonas tried to steal?” Asher pressed.

  Good question. How do I know that?

  “I couldn’t tell you,” I said honestly. “I just…do.”

  If Asher was disappointed, he did show it. He appeared thoughtful, if anything, as he scribbled more notes on his pad.

  “The clues Raven has been following, those are supposed to help her uncover the same truth that Lark and Lila already know?” Blake asked uncertainly.

  Asher’s head popped up and he began tapping his pencil against his thigh absently. “That’s my theory, yeah.”

  “It seems like Raven has figured out it all out.” Blake’s expression was apologetic when he glanced at me. “So, what happens now?”

  “I’m not sure we do know everything yet,” Asher countered.

  “Well, we know the Architect ordered Jonas’ death and that Mr. Kingsley was pissed but still covered up the murder,” Blake pointed out. “And that the Architect still works for Kingsley Diamonds.”

  Asher and I wore matching stunned expressions, but I was the one who asked, “We do? Because it sort of sounded like Mr. Kingsley fired him.”

  “The guy on the other end of that video call is William McAvoy, Kingsley Diamonds COO.” Blake’s gaze swept from me to Asher and back to me. “You two didn’t know that?”

  “How did you know that?” I asked.

  Pulling his cell from his pocket, Blake typed with his thumbs before turning the display toward me. “The company website. He’s a little grayer, has a few more wrinkles around the eyes, but it’s definitely the same guy.”

  I took the phone and stared down into the dull, lifeless eyes of William McAvoy. Sure enough, the man on the screen and the man from the video call were one and the same. So, Blake was right. The guy who’d ordered Jonas’ murder still worked for Lark’s family, and to make matters worse, he was best friends with Phillip Kingsley.

  As I handed Blake’s phone back, he cleared his throat. “Maybe I’m reaching here, but I think we also know that a lot of weird shit is going down in Kingstown. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the Kingsley Diamond came from that mine.”

  “We know a lot of weird shit was going down in Kingstown,” Asher corrected. With a sidelong glance at me, he added, “And Raven believes the diamond is from that mine, but we don’t know that for certain.”

  Both guys looked at me as though asking for input. I thought back on Lark’s journal. There had been one conversation between her father and McAvoy….and then there was that blogger who wrote about Kingstown….

  “I think there is still weird shit going on in Kingstown…,” I began, and then recounted what Lark had heard while listening at the door to her father’s study. When I switched gears and mentioned the blogger, two sets of eyes, one brown and one green, went wide. “As for the diamond, all I can say is that I feel in my gut the stone came from the Kingstown mine, and that it was the same stone Jonas tried to steal.”

  While I was speaking, Blake had leaned forward, hanging on my every word. Once I’d finished, he slumped against the couch cushions, deep in thought. Asher kept staring at his notepad without making a single mark. The silence was deafening, and I wanted to say more but had nothing left to add.

  On the one hand, I agreed with Blake that if Lark and Lila’s goal was for me to discover the truth about Jonas and Kingstown, I had done that. Sort of. At the very least, Mr. Kingsley was guilty of covering up a murder. But maybe along the way he’d gone from unwilling accomplice after the fact to the guy giving the kill order. Was I supposed to figure that out, too?

  Then there was Asher’s insistence that we didn’t know the whole truth—that Lark and Lila had more to share with me. I tended to agree with him, too. Most of what we’d found were items that Lark and Lila had planted so that we, all three of us, could live a new life as…me?

  Is that really what this is all about? A new life? From Lark’s journal, it was clear that even without her family’s diamond woes, she did want freedom from her parents. And then there was the whole three-personalities-in-one-body thing. Maybe that was the truth I was supposed to learn.

  My head felt as though it was going to implode. No, you’ve got this. Fight it. You can do it, you are the strongest of us all.

  “This situation is…delicate,” Asher said finally, measuring his words. “Whatever happens next…well, we really can’t make the decision until we have all of the facts.” He gave Blake a pointed look. “And I don’t think we have all the facts yet.”

  “We have to finish the scavenger hunt,” I said, squinting against the pain inside my head.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Asher agreed. One look at my expression and he added, “But not tonight.” He glanced at his cell. “Yeah, guys, it’s almost midnight. It’s been a long day. I think we could all use some rest.”

  I hated letting Asher dictate orders, but I was exhausted. Blake reached for my hand. His voice was low, soothing, as he asked, “Do you want me to stay? I can sleep in the guest room…or on the couch. Whatever you want.”

  What did I want?

  To curl up in bed with Blake beside me. But I couldn’t. He wasn’t mine. He didn’t love me. He loved Lark.

  He loves us.

  “Um, yeah, please stay.” I managed a smile. “You and Asher can fight over the guest bed,” I attempted a joke, and then turned to Asher. In a much less pleasant voice, I asked, “I assume you’re staying, too?”

  He nodded. “I am here to help you, but I’m also here to protect you. I know you have your doubts, and you should. I lied about everything, except the fact that I am your friend. I am Lark’s friend.”

  I squeezed Blake’s hand and then stood. “Night,” I muttered and left without looking back.

  Once alone in the master bathroom, I brushed my teeth and washed my face and finally let myself really contemplate the magnitude of everything I’d learned since sitting down at the table with Blake and Asher earlier in the day. Was that really only earlier today? My reality—was it even reality?—had been flipped on its head. I wasn’t me. I wasn’t anybody. I was…I was…what? A hallucination? A waking dream? A figment of Lark’s imagination?

  You’re Lark.

  Was I, though? How could I be Lark and yet not have all her memories? More and more it seemed I did share some of them, but not all. I had my own memories of a childhood and a home, of parents and teachers and friends. But those “memories” weren’t real. They couldn’t be. Because I hadn’t spent the last eighteen years growing up in Pennsylvania. I’d been in Connecticut, Manhattan, the Hamptons, the Catskills, the freaking Amalfi Coast—I’d lived the glamorous life of a diamond heiress, and yet my heart ached for the kind, loving parents that were
n’t really in a small, three-bedroom rancher in New Freedom.

  Where did my childhood memories come from? I wondered as I crawled into bed and snuggled beneath the covers. I slid my arm beneath the pillow under my head and heard a crinkle. I stiffened and sat up, tossing the pillow aside. The tremors started in my hands, working their way up my arms. No, no, no. I reached for the envelope that I didn’t recall hiding under the pillow. It was the one Darrell had handed me when I returned from the coffee shop with Asher and Blake. With trembling fingers, I unfolded the note inside and began to read….

  Dear Raven,

  If you are reading this, you probably know that we are one. I know how hard this revelation is to accept, believe me I have been in your shoes. We, Lila and I, wanted your awakening to be as easy and smooth as possible, but I know that learning the truth is not easy. I know the thoughts running through your head and the feelings you can’t control. I wish we could give you more time to adjust, to accept the reality of our situation. Unfortunately, that is not possible. Time is one commodity that cannot be purchased, even with our sizable funds, and I don’t know how much we have left.

  You must finish what Lile and I started before it’s too late. Only you can do this task now. You are the key. Not only are you the strongest, most confident among us, but you are also the most pure. Only you can make us whole.

  Asher is a tool, use him but be careful. His allegiance is to David and the Institute, and their motives are not aligned with ours, not entirely. There is more going on at Montauk than we know. Eleanor and Phillip Kingsley pay handsomely for the Institute’s discretion and silence. David and the Institute have signed a confidentiality agreement, they are not allowed to speak about anything they learn from us. Though that does not rule out blackmail, and David is not above such actions.

  Our goal is to fix the corruption inside Kingsley Diamonds and right our family’s wrongs. It is unclear why David and the Institute decided to perform this experiment, why they let us—let you—go to D.C. and follow the clues. They are watching your every move, so tread lightly.

  Blake is a wild card. He may run after he learns the truth, but if he doesn’t, he is the one person aside from us that you can trust unequivocally. His heart is genuine. His motives are pure. Should he decide to help you, it is because he loves Lark with all his being.

  I know you must be scared, that you must have a lot of questions. We don’t have all the answers, not yet. If you look inside yourself, if you can trust that the three of us are one and that we all want the same thing—to be complete, to be free—then we will get through this.

  If you haven’t already, watch all the videos. That is how I, how we, learned about Kingstown, about Jonas and the militaristic approach our father uses to enforce martial law there. He—our father—knows that we know. I gave him an ultimatum. That is why he sent us away, sent us back to Montauk. But his plan didn’t work, because we do know the truth, we do have proof of his crimes, and we have a hostage—the prized possession, the jewel in his crown of lies.

  By now you have a lot to process, so I won’t say too much more. I will leave you with two more riddles, it will give you something to think about, something to focus on. That is what you need to do now: focus on the task at hand. Don’t worry about the future. Live in the present.

  Now for the riddles:

  Number One: Rgw ibw ib suok1t ua d1jw.

  Hint: There are small differences between us. On the one HAND, we are the same. On the other HAND, we are two separate people.

  Number Two: This letter, like the 3 of us, has many layers. Some like us are more like cats, except their 9 lives are lived simultaneously. But are we so different than those who dream of a different life, where they make different decisions that result in different outcomes? Maybe that’s why the three of us enjoy the same fiction, why we’re drawn to the story of a bored housewife with too much time on her hands and a man who invented a new persona, a new life, all to impress a married woman.

  Hint: Sometimes you have to look at things in a different light.

  L.

  I reread the letter several times, until I could recite the contents verbatim. I had so many questions, not the least of which was: Who had mailed this to me? There was a postmark on the envelope, from New York City. How was that even possible? If I was Lark and Lila, and I hadn’t left D.C. since arriving, who had sent this letter? Blake?

  Ask him in the morning, I decided, though I did consider waking him up but that seemed mean when he’d only just gone to sleep.

  The new riddles kept me up most of the night. Lark was right when she said I needed a distraction, and the letter and its clues were definitely a good distraction. Still, I couldn’t seem to devote my entire attention to “the task at hand”. The same thought kept coming back to me: I’m not real.

  A subsection of Lark’s brain had created me when she was thirteen. Did that mean I was only like six years old? That thought made me giggle, though the laughter sounded a tad hysterical. But why had she invented me? Why did she need me? Asher had said that Lila came into the picture because someone needed to bear the burden of truth. Why couldn’t Lila have finished what the two of them started? Why did it have to be me?

  Something Asher had said during our dinner/work evening came back to me: A triggering event… Lark had created me after her breakdown in the eighth grade, at least, that was what Asher and presumably David believed. So that breakdown was like my conception.

  I shuddered at that thought. It was worse than imaging my parents having sex.

  I knew I needed to focus on Lark’s clues—that I needed to continue the scavenger hunt. And I planned to honor the promise that I’d made long before I knew that Lark was hiding inside of me. So I would help her. I would finish what she started. But first, I needed to understand my purpose—and why, unlike Lila, I’d remained hidden inside Lark’s mind until recently. There was only one person who knew Lark both in the eighth grade and just before her disappearance: Adam Ridell.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LARK

  “Hello.” Despite the pleasant tone, my stomach flipped.

  “Hello, David,” I replied.

  His gaze raked me from head to toe, settling on my eyes. “How are you today?”

  Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I glared at him. “I’d be better if I weren’t stuck with you,” I countered.

  David wrote something down. I hated when he wrote things down.

  “Any questions before we begin?”

  “There never are.”

  The doctor set a metronome in front of me, and I eased back on the couch as the rhythmic ticking began.

  Slowly, I felt a disconnect grow. Sinking into the feeling, I reminded myself that this was the way to get better. I didn’t want to be sad anymore.

  Whatever it takes, I thought, letting go completely.

  After several moments of floating in the ether, David’s gravelly voice found me. Not that I could actually make out the words he was saying. This part was like tuning a dial to the correct frequency. I didn’t particularly want to hear the propaganda from the station I sought, so I took my time. He’d been speaking for several minutes before his words came through comprehensibly.

  “Lila, we need to talk,” he declared.

  It’s like he’s not even paying attention, I thought. What does he think we’re doing?

  “Isn’t that why I’m here?” It was my mouth moving, my voice, but didn’t feel like me. The sensation felt like I was a passenger, along for the ride while a cyborg overtook me.

  “Lila, what do you want?” David asked.

  After a long pause, my lips moved again. “I want to save her.” My voice rang out clear and confident, without a trace of hesitation.

  “Lark?” he asked. “Or Raven?”

  “Both,” I said.

  “How do you think you can save them?” David asked.

  My eyes fluttered open, leveling him with a cool gaze.

  “That’s simple
,” I replied. “I just need to keep them away from you.”

  David leaned forward, resting his elbow on the desk and propping his chin on a fist. “How will you do that?”

  My shoulders shook with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Yes, I would,” he insisted.

  “You and the Kingsleys are poison. Lark deserves better. She deserves to have never met you.” I leaned back, closing my eyes again. “While you are playing God and messing with people’s heads, just remember something: karma is a bitch.”

  Though David didn’t reply, I refused to open my eyes. There was no reason to give the mad doctor any further information, any ammunition. I’d set up an apartment away from the Kingsleys and David, close to Blake. I’d saved, making Lark’s rainy-day fund grow into an entirely new life for her. New life, new world.

  But first, I had to set fire to the old one. The kindling was in place, and had Lark not wanted to believe the best in her father—the murderer, the corrupter, the asshole who’d ruined her life—I would have already struck the match. But while Lark and I shared a body, we shared little else. She saw light in people where I only saw darkness. It was a trait I envied, because optimism and sunshine weren’t written into my code. Though, admittedly, her optimism was really more naiveté when it came to daddy dearest.

  If only she didn’t write him that letter, we wouldn’t be stuck inside this institution—an institution where the patients leave more screwed up than when they came in.

  Not just Lark either. All the patients I’d observed over the years left Montauk…changed, and not for the better. That was why I didn’t trust David, why I would do anything and everything in my power to get Lark far, far away from the doctor.

  “Lila? Are you listening to me?” David asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Your voice is impossible to block out.”

  “What was I just saying?”

  “That you are trying to help Lark, same as me. That we need to work together,” I repeated in a bored tone.