Someone Is Always Watching, page 26
I scramble up. “You can’t have that. If they find it on you—”
“I took out the SIM card. I already found what I needed while you were talking to your mom. I had to know who Callum was meeting tonight.”
“And you do.”
He nods. “I do.”
TANYA
Tanya is in her room, staring at the wall, trying to figure out what to do next. She’d figured out two very important things. Should she tell Tucker? Tell Blythe? Tell Devon? Or make sure she’s right first?
She is right. On both counts. She’s sure of that.
When the front doorbell rings, she checks the time. It’s almost ten. She frowns. Little late for a visitor.
She opens her bedroom door and creeps to the stairs as her father answers the bell.
“Denise,” he says. “What’s wrong?”
“Callum’s dead.”
Tanya blinks. Did she hear that wrong? She must have.
“I…I don’t understand,” her dad says.
“My son is dead, and I’m looking for Tucker.”
Callum is really dead? Tanya should have a reaction to that, but she can only fixate on the second half of that line. Ms. Kilpatrick is looking for Tucker. She thinks Tucker killed Callum.
That’s bullshit, and their dad should say so—should defend his son in some way—but he doesn’t, and that’s when Tanya’s true reaction hits. A kernel of white-hot rage, threatening to explode.
You bastard.
You absolute bastard.
Tanya listens to her father talking to Callum’s mom. After Ms. Kilpatrick leaves, Tanya strides to her room and pulls out her phone. She flips to FriendTag. She gets a “no location found” message for Blythe, who has switched off her location services. Tucker has not, and she sees his dot show up five miles outside town.
She’s about to call him when her door swings open.
“Excuse me?” She lowers her phone fast.
“Do you know where Tucker is, sweetheart?”
“I’m not my brother’s keeper,” she says, flouncing onto the bed.
“But you can find him, right? You two use one of those tracking apps?”
Her gaze slips to her phone, and she tries to cover the mistake by picking it up and tapping to start a game, ignoring her father as she lounges onto her bed.
“Tanya? This is important.”
“Is it? It’s about Tucker, which means it’s never important. Not to you. Wait…” She lowers the phone. “Let me guess. You think he’s done something. You must. That’s the only time you give a shit.”
“Tanya…” Her dad switches to his I’m serious voice.
“Whatever it is, Tucker didn’t do it. You know that. You just prefer the charade.”
“What—?” Dad shakes it off. “You’re in a mood, and I’m not in one to play this particular game. Callum Kilpatrick is dead, and your brother is wanted for questioning.”
“Of course he is, because everyone thinks he slit some kid’s throat when he was eight.”
Her father goes still.
“We know about the experiment,” Tanya says. “We read the file.”
Seconds tick past. Dad rubs his mouth, assimilating what she’s said.
“All right,” he says finally. “You’ve read the files. So, you understand how dangerous your brother is.”
“And me? Am I dangerous? I helped Tuck, right? Aiding and abetting a killer?”
“You protected your brother. As you are doing right now.”
“Huh. I’d say that’s not how I remember it, but I don’t remember anything, do I? The experiment made sure of it.”
“Yes, they manipulated your memories. I never wanted that. It was your mother’s idea. For Tucker. It was all for Tucker. To save him, she sacrificed you.”
Anger crystallizes into ice-cold shards. “She didn’t sacrifice anyone.”
“She erased your memories. Sacrificed the person you were, so Tucker didn’t lose his sister. So you’d be forced to protect him forever. She stole you away, and by the time I caught up, it was too late. All I could do was join the firm and watch over you. Give you everything you needed.”
“I needed my mother.”
He nods. “I understand, but she left us, sweetheart.”
Tanya nods at the phone in his hand “Call her.”
“What?”
“She royally fucked up our family, and I have a few things to say about that.”
Her father rubs a hand over his mouth. Then his shoulders slump. “I don’t know where she is, sweetheart.”
“You—”
For a moment, words don’t come. Their mother has been gone for two years. She left without a word, and then called to say she loved them, but she needed to get away for a while. Needed time to herself to figure things out, and when she was ready, they’d hear from her.
And now she knows that wasn’t true at all. Their mother didn’t need to “get away for a while.” She didn’t abandon them.
How is Tanya going to process that? She doesn’t know yet. That must come later.
When their mother disappeared, Tanya knows that other kids would have pushed harder for answers. They’d have bugged their father for updates—have you heard from her? Where is she? Is she coming back? Tanya and Tucker didn’t. Tanya was too angry, and Tucker too hurt, which only made her more furious and more determined not to give a shit. Despite that, she’d presumed her father was still in contact with her, at least occasionally, that he knew where she was, if they really needed her.
“When is the last time you spoke to her?” she says carefully.
“When she called and spoke to all of us.”
“What? You haven’t talked to her since then?”
“She did the right thing. She was making waves, and she knew it was dangerous. Either they asked her to leave, or she left before they asked. Either way, it was for the best.”
Tanya stares. She replays what her father just said. Replays it again, and tries to wrap her head around it.
“CMT, you mean? You think they had something to do with her leaving?”
“She was asking questions, so many questions. She never could leave well enough alone.”
“And you…you let her go? You never considered that she might have been taken from us? Forced to make that call?”
He doesn’t answer. He’s considered it…and buried his head in the sand, telling himself this was for the best.
Tanya can’t breathe. She’s forgotten how to breathe.
This is worse than she thought. So much worse.
She struggles to find her voice, and then says, “But you’ve looked for her, right? Tried to find out whether she’s still alive? Whether she needs help?”
There’s this disgusting note in her voice. The plaintive cry of a child clinging to the faint hope that her father can still redeem himself in some small way.
“Your mother made her choice when she refused to stop digging. I warned her, and she wouldn’t listen, and I was left with Tucker. That was my punishment. A life sentence raising a monster.”
“Raising a monster, yes. Tucker, no.” She gets to her feet. “I read the file, Dad. I saw the notes attached to our files. Mom thought I killed that kid. Not Tucker. Me. We both confessed. One of us had to be lying. You presumed I was protecting Tucker. Mom thought differently. Maybe there was evidence that I did it. Or maybe she just knew her children better than you did. One was capable of cutting a boy’s throat with a razor. One was not.”
“You were seven,” he says. “There is no way you killed that boy.”
“Can. Did. I’m sure of it. I saw a threat, and I reacted. Tucker tried to cover for me. Tried to protect me. Tried to take the blame. That fits.”
“Fits what?”
“Fits your son. Fits your daughter. Do you know us at all, Dad? The clue was the razor. Tucker might have beat the kid and accidentally killed him. But luring him and slitting his throat? That’d be me.”
“No, sweetheart. You’d never—”
“Idid. Mom knew it. Everyone else presumed it must be my older, stronger brother, who’d probably been testing boundaries from the day he was born. In the end, Mom figured it didn’t make a difference who did it. We both needed our memories rebooted, and then we needed to be treated the same. That last bit was the part you couldn’t manage.”
He blusters and sputters. Tanya watches him, her gaze impassive. Then she says, “Those notes weren’t actually in the file, Dad. I put the pieces together myself. But thank you for confirming my theory.”
“Your mother didn’t know who killed that boy.”
“No, but she knew her children. In my gut, I know I did it, and I don’t give a damn. Not about that. About what the hell happened to my mother? Yes. I care about that. About what you did to my brother? I abso-fucking-lutely care about that.”
She walks to her purse and takes out something she bought and stashed in there after talking to Andre. When she lifts her hand, light glints off a silver blade.
“Razors,” she muses. “They’re remarkably easy to get. Guns are tough. Even knives can be tricky. But razors.” She lifts the blade and turns it. “Memory is such a funny thing. I could swear I remember you using one of these when I was little. A straight razor. That’s what it’s called, right? I remember watching you shave, and this is what you used, but when we grew up, you always had an electric razor. I mentioned it once to Mom. We were watching an old movie, and a guy was shaving with one of these, and I made a comment. She said no, you’d never used one, but she was curious about why I asked. Just curious. Not afraid. Not the least bit worried that I might kill again. That’s the difference between you and her, Dad. She understood us.”
Tanya blinks, tears stinging. When she speaks again, her voice is lower. “We didn’t understand her, either, did we? People call me cold. She was ice. I should have understood that better than anyone. I didn’t. I thought it meant she didn’t give a shit. But she cared. She cared so much.”
“No, Tanya. I hate to say this, but your mother wasn’t capable of caring—”
“Shut up!” she shouts, brandishing the razor. “Shut the fuck up. Maybe we misunderstood her, but you let us. You poisoned us against her. You were the good parent. The nice parent. The parent who’ll turn his son over for murder, without even giving him a moment to explain.”
He shakes his head. “Tucker needs to explain to CMT, not to me.”
“Bullshit.”
His face hardens. “I’m letting you get away with this disrespect because I understand you’re upset, but I am doing what is best for all of us. You can’t see how dangerous your brother is because you’ve been brainwashed. Lied to your entire life.”
“Lied to, yes. By you, asshole.”
“Tanya…”
She steps toward him, razor lifted. Then she turns it in her hand, her gaze on her father. “You aren’t even flinching. Do you really think I’m not capable of using this? I did once. Killed a boy with your razor.”
“If you did, then Tucker helped.”
“Tucker would never help me do that. He’d help me cover it up, though. He would try to make it look like some pedo killed the kid, and then tell everyone he did it. He was the troublemaker even then, I bet. I tried to tell the truth, but no one listened to me. Except Mom.”
“Maybe that’s true, but whatever you did, it isn’t you. Not the real you.”
She stares at him. Then she blinks. “Repeat that, please, Dad.”
“I said that whatever you did, it’s okay.”
“Okay for me, but not okay for Tucker? How the fuck does that work? For ten years, you’ve treated him like a rabid dog. He feels like one. Abandoned by his mother. Rejected by his father. Then he finds out he apparently killed a kid in cold blood, and it all makes sense finally. Of course, you’d be scared of him. Of course, you’d hate him. But now you’re telling me that it’s okay if I’m the killer. You forgive me?”
His lips twist in a sad smile. “You’re my little girl.”
She lunges at him with an animal scream. She slams into him, knocking him flying. He hits the floor, and she looms over him, razor raised.
“Defend yourself.”
“I—”
She slashes, the razor inches from his head. “Stop acting like I won’t do this. I will. I swear I will.”
“No, you—”
She slashes again, and this time the blade nicks his cheek. It splits, blood welling.
“Defend yourself!” she roars, and when she slashes again, he lifts his hands. She stops short of cutting him and rocks back on her heels. A deep breath, nostrils flaring. Then she says, “Where is my mother?”
“I told you. I have no—”
She falls on him, kicking with all her might.
“Where is my mother?!”
“I don’t know.”
Rage fills her. Absolute rage, as if every emotion she should have felt in her whole life has been shoved into a pit, and now that volcano erupts, rage spewing forth.
“Tell me where my mother is now!”
She goes to slash at him. Then she sees her phone, open to the lock screen, with a photo of her and Tucker as kids. In that moment, Tucker is there, in the room, watching her attack their father. He doesn’t interfere. He just looks at her.
Stop me, damn you. You know what I’m capable of. Stop me.
But even if Tucker really were here, he wouldn’t stop her…because he does know what Tanya is capable of. What she can do, and what she will not do, and he would trust Tanya to make the right choice.
The anger bubbles again. Tanya wants to prove him wrong. She wants to hurt her father. Wants to be the girl who slit a boy’s throat. But when she slashes, she pulls herself short, unable to follow through. Then she howls. A howl of pure fury.
She throws the razor aside and pushes up to walk away. To grab her phone and find her brother and tell him the truth—the real truth.
Something hits her in the jaw. Even as she sees her father with his fist raised, she thinks she’s mistaken. Surely, he didn’t hit her. He wouldn’t. But when she struggles to rise, his fist slams into the side of her head. She smacks into the bed, head hitting the post, pain blinding her.
“Don’t you ever threaten me again, Tanya. I know you are angry, but I am still your father, and I am going to do what is right.”
She blinks, unable to focus. A flash of something that looks like a phone in front of her face. Her father gives a grunt of satisfaction.
She’s still struggling to think when her door smacks shut. She sits up and her head throbs, bile rising. A moment later, there’s a scraping sound. Then her father’s voice on the phone, telling someone where they can find Tucker—
Shit!
Tanya moves then, gagging on bile and ignoring it as she runs for the door. Her father unlocked her phone. He found Tucker. He’s calling it in.
She grabs the knob and tries to yank the door open, but he’s jammed something under the knob. A scan of the room shows no sign of her phone. He took it.
She needs to get to Tucker. Now.
Tanya turns to the window. Then she marches over and yanks it open.
THIRTY-ONE
BLYTHE
Tucker and I are talking when we hear the car. We both jerk up, listening.
“No one’s going to find us,” I say. “You took the SIM card out of Callum’s phone, and we disabled location services a while ago.”
His gaze slowly turns my way.
“Tuck?” I say. “We all turned off our location services before the lab break-in. You did, too, right?”
“I did, but when we split up with Tanya, I turned it on for her.”
Tanya would never betray Tucker, but Callum’s mom could have CMT access to her phone.
We’re already on our feet. Tucker tugs me back when I start for the road.
“It’s probably nothing,” he says. “But I’m going to check it out.”
I shake my head. “We’re going to—”
“No, Blythe,” he says, more firmly than usual. “If we don’t trust Callum’s mom or CMT, we can’t both walk out…”
The sound of the car passes by. We go still, listening to it, and then both relax.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m texting Tanya, and then turning off my location services.”
He reaches for his phone, only to pat his empty back pocket.
“Did you leave it in the car?” I ask. “Or did it fall out where we were sitting?”
“Either?” He shakes his head. “I’ve been playing it cool but, yes, I’m a little distracted. Can you use your phone light to look around here while I run back to the car?”
I nod, and he takes off. I shine my light around the grass as I head back to where we were seated. I’m about to give up when I catch a glint. I lift it.
“Tucker?” I call. “I found—”
There’s a shout. A curse. A man’s voice barks, “Against the car, Martel. Hands on your head.”
I run down the trail. I reach the end to see headlights illuminating Devon’s dad—Mr. Sharpe—and another CMT security officer. The other man has Tucker bent over the hood of their car, hands behind his head.
We’d heard a car coming. We’d heard a car pass. We hadn’t considered that there might have been two.
I step out.
“Blythe Warren,” Mr. Sharpe says. “Good. Get in the car.”
I shake my head. “Let Tucker go. I’ve already told my mom that he was with me all night.”
“Yes, I heard that. Apparently, your mother thinks that gives Tucker an alibi, but all it really means is that you two killed him together.”
“What?”
He starts toward me. “I know what you two did to that boy this spring. I read the report. Your parents think it was all Tucker, but that wasn’t your story. You’ve fooled a lot of people, Miss Blythe, but you’re not nearly as good as you pretend.”
