Risking the Crown

by Violet Paige

  I drove as fast as I could to Atlantic Beach, cursing each red light I hit on the way. What if he changed his mind? What if he was scared I would betray him? Things could change with Garrett’s moods so quickly. What if this was one of those times?

  I parked at his condominium complex and raced up the stairs.

  Only yesterday I had been here with our father. Looking for clues. Praying my brother wasn’t dead. The nausea swept through me. What in the hell was going on? My knees almost buckled underneath me.

  “Garrett?” I knocked.

  The door opened and I stared at my brother. He was wearing a full beard.

  “Hey.” He smiled.

  “Where have you been?” I betrayed my own promise. The deal I had made with myself not to be angry when I found him.

  He put his hands up in defense. The mannerism was so much like my father’s. “Just hear me out.”

  “Damn it, Garrett. I flew down here in the middle of the night. Do you realize Dad called the police? We searched hospitals? Mom is about to have a mental breakdown.”

  “Hold on. Hold on. Come inside first before you tear my head off.”

  I glared at him as I walked inside.

  “At least you know I’m angry.”

  He shrugged. “Morgan told me to call you sooner.”

  “Morgan? Who is Morgan?”

  He grinned. “She’s the one, Emily. The girl.”

  “Holy shit. We’ve been searching the morgue for your stupid ass and you’ve been with a girl?”

  “I never asked you to look for me,” he shot back.

  I spun on my heels. I’d never wanted to hit my brother as much as I did now.

  “You’re as arrogant as Dad.”

  “Shit. You are mad.”

  “Mad doesn’t really come close.” I slumped onto the couch. I didn’t know if I had the energy left to fight.

  “I want you to be happy for me.”

  “Happy about what? A new girlfriend?”

  “Yes, she’s first on the list.” He grabbed a soda from the fridge. I wished I had brought coffee with me. Mom would be waking up any minute. I kept my phone close.

  “Tell me.” I buried my face in my hands. “Tell me what this two-week thing was all about.”

  I would give Garrett fifteen minutes before I called our parents and let them know he was alive. After that I didn’t know what would happen. He wasn’t any of the things I expected to find. There were no tears. No blood-shot eyes. No smell of alcohol. He looked rested and excited.

  My backup plan had been to have him entered into treatment immediately once I found him. But sitting a few feet from him, I didn’t think that was necessary.

  “When I started doing graphics for the shop I started talking to the tech company who hosted the website. We had a lot of technical issues because they couldn’t handle the art I wanted loaded on the page.”

  I knew he was sparing me the specifics of the code jargon.

  “Ok?”

  “And the person they put me in touch with was Morgan.” His eyes had an extra spark when he said her name. “And that’s when things changed.”

  “Changed in what way?”

  “She made me want to be a better man, Emily. She made me want to do things for myself that I should have been doing all along.”

  I sat forward. “Like what?”

  “Like stay on my med schedule. Like stop dodging my therapy.”

  “What?”

  He grinned. The beard was growing on me. I guessed that was Morgan’s influence too.

  “I don’t know what it was about her. It was just that connection. The thing I’d always been looking for. And she didn’t see me as an illness. She saw me in spite of it.”

  “I see you in spite of it. You’re my brother.”

  “I know you do. But I can’t tell anyone I’m bi-polar without them looking at me as if I’m part troll.”

  “That’s because people don’t understand. And it doesn’t help that you don’t stay on your medication. You don’t take care of yourself. You give people a reason to see the worst in you instead of the other way around.”

  “And she just didn’t care. She fell for me anyway.”

  I wasn’t going to fall for it like Garrett did. I didn’t believe that one angel had swooped in and delivered my brother to some saving grace. To a path of magical redemption. He had been with her for maybe two months. I had spent twenty years with this.

  “I’m glad you have a new girlfriend. That’s great. And I’m glad she is supportive of healthy choices for your treatment. But what about the two weeks? Where have you been? You walked away from your job. You didn’t talk to your friends. This is the kind of stuff you do when you’re not ok.”

  “I’ll call them and apologize.”

  “That’s great, but you aren’t telling me what happened. I drove around with Dad yesterday. Dad,” I pressed the point.

  He chuckled. “Sorry I missed that. Also, glad it wasn’t me.”

  “You think it’s funny we thought you were dead or shaking in a dirty bathroom somewhere?” I hopped from the sofa. “What you do matters to me. It matters to all of us. So this time you left because of some happiness journey it sounds like? Your happiness led to my misery. You should have seen Mom. She’s a wreck.”

  He stared at me. “Emily, I wasn’t trying to drag you in to anything. You live in D.C. You have your life. How was I supposed to know they’d ask you to fly down?”

  “Because when someone in your family goes missing that’s what you do!” I was flushed. My head spun.

  “Calm down. I’m sorry. Really, I should have checked in. Or out or whatever.”

  “I don’t know what to say anymore.” I pulled out my phone. “They need to know you’re alive. You can tell them your version of whatever it is that happened.”

  I realized in my hands was the decision to call one parent before the other. To choose who was more deserving. I scowled. I dialed my mother.

  “Emilyt, I woke up and you weren’t here.”

  “Mom, I’m fine. I’m with Garrett.”

  “Oh, God. Thank you. Thank you. Where is he? I want to talk to him.”

  “Hold on.” I glared at my twin and shoved the phone in his hand. “Here you go.”

  “Hey, Mom. Yep, I’m fine.”

  I listened while he explained that he and his new girlfriend had gone on some kind of spiritual retreat together to detox from the digital world. They had made a commitment not to use phones or the Internet. He felt at ease with his decision.

  He handed the phone back to me.

  “Emily, are you coming back?” Mom asked.

  “Yes, I’m leaving soon. I have to get to D.C. tonight since my brother isn’t dead.” I shot him a quick glare.

  “Stop saying that. Be glad he’s ok.”

  “I am. He seems perfectly fine. I need to go, Mom.”

  “I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and called our father. I went through a quicker greeting before passing the phone this time.

  Garrett didn’t go into as much detail. And he was shorter with his words.

  In the end, they both knew their son was ok.

  My hand landed on the doorknob. “Next time you decide to digital detox, let someone know, ok?”

  He grimaced. “I really am sorry.”

  I pulled him into a hug. “Me too.”

  “Safe flight home.”

  I nodded. “I’ll call you this week and maybe you can tell me more about Morgan. That is, if phones are still ok,” I mocked his trip.

  “I think you’d like her.”

  I laughed. I didn’t know how I felt about a woman who had kidnapped my brother on a mission for self-discovery, but it was better than the toxic girlfriend.

  “I’m sure I will.” I paused. “No matter how angry I am, I’m glad you’re safe. That’s all I thought about.” I held back the tightening in my throat. I hadn’t cried since I found out he was missing. I wasn’t going to cry now that he wa
s found.

  “I know.” He rubbed the scruff of his beard. “I’m sorry for being such an ass about you moving. Do you like D.C.?”

  I grinned. The pain in my throat eased. “You’ll have to come up and visit. Greer would love to see you.”

  “I’ll talk to Morgan about it.”

  “Ok.” I smiled. Maybe later I would tell him about Vaughn. I had to stop keeping my own set of secrets. “Bye.”

  He followed me to the landing and watched as I walked down the stairs.

  There was a calmness that usually didn’t come when I left Garrett. We had that quirky twin bond. That unspeakable link that united us when everything else around us was in shambles. But as I looked at my brother leaning over the landing, I didn’t have the fear that something devastating was around the corner waiting for him. It might have been overly optimistic, but maybe there was something good that came out of his digital detox. I waved over my shoulder, until he was a dot in my rearview mirror.

  Mom was waiting at the door when I got home.

  I spotted the bag at her ankles.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “I’m going to see your brother.”

  I shook my head. “No, Mom. You shouldn’t do that. He’s fine. He’s going to be ok.”

  She tugged on the pearl studs. “You’ve seen him. I haven’t. There’s a difference.”

  I sighed. “I realize that. Why don’t we call him? You can screen call and see his new beard.” I pulled out my phone. He’d better answer this time.

  “He has a beard?” She looked confused.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s a full mountain man beard. I didn’t know he could grow something that impressive.”

  “You’re calling him now?”

  The screen showed nothing but my face, but Garrett answered.

  “There’s someone who wants to see your beard,” I explained. “I thought this might be better than a visit.”

  “Oh yeah. Right. Put her on.”

  I handed the phone to my mother and walked to my room to pack. I heard her mumbled conversation with Garrett travel down the hall. I hoped it was enough to soothe her. To give her comfort. To give him space.

  By the time I walked back to the kitchen she was sitting at the table.

  “Mom?”

  “It looks good. I like the beard.”

  I sat across from her. “I do too. I think he’s going to be ok. For now.”

  “And if he isn’t?” She looked at me.

  “We’re here for him. Keep checking on him. Call him, but not every hour.” I eyed her. “And on the days he’s not ok—we’re here.”

  She nodded. “Yes, we’re here.”

  “I need to take the rental car back and get to the airport.”

  “Want me to go with you?” she offered.

  “That’s ok. But thank you.”

  I stood to hug her. She seemed frail in my arms. I wondered how much of Garrett’s illness had worn the weight from her limbs. She was thinner than I had ever seen her. She smelled like vanilla. She kept a jar of hand crème next to her bed. It was the same scent she had used since I was old enough to sneak in her room and dab it on my arms.

  I let go and looked at her.

  “He’s going to be ok, Mom. We all are.”

  “I know. I know. Call me when you land in D.C.?”

  “I will.” I took my suitcase through the garage entrance.

  Thirty minutes later I was in the New Bern airport, waiting in the terminal for my flight home. I left Vaughn a message, explaining that I had found Garrett and was headed back to D.C. I prayed his business trip was over and we could spend the night together. If there was one thing I needed more than anything else in this world after the past two days, it was him.

  I tucked the phone in my bag and watched the passengers gather in the picked and worn seats around me.

  Chapter 22

  The Uber deposited me on the sidewalk. The driver popped the trunk and I walked to the rear of the car for my bag. My phone buzzed at the same time I dug in my purse for my keys.

  I read the text from my father.

  Did you make it back?

  Just got here

  Glad, kiddo. See you in a few weeks.

  He was referring to Thanksgiving. It wasn’t much. But it was something. A crumb. A morsel that showed he cared. He was thinking about me now and making plans for the holidays. It was more than I’d had from him before.

  I tugged on my suitcase as I reached the top floor of the brownstone. I exhaled. Home.

  A place I had made a sanctuary. It wasn’t only an escape from the memories of New Bern, it was a haven for my future. For everything that was ahead of me.

  I slipped the key in the lock and realized it was already open. I pushed the door, kicking it out of the way for my bags. I was starving. I thought I might have a box of pasta in the cabinet. At least some rice I could cook.

  “Greer?”

  She rose from the sofa slowly. Her face stained with tears.

  I looked on either side of her. She was surrounded by men in suits. Tall men. Serious men.

  “Emily,” she whispered, choking back a sob.

  “What’s going on?”

  I tried to piece things together, but they quickly spun out of control. I couldn’t grasp it. I couldn’t assemble the fragments fast enough. I could sense her pain and fear. I tried to reach for her. I couldn’t find her. They shuffled me to the right and left. The black suits flanked me.

  “Just stop. Stop,” I pleaded.

  One of the men grasped my elbow, pulling my arm to my back before taking the other one. I heard the clicking sound of metal. Did he have handcuffs?

  “Emily Charles, you are under arrest for conspiring to commit theft against U.S. property. We will present you with a full list of charges at the Bureau.”

  “Charges? Theft?” I squealed. “Greer, what’s happening?” My head spun to my friend.

  She cried. “I-I can’t help you. You helped him.”

  “What?”

  The men urged me to the door. “What is going on?” I tried to dig my heels into the floor, but they were strong.

  One of the men read me the complete Miranda Rights, but I wasn’t paying attention to him. Everything echoed around me. Greer cried in the background, while they led me down three flights of stairs and stuffed me in the back of an expensive Town Car parked by the curb.

  I was in a daze. My heart pounded so loudly, nothing else sounded clear.

  The men mumbled to each other. What bureau were they talking about? From low in the backseat, I didn’t know where we were going. The white buildings raced past until we pulled inside a parking garage.

  I was jerked from the backseat and led through a set of double doors.

  Fluorescent lights flickered overhead as we walked through a hallway lined with tan doors. There was nothing discerning about the inside. I still had no idea where I was. There were no signs. No markings. Not even a lit exit box.

  Finally, we stopped and a door opened.

  “Wait here.”

  I stumbled inside. There was a table and two chairs. Along one wall, a mirror that was at least six feet long. I knew someone was on the other side. I looked up and noticed the small cameras in all four corners of the gray walls. Red lights blinked under the lenses. They were on.

  I twisted my hands, only to be pinched by the cuffs.

  I didn’t know how much time passed before the door opened. I spun on my heels.

  A tall man walked toward me. He extended the key for the handcuffs.

  “Would you like me to take care of those?”

  I nodded.

  He flicked the lever and freed my hands. I massaged the skin where the metal had scraped.

  “Please, Miss Charles. Take a seat.”

  He pointed to the chair that faced the mirror. He took the other one.

  I was reluctant to sit. Reluctant to talk.

  “I’m Agent Kenneth.” He placed two folders on the
table. “I thought we could have a conversation. Would you be ok with that?”

  I stared at the white diamonds woven into his red tie.

  “Miss Charles?”

  I nodded. “I suppose. You realize I am attorney.”

  He smiled. His lips were almost paper thin. It was an unsettling feeling sitting across from him. “Yes. We know exactly what you do.”

  I wrung my hands together in my lap. “Should I ask for counsel before we begin?”

  He flipped open the first folder. “You have that right, as you know, but I hope that we can talk a little first. If you cooperate, we are willing to work a deal on your charges. I can do that for you.”

  “I was told I would receive a list of charges,” I stated. “What are they exactly?” I hadn’t wrapped my head around any part of this experience. I needed to retreat to the part of me that worked seamlessly no matter the circumstances. The place where I could become emotionless. Logical. The law.

  “Conspiracy to commit theft of government information.”

  My eyes locked on Agent Kenneth while he spoke. He had a northern accent. I was spending too much time trying to place it, instead of listening to my alleged crimes. Crimes. I hadn’t committed crimes. I shouldn’t be here. I realized there was still the possibility they had arrested the wrong suspect. I debated whether I should threaten the agent with a false accusation suit.

  “These are federal charges with penalties that include fines up to a million dollars and over twenty years in prison.” He seemed certain he had the person he wanted in custody.

  The roll of nausea lurched in my stomach.

  “Oh God.” I jumped from the table and ran to the corner of the room. There was a small waste basket.

  “Miss Charles?” The agent waited at the table.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I stood, trying to catch my balance. My hands shook.

  “This can’t be happening,” I whispered.

  The door opened and a hand reached in to remove the trash can. It was immediately replaced with a new one. I felt the embarrassment wash through me.

  I sat across from him, encased in humiliation and fear.