23
“I don’t . . .” I switch the phone to my other ear, switch it back. “How did you . . . ?”
“Know?”
I can barely hear Lily now. She’s whispering softer than I am, probably close to tears, and I should try for comforting, but I’m barely holding down a scream.
“Tell me everything.” I grit my teeth as she pauses. I grit until my jaw hurts. “Lily!”
“Dad used to talk about it in front of me—he and Joe would talk about it. Dad was part of some partnership and it was doing really well and Joe was helping him, working for him or whatever.”
I shake my head. “I never heard anything about that. They never said anything to me.”
Lily sniffles, but her voice goes flat and even. “Of course not. They were worried about you. They were afraid of you. Not me. I’m the stupid one, remember? It was safe to say anything in front of me.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“But I wasn’t useful either.”
I hesitate. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“What was I supposed to say?” Lily sniffles. “Our dad might have access to eleven million dollars and we can’t keep the power on?”
My stomach free-falls. “Eleven million? That’s what you took?”
“Yes.” My sister stops, waiting for my next question, and honestly, I don’t have one. I don’t have anything. I can’t stop staring at the bathroom door.
“Dad didn’t discuss the money until after she died,” Lily continues. “I mean, if I had known, I would’ve told . . . her.”
Her. Our other mother. The one who jumped. The one who was murdered. If it were another time and another place, I’d ask Lily why she can’t say Mom. Right now though? I think I might get it. Sometimes you can’t name your pain, but it lives with you anyway.
“Trust me,” Lily continues. “If I had known then, I would’ve happily raided whatever stash he had to buy groceries or keep the lights on.”
“I believe you. I just . . .” I scrub one hand over my numb face. “Why now?”
“We needed the money. Mom needed the money. And it was there. I didn’t think anyone even knew about it. I mean, Dad was in jail and Joe was dead and then you were gone . . .”
“I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t have said something before. All that time, all that work I did trying to raise money in case we had to run—”
“I didn’t believe it would work!” Lily huffs into the phone as a bell rings. Homeroom must be close to starting. “After Detective Carson arrested Dad, everything was supposed to be gone. Detective Carson said everything was gone, and what did it matter? We had a new life. We had money. We had Mom. We didn’t need any of our dad’s stuff. I didn’t even really believe him.”
Because she didn’t need to. I force myself to take a deep breath. “How bad is Bren—Mom?”
“I don’t know. She cries a lot. Not when I’m around, but I can tell. I notice.”
I wrap one arm around my middle and still feel like I’m crumbling in half. “So you took care of it.”
“Yeah.”
“How? Tell me how you got the money.”
“I accessed the account he talked about and then just . . . transferred the balance.”
Nausea sweeps through me. “Lil, where’d you transfer the money to?”
“Your account. The offshore one.”
The one I told my sister about in case something ever happened to me. The one I created to safeguard the money I earned from my hacking. The one I guarded in case we ever needed to run.
My head goes helium light and fuzzy. This is why Michael’s chasing me. My sister accidentally made it look like I stole from him.
“Lil, you have to transfer the money back. All of it.”
“I can’t.” My sister sniffles again, louder this time. “I mean, I can transfer almost all of it, but I already paid some of our bills. The mortgage statement was on the table so I used Mom’s log-in and paid everything through the end of the year.”
“How are you going to explain that? She’s going to notice someone paid the mortgage.”
“I don’t know! What was I supposed to do, Wick? You’re not here and she won’t talk to me and everything is ruined! I don’t know what to do and I don’t know how to help!”
“It isn’t your job to help. Bren has to take care of this.”
“And she can’t so I did.”
“Lily—”
“You took care of me.”
I pause. “It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not.” Lily’s voice ratchets into something smaller again, more like my little sister and less like the girl from seconds before. “But it feels kinda like it. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore, Wick. When we were with dad, I knew what my role was.”
I wet my lips, swallow. “What’s that?”
“Leverage. He kept me around to keep you in line.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. I don’t know which was worse: getting hit to keep you going or watching you watch me get hit to keep you going.”
I open my mouth and can’t say a word. All this time, all this worry, everything I’ve done to protect her and it didn’t matter. I couldn’t erase what she saw. I can’t erase what we went through.
“Wick, you did what you had to do so we could survive and that’s what I’m doing too.”
My eyes sting with tears and I dash my hand against them. She learned that from me. It’s another relic from our past. How many times have I thought that? How many times have I behaved that way? I wanted to spare her, and instead, I taught her how to be just like me. “I’m sorry, Lily. I’m so sorry.”
She hiccups and I wince. Crying. My sister’s crying now and I’m miles away. I can’t save her. I never could.
“Wick, I looked at other stuff too—just like you used to. I searched Looking Glass’s name and I get why our therapist is down as a company owner, but I don’t understand why Alan Bay is.”
I go still. “What?”
“When I searched the company information, the state site said Allison Norcut and Alan Bay are owners and Alan Bay is Judge Bay, right? The one that handled our cases?”
I swallow. “Right.”
Another bell on Lily’s end and she groans. “Crap. I have to go. That’s the late bell. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“No . . . of course not.”
“I won’t tell Bren you called. It’ll be our secret. I love you. All this stuff muddies everything, but they can’t take that.”
I sink onto the toilet seat again. “No.”
Lily disconnects, and for several long seconds, I just hang my head in my hands. Michael worked with Looking Glass, with Norcut. All those scams, all those jobs we did . . . was I always working for her? And what about Judge Bay? Why was he involved in Looking Glass? I can’t figure out the angle. Bay dealt with politics and criminals. I don’t understand how he could’ve been useful.
Norcut made such a pretty speech about taking down Michael. Was it just because he stole from her? Or is it because she’s eliminating everyone attached to the company? Because Bay was an owner and now he’s gone, and Michael was an employee and now she wants him gone.
I open the stall door and turn off both faucets, brace my sweaty palms on the counter. My sister stole from Looking Glass. How long until they discover the money went to my account?
What if they already know?
Lily and I talked for too long. I’m sure my absence has been noted. Maybe someone even heard the running water. I need excuses, good ones. I need to fix this and I have no idea how, but I do know where I stand with Bren and Lily. Looking Glass wants to be my only light in the world and it’s not.
I tuck the phone into the waistband of my jeans, flip my T-shirt over it, and examine myself in the mirror. Not bad. You can’t see it and—unless someone goes in for a hug—it’s not like anyone will feel it.
Milo might.
I grimace, shake myself. Alex owes me an “I told you so” for the cameras. She’ll think it changes things.
Has it?
Hidden cameras or not, Hart and Norcut are still protecting my family, right? I mean, I saw the van.
Or did I just see what they wanted me to see?
The best lies are the ones you want to believe. Is that what happened with Milo too? He just had to whisper the things I always wanted and I fell for it? Maybe he was just doing what his mommy told him to do.
The idea hits me low, almost taking me to my knees as something very close to tears crowds my eyes.
Stop it. Get moving. Get to work and pretend nothing happened.
I can hide in the open. I’ve been doing it for years. I can do it a little longer. And somehow, the reminder really helps. I can do this. I can.
Or, I think I can until I open the bathroom door.
Hart’s waiting for me, and this time, there is no smile. “Hello, Wick. Been making some phone calls?”
24
I stagger back a step. Stupid, really. Even if I ran, there’s nowhere to go.
I press one hand to my chest, feel my heart slam against my palm. “Jeez, Hart, you always lurk outside the girls’ bathroom?”
“Don’t play dumb. You heard me.” He pushes off the wall, one hand extended. “Give it to me.”
I swallow. I can’t think of how to play this. I can’t think of anything past the humming in my head. My brain feels filled with ginger ale.
“Now.”
I slide the phone from under my shirt and pass it to him. Hart punches two buttons and then looks at me. “That’s your sister’s number, isn’t it?”
I don’t bother answering. If he wants to know, he can look it up. The silence is starting to help me now. I’m breathing through my panic. Hart knows I have a cell and he knows I’ve been making calls. That’s it.
I won’t give him anything more. I’m done giving.
His eyes flick up and down me. “You know what this means, right?”
“No TV for a month?”
Hart makes a disgusted noise low in his throat and grabs my arm, hauls me down the hallway. We’re almost to the elevator when the doors open.
Milo steps off. He stops, stares.
“Not now,” Hart says and Milo retreats into the elevator without a word. Without ever meeting my eyes. The force of it—of what it means—makes me stumble. Is this how it’s going to end?
Hart keeps going, dragging me with him. I’m glad for it actually. My legs are numb through. He’s heading for Norcut’s office and it’s almost a relief. Let’s do this. Why not?
This time, Hart doesn’t bother knocking.
“Found her.” Hart pushes me forward and shuts the door. The cell arches above my head as he tosses it to Norcut. She catches it with one hand and there’s a long, long moment of silence as she examines the cell, scrolls through all the functions.
Norcut’s eyes lift to mine. “Sit.”
I do and we consider each other for several seconds. “So where does this leave us now?” she asks at last.
I lift one shoulder. “You lied to me. To them. You said they didn’t want to talk to me and they did. Why would you do that?”
“Because you needed some space.”
“No, you could have just said that and you didn’t. You said they didn’t want to talk to me. You told Bren I didn’t want to talk to them. You made me think I had no one. Why would you do that?”
“Because if I made you afraid, I could control you.”
The honesty is sharp as a slap. She’s right, and even though she’s grinning like this is some brilliant move, it’s not. Norcut isn’t the first person to do that. There was my dad and then there was Carson. There were other fears wedged between them too. Fear of losing my sister. Fear of losing Griff. Fear of being discovered.
I’m nothing more than a coward. I spent my entire life in knee-jerk reactions, devising plans to get away when, in reality, there was no escape. Because everywhere I go, I am still what I am. The coward. The accomplice. The right hand for more powerful people.
People like you were meant to be used, Joe once said, and the idea enraged me. I thought about it after he died.
Correction: after I had him killed.
I thought about it a lot. But until now, I never thought he was right.
“Is it really that terrible?” Norcut leans forward. “We can give you money, power, all the technology you could ever want. We can give you protection. Family. You don’t want to be alone anymore. You want a family and we can be that family. We want more for you.”
“That’s a lot of promises coming from someone who uses her son as bait. What promises did you make him?”
Norcut goes still. We both do. I wasn’t planning on saying that. I’ve given up my hand because I got mad. That was a mistake.
Then again, now I’m the one who’s leaning forward. “Why would you do that anyway? Isn’t he useful to you anymore?”
No reaction. Norcut doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t blink. There’s no shudder and damn sure there’s no regret in those pale eyes. Not really surprising, I guess. She is a shrink. They probably teach them how to stay professionally blank. How very useful.
I wonder if she taught her son, Milo, the same?
I smother the thought and force myself to keep staring down Norcut. “What happens to me when I’m not useful anymore?”
“What do you think?” Norcut studies me, then glances at Hart. Judging from the way her eyes waver, he’s doing something and she’s watching it, but I can’t tell without turning around. My skin crawls.
“How did you get the phone?” Norcut asks at last.
“Found it.”
“Did she help you?”
She. Alex. I shake my head and Norcut goes blank again, kicking into therapist mode. “It bores me when you play games.”
“Then let’s stop playing.” I place both hands on the armrests and sit straight—straighter. “Forget finding Michael, what if I could get back the money he stole from you right now?”
From the corner of my eye, I watch Hart draw closer. The air is straitjacket tight, a breath held before the plunge.
“I’m listening,” Norcut whispers.
“Let me use your computer. He moved the money to another account—one I can get into. I’ll transfer the money wherever you want it to go, and in return, I get to leave.”
“Why do you think we’d let you go?”
“How do you know I haven’t planned for that?”
And there it is. There’s the flicker. For all her power over her merry band of hackers, Norcut still doesn’t understand what we do. She’s afraid of it. Of us.
Of the damage we could do.
“You don’t let me go,” I continue, lifting my palms to indicate the office, “you won’t keep your money—or any of this—for long. I know exactly how I’ll burn you.” The biggest lie I have ever told and it sounds so logical, so believable, and she’s buying it.
But she won’t for long. If I’m going to bluff, I need to be fast.
I want out of here. I want to be the farthest thing from Norcut’s mind and the farthest I can get from Looking Glass.
I watch her carefully. “Besides,” I add. “Why would you want me anymore? You could get someone new, someone who’s more . . . your type.”
She doesn’t answer, and in the silence, I realize why: “I never was your type, was I? I was just bait for Michael.”
Norcut shrugs. “Who were you talking to?”
Lily. Lily. Lily. I shrug. “Michael, who else?” Norcut’s gaze slides to the cell, lingers on my sister’s number. “Surely you know he’d spoof his real number,” I say.
“Then why’s Michael looking for you?”
“Maybe he loves me? I am his daughter.”
“He didn’t come for you when I sent you to Bender’s house.”
I take an unsteady breath. “Maybe that wasn’t part of the plan.”
Norcut pauses, considering me for a beat, before rolling her chair to the side and rising. She smoothes down her dark gray pencil skirt. “You have ten minutes.”
“I only need five.”
We trade places and I try not to flinch as we pass each other. Hart and Norcut both stay within easy reach and it doesn’t escape me how Hart’s hand goes to his pocket and lingers. Too small for a gun, so that leaves a Taser? Something else?
I grit my teeth against the shiver and open Norcut’s internet browser, go straight to my online bank, and select the log-in. The account number was unwieldy to remember so I had switched to a username years ago.
It opens a home screen. There are options for transfers and payments, a quick overview of the account contents.
And the overview . . . that can’t be right.
My mouth goes dry. I click another link, drilling down to the details page. Unsurprisingly, it matches the overview. The account is empty.
All the money’s gone.
25
I refresh the screen.
Same result: no money. All the funds were swept from the account in a single transfer. Even everything I’d earned on my own is gone. I stare at the page. Now would probably be a good time for some tears. Too bad all I want to do is vomit.
“Well, well.” Norcut’s voice is slippery and smooth.
And satisfied.
“Isn’t this interesting,” she says.
“I can get it.” The words shoot from me so fast, I’m barely aware I’m saying them until they register with Norcut. She raises one brow.
“I can get it,” I repeat.
“How? You clearly thought you had it and you don’t.”
“Yes, but I did have it.” I tilt the screen toward her and point to the transfer. “I can track down whoever did this. There are only so many people who know about the account.”
“And they are?”
I press my lips together, but the names are a heartbeat in my brain: Lily. Lily. Lily.
Griff. Griff. Griff.
He knew about my offshore account. He knew why I had it, how I funded it. When my computer was confiscated by Carson, Griff actually loaned me his laptop for a while. I used it to access my banking. If there was a keystroke tracker on it, he’d have my usernames, my passwords, my . . . everything.
Trust Me Page 13