by Aella Black
It seemed like years ago, but now that she mentioned it, we did have a football game that night.
“I wish you could’ve been there, then maybe—” You wouldn’t be here.
It hurt to even think that. If Phoebe wasn’t here, she wouldn’t be with me. But she would be a whole lot better off. For that reason alone, I wished it were true.
“No, I was where I was supposed to be. Zoe and Zane might not be alive if I wasn’t.” Then she rushed to add, “Not that I’m a hero or anything.”
“Well, the news said you were a hero.” I paused, then added, “And I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher think so.”
Phoebe shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“No really—”
“Mr. Fletcher is on all of this.”
The air rushed out of my lungs. “What?”
“He’s part of the SCC.”
“How do you know that?”
“He was there. When I came back… after the fire. I remember everyone being shocked I was alive, but he just looked at me. Like he knew. I didn’t see Mrs. Fletcher or the twins, but he stood there and watched them take me away. I think he even arranged for them to come get me.”
This was going to take some time to digest.
Before my mother was mayor, we lived on the same cul-de-sac as the Fletchers and the Atkinsons. We moved and so did Phoebe, but our parents and the Fletchers all remained friends. Well, until Phoebe’s parents took off.
Now I knew they were all in on it. They were why every one of us was locked up.
“Xander, I want to get out of here,” Phoebe whispered.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her, but I didn’t know how that would be received. Plus, Dane’s public display of affection yesterday had come back to bite both of them. I didn’t want a repeat of that today. The only reassurance I could offer her, I did. “We will.”
“Do you really believe that?” The look she gave me, imploring, hoping, trusting… I couldn’t lie to her. But, deep down, I did believe we’d get out of here. Somehow.
I stared out at the inmates playing in the rec yard. We were just kids, really. Every single one of us. We should have been in school, studying for tests, going to sports practices, arguing with parents over curfew.
“I have to,” I finally said. “Otherwise… what’s the point? What are we living for?”
Phoebe nodded, her gaze now fixed on the blue sky overhead. “Do you ever think about Oscar? If maybe…”
Her words trailed off, but I knew where she going with this. “Yeah, I do. But his death wasn’t your fault, Phoebe. Or mine. Or anyone else’s except Wolf. He killed him. And there was no reason for it.” I tried but failed to keep the anger from my voice, but every time I thought of what happened in the garage that day, it just seemed so senseless.
“But if we hadn’t tried to escape… if we had just laid low…” I took in her slumped shoulders, her look of regret.
Forget the guards. I gingerly touched her forearm, relieved she didn’t flinch or pull away. Her eyes met mine. “Don’t think about ‘what ifs.’ They’re pointless. The past is the past.”
“Well, the future isn’t exactly sunshine and roses, either,” she mumbled.
She was right. Our future did look bleak. It was uncertain. Every day more so than the last.
“Phoebe, we will get through this. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise this. Whatever happens, I’m here for you.” And I would never kill you¸ I wanted to add.
We’d made it this far without mentioning Dane, and I wanted to keep it that way. But I had to tell her how I felt about her. How long I’d felt that way. She needed to know that I wanted to be there for her as more than just a friend.
While I was gathering the courage to tell her—why was this so hard?—Phoebe dropped another bomb. “I think my mom did something to my dad.”
I tensed. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve talked to her a few times,” she said, and my jaw tightened in response. This was news to me. I hated thinking of the ways that woman could have gotten into her daughter’s head.
“She said he was still in Kansas City and that he was ‘safe.’” Phoebe scoffed. “Not that I trust a word she says.”
“Safe, where?”
“I don’t know. She said he was in the safest place in Kansas City… wherever that is. But her definition of ‘safe’ isn’t exactly normal, you know?” Phoebe slumped back against the wall. “Do you think he’s been in the city the whole time? What if he was trying to get back to me?”My heart ached for her. I thought back over what she’d just said, hoping there was some small hope or comfort I could offer her. Instead, it triggered a memory.
This place has top-notch security and is safe as it gets.
My father had said those words during my parents’ visit to check on me. My mind worked, trying to fit pieces of the puzzle together. “Phoebe, what if your dad… what if he’s here?”
She stared at me, her brows creased. “Why would he be here? Wouldn’t we have seen him?”
Bits of information I had stowed away for later shuffled through my brain. “Your mom keeps her own daughter a prisoner here. Why not her husband?” And then the correct memory fell into place, completing the puzzle. “The east wing,” I murmured.
“What are you talking about?” Phoebe’s eyes searched mine. “Do you know where my dad is?”
“Maybe? I don’t know.” I prayed I wasn’t giving Phoebe false hope, but it was too late to close the barn door now. The horse had already bolted and was long gone. “I overheard some guards talking about a room the warden keeps locked up. No one is allowed in or out. What if she’s keeping your dad in there?”
Phoebe chewed on her bottom lip, frowning. “But why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe… maybe he knows something. Maybe he figured out she was part of this whole nightmare and threatened to expose her. Maybe—”
“Wait.” Phoebe shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does,” I insisted. “Your dad disappeared with no notice at all. Phoebe, that’s really weird that he left behind his job, his daughter…everything.”
“My mom did,” she whispered.
My heart felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper. Phoebe’s pain was so raw and real, and I wished right this very moment I could take it away.
But I was onto something. “He was kidnapped. He had to have been. And your mother claims she knows where he is, so she must have been the one who kidnapped him.”
The full gravity of what I was saying seemed to hit her. “You’re saying he’s here? In Lansing?”
“I think so.” I hope so.
She scrambled to her feet. “Then I have to find him.”
“Phoebe, wait.” I stood, glancing around to make sure none of the guards were nearby. They weren’t. “The room I heard about is locked. Not even the guards can get in.”
“But she has the key. I can get it from her.”
“How?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
“We could get help,” I suggested. “What about Heath?”
Phoebe raised her brows. “We were just talking about Oscar, remember?”
Good point. “Okay, but he has to know something. Maybe we could just get some information out of him.”
She thought for a moment. “Actually… I think I’ll talk to Saul about it.”
My jaw dropped. “Saul? Creepy smoke guy? Are you serious?”
“He blabs all the time, and he’s a rule-breaker. He might be a guard, but he does his own thing,” she said. “Plus, he’s kind of cocky. If I can trick anyone into saying something, it would be him.”
I wasn’t comfortable with Phoebe wrangling sensitive information from someone like Saul, but I let it go. She would do it with or without my blessing.
“Okay, say you find out where it is… how would we get there?” I ask
ed. “I doubt we can give the guards the slip.”
I could almost see the gears in Phoebe’s mind turning. “We create a distraction,” she said. “Like last time.”
Nope, no way.
“Birdie caused that distraction. I won’t risk her again.” I paused, thinking. “And when fights break out, Warrick’s called in. We don’t want anyone to get hurt just to find a room we think your father might be in.”
Phoebe gripped her hair in obvious frustration. “You’re right. I know you are. And even if we get to the room, how would we get in it? This all feels too impossible.”
I gently untangled the hair from her fingers and peeled her hands from her head. “I’ll help you find your dad,” I promised. “But we need a plan going in. We don’t have to make one right now. Or even today.”
“But what if he needs me?” Her gaze turned to mine, and I saw the desperation in it. “He’s been missing all this time, and I didn’t even call the police because I was too afraid of being put in foster care. What if he’s hurt?”
“He’s waited this long. He can wait a few days more.” I smoothed Phoebe’s hair out of her face. “We’ll find him, okay? We just need more information first.”
She nodded. “I’ll find out more about the room. You think of a way to get us past the guards.” An alarm signaled rec time was over. “Thank you, Xander. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”
Ouch.
The “f” word hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. And here I’d been about to spill all of my non-friendly feelings toward her.
Not that it was the best time for that, anyway. Enough bombs had been dropped today. Phoebe’s focus was—and should be—finding her father.
She’d started off toward the exit. “Phoebe?” I called.
Twisting to face me, she had a small smile on her face when she asked, “Yeah?”
“Since you were wondering… we did win the game that night.” And I’d have given anything if she’d been there watching instead of at the Fletcher’s house.
Her smile grew, and I returned it the best I could. Then she turned back around and walked away.
As I headed to leave, I spotted Dane lagging behind. I picked up the pace before I made him pay for what he did to Phoebe, but he blocked my retreat. My hands curled into fists.
“How’s Phoebe?” he asked, his eyes bloodshot. I doubted he’d slept well. If at all.
Good.
My first instinct was to rub a good dose of ‘none of your business’ in his face. Then I remembered what Phoebe asked me to do.
Dane could provide the distraction we needed. It was the perfect opportunity for him to redeem himself, and I couldn’t care less if he got in trouble for it.
“She’s been better,” I said honestly. “But she needs your help.”
“She does?” He looked suspicious, and a little bit hopeful. “How?”
“Do you think you could whip up a distraction for her?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of distraction?”
I shrugged. “Start a fight or something. Just long enough to distract the guards so she can slip past.”
“Slip past?” he asked, incredulous. “Where does she think she’s going?”
I knew he wouldn’t sell her out—not after what happened yesterday—but he was still on a need-to-know basis. “Forgive me if I don’t trust you enough to let you in on that little secret. Will you help her?”
Dane blew air through his lips. “I don’t know…”
“I know you care about her, so will you do it? For her?”
Dane’s eyes darted around, scoping out the guards. “I can’t. Lansing isn’t like your slice of paradise at Leavenworth. Fights start, and people get hurt. Sometimes they die.”
I scowled. “So you won’t do it?”
His eyes hardened. “I’ve had enough fighting for a while,” he hissed through his teeth. “Plus, it’s stupid for Phoebe to try to leave. If she got caught…”
“She’s willing to take that risk.” I folded my arms. “So, I’ll ask one more time. Are you in, or are you out?”
“Out.” He shoved past me, knocking his shoulder against mine.
As I suspected.
Dane was never worthy of Phoebe. I’d have to come up with a distraction on my own.
18
Phoebe
I needed a shower and a breathing treatment, but my fact-finding mission with Saul had been a success.
Black door.
East wing.
Doctors only.
Now if I never had to talk to the guy again, it would be too soon.
I felt nauseous, and I wasn’t sure if it was the lingering smoke or the thoughts swirling in my head.
Saul had mentioned only the warden and doctors went into the room. Did he mean scientists? He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, so maybe he saw white lab coats and didn’t know the difference.
My father was a scientist…. He wasn’t working with them, was he?
No. If that were the case, he would have at least come to see me while I was here. I was sure of it.
But that meant if Dad really were inside that room, the doctors and/or scientists were doing something to him.
The nausea intensified, the possibilities endless.
There was only one way to find out. And that required swiping the key from the one person I knew had it: my mother.
Several days passed with no progress. My mother kept her distance from me—nothing new there—but I couldn’t even get close enough to see if she had a set of keys on her. I’d never noticed any before, so if she did, there were only a few and they remained out of sight.
I was so frustrated I wanted to scream. My dad could be in the same building as me, and I had no way of getting to him.
It seemed unbelievable that he had been here under my nose this whole time. And yet, everything else that had happened lately seemed so far out of the realm of possibilities that maybe it wasn’t that farfetched after all.
Finding him would mean everything to me. To discover he hadn’t left of his own accord? It would break my heart, but it would mend it too. I’d have a home. Family.
Someone I belonged to. Someone who cared whether I lived or died. Someone who loved me.
I was getting ahead of myself though. I needed to find him first.
Dane and I continued avoiding one another, which was fine by me. The rose-colored glasses had been forcibly removed, and everything I’d found attractive and charming before now seemed fake and more fake.
Even something I’d thought was so sweet, like how he’d been with Cooper when he arrived. The next day when rotation changed, Dane hadn’t even noticed the kid was missing until I pointed it out. Was it all just an act?
And then there was Xander.
His reaction when I’d suggested a distraction similar to the one used at Leavenworth was so genuine and protective of Birdie, I could have kissed him at that very moment. In fact, I’d wanted to.
I’d been so distracted by the news about my father and the secret room, I didn’t even properly appreciate Xander’s sweet gestures. I was so out of my mind that I think I might have even friend-zoned him during our conversation. The last time that happened, the effects were disastrous. But Xander wasn’t Woody and didn’t even flinch, so I guessed he was okay with that.
His protective nature obviously didn’t extend to Dane. Xander admitted to me he’d asked Dane to help create a disturbance, but he wouldn’t tell him exactly why.
I wasn’t sure why he’d bothered.
I could have told him Dane wouldn’t risk sticking his neck out for anyone other than himself. Then again, Xander had a lot more confidence in people than I did.
In the end, Dane’s distraction-causing services weren’t needed.
A late-summer thunderstorm raged outside when afternoon rec rolled around. All the prisoners in our rotation were crammed into the indoor area, and it was hot and muggy and miserable.
I tried readin
g a book but mostly I just fanned myself with it. Xander and the others played a board game nearby. We hadn’t told any of our friends about the secret room, or our suspicions that my father might be in it. The fewer people who knew, the fewer would get hurt.
The sound of shouting snagged our attention. A cluster of inmates stood in the center of the room, and I was surprised to see one floating in the air. I didn’t know why anything surprised me anymore, but this did.
“Put me down!” a dark-skinned boy yelled, twisting violently.
From the looks of it, Xander’s football buddies were right in the thick of things. “Nice work, Titus,” the twin with the tattoos said. “Maybe next time our friend here will learn to shut his mouth.”
The other inmates who’d gathered around them laughed and cheered, egging them on. “Their friend” spun around in circles a few times and then was sent flying in my direction.
He hit the ground hard and slid, bumping into my chair. I leapt to my feet.
“Oops. Sorry, Phoenix.” I didn’t know the twins, but apparently, they knew me.
I looked over at Xander, and he smiled softly and shook his head like an indulgent sibling. It was obvious he was fond of these guys, which meant they were what Cal would call “decent dudes.”
The twins gave each other a high-five, and it looked like whatever spat had occurred was over. Then Warrick showed up. And this time, two guards flanked him.
You could have heard a pin drop.
“Titus,” Warrick said cheerfully, as if greeting an old friend. “You causing trouble?”
The tattooed twin stepped forward. “That motormouth deserved to be put in his place,” he said gruffly. “Titus didn’t do him any harm. Look, the kid is fine.”
The boy had gotten to his feet, rubbing his elbows where he’d hit them during his fall. He scowled at the twins but said nothing. It appeared he had learned his lesson.
“You boys know we have a strict policy when it comes to using powers outside of matches.” Warrick shook his head, clicking his tongue. “I’m afraid something needs to be done.”
He acted like he had years on them, when, in reality, Warrick was probably about the same age. Was he purposely being condescending, or did he just feel that much older?