Silence (28 page)

I
SET MY FOOT HEAVY ON THE VOLKSWAGEN’S GAS
pedal, hoping my route didn’t intersect with a bored cop who had nothing better to do than slap my wrist. I was on my way home, having left Patch with great reluctance. I hadn’t wanted to leave, but the thought of my mom alone with Hank, a puppet under his influence, was unbearable. Even though I knew it wasn’t solid logic, I told myself my presence could protect her. The alternative was giving in to Hank, and I’d die before I went there.

After dishonorably trying and failing to convince me to stay until a normal waking hour, Patch had taken me to retrieve the Volkswagen. I didn’t know what it said about the car that it managed to sit unscathed in the industrial district for several hours. At the very least, I’d expected the CD player to have been ripped out.

At the farmhouse, I jogged up the porch steps and let myself in quietly. When I flipped on the kitchen light, I smothered a scream.

Hank Millar leaned against the counter, a glass of water dangling negligently between his fingers. “Hello, Nora.”

I instantly threw up a shield, hiding evidence of my alarm. I narrowed my eyes, hoping the gesture appeared annoyed. “What are you doing here?”

He inclined his head toward the front door. “Your mother had to run to the office. Some emergency Hugo sprang on her at the last moment.”

“It’s five in the morning.”

“You know Hugo.”

No, but I know you,
I wanted to say. I briefly entertained the idea that Hank had mind-tricked my mom into leaving so he could corner me alone. But how could he have known when I’d come home? Still, I didn’t discard the idea.

“I thought it only polite to get up and start my day too,” he said. “What would it say about me if I stayed in bed while your mother works?”

He didn’t bother to hide that he’d slept
here
. As far as I knew,
this was the first time. It was one thing to manipulate my mom’s mind, but to sleep in her bed …

“Thought you had plans to sleep at your friend Vee’s house. Party’s over so soon?” Hank asked. “Or should I say, so
late
.”

My pulse jumped with rage, and I had to bite back the angry words flying to my tongue.

“I decided to sleep in my
own
bed.”
Take a hint.

A condescending smile hovered at his mouth. “Right.”

“Don’t believe me?” I challenged.

“No need to make excuses with me, Nora. I know there are very few reasons a young girl would feel compelled to lie about sleeping over at a friend’s house.” He chuckled, but it wasn’t a warm sound. “Tell me. Who’s the lucky guy?” A blond eyebrow arched, and he raised the glass to his lips, tipping back a drink.

My pulse was all over the place, but I put every ounce of conviction into faking an air of calm. He was stabbing in the dark. There was no way he could know I’d been with Patch. The only way Hank was going to confirm anything I’d done last night was if I let him.

I gave him an incensed look. “Actually, I was watching a movie with Vee. Maybe Marcie has a history of sneaking out with boys, but I think it’s safe to say I’m not Marcie.”
Too snide.
If I was going to get through this, I needed to back off slightly.

Hank’s superior amusement didn’t fade from his expression. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“I called Vee’s mother to check up on you, and she delivered shocking news. You hadn’t stepped foot inside their house all night.”

“You
checked up
on me?”

“I fear your mother is too lenient with you, Nora. I saw through your fib and thought I’d take matters into my own hands. I’m glad we ran into each other, so we could have this little chat privately.”

“What I do is none of your business.”

“At the moment, true. But if I marry your mother, all the old rules go out the window. We’ll be a family.” He winked, but the effect was far more menacing than playful. “I run a tight ship, Nora.”

Okay, try this on for size.
“You’re right. I wasn’t at Vee’s. I lied to my mom so I could go for a long, undisturbed drive in the country to clear my head. Something strange has been happening lately.” I tapped my head. “My amnesia is starting to clear. The past several months don’t feel quite so vague. I keep seeing one particular face over and over. My kidnapper’s. I don’t have enough detail to identify him yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

He held his face perfectly expressionless, but I thought I saw anger swell in his eyes.

That’s what I thought, you abominable prick.
“Trouble was, on my way back into town, my piece-of-junk car broke down. I didn’t want to get in trouble for driving around by myself late at night, so I called Vee and asked her to cover for me. I’ve spent the past few hours trying to get my car to start.”

He didn’t flinch. “Why don’t I have a look at it, then? If I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it, I shouldn’t be in the car business.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll take it to our mechanic.” In case he didn’t catch the hint, I added, “I need to get ready for school and I need to get some studying done. I prefer peace and quiet.”

His smile pinched at the corners. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”

I gestured pointedly toward the front door. “I’ll call my mom and let her know you left.”

“And your car?”

My, my, he was being obstinate. “Mechanic, remember?”

“Nonsense,” he said, brushing me off easily. “No need to make your mother pay a mechanic when I can solve the problem. Car’s in the driveway, I presume?”

Before I could stop him, he walked out the front door. I followed him down the front porch steps with my heart in my throat. Positioning himself at the nose of the Volkswagen, he rolled up his sleeves and reached expertly inside the front grille. The hood popped up and he propped it open.

I stood beside him, hoping Patch had done a convincing job. It had been his idea to have a backup plan, just in case Vee’s story didn’t hold. Since it looked like Hank had overridden Patch’s mind-trick by going straight to Mrs. Sky, I couldn’t be more grateful for his caution.

“Right here,” Hank said, pointing to a tiny fissure in one of the
many black hoses coiled around the engine. “Problem solved. It’ll hold for a few more days, but it’s going to need fixing sooner rather than later. Bring it by the dealership later today and I’ll get my men on it.”

When I said nothing, he added, “I have to impress the daughter of the woman I intend to marry.” It was said lightly enough, but there was a sinister undertone. “Oh, and Nora?” he called out after I’d turned to go. “I’m happy to keep this incident to ourselves, but for your mother’s sake, I won’t tolerate more lies, regardless of your intentions. Fool me once …”

Without a word I walked inside, forcing myself not to hurry or glance back. Not that I needed to. I could feel Hank’s perceptive frown follow me all the way through the door.

A week passed without any word from Patch. I didn’t know if he’d found Dabria, or if he was any closer to uncovering Hank’s motivation for hanging around my family. More than once I’d had to stop myself from driving to Delphic and using trial and error to track my way back to his granite studio. I’d agreed to wait for him to contact me, but I was beginning to kick myself for doing so. I’d made Patch promise not to abandon me to the sidelines while he went after Hank, but his promise was starting to look awfully flimsy. Even if he’d hit nothing but dead ends, I wanted him to call because he missed me the way I was missing him. Couldn’t he be bothered to pick up the phone? Scott also hadn’t resurfaced, and in
keeping with his request, I hadn’t gone looking for him. But if one or both didn’t reach out soon, all bets were off.

The only thing distracting me from Patch was school, but even it wasn’t doing a commendable job. I’d always considered myself a top-notch student, though I was starting to wonder why I bothered. Compared to the immediate need to deal with Hank, getting into college felt like a secondary concern.

“Congratulations,” Cheri Deerborn said as we strolled into second-hour English together.

I couldn’t figure out why she was smiling so widely. “For what?”

“Homecoming nominations were posted this morning. You’re up for junior class attendant.”

I just stared at her.

“Junior class attendant,” she repeated, stressing each word individually.

“Are you sure?”

“Your name’s on the list. Can’t be a misprint.”

“Who would nominate me?”

She eyed me oddly. “Anyone can nominate you, but they have to get at least fifty other people to sign the nomination form. Like a petition. The more signatures the better.”

“I’m going to kill Vee,” I muttered, as the only logical explanation presented itself. I’d taken Patch’s advice and hadn’t called her out on lying to me, but this was inexcusable.
Homecoming royalty?
Even Patch couldn’t protect her now.
Seated at my desk, I hid my cell phone beneath the desktop since our teacher, Mr. Sarraf, had a strict no-phone policy.

HOMECOMING ATTENDANT?
I texted to Vee.

Fortunately, the bell hadn’t rung yet, and she gave me a prompt reply.

JUST HEARD. UM … CONGRATS?

UR SO DEAD
, I punched in.

EXCUSE MOI? U THINK I DID THIS?

“Better put that away,” said a cheerful voice. “Sarraf is squinting at you.”

Marcie Millar dropped into the next desk over. I knew we had English together, but she always sat in the back row with Jon Gala and Addyson Hales. It was no secret Mr. Sarraf was practically blind, and they could do just about anything back there short of lighting up.

“If he squints any harder, he’s going to give himself a brain hemorrhoid,” Marcie said.

“Brilliant,” I said. “How do you come up with this stuff?”

Missing my sarcasm, she sat taller with self-satisfaction.

“I saw you made the homecoming ballot,” she said.

I said nothing. The lilt of her voice didn’t appear to be making fun, but eleven years’ worth of history between us implied differently.

“Who do you think will win male junior attendant?” she kept on. “My bet’s on Cameron Ferria. Hopefully they’ve dry-cleaned
the royalty robes since last year. I have it on good authority that Kara Darling left armpit sweat marks inside her robe. What if you had to wear her old robe?” She wrinkled her nose. “If she did that to her robe, I’d hate to see what she did to the tiara.”

My mind unwillingly traveled back to the only homecoming I’d attended. Vee and I had gone as freshmen. We’d been newly anointed high schoolers, and it only seemed appropriate to see what all the fuss was about. At halftime, the booster club marched onto the field and announced the royalty, starting with the freshman attendants and ending with the senior class queen and king. Each member of the royalty had a robe in school colors placed on their shoulders and a crown or tiara shoved on their head. Then they took a victory lap around the track in golf carts. High class, I know. Marcie won freshman attendant and soured any desire I had to attend another coronation.

“I nominated you.” Marcie flipped her hair off her shoulders, giving me the full wattage of her smile. “I was going to keep it a secret, but anonymity isn’t my thing.”

Her words whipped me out of my reflection. “You did
what
?”

She tried on a sympathetic face. “I know you’re going through a rough period. I mean, first the whole amnesia thing and”—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“I know about the hallucinations. My dad told me. He said I should be extra nice to you. Only I wasn’t sure how. I thought and thought. And then I saw the announcement about nominating this year’s homecoming royalty. Obviously
everyone wanted to nominate me, but I told my friends we should nominate you instead. I might have mentioned the hallucinations, and I might have exaggerated their severity. You gotta play dirty to win. Good news is, we got over two hundred signatures, more than any other nominee!”

My mind reeled, tottering between incredulity and disgust. “You made me your charity project?”

“Yes!” she squealed, clapping her hands daintily.

I bent across the aisle, pinning her with my most hardened and severe look. “Go to the office and retract it. I don’t want my name on the ballot.”

Instead of looking wounded, Marcie put her hands on her hips. “That would mess up everything. They’ve already printed the ballots. I peeked at the stack in the front office this morning. Do you want to be a paper waster? Think of the trees that sacrificed their lives for those reams of paper. And what’s more, screw the paper. What about me? I went out of my way to do something nice, and you can’t just reject that.”

I tipped my neck back, glowering at the water stains on the ceiling.
Why me?

A
FTER SCHOOL I FOUND A NOTE TACKED TO THE
front door:
Barn.
I stuffed the note into my pocket and headed to the backyard. The split-rail fence at the edge of our property opened to a sprawling field. A whitewashed barn was plunked down in the middle of it. To this day, I wasn’t sure who the barn belonged to. Years ago Vee and I had dreamed of turning it into a secret clubhouse. Our ambitions quickly died the first time we hauled open the doors to find a bat hanging from the rafters.

I hadn’t tried to enter the barn since, and even though I hoped I could say I was no longer terrified of small flying mammals, I found myself opening the door with great hesitation.

“Hello?” I called in.

Scott was stretched out on a weathered bench at the back of the barn. Upon my entrance, he pulled himself up to sitting.

“You still mad at me?” he asked, chewing a piece of wild grass. If it weren’t for the Metallica T-shirt and frayed jeans, he might have looked like he belonged seated behind the wheel of a tractor.