by Sophie Davis
“Welcome to Kingstown,” he said, voice straining with pride as he squeezed me tightly.
We landed on a paved runway that seemed dangerously near towering trees. A man was waiting and bee-lined for my father when we disembarked.
“Lark, this is Mister Billy,” Daddy said. “He is the Architect of Kingstown.”
“Lark love, I’m so glad you’re hear,” Billy said, sparing me a glance and not sounding glad at all. He eyed my father. “Phillip, we need to talk.”
Daddy’s brow furrowed. “My daughter is here,” he countered. “Later.”
With that, he grabbed my hand and we set off down the path. Pine needles crunched beneath my feet. I slowed when we reached the clearing, drinking in the shiny cityscape that rose in the wilderness. The buildings were bigger than I’d imagined from above, but much smaller than those at home. We were standing on the edge of an enormous courtyard with crisscrossing paths and a fountain in the very center. The water gleamed. Even though it was August, the air was crisp.
“This is the Quad,” my father explained. Still holding my hand, he swept the other out in front of him in a gesture to the whole setup. “Every citizen of Kingstown has everything they need right here, absolutely everything. Would you like to see?”
My eyes were wide. It was a lot to take in, but I managed a nod.
We climbed in a vehicle sort of like a golf cart at the club, and Daddy began the tour. Circling the sprawling courtyard were Kingstown’s main facilities. He pointed to each building we passed: a glass-walled condo building, medical center, meal hub, general store, fitness center and even a spa. All looked brand-new and worthy of my mother and her friends.
“A happy employee is a productive employee.” My father locked eyes with me. “Remember that, Lark, it’s very important.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Nodding gravely, I cataloged the thought with all the other sage advice I didn’t quite understand. Did we really need a reason to want people to be happy?
I eyed the people milling around with new interest. A mother pushed a stroller on one spoke of the Quad. Three young girls played with chalk on another. Teenage boys threw an orange Frisbee while a dog tried to intercept it. They were all smiling to some degree. Like a picture that came in a photo frame.
My father veered off the Quad and down a wider roadway. Leaving the sort-of city behind, we were suddenly on a pristine, tree-lined street. Rows of perfect houses stood on either side, the lawns so green they couldn’t be real grass. We drove down one side of the sidewalk lined with old-fashion light posts, then back up the other. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to decide what felt so weird. Kingstown was like a movie set on a sound-stage: everything arranged just so.
It was oddly quiet. There were no bums in frayed coats, no rats skittering across the sidewalk. No cars. That was weird. There were other vehicles like ours, but they silently trolled the paths. No honking horns or blaring stereos.
The world’s sounds had never seemed so muted.
Meandering back to the Quad, Daddy kept up a steady stream of pleasant chatter about Kingstown’s facilities. We rounded the fountain to the opposite side of where we entered, down the only section left on our tour.
My eyes flew to a figure standing atop a gleaming white platform. His head and arms were constrained in the holes of stocks, like the pictures from history class. Bright green eyes seared into my memory, his gaze defiant as it locked with mine. My stomach flipped, and a heavy weight settled in my gut. I didn’t like the feeling.
“Daddy?” I tugged on the hand still holding mine. “I don’t think he likes being there.”
My father knelt to my eye-level. “Lark, is stealing wrong?”
“Of course.”
“Here in Kingstown, this is the punishment for stealing,” he explained.
My forehead wrinkled, my head tilting to one side. “I thought police officers take the bad people to jail?” I asked.
“Here in Kingstown, we call the police ‘Kings Guards’.” My father gestured to a man wearing a pristine gray uniform with sharp pleats down the legs. There were two more on either side of the Quad. We’d passed others on our journey around the town, but I hadn’t given them much thought until now. “They catch people who steal,” he continued. “But instead of locking criminals in a cell, we have them stand here in the middle of the town to account to the people for their crimes.”
“What did he steal?” I asked dubiously. My father tended to overreact. “Like a candy bar?”
“Lark, he could’ve had a hundred candy bars.” My father’s doleful expression tugged at my heart. “All residents of Kingstown have everything they need and so much more. At the grocery,” he gestured to the building, “Jonas can take anything he wants. And I pay for it. I pay for everything, for all these people. Jonas took a diamond. That diamond, along with all the other diamonds that come out of the mine here, are sold to fund Kingstown. The less diamonds we have to sell, the less money I can give the townspeople. By stealing from the mine, Jonas didn’t just steal from me, he stole from the whole town. That is a very selfish act. Does that make sense?”
My head nodded even though I remained unconvinced. Stealing was bad and selfish, but maybe Jonas had a good reason. I couldn’t ask Daddy about Jonas’ reason, though. Daddy thought “reason” was just another word for “excuse”, and he didn’t like excuses.
Movement near the base of the platform caught my attention. A young woman with long arms and an angry snarl hurtled a ball at Jonas’ head. I gasped and clung tighter to my father as the orb exploded in the boy’s face, spraying green goo everywhere.
“Thief!” hollered the woman.
Before I could even ask what was happening, an old man followed the woman’s lead. With two hands he lobbed another ball at Jonas. This one landed near the boy’s feet, and his legs were covered in the same green slime. More and more townspeople appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. One by one, they came forward to shout and throw objects at Jonas, all with that same green stuff inside. It wasn’t long before the platform was slick, and Jonas’ feet started sliding.
“Daddy?” I finally managed.
He looked down at me, expression grim. “Green is the color they brand thieves, sweetheart,” he told me.
I blinked back the tears collecting in my eyes. Daddy said I was too old to cry in public. He tugged my hand gently. “Come on, Lark. We have other business that needs our attention.”
Daddy began to lead me away. He must have seen through my big girl act, because he stopped at the edge of the Quad and knelt in front of me. “I know this must seem harsh to you, you are still very young, sweetheart. But think of the situation from a business standpoint. If we let people steal diamonds from the mines, Kingstown would have to be shut down. All the citizens you see would lose their jobs, their homes, their way of life. Does that seem fair to you? Does it seem right that everyone should suffer because just one person was selfish?”
I shook my head no, but something in Daddy’s reasoning seemed flawed.
My father smiled at me. “That’s right.” Standing to his full height, his expression was serious when he added, “It is a privilege to live in Kingstown, and I will not abide abuse of our family’s generosity.”
The two of us started walking again. I glanced over my shoulder at Jonas, now covered from head to toe in green. It wasn’t the last time I would see Jonas, though I wish it had been.
CHAPTER THREE
RAVEN
Asher’s admission was a bombshell, for sure. But what really bothered me was Blake’s non-reaction. It was as though he knew that Asher and Lark had been…friends? What was their relationship? And why, why had he never said anything?
A part of me wanted to get up from that table and run as fast and as far as possible. But a larger part of me wanted answers. The clues Lark had left, the stupid scavenger hunt she’d created—they were meaningless in that moment. Suddenly, I really did feel as though I was at the center of some twisted game.
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br /> My stomach hurt and the pounding in my head made Asher’s next words sound as though he was standing at the opposite end of a very long tunnel.
“Raven,” he began slowly, drawing out the syllables in my name. There was a long pause, and indecision seemed to war inside Asher’s head. Several times he started to speak, but quickly changed his mind. Then, finally, he said, “I think…I think maybe you should watch the rest of the videos on the thumb drive. There is stuff on there that you need to see.”
I stared at him blankly, as though he was speaking in a foreign tongue. If Asher wanted me to see those videos, why had he stolen the USB in the first place?
What is really going on here?
Even stranger than Asher’s sudden insistence that I watch the rest of the videos was the fact that Blake seemed to agree with him. Does Blake know what’s on that USB? I wondered. From all indications in Lark’s journal, it seemed very few people knew the contents of those video files. And the last I’d read, Lark hadn’t worked up the courage to share them with Blake.
I really wanted to know what was on that portable drive, but I was reluctant to go anywhere private with Asher. His excuse for breaking into Lark’s apartment was flimsy and likely only half the story. Asher knew Lark prior to her disappearance, and I was convinced he was somehow involved.
“Raven?” Asher prompted. “What do you say? Will you watch the videos?”
Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I looked toward Blake, a question on the tip of my tongue. Lark’s boyfriend nodded encouragingly, as though able to read my thoughts. “The rest of my day is wide open,” he offered.
“Do you know what’s on the USB drive?” I asked him.
Blake glanced to Asher before answering. “Not exactly, but I have a guess,” he admitted.
I turned my attention to Asher. “Will the videos explain how you know Lark?” I asked, surprised that my voice didn’t crack when I addressed the object of my anger.
Asher exhaled loudly. “Not exactly,” he conceded and held up a finger to preempt any retort I might have had. “But they will help you understand why Lark disappeared.”
The three of us left the coffee shop together. Having Blake as a buffer did give me a sense of security that I hoped I wouldn’t regret later. Lark trusted him, I reminded myself numerous times. But after Asher’s betrayal and admission about knowing Lark, my paranoia was reaching all new heights and a part of me wondered if Blake was really as innocent as he seemed. For all I knew, he was somehow involved in his girlfriend’s disappearance.
I’d felt as though I’d been playing detective for a while, but I suddenly wished I was more James Bond than Nancy Drew. Because had I been a 007, I would’ve been able to dump some truth serum in both guys’ coffees and get the charade over with. You’re close, a voice inside my head whispered. So close to answers. Just a little while longer.
In the X-Pedite I claimed shotgun, so I wouldn’t have to sit next to the neighbor I no longer trusted, or the guy I knew on paper but not in person. Asher rattled off the address for The Pines, and we rode for twenty minutes in silence, save the political program the driver had on the radio.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Ferragamo,” Darrell called in a friendlier tone than normal as our trio entered the lobby.
I waved and forced a smile that was anything but genuine. “Hey, Darrell, how are you?”
“Well, Miss. And yourself?”
“Good,” I replied, scribbling all three of our names in the guestbook.
“I have something for you,” Darrell said as he reached below the desk, and then handed me an envelope with Lark’s address but my name on the front.
“Oh, wow. Um, thanks.”
Who would be sending me mail?
Asher and Blake exchanged another of their conspiratorial glances that were starting to grate on my nerves.
Are they lying about knowing each other? They seem a little too chummy….
I stuffed the envelope inside my messenger bag and, with a parting wave to Darrell, headed to the elevator.
“Raven? Are you okay?” asked Asher as we zoomed upward.
Without turning to look at him, I nodded. “Fine,” I told him breezily.
Of course, I was so not fine. For all I knew, I was stuck in that metal box with a kidnapper and…Blake. So yeah, fine was the last emotion I was experiencing. Fear? Oddly, no—despite my suspicions, and my overactive imagination, I wasn’t scared. Asher might have been a criminal, and he was definitely a liar, but I didn’t believe my life was in danger. We’d been alone a lot over the past few days. If he’d wanted to harm me, he could have.
Am I being naïve? Did Lark think he was her friend, too?
When we reached the tenth floor, I hurried out of the elevator car and strode purposefully to the door marked 10A. Once inside, calm washed over me.
I’m home. The thought was ridiculous. This wasn’t my home, and yet for a brief moment I really felt as though it was true. That stupid pounding in my head started again.
Shaking my head to clear the cobwebs muddling my brain, I headed for the sofa and my laptop. Asher followed, smartly choosing to sit in one of the armchairs instead of joining me on the couch. Blake, however, didn’t move past the entrance. He seemed lost, and once again my gut told me to go comfort him.
“You said Lark rented this place when we came down for my Georgetown visit?” he asked, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows, plush furnishings, and state-of-the-art appliances. Blake shook his head. “How did I not know?” The second question was more to himself than me.
“Yeah, according to her journal, anyhow,” I answered.
Blake swallowed hard and moved slowly toward the living room. His gaze bounced between the sofa and the unoccupied armchair, indecision evident in his expression. Finally, he opted for the chair. My stomach clenched.
He doesn’t want to be near you, I thought. Why would he? Another voice inside my head asked.
Letting out a shaky breath, I turned to Asher and held out my hand for the USB. He met my gaze and shook his head. “I’ll do it. I know which video Lark wanted you to see.”
“So you have watched them all?” I asked flatly, but it wasn’t really a question.
Asher didn’t bother with a lie, or even offer a flimsy excuse for his shady behavior. “I have,” he admitted.
After a moment of hesitation, I slid the laptop across the coffee table in his direction.
“It’ll take me a minute,” he said.
Another weighty silence fell over the room. The same apprehension I always felt just before decoding one of Lark’s clues settled over me. Only this time, it wasn’t accompanied by even the slightest trace of excitement. A part of me didn’t want to know Lark’s darkest secret. And I was confident that was exactly what I was about to find out.
I’m not ready, I thought. Not only to learn the truth, but for the scavenger hunt to be over. Following Lark’s clues, trying to unravel the mystery of her disappearance, had given me purpose. What was going to happen to me when it came to end? Stop being so damned selfish.
“Okay, got it,” Asher declared, his announcement deafening when it shattered the quiet stillness in the living room. He hesitated. “Raven, are you sure you’re ready for this?”
His tone wasn’t exactly condescending, but I felt like a child under his penetrating gaze.
Does he think I’m too fragile for the truth? What about me would give him that impression?
A snappy retort was on the tip of my tongue, and that was where it stayed. Was I ready? I’d just been contemplating that very question, and yet having Asher give voice to my worries was annoying.
The couch cushion next to mine sank, and I felt his presence before I realized he’d moved seats. Blake’s warm fingers slid between mine. He was so close, his leg only inches from my own. His shoulder brushed my bare skin, and I shivered. That nearness gave me strength, courage that I hadn’t know I needed until that moment.
“I’m here,” Blak
e said softly.
I looked at him curiously but didn’t pull my hand from his.
“You do want to find Lark, right?” he asked, the sadness in both his expression and his tone caused a pang in my heart.
Oh, Blake. I’m so sorry.
“I do,” I said, and for once, I wasn’t sure that was true.
Of course you want to find her. Isn’t that what this whole thing has been about?
“You ready?” Asher asked again.
I nodded mutely, and he slowly turned the laptop screen to face me. His eyebrows rose, silently repeating the question.
“She’s ready,” Blake answered as he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
I almost laughed at the irony. I’d been so worried about comforting him, and now he was the one comforting me. Lark’s boyfriend hadn’t even thought twice about it either.
I can see why she loves him so much, I thought.
Asher reached around the laptop and hit play. My whole body stiffened.
This is it, I thought. The moment of truth.
“Hi Raven,” a female voice said when the video began to play. Long, auburn hair filled the screen as the speaker came into view. She sat in a blue armchair, but the lighting was too dim for me to see much else. Big brown eyes seemed to stare indirectly into mine as the girl onscreen gave me a wide smile. “I am so pleased to finally meet you.”
Who are you? I wondered, confused by this odd turn of events.
“My name is Lila, Lila Queensbridge,” the girl said as though we were having an actual conversation. “If my plan came together the way I hope it did, then you are probably watching this inside my apartment—the one at The Pines, where Lark and I planned to live when we moved to D.C.”
Lila is a real person?
“And if you’re watching this, then you’re close to learning the truth about Lark’s disappearance.” The woman’s smile faltered, and sadness filled her eyes. “But the truth is complicated, and the story starts a long time ago. It’s hard to hear, hard to watch, but if you want to know the truth, if you want to help Lark and yourself, you will see this through.” She reached toward the camera as though to turn it off but paused to say one last thing. “I’ll see you again soon. Don’t be scared. Just remember: what doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger.”