Chapter Sixteen

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I hesitated briefly before knocking on the door, not fully sure if I was ready to deal with what was behind it.

When I’d arrived back at the hospital a couple hours later, the nurse on duty told me that they’d moved Benji into his own room and that he was no longer in immediate danger. I had to tell her that I was his cousin in order to get the room number, but the lie had come easily enough. She’d looked me up and down before searching for it on the computer. I think she may have been too tired to question me about our lack of similarities—besides the scars of course—and figured it would be easier to just give me what I wanted.

            Since it wasn’t quite morning yet and it was way too late to be nighttime, the halls were pretty empty as I searched for Benji’s room. Now that I’d found it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go inside. His night had been rough enough, and if he’d been able to fall sleep at all, then I felt like I should let him rest.

            But my need to see my friend trumped being polite, so I tapped quietly on the door. Without waiting for an answer, I turned the knob and pushed it open. The smell of Band-aids and rubbing alcohol brought me a bit of comfort as I moved into the room. The machines were beeping, assuring me that my friend was still alive. When I looked over at Benji lying in his bed, I saw that he was actually wide awake and propped up by half a dozen pillows. It was still jarring to see him in that position; so helpless and fragile.

            “Hey, gimp,” I said with a smile. Carson was sitting in the corner, but I didn’t bother acknowledging him. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about what had gone on between us, and until I was, I figured it was best to act like the kiss had never happened. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him put down the magazine he’d been reading and stare at me as I sat down next to Benji.

            “I’m sorry, but do I know you?” Benji asked, slurring his words slightly. “You couldn’t be my old friend, Bliss…’cause she would never ditch me to go play around in the dirt.”

            “Oh, cut it out,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You know I had to go. If I’d waited, chances are there’d be no useful evidence left to go on.”

            “So, you found something then?” he asked, for the moment forgetting about how annoyed he was at me.

            “Not exactly. I found someone.” I took out my phone to show him the pictures we now had of Hoodie. Then I filled them both in on the conversation I’d had with my dad, being sure to include the part about the material being just like our Smart Suits and the identity of our dead boy.

            “So, this kid died as a child?” Benji asked, his eyes practically bugging out. He whistled low as he took all the information in.

            “Supposedly.”

            “But, why? Why get rid of his identity? Why say he died if he didn’t?” Benji asked.

            “This way he doesn’t exist,” Carson chimed in. It was the first time he’d spoken since I arrived, and his voice nearly startled me. “It’s harder for people to suspect you if they think you’re dead, and even harder to catch you that way.”

            “I’m really confused here,” Benji said, trying to make sense of the situation. “The kid was only four years old when he supposedly died, right? That’s what your dad said. Why would he need to disappear at that age? And how would his parents hide something like that?”

            “Good point. That’s why we have to track them down and seeing whether they know their kid’s still alive,” I said. “What have the doctors said about your injuries?”

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