I gritted my teeth as the truck skidded out of the parking lot onto the road. I didn't have to look behind me to know that the Traveler's Bureau had successfully gone up in flames, burning all of Topeka's records as it fell, including Rinley's. That is, if they didn't have a digital copy somewhere, which I'm sure they did. But we didn't. We didn't have anything.
I closed my eyes, but they still burned. Every part of me burned. Even my memory burned. I could see Lily running and Broden getting arrested. Even worse, I could hear the gunshots as Noah screamed my name. He had been shot. He was bleeding. And my mother. I had seen her. I had seen something.
"Don't cry now, dear," Anthony cooed from the passenger seat. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I'm not crying," I spat, opening my eyes only to glare.
Anthony had turned around from the passenger seat to look at me. As his eyes moved over me, he grinned maniacally. He didn't have any soot on him. Not a single spec. For being so close to the fire, I couldn't understand how he looked so collected, so calm, so untouched.
"You're a tough one, aren't you, Ms. Gray?"
I looked away, focusing my attention on the streets. If I knew where we were going, I could escape. Get back to Lyn, or Miles, or anyone that I knew from school. Anyone but Anthony—or Tony—or whoever he was. But the windows were purposely tinted too dark to see out of. I wouldn't be able to memorize the streets. I had to find another way.
I turned my attention back to him. "I know who you are, Tony."
Anthony's eyes lit up the same way Noah's did when I defied him. "I'm glad my cousin had a chat with you. He seemed to like you enough to protect you, but I didn't think he'd tell you any of that." His head tilted to the side. "You must be special."
My cheeks burned. For the first time, I was thankful I was covered in ash. "He isn't the one who told me," I corrected, refusing to bring up the twins.
Anthony's smirk fell, but I bit my lip to prevent myself from talking. I could taste ash, but my words would taste worse. Anthony had a gun on him. I wasn't helping anyone if I was dead.
"I forgot to introduce you to my friends." Anthony tried to gain the upperhand in the conversation.
He gestured to the men next to me, one on my right, one on my left. The man on my right was the burly man that had tackled me. His nose still bled, and his hands curled into fists as if he would strangle me at any moment. The other was a younger man—impeccably serious but strangely familiar now that he was close. He didn't say a word. Instead, he kept his focus locked on Anthony as if expecting more orders.
I eyed them, but I didn't look at them too long. I didn't want them to think I was planning an escape.
The truck drove on and on, and I refused to speak. Anthony stopped taunting me as the tomo cleared his system. He answered his phone a few times, but none of the calls revealed details of the incident. Was Broden in jail? Were Noah's injuries fatal? Did the others get caught? Nothing was said, and Anthony kept it that way.
I ignored the searing pain in my ankle and glanced at my hands. My palm was cracked and cut, but blood splattered over my fingers. My throat tightened, and I flipped my hands over to look for an injury that explained it.
The younger guard leaned into me. "I'd like to handcuff her, sir," he said, as if I had a way to attack them.
Anthony growled. "Did I ask for your opinion, Pierson?"
I stifled a gasp. Pierson. I hadn't been imagining the strange familiarity. He was Miles' friend who had watched the door at the homecoming party, the one who had purposely called the cops to expose the tomo.
Pierson gestured to my hands. "She keeps moving them."
I refused to look at him. Was Pierson still Noah's comrade? If he was, why would he handcuff me? I needed to be able to escape.
When Anthony nodded, Pierson handcuffed me carefully, dropping my hands in my lap. Anthony's smile grew. "That blood," he teased, "it's not yours, is it?"
My stomach lunged into my throat. Noah. I remembered how he grabbed my hands and pulled me down the stairwell. It was his blood on my hands.
I stared at the crimson color.
"Doubt he survived that shot," Anthony said as the truck neared a large wrought-iron gate with a twisting driveway. At this range, I couldn't see a building through the windshield. Just a field and winding asphalt.
I kept my mouth shut.
Anthony lowered his window to type a code into a black box. It opened the gate, and the silent driver continued on.
"Are you worried about him, Sophia?" Anthony asked.
My fingers curled against my thighs.
"Because I think you are," he added, sing-song.
"I think he's out of the Topeka Region by now," I said, knowing it was no longer possible to deny my involvement with Noah.
"With his baby sister?" Anthony laughed. So he knew. "I know that you couldn't find her file," he said, as the truck neared a giant mansion with an additional gate out front. "And I know Rinley is not what he's really after." He knew more than me.
The truck rolled over a bump, and a man dressed in dark green fatigues waved us through. We parked outside the prosperous home. Anthony stepped out of the vehicle, and the two other men pulled me out after him. Pierson held onto my shoulder, and Anthony looked at the other man with disgust. "Go clean yourself up."
The man glared at me before disappearing into the house. Four stories high and wider than a hotel. Windows spanned out over every floor, dark green shutters lining the brown exterior with frivolous decorations. A twisting tree filled the front lawn, and ivy grew up the left side of the house like a painting. It was beautiful, but I was in trouble no matter who lived here. And I know exactly who did. Everyone did.
Phelps.
Anthony cracked his knuckles and stretched out as if he had been innocently exercising. "Shall we go inside, then?"
"It's not like I'm making the calls, Tony," I countered.
Anthony nodded at Pierson. "Watch her." He walked inside quickly.
I tensed. Pierson stood in the sun, sweat collecting on his brow. I looked at him closer now that Anthony wasn't studying my every move. Pierson wasn't much taller than me, but he was strong. The veins on his arms protruded out, callouses digging into my exposed skin where he held my shoulder. I hadn't even realized my shirt had ripped at the collar, but Pierson wasn't looking. He kept his bright blue eyes on the front door. I couldn't imagine how he worked for someone like Anthony or Phelps or whoever had collected me. I couldn't fathom anything since he knew Noah.
"Lie," Pierson whispered so hastily that I thought I was hallucinating.
"What?"
Pierson coughed loudly, gaining the attention of the guards around us. He nodded at them, and they mindlessly went back to work. Without hesitation, he repeated it out of the corner of his mouth, "Lie."
"About what?"
Pierson widened his eyes at me, opening his mouth, and then Anthony shouted from the doorway, "Bring her in."
Pierson gripped my shoulder until I winced before pushing me forward. I stumbled over my twisted ankle and held back a whimper. The burly man had apparently done more than twist it. I forced my mind to go elsewhere as I tripped over the front steps and entered the mansion. The tiles were pearl white, and they filled the entrance room. A secretary sat at the entrance, prim and proper, with her eyes focused on the computer as if she couldn't see them dragging a helpless teenager inside the walls of her work. I gaped at her, unsure how she could ignore me, and Pierson walked me to the nearest suede couch. "Sit."
When I did, I looked around. Just as the outside was beautiful, the inside was filled with riches. Golden frames held paintings, and silver bowls crammed with candies sat on the desks. On every cherry wood table, fresh sunflowers sat in glass vases. The room reeked of their sweet fragrance, reminding me of history class. We had learned about the sunflower and how it used to be Kansas's state flower before the United States was separated from an international economic collapse. Now that I knew we were actually in Missouri, I wondered what state flower we should've had.
I shivered.
Anthony spun around the entranceway as if it were his mansion we had entered. "Phelps likes to keep his house very cool for his flowers."
"I thought flowers liked heat."
"Not once they've been cut from their stems," he said, looming over me. "They're more vulnerable when they're by themselves."
I ignored his childish threat. I knew more than he did. I'd been here before, after all. In fact, Phelps let me play with the sunflowers before, and to the left, he had walked me down the hallway to see his paintings. The only one I could see clearly now was at the end of the hallway. A long, dark bridge, lit up by thousands of lights by a sea—or an ocean—or a river. I couldn't tell, but I had seen it before. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it—both because it was new and familiar. It was the bridge Lyn had tattooed across her collarbone. It was there, on Phelps' wall as a decoration, alive and breathtaking. In my childhood, he had hung up an arch of some kind. Now that it was gone, I wondered where it went. I wondered why this bridge had taken its place.
Pierson followed my gaze. "The Brooklyn Bridge."
I tore my gaze away from the painting. "What are you talking about?"
I didn't want him to know I was studying it, but Pierson looked back at me like he already knew. His lip twitched. Lie, Pierson's voice echoed.
I gulped before looking back at Anthony. "I'm here to talk," I began. "I thought that's what you brought me here for."
Anthony crossed his arms and leaned back. If he were anything like Noah, then I knew he was surprised. "You didn't want to talk earlier."
I shrugged. "I'm not dying for this."
A slow smile spread across his cheek as he sat down across from me. He was my height now. "What do you want to talk about?"
"What do you want to know?"
Anthony squared his shoulders. "We're going to wait for Phelps."
"Why?" I asked innocently, yet my heart pounded. If Phelps found me here, he would arrest my father. He might even kill my father. Then again, he might not do anything at all. "If we kept this between us, you'd get all of the credit."
Anthony studied me. "And what do you get out of it?"
"My name," I answered quickly, deceiving him as best as I could. "I want to be able to have a job in the future. If I get incarcerated for this—" I paused, thinking of Miles, how he had been beaten and probably worse. I shuddered, concentrating on looking as terrified as possible. "You know what happens."
Anthony hesitated.
"You said it yourself, Noah is probably dead," I stuttered, trying not to lose myself in them. "I know him, but I don't know him. We just met. But you already know that. You were around him as a kid." For once, my lack of childhood relationships was a benefit.
"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," I pressed. "He thought my father's connections could help him, but we refused. Noah used me for his plan."
Belief filled Anthony's gaze. "And what is his plan exactly? What is my cousin up to? What's he after?" So he didn't know, after all.
"I want a deal first."
A loud clang echoed through the house. I jumped, turning my torso to see Pierson picking up a pile of candies that had fallen off a counter near him. It was only then that I realized the blue candies weren't candies at all, but a collection of pills. They had suns etched into them, just like my father's knives. Tomo. Phelps had tomo in his mansion.
Anthony cursed. "Clean that up and get out."
"Yes, sir," Pierson mumbled, his face unreadable. He never looked back.
"A deal," I repeated to Anthony.
"I'm not up for playing games with you."
"You aren't," I said. "I'll tell you what he's after. But I want to know where Rinley is. An exchange of sorts."
Anthony's bottom lip opened slightly, and then he covered up his surprise with laughter. "What could you possibly gain from knowing where that useless kid is?"
"What could you get out of knowing what Noah is up to?"
Anthony's cheeks flushed with frustration. "I wouldn't test me, Ms. Gray." He leaned back, exposing his gun again. "I have other means of getting information from you than just deals and bets."
"I was raised by one of the best investigators in the State," I said. "I think I know how to hold back information, even in pain, Mr. Tomery."
I used the last name with little confidence, but Anthony flinched as if he had been slapped. He moved his head as if he had done it on purpose. Noah did the same thing when he was trying to gain control. They were alike, and I could use it against Anthony.
"Noah cares about his family a lot," I said.
"No, he doesn't," Anthony broke. "His family—my family—was executed in Phoenix, and he let it happen."
They even had the same weak spots. As much as Anthony was older, he was still a vengeful kid.
"Noah cares—"
"All I care about is revenge." Anthony's brow furrowed above his nose.
I swallowed my nerves. "So make a deal with me, and you can get it."
"I shouldn't have to make the deal."
I fiddled with my handcuffs to keep Anthony from realizing how hard I was beginning to shake. "Then, Phelps won't get the information he's looking for," I threatened, "and I'm betting you'll be sent back to Phoenix. The records were destroyed under your watch, after all."
Anthony's hand shot to his gun, and he pulled it out faster than I was able to comprehend. He pointed it directly at my face. I froze. My palms filled with sweat, and I wondered if Noah's blood would run down to my wrists from the condensation. The thought consumed me as I stared down the barrel less than a yard away. Everything had been in front of my face—this close—the entire time.
I sighed like it was my last breath, like it had already happened, but Anthony lowered his weapon. His high cheekbones caused shadows to drift down his face, but his eyes were focused. They moved from side to side, filled with thoughts I couldn't guess. He was reading me, and I hoped that my face was unreadable, that I looked as if I had stared down a barrel a hundred times when my father taught me how to be silent. I hoped Anthony saw a girl who didn't mind dying without a few last words. I prayed he would let me go.
"You have a deal." His voice dropped just like his cousin's did. "Talk."