"You''ll get her eventually. She's bound to slip up soon. No need to start a war over one criminal."
I want to argue out of sheer frustration but I refrain from doing so. I've recently inhaled my daily dose of the Purge, even taking few extra huffs for good measure. I shouldn't be experiencing this much inner emotional turmoil right now.
I finish feeding Ramos the rest of my pursuit of Charlotte and he absorbs everything silently. Then, he says, "I assume you're working on a plan to capture her since she got away so easily."
His words hit me hard. My entire body is numb as if all of my bones are funny ones.
"I am," I say, swallowing hard. I'm embarrassed now and a little angry.
I work double time to suppress my emotions but a small part of me doesn't want to. For a second, I wish I can finally unleash all of my pent up feelings and let loose a cannonball of how I really feel. But I can't. I shouldn't even think that way but the Purge can't block all thoughts, just some neurotransmitters and hormones that cause emotional reactions.
If thoughts were a crime, then I would be the very people that I hunt.
"You will capture Charlotte Tatum," Ramos tells me almost like a promise. "You're an efficient White Agent. You'll get the job done."
That's about as much of a compliment as any Purge taker can give. I want to believe him but I don't. I'm not even sure that I want to capture Charlotte anymore.
I'm so confused, split between my duty and my—are they feelings?—for Charlotte. Feelings . . . I'm not supposed to have those but I do. The worse part of it all is that I can't stop them. They just exist.
I feel a change of subject is in order. I remember something suddenly, so I ask Ramos a question. "How is the undercover agent working for the Entity faring? Is she close to discovering the Entity's true identity?"
"How do you know about the agent?" Ramos asks rather quickly. I receive something along the lines of satisfaction because I think I finally achieved what I desired—to ruffle his scales. No, feathers.
"Sophia made the discovery after the arrest of my mother," I didn't realize until much later that I didn't refer to her as Dr. Cato.
"I suppose the information is not classified within the agency, only the agent's identity," Ramos says, almost as if he's expressing his thoughts aloud. He didn't answer my question though. So, I wait until he finally does. "She's nowhere near to finding out who the Entity is than we are to finding a cure to Black Death. She has however given us a few of his top lieutenants but the Entity himself remains an enigma. He knows alot, in fact he knows too much, secrets that only the Chancellor knows."
"Perhaps the Entity is someone close to the Chancellor," I suggest.
"Impossible. No one inside the Chancellor's office would ever do something like that."
The old Liam used to believe that but now I don't. Impossible things happen every day, like a White Agent willing to risk his entire life for one girl.
I don't have anything else left to say to Ramos then. When I end the call with him, I sit on my bed for the longest time, staring at nothing.
I'm losing it. I'm losing my grip on everything. It's all Charlotte's fault. If she never entered my life, I would have been fine. I would continue to be the law-abiding agent that I'm supposed to be, arresting those who commit crimes of emotions without a conscience and without concern. I wouldn't be in this mess.
But her eyes . . . I see them now, staring back at me from the wall as if she's standing there. In fact, she is standing there, or so I believe.
She steps forward and I watch her silently. She takes my hand and I let her. She stares at me with those hazel eyes of hers and sadly, I'm mesmerized by her presence.
She holds my hand between both of hers. Her hands are warm and soft. She lifts my arm and presses my hand against her cheek affectionately. Her cheek is also warm.
"Help me," she whispers. "Help me, please."
"I'm trying," I reply earnestly. "But it's so hard, especially since you killed Emerson."
"I didn't kill Emerson," she tells me. "You know that."
I nod. "I know, but I'll have a hard time proving it. And you also committed other crimes that won't be overlooked. Even if you got off for Emerson's murder, you're still facing jail time."
"I don't care about going to jail as long as it's not for murder. You'll find a way to prove my innocence. I know you will."
"He will," another voice chimes in without warning. I turn my gaze back to the wall and another pair of eyes appears. They're hazel like Charlotte's but more brown and less enchanting. The newcomer also has black hair like Charlotte's, but it's splashed with a red streak and she's wearing a white uniform minus the purple lapel pins—the uniform of the White Agent trainee.
I watch as Scarlett Tatum emerges from the wall to stand next to her sister. "He will help you because he failed to help me," she addresses Charlotte, all the while staring at me.
"This is different," I defend myself. "I couldn't help you, Scarlett."
"You could have," Scarlett disagrees angrily. "You could have prevented everything if you never opened your mouth about my feelings for you. I know it was you who told. You noticed it somehow. I thought I was careful around you but I was wrong."
"I was doing my job," I counter weakly. "You would have done the same if you were me."
"I was in love with you!" Scarlett shrieks, her features distorted menacingly. "I wouldn't have ever told on you. I never expected you to reciprocate my feelings but you didn't have to rat me out to our superiors."
"Scarlett," Charlotte says soothingly to pacify her twin.
Scarlett turns towards Charlotte and then she notices that her sister is holding one of my hands. Livid, Scarlett takes a step back and erupts, "You couldn't love me but you love her!"
"Wh-what d-d-do you mean?" I stumble over my words. "I don't—"But I can't come to finish what I was going to say.
"How dare you?!" Scarlett bellows. "My own sister!"
Charlotte releases my hand suddenly and stares at the front door. Scarlett does nothing but glare at me, breathing hard.
I try to think of a way to calm Scarlett down but Charlotte's sudden lack of attention startles me. Curiously, I glance over at the door. "What's wrong?" I ask Charlotte.
"Someone's here to see you."
"What?" I turn back to face her but she has vanished. So has Scarlett. That's when I hear the knock on the door and—
I stir from my slumber having dozed off after speaking with Ramos. It was all a dream. Charlotte and Scarlett hadn't materialized out of the wall. I had imagined them.
Another knock at the door. The first knock wasn't a part of the dream; it was real. I rise from my bed, confused as to how I got there, and head to answer the door. Who's coming to see me today? I wasn't expecting any visitors.
I don't even bother shrugging into a shirt. I assume that it's the hotel's maid, here to perform her weekly cleaning. But when I pull open the door, I find Olivia Cruz of all people standing out in the hallway.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Charlotte
Currently Listening To: "Streets of Love" by The Rolling Stones
No.
Way.
No effing way.
It can't be.
Breathe, Charlotte. And pick your jaw up off the floor.
To say that I'm thunderstruck right now is an understatement. It can't be. It's him yet again! At least I now know his name at long last.
Liam Cato. His name is Liam Cato. He's Dr. Cato's son and the White Agent who pursued me just yesterday. Standing here face-to-face with him, I want nothing more than to run and hide. Unfortunately, I can't because that would completely blow my cover and cost me the only lead I have to finding out all of the information saved onto Dr. Cato's flash drive.
There's no way in Tartarus that he knows it's me this time, not like yesterday. I'm thankful for the green contacts I'm wearing to conceal my hazel eyes that he seems to have taken an interest in, as well as the wonde
rful makeup job that Lilly did. My eyes are slanted just like the real Olivia's and they look out into the world behind purple glasses. Not wanting to risk losing a wig like I almost did inside BioLife, Lilly dyed my hair dark brown to match Olivia's exact hair color. For once, I'm thankful for my bushy hair or I wouldn't have been able to pull off Olivia's curls. The reporter and I are even nearly the same height—she has me by an inch and a half. Therefore, I have stuffed insoles into my flats for a little extra vertical stance.
Nervously, I retain my composure. I stand there in the shadows of the hallway landing, waiting for Liam to say something. I would say that he's taken aback to see me—or Olivia—but he hides it well behind an apathetic mask.
"Miss Cruz?" He says as politely as he could I suppose. "May I ask why you're here?"
After my initial freaking out at the sight of Liam, it's right about now that I notice he's shirtless.
And I've never seen a boy without his shirt on before in real life.
Oh. My. Goodness.
I try not to gawk at him but I can't help it. I feel color rising in my cheeks and I hope I'm not blushing. To see him like this is almost as unexpected as showing up on his doorstep in the first place. His chest and abdomen are . . . chiseled . . . to say the least, like those men on the covers of those awful romance books I tried to read but couldn't get pass the cheesy dialogue and extensive descriptions of certain explicit acts. It's like someone sculpted Liam and his muscles were the materials.
He's definitely something pleasant to gape at, more so than just his fascinating face and his own alluring eyes. For some odd reason, I suddenly want to run my fingers across the ripples that make up his abs. Weird.
I try to forget that he's half-naked when I respond to his question. I spent nearly an hour perfecting Olivia's voice. Like Ava Suarez, Olivia Cruz is not a Paradise native. She's from Spain so she retains her Castilian Spanish accent. Her pitch was easy to accomplish but I struggled earlier with interchanging s and z sounds and leaving off certain consonants that end words.
"Agent Cato, as you've probably seen in several Channel 13 news broadcasts, I am assigned to following Charlotte Tatum's story closely," I speak, doing a pretty good job of mimicking Olivia Cruz if I say so myself. I'm not a hundred percent confident but I don't think he can tell I'm a fraud. Mimicry happens to be a forte of mine, like a butterfly. "I have recently uncovered some information that can assist you in your investigation of Noah Emerson's death. May I come inside?"
Liam steps aside and I stroll into his penthouse apartment, clutching an envelope in my hands. It's a lot smaller than my house but also a lot more expensive. I note the exercise bike by the front door, as well as the glass case displaying several Dischargers. The portrait of the Chancellor on the wall creeps me out. Just saying.
"Have a seat," Liam urges me into a couch opposite an enormous digital screen. He doesn't say anything more as he saunters into his bedroom and pulls on a t-shirt. Darn. I was enjoying the spectacle he was putting on for me. Oh well.
Liam joins me on the sofa and puts as much distance between the two of us as he can. Other than walking by him on several occasions on the monorail, this is the closest I have been to him. Even when he returned my pen to me at the orphanage, we weren't this close. He had stood at arm's length then. Now, he's only inches away from me. If he sat any closer, our bodies would actually touch.
Liam is direct and straight to the point when he speaks. Liam, Liam, Liam. I love thinking his name. I like it. It suits him well.
"What information have you uncovered, Miss Cruz?"
"Olivia," I correct him.
"I've always called you Miss Cruz during interviews," Liam informs me before I can say another word.
Oops. Apparently, Olivia and Liam are acquaintances. Makes sense as he's a White Agent and she's one of the top reporters on the island. I should have spent a little more time doing my homework before I came calling here; however, time was of the essence earlier. Or maybe I was just too impatient to return to BioLife. Whatever the case may be, I must tread softly now and be a little more careful with what I say from here on out.
"This is not an interview," I point out to him. "We can be informal here." I almost said, "Feel free to be informal here." "Feel" would have been a poor word choice.
"All right then, Olivia," he corrects himself. I long to hear him say "Charlotte" again.
"Liam," I say, making sure not to put any emphasis on his name or speak in a dulcet tone of voice. "I've managed to intercept a message from the Entity and—"
"How so?" Liam wants to know. "How would a reporter, even one as thorough as yourself, would be able to intercept a message from the Entity?"
I'm well prepared for such an inquiry.
"Since all media outlets answer directly to officials within the Core, the Chancellor has provided us with a few spies that have penetrated the Entity's network. These spies filter information to my boss who has us report only on the content selectively filtered by Parliament. There's a lot out there that I know about but I can't tell it to the people. So, I'm assuming that one of the spies got it to me or perhaps Charlotte Tatum herself. I don't know."
Lies. But they were the best I could come up with to sell him on such short notice. Hopefully, he'll believe me and buy them all.
He observes me for a moment before speaking. I'm so nervous now that he can see through my disguise. I start to sweat profusely. I hate sitting so near to him but enjoy it at the same time. It's torture.
"What type of message did you intercept?" He finally asks me.
"Well, more or less received than intercepted," I correct myself. It's difficult to think rapidly on my feet, as I'm unable to predict what type of questions Liam will ask me. I made a minor blunder earlier with choosing the word "intercepted". "It's a message that was intended for Representative Noah Emerson."
Oh how I wish Liam wasn't addicted to the Purge just so I could see his reaction. I bet he didn't expect me to say something like that.
"The Entity employed a Messenger, people who deliver important information to SAFE members. The Messenger was Charlotte Tatum and she was supposed to deliver this package to Emerson." I gesture then at the envelope clutched in my grasp. "Obviously, it never made it to him. Instead, it ended up on my doorstep last night."
It amazes me how easily I can lie, but I guess it comes second nature since I live a lie every day.
"Who sent it to you?"
"I don't know. Like I said earlier, it could have been a spy or Charlotte Tatum, I believe. There was a note attached to the package and it said this—"
I slide my hand into the jacket I'm wearing and pull out a folded piece of paper. I hand it to Liam and watch him unfold and read it. I know what it says, having written it myself of course:
The Entity gave this to me and wanted me to deliver it to Representative Noah Emerson, who turned up dead when I went to visit him at BioLife. Inside of the envelope contains a flash drive with information on it for Liam Cato, a White Agent. I'm unable to deliver the drive to Agent Cato because I will be arrested on sight. I need your help. As a reporter, you can go places that I can't go. I need for you to take this to Agent Cato and convince him to watch the video on the file. This disk may be the key to finding Emerson's killer, as well as proving my own innocence.
-CT
Liam returns the note back to me after reading it. "Charlotte definitely delivered this to you," he says. There it is again—he said my name. "She signed it with her initials CT."
"Perhaps," I speak quietly. "Or maybe someone else knows what's going on and wants the truth out there. But it's not for me to speculate. I'm a reporter, not an investigator. I present the facts, not theories."
"That's what White Agents do as well," Liam tells me placidly.
"Then why are you accusing an innocent girl of murder?" I question him, working hard to keep my voice steady and Purge-influenced smooth. I couldn't help it. A rush of anger flared up inside of me all of a sudden. If wh
at Liam said is true, and the White Agency presents the facts, then I want to know why they're accusing me of a crime I didn't commit.
"I can't answer that question," Liam replies simply.
I fall silent as much as I want to retaliate and maybe lash out at him. I think back to that brief moment I spent with him on that bridge before I took a plunge into the Utopia River for the second time in as many weeks. "I know you're innocent," Liam told me. He also said he wasn't my enemy and he promised in his apathetic way that he would find Emerson's true killer. He wanted me to trust him. He alone might be the only in law enforcement that thinks I'm innocent. I can't be upset with him when he might be my only ally with a badge.
"How about I show you what's on this drive now?" I suggest, removing the Hippocampus from the envelope in my hands. "Do you mind?" I indicate his laptop that's connected to the screen.
"Not at all."
It takes me a few minutes to turn on the computer and hook the drive up to it. Then, I play him the message from Dr. Cato. I watch him for any reaction to seeing his mother but he just sits there, staring blankly. I can't imagine ever going back to not caring for my father, Abigail, or even Scarlett. My family means more to me than life itself. I never want the Purge to distort my mind ever again, to take away all of the care—all of the love—that I have for my family.
When the message ends, Liam faces me at once. "Who else knows about this?" He wants to know.
"No one," I respond with yet another lie. "I was planning to show it to my boss but I felt compelled to bring it to you first. In order for me to report to entire story, you can use your credentials to get us inside of BioLife and find out what else Dr. Cato knows."
Silence. He's good at internal brooding because that's what I know he's doing. He's also thinking long and hard about his decision before he makes it, trying to decide if it's worth his time, and possibly his career, to assist me. He has to be the least bit curious, has to be. Please, I beg silently. Help me . . . .
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