Olivia Decoded

by Vivi Barnes

  Micah frowns. “If that’s true, it means he knows us well enough to figure that out.”

  I flip the jump drive in the air. “Exactly. For now, keep this to yourself, please.”

  Jen approaches me as I walk toward my room. “Crying because your girlfriend hasn’t called you?” she asks, her face drawn into the usual sneer. “Guess you’re too busy to worry about the little things. Like money being stolen from our accounts. Asshole,” she adds as I pass by, her elbow poking me in the side.

  “You know,” I say, turning around to face her. “Interesting that you’re gone all the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were hooking up with whoever’s doing this.”

  A tiny pinch of her eyebrows is the only sign of concern from her. “You just automatically assume I’m hooking up because I’m not around?”

  I shrug. “Well, you’d have to actually be competent at hacking to steal the money yourself, so—”

  Her mouth drops open. Then she straightens, her chin pressing forward. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else. You’ll get what’s coming to you, too.”

  I cross my arms, frowning at her. “That sounds like a threat.”

  She smirks, trying to act unaffected, though I notice she moves back a tiny step. “It’s just that I know people like you will eventually get what they deserve.”

  “Uh-huh.” I keep my gaze on her, and it’s only seconds before she drops hers.

  “You don’t know anything,” she mutters, turning and walking away. She goes into her room and slams the door behind her. Then she opens it again, her laptop in one hand and her keys in the other. “Try hacking my computer without my computer, asshole,” she says as she walks past.

  I have to give it to her—she’s smart. I wouldn’t hack Nancy’s computer, but Jen is a different story. Considering her motivations have always been out of hatred for me, hacking everyone else’s account but mine in order to point the guilt in my direction is something I could see her doing. I need to show Nancy this footage.

  Nancy’s talking to Sam when I walk downstairs. From the relaxed postures and smiles, I’m guessing it’s nothing to do with the crap going on.

  “What’s up?” Sam asks as I join them.

  “Not much. Hey, Nancy, can I talk to you for a sec?”

  “I can’t right now. I’m on my way out and will be gone for a while. Sam, you’re in charge, okay?”

  It’s like I have some disease or something, as fast as she moves away.

  “Nice going,” Sam tells me.

  “At least I’m trying to figure out what’s going on instead of standing around goofing off.”

  “I was doing that. My way isn’t like yours. Which is why I’m so much better at this than you.” She winks.

  She’s got me there. “Did you get anything from her?”

  “She won’t hear back from the bank till tomorrow. We’ll go from there, since she’s not spilling on this Frank guy.” She pauses as I get out a pan and the eggs from the fridge. It’s my morning to cook breakfast, something I really don’t mind doing. “Did you find out anything more about him?”

  “Nope. Nancy won’t tell me anything, either. And if it is him, I think someone might be working with him. Someone who wants to make it look like I’m the one stalking Liv.” I stop as Dutch comes in to pour himself a glass of orange juice. I crack open the eggs into a bowl and whisk them as Sam moves to my other side.

  “Okay. So who wishes you’d be out of her life for good?” she asks quietly.

  “Where do I start? With you?”

  She sticks her tongue out at me. “Funny. I mean who would stand to gain from pretending the giver is you? Like someone close to her.”

  I was about to say “Jen,” but that last question throws me. Someone close to her who’d have it in for me? For some reason, Liv’s grandfather comes to mind. He was kind to me when I first introduced him to his granddaughter, and grateful, too. But I know he links Bill’s abduction to me. He made that clear enough when I showed up at his house.

  But what would he gain by pretending to send gifts to Liv? Maybe he suspected she stayed in touch with me and was trying to figure out how to bring me out into the open so he could officially break us apart. And make me look like a jerk to Liv in the process so she’d never talk to me again.

  No, Carlton Brownlow is a straight shooter and really cares about his granddaughter. He wouldn’t pull this stalker crap.

  “I was thinking it might be someone right here,” I tell her. “Think about it. Someone knows enough about each of us to steal from our accounts. Except, conveniently, me.” I pour the eggs in the pan and shove them around with the spatula. “Someone who hates me enough to make me look bad to Nancy and to Liv.”

  She watches as I sprinkle pepper and salt on the eggs. “So you think it’s Jen.”

  “She’s on the top of my list of suspects, yes. Can you keep an eye on her?”

  “Sure. Where are you going?”

  “Norfolk. I can’t let her stay up there by herself while some asshole’s creeping on her.”

  “That is so like you to be worried about Liv when our bank accounts are being hacked. I told you a long time ago getting involved with that girl was a bad idea.” She half laughs, taking the spatula out of my hand. “Anyway, I figured you’d be going up there today. Go on. I’ll cover for you here.”

  I put my hand on her arm, causing her eyebrows to skyrocket. I rarely show affection, but Sam’s more like a sister to me than anyone. “Thanks.”

  She smiles, and it’s a genuine smile without the usual snark. “Sure thing.”

  I borrow Sam’s phone to call Liv, since Liv probably told her grandfather about the roses. Cops might’ve looked at the phone. Her voice is hesitant when she answers.

  “Are you okay?” I ask softly.

  “Oh, hey Marie,” she says, her voice light. “Nothing much, just talking with my grandfather. How’s it going with you?”

  I hear her tell her grandfather it’s a friend from school.

  “Can you talk at all?” I ask, keeping my voice as quiet as I can.

  “Not really. Just that history test on Tuesday.”

  “Okay, listen, I’m coming over today. Can you get out?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m going to study with Emerson at her house today. You can join us. Hang on and I’ll give you her address.”

  I can hear a deep voice in the background saying something, and Liv is saying something back, but she must’ve muffled the speaker, since I can’t hear what they’re saying. Her voice sounds higher, though. Agitated. Her grandfather probably doesn’t like the idea of her going out with a stalker on the loose. Can’t say I blame him on that one.

  She comes back to the phone. “Sorry, Marie,” she says. “Here’s the address. I should be there in two hours. You might see someone following me so don’t freak out—Grandfather hired a bodyguard.”

  In other words, get there before her. I stop in Nancy’s office after I hang up with Liv, putting the jump drive in an envelope and a leaving a note for her to watch it as soon as she can. I wanted to show it to her myself, but I’m not waiting around for her to come back.

  It takes me less time than usual to get to Norfolk—probably because I ride like a bat out of hell. It’s colder than yesterday, too. But unlike the last ride, I’m dressed for it, the leather blocking the cold.

  Part of me feels guilty for leaving right now when everyone in the house is so upset about the money being gone. It’s not like I’m okay with it, but I’m a hell of a lot less okay with leaving Liv to fend off a stalker by herself. Jen’s at the house, but whoever she could be working with isn’t. And I’m not going to rely on some half-baked security guy to keep an eye on Liv rather than his tablet’s Netflix.

  When I get to Norfolk, my GPS takes me to a neighborhood with homes even larger than Liv’s. Her friend Emerson’s home is three stories tall, with a gate separating the street from her house. The gates are open, so I drive through. The gr
ounds are pretty nice. There are gardens and a fountain in the front of the house. Sterile. I decide to park in back, just in case.

  I knock on the kitchen door, and a large woman opens it, wiping her hands on her apron and frowning at me. “I’m here to see Emerson,” I tell her.

  The woman looks me up and down, her nose slightly pinched. “Is Miss Emerson expecting you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, she is.”

  “It’s okay, Tammy,” a light voice calls from behind the woman. “I’ve got this.”

  “Your mother won’t like it,” the woman tells Emerson, her eyes still on me.

  Emerson shrugs and grabs my arm. “So don’t tell her, then. Or do. I don’t really care.”

  She loops her arm through mine and smiles up at me as we walk through the enormous kitchen and into the dining room. “My, my. Aren’t you a sight?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Obviously you were trying to give Tammy a heart attack, looking like that.” She releases me and her eyes rake over my black leather jacket and pants. But instead of the warmth I usually get from girls, her gaze is ice.

  “It’s cold outside,” I tell her, tugging off my gloves.

  “It’s not that cold,” she says, lifting her chin.

  “It is if you’re on a bike.”

  Her lips purse as she considers that.

  “Is Liv here?”

  “Not yet.” She glances at the foyer. “In fact, I think you should go upstairs. Her grandfather’s giving her a rough time so there’s a possibility he could be the one dropping her off.”

  I follow her up the staircase. It’s large and winding and reminds me of the one at Monroe Street, though it’s much grander. She leads me into a library full of books, chairs, and a desk with a small lamp.

  “Nice,” I tell her, shrugging off my jacket.

  “What are you up to, anyway?” she asks, crossing her arms and leveling a dark look at me. It doesn’t bother me at all. This girl is obviously protective of Liv, and I’m grateful.

  I tilt my head slightly. “What has Liv told you?”

  “Everything.”

  I just keep my gaze steady on her, expression unchanging. It’s the best way to ferret out the truth from a lie, and it works with Emerson, too. Her eyes flick away. “Well, not everything,” she says. “But I know there’s something about you that is just wrong. If you’re trying to use Liv—”

  “I’m not,” I tell her. “I’m here because I’m worried about her.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m worried about her, too. Some weird guy is sending her cards and flowers and gifts, and how do I know it’s not you?”

  “You can’t, but she knows it’s not.”

  “Do you really care about her, Jack?” Emerson asks, and her voice is sharply accusing, almost daring me to say yes.

  “I do.”

  “Then where have you been all this time? She needs to be normal, and you’re keeping her from that. She doesn’t even go out on dates like a regular person, and she keeps so many secrets that I have a feeling she’s going to explode one day.”

  “I didn’t want to stay away,” I start, but then stop. I don’t owe her any explanations, which are too complicated to justify anyway. This isn’t just a case of a boyfriend who never called his girlfriend. I cross my own arms and ask, “Where can I wait until Liv gets here?”

  “You can sit right here. Don’t leave this room until I say you can, got it?”

  I nod once and she leaves. I breathe out heavily when she’s gone. Liv’s clearly made a good friend here, but I wonder what she’s told her. Probably not much to do with me, but that alone makes me both relieved and worried. Shouldn’t she be able to tell somebody something?

  Chapter Seventeen

  LIV

  A week ago, my grandfather didn’t ask me questions about where I was going or worry about me driving myself to school or a friend’s house. Now, he’s having security cameras installed on the grounds and a guy following me around. A sick feeling twists in my gut as I watch the men drilling holes for the cameras on the outside of the house. I know he would never suggest installing them in my personal space. He understands the need for privacy. But I can’t help but remember what happened in my last foster home, when Derrick installed a camera to spy on me in my room.

  It’s been about two hours since Jack’s call, so I head downstairs. Mrs. Bedwin comes out of the kitchen as I’m putting on my coat.

  “I need to get out of here for a while,” I tell her, picking up my car keys. “I’m going to study at Emerson’s house.”

  She frowns. “I don’t know. The weather’s supposed to get bad later, and I know your grandfather wanted you to stay close by. He ran to the office but said he’d be back shortly.”

  “He’ll be okay with it. I need to study and stuff.”

  “Why don’t you ask Emerson to come over here? I can make you both dinner. Tacos, your favorite.”

  She looks nervous, and I feel a little bad that I’m putting her in such an awkward situation. Unlike my grandfather, who can be swayed by a smile or a hug, the only thing that works with Mrs. Bedwin is total honesty. “It’s only for a few hours, and I’ll be home before ten. I’m sure the private investigator grandfather hired will follow me, so I’ll be safe.”

  She opens her mouth to respond, but seems to think better of it. She nods. “Okay, but straight to Emerson’s and back by nine, not ten. And check in with me on occasion, okay? A simple text works.”

  I head out the door and am in my car on the way to Emerson’s quickly, before my grandfather can show up and decide I need to stay home. The drive to Emerson’s takes about ten minutes, and the gates to her driveway are open, as she said they would be. Emerson’s parents are out of town, so Emerson keeps the gates open when they’re gone. She once joked that she’d be happy for someone to break in to steal something just so she could have someone to talk to. I wish she had someone like Mrs. Bedwin, but the staff in her house are coldly professional.

  Emerson opens the door almost as soon as I press the doorbell. “It’s about time. I thought for sure you weren’t coming,” she says, yanking me into the house. “Is that dude just going to sit there?”

  I glance over my shoulder at the unmarked car with the guy who’s trailing me. With the tinted windows, I can’t even see his face. “I guess so.”

  Emerson smiles so big her teeth show as she waves at the man. Then she pulls the door shut. “What a boring job.”

  “Yep.” The house is quiet, with the exception of the occasional clink of dishes in the kitchen. “Is he here yet?”

  Emerson nods. “Upstairs in the library. But hang on a sec.” She grabs my arm and pulls me into the living room opposite the staircase. “Remember when I first saw that guy and thought he looked like trouble? Yeah? Well, I still believe that. What are you getting into with him?”

  “I’m not getting into anything. He’s just here to help us figure out who’s stalking me.”

  She releases her grip, her face relaxing slightly. I can tell she didn’t miss my “us” reference. I meant it, too. It’s time I start confiding in my best friend.

  “There’s more going on, though,” she says. “That guy—”

  “Jack,” I tell her.

  “Fine. Jack has this look in his eyes that tells me he’s about to kick someone’s ass. You know I’m a good people reader, and he’s definitely got something going on that isn’t right.”

  “He’s fine,” I say lamely. “He’s just…had a tough life.”

  “A tough life.” She tilts her head to study me. I stare at her chin. I can’t look into her eyes—she’s right about being a good reader of people. She knows I’m hedging. She sighs. “Liv, you’re my best friend, and I’m yours. I trust you with everything—all my weirdest ideas and craziest thoughts. I just wish you’d trust me back. There’s something you’re hiding, and I think it’s something that could hurt you.” She jerks her head toward the staircase. “Something to do with him. Now he’s here
in my house with my best friend, and I think you’re going to get in even more trouble because of it.”

  “He’s not the one stalking me,” I tell her firmly.

  “Do you know that for sure?”

  “Yes.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “Then who is?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s not him. You don’t understand.”

  “Then tell me so I do.”

  I glance toward the stairs. “This guy—Jack—we’ve gone through a lot together. As in life-and-death kind of stuff, and it’s not even anything I can share because some of those secrets aren’t mine to tell. For a while, he was all I had.” I half laugh. “We’re like a bad fairy tale turned upside down. For real. Though we’re just friends now.”

  Emerson is silent, her eyes downcast. I can tell she’s upset because she’s worried, not curious. Because she actually cares about what happens to me. And it makes me feel like crap that I can’t even tell her.

  “Okay,” she finally says quietly. “I’m sure you want to see him. Come on.”

  She leads me up the stairs, pointing to the library before turning to go back downstairs.

  As soon as I enter the library, Jack stands up from the desk chair. I move toward him without thinking, my heartbeat quickening with every step, and throw my arms around his neck. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me so tightly against him that my feet actually leave the ground.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I whisper. He sets me back down, his arms still locked around me. This look in his eyes—the soft gaze that stirs every cell in my body as if they’d been sleeping from the moment he left me until this very instant—this is what I was afraid of. How am I supposed to distance myself when all I want to do is wrap myself around him and never let go?

  Thankfully, my common sense stays alert, if just barely.

  At almost the same moment, Jack and I drop our arms and step away from each other. “Thanks for coming,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”