4
“Maybe you should use cruise control,” Aidan says for the third time in the last three hours. He keeps glancing at the GPS, pretending to check the directions. “You’re seven miles over the speed limit.”
Almost a month with my permit, almost a month with this plan. And here we are, middle of January, last day of winter vacation, on our way to visit my mother in prison.
I give him a sideways glance and try not to roll my eyes. “I have a permit now. It’s legal for me to break the law.”
“Nope,” he says. “Speeding is always illegal.”
“You know what I mean. It’s like normal illegal. Not”—I conjure my best impression of a North Carolina police officer—“oh wait, you’re driving without a license, have no identity, and hey…I think your father stole my wallet last week. Was he downtown at the Silver Bullet over on Main Street Friday night? Handsome fellow with a killer smile? Thought he was kinder than butter, invitin’ me to supper after church, huggin’ me goodbye. Then I get home, and my wallet’s gone, walked right outta my pants.”
Despite his taking this permit stuff way too seriously, Aidan laughs loudly, breaking some of the tension that’s followed us during the majority of the drive. “In that case, I hope we do get pulled over, because I’d love to hear you charm the North Carolina state police.”
With a sigh, I ease my foot up on the gas and click on the cruise control. I definitely didn’t wear the right outfit for manipulating law enforcement.
I check the mile marker and see that we’re less than ten miles from our exit now. My hands tighten on the steering wheel. I still haven’t told Miles. Haven’t told my sister. Haven’t decided what I’ll say to my mom. Does she already know that it was me who turned her in? Agent Sheldon promised she wouldn’t tell her, but why would she be obligated to keep that promise? A dozen other people could have told her.
And if not, maybe I should? Maybe I should own up to it? I don’t regret working with the FBI, because it gave me my sister back. But had I known it would be my mom instead of my dad…I wouldn’t have gone through with it. Like me, my mom wanted to find Harper after her huge fight with my dad, when she left the family. I was only twelve but still old enough to hate him, to know that he could have told her, Be whoever you want to be; you don’t have to choose our way of life. But that isn’t what he said. For a month, neither my mom nor I would talk to my dad.
I thought she would come back, and when she didn’t, a silent anger grew in me, slow and burning, until Agent Sheldon caught me and offered me the chance to lock up my dad and get my sister back. That or be placed in the hands of Child Protective Services. Maybe if I just explain all this to her she’ll understand?
“Have you heard from Miles lately?” Aidan says, probably sensing my stress over the upcoming visit.
“Yeah,” I say right away. “Well, last week. Not sure what he’s been doing the past bunch of days, but he seems to be out of cell reception and wifi. But they should be back from Europe. We’re supposed to meet tonight for a lesson.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” he assures me. “The Becketts are a strange family, probably go off the grid for fun.”
I toss Aidan a smile. “For fun? Like that trip to the Grand Canyon you’re always talking about dragging Harper on?”
“Harper and you,” he reminds me. “And there is wifi in Grand Canyon National Park.”
Aidan points out the sign for the exit, but I’ve already seen it. Soon we’re parked at the medium-security prison and heading for the visitor entrance.
“You may not get a long time with her,” Aidan says, holding the door open for me. “It depends on their rules and behavior of inmates.”
I nod, swallow back a dozen fears, and plaster on my game face. Aidan steps up to an information desk where an old woman sits behind it, her glasses perched at the end of her nose. She’s wearing a uniform like the other guards but no service weapon.
“We’re here to see Lenora Hayes,” Aidan says.
The old woman straightens, shoves up her glasses. “Family?”
Aidan nods in my direction. “She is immediate family.”
“One moment.” The old woman lifts the receiver, holding the phone to her ear. Before punching in numbers, she adds, “Have your IDs ready, please.”
Aidan removes his license and I dig for my Holden Academy Student ID because I don’t have anything else. My driving permit is just a piece of paper, no photo.
We wait as the woman gives my mother’s name to someone on the other line. I glance back at the door we came in and debate making a run for it. Maybe this was a bad idea? Maybe she doesn’t even want to see me? Or maybe I’m too different now?
After the woman hangs up, she looks at both of us and says, “I’m sorry, but Inmate Hayes left early this morning.”
“Left?” I say at the same time Aidan says, “How?”
The woman flips through pages on a clipboard, finally landing on the right page. “Ah…okay…her sentencing is in Charleston tomorrow.”
Her sentencing? Maybe she’ll be released soon? “But she’ll be back after the court thing, right?” I ask.
The woman shakes her head. “Looks like space became available in Charleston, so she was moved again.”
“Charleston,” I mutter.
“I talked to someone three days ago,” Aidan said. “No one mentioned any move or that today might not be a good day to visit.”
He’s pissed. I don’t blame him. We lied to Harper. We drove all this way. For nothing. I don’t know what to feel. Shock. Sadness. A tiny bit of relief because someone else made the choice for me.
I tug on Aidan’s arm. His arguments are appreciated but pointless. “Come on, let’s just go.”
He hesitates but eventually follows me out the door. I hand over the keys, allowing Aidan to drive back. For a while, we don’t say anything. Both of us just stare out at the road.
“Are you still going to tell Harper?” I ask Aidan after a while.
He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t see why we need to now. Nothing happened.”
I wait for him to change his mind or deliberate more about this, but instead he jumps into a new subject.
“So…Miles’s dad got me a job,” he says in a tone that hints at forced enthusiasm. “A good job.”
I straighten up in my seat, suddenly alert. “Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ missing from that statement.”
“It’s a private security gig,” he explains. “Great company, good benefits…but they have a mandatory six-week training program in Georgia.”
“Six-week training program? Like Quantico or The Farm?” Yes, I’ve been reading up on government agencies over winter break. Recent events have sparked my curiosity.
“Quantico is in Virginia, and The Farm is at Camp Perry,” he says. “But yes, I guess it’s similar. The facility in Georgia is actually where I did my Secret Service training. They offer packages to private organizations as well.”
“Do you miss it?” I ask him after hearing the wistfulness in his voice.
“Yeah,” he admits. “I miss the Marines, too. I always felt proud doing work that offered direct protection for our country. It’s not easy telling people I was discharged from the Secret Service.”
My heart breaks a little for him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Aidan says firmly. “I made a mistake. I covered for someone who I thought was trustworthy. If I had done things differently, maybe you and Miles wouldn’t have had your lives threatened.”
I’m momentarily stunned to silence. I hadn’t thought at all about Aidan drawing that conclusion, blaming himself for what happened. He’s not completely wrong, but had I been honest with him about my mission to uncover a murderer, maybe Miles and I wouldn’t have been kidnapped. It’s all a bunch of circular arguments leading to the same conclusion.
The real blame has to fall on the kidnapper. Jack.
I sit for a bit, trying to think of something to say, but end up landing on, “When do you leave?”
“Tonight,” Aidan says, then offers a sad smile at the look on my face.
Six weeks without Aidan? “But Harper gets back tonight. Will you see her?”
“I might. Depends on when she’s home and how early I want to leave for the airport.”
“Jesus,” I mutter to myself.
“It all came together over the last two days,” he explains. “Your sister is gonna need your help; you’ll take care of her, right?”
“Of course.” It’s a promise I intend to keep, but still…six weeks without Aidan. Can we survive? Who will cook?
My phone vibrates in my purse, forcing me to set aside these new worries. No number is offered on the screen, just the words: unknown caller.
My heart picks up, hoping and hoping that it’s Miles, finally out of the wilderness or whatever has made him MIA for… I do the math in my head, counting the days since I last heard from him. It was after New Year’s, so…
Six days. That call had been short, not even five minutes, with no mention of meeting up tonight. The call before that, we’d talked for more than an hour. Miles called me when it was the New Year in Europe, hours before Virginia celebrated. During that call we’d made our plan for tonight. Self-defense lessons at the warehouse. Plus dinner and a movie, like normal people.
“Hello,” I say.
“Ellie,” a voice says on the other end of the line. Not Miles. His dad, Agent Beckett. “Are you alone?”
“No,” I answer. My stomach knots. “But I can be—give me a minute?”
“Great,” he says. “I’ll call you right back.”
I try my best to stay calm, keep my voice even. He asked if I was alone and didn’t offer any exceptions to this, not even Aidan. I have to assume that was deliberate. I have to assume every move a CIA operative makes is deliberate.
Aidan is already looking very curious. I cover the receiver with my hand and say in a low voice, “Can you pull over at the rest stop in half a mile? Justice says something is happening between Bret and Dominic… It sounds bad.”
Aidan follows directions, not asking questions. Of course later that will likely change. And it wasn’t completely a lie. Last night one of my sort-of friends at Holden did text me because she was worried about a fight Dominic and Bret had a week or so ago, something to do with shrimp and a country club.
I hop out the second we’re parked, head for the women’s restroom, and check all the stalls. I answer the unknown call before the first ring finishes. “Okay, I’m alone now.”
“Great,” Agent Beckett says. “An issue has arisen.”
“An issue?” I ask, already panicked inside.
“I need you to scrub Miles from the Holden school records,” he says.
“Uh…o-okay,” I stammer. “How exactly do I do that?”
“Listen carefully because we only have sixty more seconds before this call is traceable.”
As if my mind would just wander off at this point.
“Unfortunately the school has phenomenal security,” he tells me. “It’ll have to be done from the inside.”
“You want me to break into Holden?”
“Yes,” he says like this isn’t insane. “Preferably tonight.”
Guess that means my date with Miles is canceled. Are they even back in the country? He didn’t say.
“Tonight,” I repeat.
“Miles’s mother and I have already mapped out a plan,” he says. “I’ll email the details to you; memorize them and remove the footprint, got it?”
Um, yeah, definitely not, but still I say, “Sure, I got it. No problem.”
The conversation ends so abruptly I’m left staring at my phone. When I return to the car, it’s clear Aidan wants something from me. Some bit of info. I wasn’t given permission to share. I value the Becketts’ trust too much to ruin it. Miles has done a good job drilling into me the meaning of need-to-know and why following it saves lives.
I have to tell Aidan something honest, something not so simple. But not the truth. “Things are kind of bad between Bret and Dominic,” I say, not even needing to force worry into my voice. It’s there all on its own. “They keep getting into arguments about what happened with Simon. They’re like a national security risk.”
Worry creases Aidan’s forehead. He puts the car in reverse and then says, “You’re right, they know too much to be hotheaded about it. I’ll pay them a visit this afternoon, help them remember what’s at stake.”
Their lives. Those idiots. “That’s a good plan, thanks.”
You do that, and I’ll just study up on how to break into my school on a Sunday night, the last night of winter vacation to be exact.
What did I get myself into?