Chapter 35 The rest of the day, most people give me a wide berth. It's one I appreciate even if they're simply feeling awkward that my boss cleared a conference room to yell at me. But here's the thing. I can't stop my mind. I know Vander Moore. I've known him practically my entire life. He's the guy you call in the middle of an emergency because he's the sort of guy who will always be there when you need him. That's what troubles me. I mean, I've heard his friends intimate about it. He's the quiet hero. The vigilante hiding in the dark, waiting to strike. He's Batman, and Batman always fights on the side of good, even when he's a bit morally gray himself. And I love him. I just do. I've loved him for... forever. I don't want him to go up against my father or the FBI. I don't want him to put himself further at risk. It terrifies me to think what my father will do to him if he finds out, and that's not even including what the FBI will do if they find out he's hacking them and evidently has been for years. This is my mess to clean up. Not Vander's. And I'm tired of taking the cowardly way out. I'm tired of looking over my shoulder, hiding, and always being afraid. I don't want this life anymore. I don't want it for my daughter. She deserves better. She deserves a mother who is strong. A mother who stands up for the things she should and does the right thing no matter what. But something in what Vander said is clicking with me. Well, several things actually, but one thing in particular is pounding like a drum in my head. I've had suspicions for a long time about this. Now I'm going to test my theory and run with it. Me: I love you, Mom. I have no idea what sort of private hell you've been living through all these years with him, but I'm so sorry this has been your life. I'm sorry I haven't done more to change it or stop it. Me: Hazel has our eyes. She's beautiful. And I see so much of Cass in her smile. I miss Cass, and I know you do too. He should still be with us. He shouldn't be gone. Mom: Your father's a good man. He works hard for our family. I love him, and I love being here with him. I wouldn't change anything. Me: Give me the respect of not lying to me about him. We both know what he's done. We both know the monster he is. One day, I'd love for you to meet your granddaughter. Mom: I'd love that too, baby girl. She leaves it at that, and I swallow thickly, thinking through what I'm doing. I don't have a choice, though. Not anymore. I can't continue to live like this. Hazel can't grow up like this. I have to do something other than run and hide. Even if it scares the shit out of me. And with that notion in my head, I make a phone call from the landline in a random, empty office. "Surgical ICU, this is Rina speaking." "Hi, Rina. I'm looking for Dr. Katy Barrows Lawson." "Um, I'm not sure if she's on this floor at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?" "You're Rina Fritz, right?" I remember Katy mentioning her the other day at Mason's when we were talking about all their people who work at MGH with us. There's a long pause before she answers. "Yes. That's my maiden name. Who's this?" "I need help. I'm a friend of your people. Keegan and Kenna and Sorel and Katy and Wren, who I know are your nieces." I twirl around in the empty office chair toward the window and the darkening sky beyond. "I'm trying to help one of your extended people. One of their primary people. Can you put me through to Katy? It has to be on this line, and it has to be her." Rina is silent for a very long moment, and then she says, "Yes. I can do that. Do you need me to do something? Are you in trouble?" "I just need Katy, and I don't want to say more than that." Because I won't involve more people than I have to. I'm already sick at the idea of including Katy, but she told me she'd be here if Hazel or I ever needed anything, and right now, Hazel needs her. "Okay. But just so you know, I'm here tomorrow morning starting at seven a.m., and it's not just me who will be here in a position to help, if you know what I'm saying." I close my eyes and release a breath. "Thank you. I hope I won't need that." "Hold, please." I wait and I hold, and a solid five freaking minutes later, Katy is on the landline. "This is Dr. Lawson." "Katy, it's Liora." "Hey." A pause. "Um. What's going on? Why did you call me through the SICU?" Because I've learned a few things over the years about how to hide what you don't want others to know. "I need you to text me in a few minutes and tell me that Willow has been wanting to play more with Hazel. I need you to take her for the night. I'm going to fight you on it because our girls are so young and far from the age for a sleepover, but you have to insist. I know this is a huge⁠-" "It's done. Hazel is always welcome, and I have a bed she can sleep in. Are you safe? Is Vander okay?" My eyes pinch closed, and I fight my tears. They won't help me. "I'm working on it. But you can't tell him, Katy. I know that's another huge thing, and I wouldn't ever ask you to keep something from him, but it has to be like this." "I've got Hazel." I choke down my sob. "Thank you." "If you need more, we're here. All of us." I inhale a shaky breath. "It's something I have to do myself and should have done a long time ago. But thank you. More than I can express, thank you." "Always. There isn't anything we wouldn't do for Vander. And you." She disconnects the call, and I climb out of the chair and return to my office to get myself ready to leave for the day. Katy does her thing. I get a slew of texts that I fight, and then a call from her where she demands I bring Hazel over to her house for the night. She even tells me not to bother packing a bag because she has everything Hazel will ever need and more for their overnight. She asks about ice cream, and I laugh and say Hazel will love it. It's all so sweet and fun and playful, even if it's my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter going to a sleepover with her bestie about eight years before she should. I pick up Hazel at the daycare and start spouting a million fun things about sleeping at Willow's. Hazel's excited. She thinks this is an adventure, but she's also a little wobbly and will miss me. "I'll be there first thing in the morning to pick you up," I beam, kissing her cheek as I walk us through the garage toward the car Vander purchased for us while pretending he already owned it. "It'll be so much fun. But if you don't want to go⁠-" "No!" Hazel jumps twice, raggedly pulling on my hand that's holding hers. "I want to, I want to." "Okay, but if you need me overnight, I'll come get you." Hazel climbs up into her seat and starts singing a new song she learned today in daycare. And like the smiling, happy, oblivious mom that I am, I drive Hazel out to the south end of Boston and reluctantly drop her at Katy's. "Ah! Thank you!" Katy exclaims. "This is going to be the best. We're getting pizza and are going to watch movies with ice cream and popcorn." Willow comes running over, and then a second later, Hazel follows her into the house without so much as a goodbye, and my heart goes into V-tach. It's not beating a perfusive rhythm. I want to grab her and run again but no more flight. I hide my heartache behind my smile. "Thank you." Katy holds her happy expression. "Be safe, okay?" "I'm hoping it's just⁠-" "I've got it and her. Take care of you." "And him," I tell her and give her a hug. I climb into my car, but I see him. He's there. As I expected. He's not even trying to hide from me, which is perfect. No more hiding. I have no intention of driving back to Vander's, so I weave through Boston a bit, building my nerve up. It never occurred to me, which is stupid, I realize, that my father was watching my mother's texts with me. Most of the time I didn't think about it. Our texts were basic and never spoke about anything specific. I don't know what my mother knows and what she doesn't. She might still think Cass fell and that it was a horrific accident. But after hearing that this agent guy showed up to talk to Vander shortly after I texted my mother that I was working for him is more than a little coincidental. It's why I texted all of that to my mother earlier, and it seems my pathetic, weak father took the bait. Good thing too, because I had no idea how else I was going to be able to do this. I have to play this right. I have to believe that what Vander said about this guy is true. Otherwise, all hope is lost. Otherwise my father will have Vander killed and likely me and Hazel as well. Vander won't text me for a little while, but he will know that Hazel and I aren't home soon enough when he doesn't see us on camera. He's going to be furious with me, and I get it. I'm risking a lot. Everything, really. So let's hope this is as Vander said. I drive through Boston and back around toward the university. It's close to Vander's building, but I don't go there. I go to the parking lot on the south side of campus that is mostly empty save for a few scattered cars but is still on a public campus with enough people not too far off. Not to mention there are emergency buttons and places to run to if I need to. I pull into the lot, park on an empty side away from the buildings, and shut off my car. Breathing heavily, my hands shake, and my heart pounds so much adrenaline through my body that I'm hazy with it. Or maybe I'm hyperventilating? Shit, it could be that. I check my face in the rearview mirror. "Time to woman up, girl. You've got this." I do. I think. Possibly not, hence the hyperventilation. But I force myself to step out of my car, my keys in my hand, including the key to Vander's house that I have sticking through two fingers in case I need to use it as a weapon. The black SUV is a few spots over. The burnished orange light streaming down from the lamppost creates a circle between us. Without a word, I traverse it, heading straight to the man who threatened me and my child this morning. The man who claims he's working for my father. "What's your name?" I ask as I approach him. He's standing tall with his dark hair pulled tightly back and his hitman suit on. "Larry." I snort a laugh. "Really? You couldn't come up with a better fake name than that?" "Who lies and says their name is Larry?" Touché. "Is that what my father calls you?" "Yes." "What does the FBI call you? Since I know Vincent Vega isn't it." His expression doesn't alter as he searches my face, but if he's surprised that I know he's undercover FBI, he doesn't show it. Then again, Vander could have this all wrong, and this man is everything to be feared and not sought out. "I don't think hitmen actually wear those types of clothes. They're a bit conspicuous, don't you think?" My hands fall to my sides, but he notes the key between my fingers and smirks. Yeah, it's not much. I brought a key to a... I don't even know what you'd call this party, but I'm not stupid enough to believe he doesn't have a gun on him somewhere. "Why are you following me?" I ask, trying to feel him out a bit more before I put my cards on the table. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Why are you texting your mother things you shouldn't? Are you trying to get everyone killed?" I grin, but there's no warmth in it. "Did you know he beats the shit out of her? That he's cracked ribs and made organs bleed but never takes her to the hospital because he can't allow a record of any kind to be made. Did you know when Cassian and I were young, she had a miscarriage after he kicked her down the stairs?" He doesn't so much as flinch, but there's a small shift in his gaze that tells me he didn't know that. My father hides it well, never hitting her anywhere visible. Cass and I never talked about it. Not even with each other. It was just one of those things that stayed silent and corroded us from the inside out. Still, I don't think this dude cares. "He must pay you well to do his bidding. You didn't kill Cass. I know that. I saw the men who did. That's how all of this started for me. I overheard them discussing their evils, and for reasons I still don't understand, my father let me live." He doesn't reply, and frustration rolls through me. "Why are you here? Why are you following me?" "I'm here to deliver a message." I scoff and roll my eyes. "For both our sakes, I hope that's not true. What threat did my father ask you to give me?" "Hazel." "That motherfucker," slips past my lips with a bitter laugh. "She's two and a half. Is he really threatening me with that?" I'm ready to kill this asshole where he stands. My father really knows no bounds. Then again, he did have his own child murdered. I always wondered what Cass knew that tipped my father over the edge. "You're going to do that? You're going to murder my child?" "If I must. If you're telling people things you shouldn't, you're essentially doing the same." "Wow. You're a real hero. And here I was hoping you were actually FBI." My heart rate starts to spike. "I was hoping I could talk to you and you'd help me after I told you everything. I was hoping you'd take my father into custody, and that would finally fucking be that." "That's not how it works, Liora." "Then tell me how it works!" I yell, my hands flying about as frustration bleeds into anger and sarcasm. "Tell me how it's done. Tell me how short of driving up to Maine and burying my father alive so he dies slowly while knowing he's dying and has no way out, that I can get rid of him and make my child, my boyfriend, and my mother safe." His eyebrows bounce. "Burying him alive?" I shift my weight and stare down at the cracked asphalt, sweaty and a bit wild. "I've had years of fantasies, and being buried alive sounds awful, so yeah." He makes a noise that almost sounds amused. "You opened your mouth. You told people things you shouldn't have. You set these wheels in motion." This is where the key comes in if I need it. I lift my chin and meet his eyes. "Meaning what?" My phone rings in my pocket. Crap. "Check it." "No." "Check it." I sigh, and when I see it's Vander, I send it to voicemail. He's going to be supersonically mad, but right now, I don't have a choice. He smirks and cocks an eyebrow at my pocket, where I just returned my phone. "Meaning Vander knows too much, and the wheels for that are already in motion, so stabbing me with your key is futile." That's what I thought he was going to say. That's why I'm here. This is what I have to do. "He doesn't, though. I haven't told him anything. Not one thing. The texts to my mother weren't about that. And stabbing you with anything could never be futile." I shake my head. "I digress. This is because my father's paranoid I'll be stupid and open my mouth, which I never would. I was hoping you were FBI. I was hoping that my father was reading my mother's texts and that he'd send you to me with a threat, but you'd actually be FBI and would help. Clearly, I was wrong." I swallow, my insides being ripped from me as I ask, "If I walk away and never see or speak to Vander again, will he be allowed to live?"