by Jan Gangsei
“Am I okay?” Addie said. “God, I wish people would stop asking me that! I’m not okay. I just got home and they’re already parading me around like a trophy. Like they had anything to do with me being found. I wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t escaped myself. Was anyone even looking for me anymore? I mean, my mom was back at work right after I disappeared.”
“Whoa, Addie. Slow down,” Darrow said. “That’s not true.…”
“It’s entirely true,” Addie said. “But I guess billions of dollars can take your mind off your missing kid, right? Like nothing ever happened. Actually, more like the best thing that ever happened. You can’t tell me my disappearance didn’t help Mark Webster become one of the youngest presidents in United States history.”
“No…” Darrow began.
Addie scowled.
“Okay,” he said. “Even if it did, I know your father was heartbroken when you vanished. Everyone was heartbroken. Believe me, I was there.”
“Right,” Addie said, her voice growing louder. Her hands were clenched in fists at her sides. “The only person Mark Webster cares about is himself. And the only security he cares about is his own. Think about it. If he cared so much about safety, why wasn’t he protecting me that day? How was someone able to snatch me away from right under his nose? In a building full of security guards and cameras?”
In that instant, Darrow saw himself running through the halls of the governor’s mansion, heart racing, searching in vain all the places Addie should have been. He could see the slant of light that illuminated her empty beanbag chair in the tree house. He could hear the creak of the empty swings. He remembered all too well the checkers strewn across the floor.
“I don’t know how it happened,” he said. “But I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”
“What?” Addie said. “You were nine years old. What were you supposed to do?”
Darrow bit his trembling bottom lip. Everything he’d kept bottled up for the last eight years came bubbling to the surface. All the feelings he had tried to push away, first by making the wrong decisions, then by becoming a classic overachiever—everything he’d done to forget and move on.
“Save you,” he whispered.
“Dare,” Addie said, her voice softening. “You couldn’t save me then.” She looked away and spoke quietly, but Darrow could still hear her when she said, “You can’t save me now.”
“What do you mean?” he said. “What do you need saving from?”
Addie didn’t say anything.
“Ad, you can tell me. Please, let me help you.”
“Nothing,” she said. “I meant rhetorically. See? SAT word. I can fit right in.” She sounded slightly hysterical.
“Addie, listen.” He took a deep breath. “When I was fourteen, I got picked up drinking with a bunch of guys from Southeast. There was a fight with the cops. My mother, she—she made it go away. Everyone else went to juvie.” Lance, Daniel, and Nick. Their faces, scared and defiant as the police handcuffed them, loomed in his memory. They were probably still living the aftermath of that night. While he ate caviar in a Versace tux. He wondered if they ever thought of him: the rich kid who’d used them to stage his pathetic little rebellion.
“Why are you telling me this?” Addie said softly.
“Because I know what it’s like to hide something from the world that you carry with you every day. And what it’s like when there’s someone holding it over your head to try to control you.” He watched Addie’s face for a flicker of recognition, but it stayed still as stone.
It was now or never. Darrow sucked in a breath and dug in his tuxedo pocket, wrapping his fingers around a small velvet box. He pulled it out, stretching his hand to Addie.
“What’s that?” she said.
“Open it,” he said.
Addie took the box, eyebrows arched, and creaked it open. Her mouth dropped.
“My locket?” she said, blinking in surprise. “How? Where did you get this?”
“I found it the day you…” Darrow cut himself short.
“And you kept it all these years?”
“Of course I did. I know it might not exactly be your style anymore, but I thought you might want it back,” Darrow said, heart beating wildly against his chest.
“Dare. Thank you. Help me put it on?” Addie held the silver chain out and turned her back toward him, lifting the hair off her neck. Darrow fumbled the clasp open and hooked the necklace in place. Addie turned around.
“What do you think?” she said.
“Very becoming,” he replied. “Takes almost a decade off you.”
Addie tried to smile, but quickly looked away. Darrow’s breath caught in his chest as he saw a tear roll down her cheek. How could she be so open and vulnerable one moment, and like a stranger the next? But the real Addie was in there—he’d seen her. And she was scared. Of what, he had no idea. All he knew was that he wanted to punch everyone that had ever hurt her, to build a wall around her and stand guard day and night. With a trembling hand, he reached over and touched her face, wiping away the tear. Her breath hitched as he stroked her feather-soft skin. He leaned into her, his heart pounding, and her green eyes fluttered shut.
Just as Darrow’s lips grazed Addie’s, a voice floated across the room.
“Well, there’s the guest of honor.”
The swell of shock was like an electric jolt. Darrow jerked up straight, gazing at the tall, light-haired man approaching. Darrow recognized him as Karl something-or-other, a Swedish national who ran a cybersecurity firm that occasionally did business with the White House. In fact, Darrow remembered the guy coming around the governor’s mansion, too. He was sort of hard to forget, with that smooth Scandinavian accent that made him sound like he should be narrating commercials for luxury cars. But from what Darrow could recall, the guy was a former classmate of Liz Webster’s during graduate school at MIT. Computer geek, like Liz.
Karl extended a hand to Darrow. “Karl Erlander,” he said. “Global Security Solutions. Nice to see you again, young man. I was just chatting with your mother. I don’t think a woman could ever be more proud of her son. White House intern. Early acceptance to Georgetown, she tells me. Impressive.”
“Thank you, sir,” Darrow said. His cheeks burned hot. He wasn’t sure if it was from the man’s compliment, the fact that he had just tried to kiss Addie, or both.
“And you, dear Adele.” Karl kissed both of her cheeks. “I’m sure you don’t remember me. It’s been many years. But oh, how I enjoyed watching you and your mother play when you were just a little thing. I know she is simply overjoyed to have you home. As we all are.”
Darrow’s back stiffened. He waited for Addie to hurl another round of insults at her latest faux admirer. But the look on her face had changed, like a mask had slipped over it. The warm smile and nod she returned to the man were sweet and unassuming. Darrow’s skin prickled.
“Thank you,” she said shyly. “It means so much to me that you and everyone else came tonight. I don’t even know what to say, except I’m grateful.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Karl said. “And I am honored to be your parents’ guest this evening. Shall we return to the party?” He extended an elbow to Addie. She looped her arm through it.
“Sounds great,” she said.
Darrow followed them back through the Cross Hall and to the reception in the East Room, trying to get a bead on Addie’s sudden change in demeanor. She walked with her head held high, gliding through the crowd effortlessly, smiling and nodding at men in tuxedos and women in cocktail dresses as she passed. It was the exact opposite of the girl with the rigid shoulders and pained expression in the receiving line, the girl who had just exploded like a grenade in front of him moments earlier.
Darrow tried to tell himself that she had just been tired, but the voice in his head wouldn’t shut up. Something about Addie wasn’t right.
The party guests now sat in gold chairs at round tables draped with blue-and-white tablecloths w
hile the quartet played. Karl, Addie, and Darrow passed the dance floor, where a small group was moving to the music. Karl stopped and twirled Addie. Her dress spun in a perfect, shimmering arc, and she laughed.
A chill went up Darrow’s spine.
They reached the president’s table, where Addie’s family was seated with his mother. As Karl, Addie, and Darrow approached, the group stood, trading handshakes and hugs. But Darrow noticed the president was somewhat stiffer than usual as he sat back down.
“Please, have a seat,” President Webster said in his official voice, the one he used for speeches and greeting foreign prime ministers. “So glad you could make it tonight, Karl. It has been a while.”
“Thank you,” Karl answered. “I’m delighted to join you. And thank you for having me as your guest this evening. I am so thrilled to see Addie home. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.” He smiled warmly.
As the small talk continued, Darrow watched as Addie kept up the act, smiling and nodding like a wind-up doll. He felt like poking her. Maybe kicking her beneath the table. Instead, he kept his hands in his lap and cracked his knuckles.
“So, little one,” Karl said, turning his attention to Addie’s younger sister. “Would you like to hear a riddle?”
“Yes, Mr. Karl!” Mackenzie sat up straight.
“That’s my girl,” he said. “Now, listen carefully. Two fathers and two sons each had an egg for breakfast. They ate a total of three eggs. How is that possible?”
Mackenzie grinned. “Because one of the fathers is the grandfather, too.”
“You didn’t even have to think about that,” Karl said. “A genius, just like your sister.”
“How do you know my sister’s a genius?”
Karl chuckled. “Because, dear.” He patted Mackenzie’s head. “I knew your sister even before you were born. And I knew your mother even before that. The genius gene runs long in the Chan—or should I say, Webster—family.”
“Oh,” Mackenzie said, looking back and forth between Addie and Karl. “I guess that makes sense.”
Karl raised his glass. “To Adele,” he said.
“To Adele.” A round of glasses met in the center of the table and clinked. Servers came by with silver trays of foie gras on toast, shrimp skewers, and exotic cheeses.
“And where is your son this evening?” Darrow’s mother asked Karl.
“With his mother in New York,” he answered. The mood at the table grew strangely somber. Addie, who had been smiling that weird plastic smile, cast her eyes down as her face dropped. The cracks in the facade began to appear again. What the hell was going on?
Darrow nudged Addie. “Want to dance for real this time?” he murmured.
Addie blinked, looking momentarily startled. As though she’d almost forgotten that he was there. That anyone was even there. Like she was a robot that had been briefly unplugged.
“Sure.” She stood and took Darrow’s hand. He led her to the dance floor, keeping her right hand in his left and wrapping his other hand around her waist. They spun, cheek to cheek. Addie glided effortlessly to the music.
“How did you learn to dance?” Darrow said.
Addie pulled her head back so they were looking straight at each other. “With you, silly,” she said. “Don’t you remember?”
“Oh yeah,” Darrow said as it came back to him. The two of them in Addie’s playroom while some boy-band song streamed from her MP3 speakers, Elinor sulking in the corner, watching. “Pretty sure you always had to be the one in the lead, though.”
Addie laughed. “Like this?” she said, forcing Darrow to spin around.
“It’s all rushing back now,” Darrow said, pretending to shudder.
A flicker of something flashed across Addie’s eyes. Darrow wasn’t sure what—something bittersweet, sad but beautiful.
“Ad,” Darrow said, pulling her closer and lowering his voice to a whisper. “About what happened back there…”
“Oh, Dare,” Addie said, that plastic smile falling back into place. “I was just tired. And overwhelmed. I didn’t mean to snap like that.”
“No? It seemed pretty real to me.” Darrow’s hands felt clammy and he misstepped, stumbling onto Addie’s foot. Addie spun him again.
“Think you’d better let me lead,” she said, and tucked her head against his chest.
Addie tried to keep her breathing quiet. The hallways were dark, the rest of the family sound asleep. She walked awkwardly, feet still sore from a night in high heels, and crept past her sister’s suite. Something clattered inside. A light flicked on, sending a shaft of light under the closed door that cut across Addie’s slippers like a knife. She stopped, pressed her back to the wall, and waited. After a moment the light went back off, and Addie quickly made her way to the back staircase and took the steps two at a time.
When she got to the game room, he was already there, leaning against the pool table with a red pool cue in his hand.
“Lilla,” he said with a smile. His real smile, the one that felt like it was just for her. It was somehow both reassuring and disconcerting to see him, now that they were both no longer playing their roles. Lilla. “Little one” in Swedish. After only a couple of weeks of not hearing it, the nickname already sounded strange in Addie’s ears. She folded her arms across her chest. The pajamas she wore suddenly felt too thin, the chilly air blowing right through them.
“Father,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, dear.” He folded her into a hug, and she allowed herself to sink into his warmth for a moment before letting go. He handed her a cue. “Care for a game?”
Addie nodded. She wasn’t exactly in the mood, but she’d learned long ago it was never a wise idea to tell Karl Erlander no.
“Great.” Karl racked the balls. “You break,” he said.
Addie steadied her hand. It was hard to keep the pool cue from vibrating. She loved her father, but sometimes he scared her. There was something cold and calculating in his blue eyes that could chill Addie to her core. Sometimes she wondered how Karl and her mother had ever gotten together in the first place. Liz might be brilliant, but she was Karl’s exact opposite when it came to the courage of her convictions. And Addie knew Karl’s love for his wife was all-consuming. But maybe, like Father had always said, he and Liz Webster had just happened to collide at a time when they’d both needed something only the other could give. And while he’d regretted the affair, he didn’t regret what had come from it: Addie. Addie’s only wish was that her mother had been brave enough to tell her the truth.
Addie leaned over the table, stick nestled between her fingers, and hit the white cue ball. The colored balls scattered, and the red three-ball fell into a side pocket.
“Nice,” Karl said. “I see you haven’t lost your touch.”
“Thanks,” Addie said, feeling pleased despite her nerves. She leaned in for another shot.
Karl rubbed chalk on the end of his cue stick and blew the fine powder away. “So tell me then, what happened to you tonight?”
Addie straightened and looked at Karl. “What do you mean?” she said.
“I think you know what I mean.” Karl took a step closer. “You lost your cool. You should know better, after everything I’ve taught you. You can’t go around insulting people, drawing attention to yourself. You’ll make people suspicious.”
Addie shrugged. “What? I was just tired. And my feet hurt. People would get suspicious if I was calm all the time. I’m traumatized, remember?” She returned his cold smile, daring him to question her further. After a moment she turned back around and aimed at the white cue ball again.
But this time, her shaking fingers slipped. The white ball skidded sideways, barely nipping the blue. Karl grabbed her stick and held it tightly. Addie stood and faced him. She had to bite her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
The world is a threatening place, little one. The things I teach you here may seem harsh, but they’re to keep you
safe. Out there.
Addie shivered.
“Look, Lilla,” Karl said, his voice dangerously soft. “I know this is stressful. But I don’t think I need to remind you what’s at stake, do I? We’re almost there. You need to stay focused.”
“Yes, Father,” Addie said. She hesitated, trying to form the words to ask about what the president had told her earlier. But her voice caught in her throat.
“Good,” Karl said. “It’s just easy to get lulled into this…lifestyle.” He waved his cue stick around the room. “You start to believe you’re untouchable. Like the president. But the same isn’t true for the rest of the world. For people who don’t have your level of protection. People like Mikey.”
Karl took his shot, knocking two striped balls into the pockets. His next shot missed.
“Mikey,” Addie said. “How is he?” She pulled back her cue and sank the one, the two, and the five in rapid succession.
“He’s doing well,” Karl answered. “Sends his regards. He misses you.”
“I miss him, too,” Addie said. Mikey. Her half brother and only friend these last eight years. The boy she had let hide under her bed when Father was angry. The boy she’d tried to protect the only way she knew how—by always thinking one step ahead. The boy she’d laughed with over silly jokes, who’d been her partner in late-night cookie-stealing missions after Father was asleep.
“Good,” Karl said.
“Good?”
“Yes, good,” Karl repeated. “It’s important you don’t forget your family. Or why you’re here.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” she said. She leaned over and tapped the cue ball with her stick, knocking the four-ball into the corner pocket. The six and seven followed. She wasn’t going to let her father rattle her again. She was going to win this game.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Karl said. “Sometimes we can play a part so well, we forget which side we’re on.”
“I know which side I’m on,” Addie snapped. “Eight-ball, left corner pocket.” She knocked the eight-ball in.