by D'Ann Burrow
“I’m trying.” My father was deferring to my aunt. I was missing something. Still, I didn’t have time to try to figure out what was going on.
“Try harder.” Loretta wasn’t looking at my father. She was staring at me.
I nodded, not taking any time to prepare myself. I closed my eyes, plunging back through the gray void that I knew would lead me back to Stacia.
She was still alive, still terrified and still watching him.
While she watched, he slowly turned around. He was holding a knife stained with the same something that spattered the front of his undershirt.
Oh God. This was real. I was about to watch someone die.
And I don’t even know how I did it. Or why.
I pulled out of Stacia’s mind and straight into his—one thought shining clearly.
Stop it.
I pushed into his thoughts, not content just to see him or experience what he was feeling. I needed to control him.
He fought back. No.
I worked harder, trying to take charge. Put the knife down.
Using every ounce of strength I had, I concentrated on my hand…his hand—our hand. I opened it and watched the knife tumble to the floor.
Anger welled within him, but he couldn’t stop me. The only person he could fight against was himself. A howl of sheer madness tore from inside him.
Go outside. Give yourself up.
Get out of my head.
We waged a silent war. I knew I was doing too much. I would pay a heavy price for this. Still, I couldn’t simply walk away. Not when I was this close.
Go. Outside.
I let out a silent scream, willing his feet to move, propelling him toward the doorway and steering him through the hall. With each step, his resistance grew stronger.
But so did I.
Five feet to the door at the end of the corridor.
Three feet.
Inches.
Our hand gripped the doorknob. One twist of the wrist. A few more steps. The sun beat on our face.
“He’s over there.” Without even realizing what I was doing. I pointed in his direction. He pointed in mine. His head turned. I saw his face. He saw mine.
An explosion of noise and a flurry of activity surrounded us.
It was over. Stacia was safe.
I felt Tanner’s hand on the small of my back. And then I felt nothing at all.
34
Rule #113 – You can’t always predict what’s coming
Around 4:45 p.m.
Bourbon Street
* * *
It was like I fell out of a daze. I blinked out the window of the van, not sure if it seemed dark because it had gotten late or if the windows were tinted to an unrealistic degree. The full moon beamed down, almost directly overhead.
How long had I been out? And where was everyone else?
Memories of the last hours flooded over me. My conversation with Tanner in the bleachers of the football field. Driving—hours and hours of driving, while we both ignored his ringing phone and the knowledge that when we got home, we were going to be in trouble. We’d be lucky if we could see each other before Christmas. Heck, we’d be lucky if we could see each other before prom.
My legs were steadier than I thought they’d be. I stepped out of the van, not sure who I’d find outside ready to greet me. Streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows despite the fading sunlight, making this corner feel even more like the crime scene it was. I’d lost almost an entire day.
A string of profanities I’d picked up on the beach ages ago threatened to spill out of my mouth. I turned back toward where I knew the truck was parked, hoping he wouldn’t be there, that he’s been some kind of twisted hallucination I’d thought up in my half-dream.
But no. There he was. Leaning against his truck, he looked kind of shell-shocked at being dropped in the midst of an elite special agent operation. It wasn’t like I was used to it either, but I was the reason he was here.
I was the reason he was here and not at practice. The coaches would bench him for the game. Not just any game.
The game where the coach from USC was coming to watch him. The one that everyone had been talking about in the halls at school for weeks. Even though I was beyond mad at him and had ignored him—pretended not to hear his apologies—I knew how much he cared about the game. Without the game, he was trapped in Piney Bluff. Playing in front of that coach was his ticket out of town. His entire future was riding on Friday night. But he was here. In New Orleans. With me.
In that moment, I knew I loved him.
When he gave his whole world up for me.
“We’ll talk about this later.” My father came out of nowhere and part of me wondered if he was psychic too. He spoke the words like they were a given, no questions asked. Just like always. He told me to do things, and I did them. He said jump, and I asked how high.
That was the old me.
The one from before—before he shipped me off to Loretta, I met Tanner and the last rule was written. Before I broke the first rule.
The old me would have been frightened by the authority in his voice and the steel in his eyes. But I wasn’t that girl anymore. I’d learned one very important thing—not a rule. I wasn’t sure if I believed in The Rules anymore. But I did know one certain truth.
Some rules were made to be broken.
And I’d done it. I’d shattered this one into a million pieces—right in front of my dad’s face. I’d do it again. When I saw Stacia, someone I actually knew, walk out of that house. When I saw the terror in her eyes. When I saw inside his head, and I knew what he was going to do to her…what he was planning to do to her. I knew I’d done the right thing.
Now there was no going back.
“Loretta’s going to take you two home. Get your things together. I’ll be back for you later tonight. I still have to fix some things here.” A chill washed over his voice. He’d been in the room for ten minutes, and he still hadn’t even looked at Tanner.
Anger bubbled inside me, threatening to explode. “At least look at me when you’re ordering me around.”
He rounded on me, all full of British pomp and bluster. “Were you addressing me?”
“Yes, Mr. Thatcher, I was talking to you. What do you mean, get my things together?”
He solidified his stance, facing off with me like he was negotiating with the men back at the building. One hand on his hip while the other ran over his thinning black hair. “We’ll discuss it when we’re alone. Your flight’s in an hour and a half. The two of you’d better get going.”
“My truck’s here.” Tanner spoke for the first time since my father entered the room.
“I’ll have someone drive it. Just leave the keys.”
I didn’t need to see Tanner’s face to realize he felt just like I did—overwhelmed, out of control and mad beyond words at my father’s dismissive tone. I could feel him breathing slowly in and out. Measured breaths. Restrained breaths. Keeping himself and his anger in check. Right now, Tanner was 6’2” of bottled rage and anger.
“Sir,” Sonya approached his side, placing a hand on his upper arm in a way that seemed all too familiar. “You’re needed on the phone.”
He gave a single sharp nod, holding up his index finger. “I’ll be right with them.”
“We need to talk.”
He turned back to face me, his nostrils flared and his cheeks turned a ruddy shade of red. “We’ll talk later. We have a long flight home in the morning.”
“Tomorrow? I’m leaving tomorrow?” I was at his side before I even realized what I was doing.
“I believe that’s what I just said.”
“Aunt Loretta said I was staying for the year.” I couldn’t believe I was arguing about this. Less than a month ago, this was exactly what I’d wanted to hear him say when I called and left all the still-unreturned messages on his voice mail.
Home. I was going back to Carlsbad. Maybe I could even work on the beach on the weekend.
Looking at his face right now, my father was ready to make a few concessions.
But I didn’t want it.
Because I knew why he changed his mind—why he wanted me to come back. Why my mother made me promise never to tell.
“I get it.” I nodded, the sick knowledge flooding into my head. “Why Mom made me promise not to tell you.”
“Your mother knew?” For the first time in my life, his carefully constructed shell threatened to crack. “She knew…what you can do.”
“She could do it too. That’s why she’s not here with us.”
“Your mother knew.” He repeated the words like a record stuck in a groove, unable to move past something on its own.
“Mom made me promise never to tell you because she knew you’d do this.” Once I got started, I couldn’t stop. “You never cared about me. You never loved me. I was just in the way. I was the reason that Mom couldn’t be the super-spy she was when she met you. I was a mistake.”
His eyes told me I’d struck a nerve, but I knew I wasn’t wrong. Behind me, my hand brushed against Tanner’s leg. His muscles tensed, but I could feel his warm strength. I heard his words in my head, and he was right. I was stronger than I thought I was. Right now, I was stronger than the man standing in the room glaring at me.
“You want me to go back to Carlsbad because you can use me.”
A vein pulsed along my father’s temple. Other than that, he didn’t respond. He didn’t say a word. He definitely didn’t contradict me.
Because I was right.
I swallowed down the bile rocketing up my throat, threatening to choke the words. “You want to use me like you used her.”
“Kennedy Margaret.” His voice rose in threatening intensity, and his cheeks weren’t just red anymore. His whole face had joined the party. His eyes bulged, and as if they were somehow psychically linked, Sonya hastily skittered with the other agents out of the room. They’d done this dance before. “I said we’ll discuss this later. Where it’s more appropriate.”
“What if I want to discuss it now?”
“You don’t have that choice.” Something snapped. Something lit up like a spark inside my head. I realized something I should have known ages ago.
He didn’t care about being my father, just like he’d never really been my father. He’d always been a super-spy whose power went to his head and stayed there. Evan Thatcher only cared about one thing, and it wasn’t me. Or my mom.
He just cared about playing the game. And winning. I was just another game piece to push around. Something expendable. His eyes fixed on me without a hint of emotion.
Without another word, he rocked back on one heel, spun around and walked away.
No one at Holy Cross had a super-close relationship with their parents. It came with the territory of being a kid of a workaholic, politician or someone trying to climb the social ladder. Still, none of them really hated their parents, not really.
But in that moment, I did. I hated my father. I hated him for what he did to my mother. Even more, I hated him for what he planned to do to me.
35
Rule #159 – There’s no such thing as back to normal
7:03 p.m.
My bedroom
* * *
“Your daddy’s flight will be here soon.” Aunt Loretta took her now-familiar spot in my doorway. She leaned in, looking strangely concerned. She hadn’t said much since we got home. She’d barely said ten words at the airport and on the hour-long flight back. She only flashed guilty looks at Tanner’s mom as if she’d somehow been the one to make the mistake…that she’d been the one who’d run off before dawn to New Orleans.
Tanner’s mom hadn’t even let me say I was sorry. Or say thank you. She just grabbed hold of her son’s arm with the kind of threatening hold that only a parent could give. The kind of mad relief that comes from when you want to hug someone…but you also really want to hurt them for causing you pain.
Tanner looked back at me as he was letting his mom propel him through the airport. Our eyes met exactly once. When he spoke, it was like he was the only one talking in the airport. “I’d do it again.”
But I couldn’t focus on what he’d said back at the airport.
Every fiber of my being hummed with the fingernails-on-a-chalkboard resonance that made goose bumps cover my skin. The buzz started when I pushed too hard, when I stayed too long in someone else’s head. I’d felt a shiver when I was looking for Addy, but that was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. Like a ringing in my ears after a concert that was too loud, this new sensation clung to me like cheap body spray.
Loretta had dropped her hippy-artist façade. Now I knew why it always seemed like she’d loaded the same pieces of art into her car that she eventually brought back home from an art show. I understood how a part-time artist could afford this house and why she had such great cell phone reception.
She’d never been an artist. It had always been an act.
“You knew.” I didn’t even pretend I was asking a question.
“I suspected.”
“How?”
A flicker of indecision washed over her face. Her cheeks bulged as she clucked her tongue. “Your mother was always better at it than I was.”
She waited for the meaning of the words to sink in.
“You can—”
Loretta nodded before I’d even finished the question. Confusion rippled through me.
“I don’t understand. If you can do it too... If you can find people, why has it taken so long to find that guy? And Addy. She almost died. What if I’d been wrong? What if I decided not to do it?”
“Then Addy would have died.” Her lips puckered like she’d been sucking on a lemon too long. At first, I didn’t think she was going to answer me at all, choosing to stay in the gray, undefined area that I now realized blanketed most of my life. Instead, she surprised me by coming to sit next to me on the bed. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
She sniffed, her nostrils flaring with the effort spent trying to figure out her explanation.
“The gift runs in our family—mainly in the women in our family. There’s a great-uncle back there somewhere who could do it too.” She leaned her forehead close to mine; the tendrils of one of her curls brushed against my skin. Her fingers fidgeted uneasily in her lap. “He worked for Scotland Yard. But not everyone has the gift to the same degree.”
Now I was even more confused.
“Yes, I can do things, like you said. However, I’m not useful until the end.” She swallowed, and I could almost see a lump forming in her throat. She raised her shoulder in a shrug, and I realized it was the first time I’d ever seen a hint of self-doubt on Loretta’s face. “I can tell if someone’s alive or if they’ve passed on. I’m not as strong as your mother.”
Loretta paused, shaking her head from side to side like a parent who was proud of a child but didn’t really want to be. She picked at my bedspread until she pulled a string loose. “If I’m guessing correctly, she’s not even half as gifted as you are. It could take her days to find someone. Sometimes weeks. Nothing like when you saved Addy. Or what I saw today. That’s why I need to ask you something. When you were looking for Stacia, what did you do?”
A cold lump settled in the pit of my stomach as a metallic flavor rushed up the back of my throat. “I found her.”
“But what else happened?”
I squeezed my hands into fists so she couldn’t tell how badly they were trying to shake. “I saw the room and the guy. You were there..”
“Why did he come outside?” She’d lost all hint of hesitancy. I now saw the leader of my father’s team—the person she’d been all along.
“He knew someone was outside.” I lied. I was good at lying. All I had to do was pretend I was a character on the stage. “Who knows why he did it? He’s insane. The guy killed ten girls.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with it?”
“How could I make him
do something?” I stared her right in the eyes, challenging her to push me further.
Surprisingly, it didn’t happen. She let out a breath that lasted a little too long. A cobweb of wrinkles formed at the corners of her eyes as she looked at me with complete skepticism, but she didn’t push any farther. Instead, she stood, reaching into her pocket. “You’re going to need this. If you leave now, you’ll have time to get there before your daddy makes it here.”
While she was close enough to touch me, she only held out a piece of folded paper. It read:
142 Clearview Lane,
Room 301
Shenendoah, Texas
After Loretta handed me the paper, she silently held out her keys. Her only words came after my hand was already on the front doorknob. “Car’s all gassed up. I called Scarlett from the airport. Told her to have it ready by the time we got home.”
For the first time since I’d made it back to the house, I realized I hadn’t seen my cousin anywhere. Her car hadn’t been in front of the house when we pulled in either. I’d been lost in such a thick fog inside my head that I hadn’t noticed. “Where is Scarlett?”
“She’s fine. Spending the night at Nicole’s. I thought we might need to talk without an audience.”
Silence fell in the room, the air heavy with questions not asked and truth not told.
Loretta waited for me to move, but something was keeping me rooted to the spot. Finally, she inclined her head toward the doorway. “You’d better get a move on. If Evan gets here before you leave, you’re not going to be able to get away.”
And so I left.
I pulled out of her driveway and drove and drove and drove, letting the GPS lead the way. Each passing minute felt like ten. The radio hummed away. I didn’t want silence right now. I couldn’t handle it. Silence would let me think about things I didn’t know the answer to, and I didn’t even know who to ask.
Loretta couldn’t do what I could.
But she’d hinted at someone who had the same…gift.