Breaking Point (21 page)

He blocked out the single overhead bulb, and all that remained were the shadows silhouetting his face.

“You can’t let him get to you,” he said.

I slammed to a halt. “So you’re on his side now?”

A vein on his neck jumped.

“I’m on your side,” he said. “I’m
always
on your side.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.” I regretted it even as I said it, and resumed my pace.

He shook his head. “I don’t know what Tucker’s doing here, but it can’t be an accident. This is what he does. He digs his way in and gets under your skin. And before you know it, he’s ripped your life apart.”

My shoulders jerked back, tall and defiant.

“You think I don’t know that?”

But my voice shook because even though I did, I’d still fallen into the Tucker trap. I’d kissed Chase to hurt him. I’d gotten information about Rebecca in the holding cells, but at his price. He’d been discharged now, but what if this was all part of the plan? What if
this
—the carriers, the safe house, the soldiers fighting for the resistance—was what he’d wanted?

“I didn’t.” Chase jammed a hand through his hair. “I trusted him once, and it cost me everything. I have to live with that, but you don’t.”

I staggered back, needing to put some distance between us. He never spoke of what he’d witnessed with my mother—not since he’d first told me—but how obvious that burden was now. I hadn’t been there for him because it hurt too much, and in doing so I’d left him alone.

I missed her. But I missed Chase, too, and somehow that was worse, having him here and missing him. Seeing him every day and feeling a world apart.

“You didn’t lose everything,” I said.

He looked up, and moved toward me slowly, and the look of surprise in his face was enough to break my heart.

“Neither did you,” he said quietly.

The tears came at last. Salty and hot, yet somehow cool and cleansing, too. He didn’t wipe them away, but traced them gently with his fingertips.

Someone knocked at the door.

I was jolted back to reality, to the checkpoint, and Tucker Morris, and the things I’d said to him outside. Chase was right; Tucker
had
gotten under my skin, and it wouldn’t happen again.

When my eyes were dry, Chase opened the door.

Sean was standing outside, looking sheepish.

“So.” He scratched his neck. “I didn’t know it was him—Tucker—that, you know. You believe me, right?”

I nodded.

“You could have said something,” he added, a little injured. He was too far away to have this kind of conversation, which made him feel all the more distant.

“I’m not going to freak out and stab you or anything,” I muttered.

“Oh, good.” As if waiting for permission, he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. I tucked my chin over his shoulder, careful not to touch his burned back. I felt stronger with both Chase and him at my side.

“Notice how my hands are above the waist,” I heard him say to Chase, who snorted in response.

Before pulling away, he said, “Something’s come up.”

“What?” Chase edged beside me.

“It’s weird. Probably nothing, but you’ll want to hear it.”

We moved wordlessly past the printing machines toward the office, not running into Cara or Tucker. Maybe Cara really had left to see her cousin. Maybe Tucker had magically disappeared. That would be fine by me.

Billy was sitting on the desk with Marco and Polo. When he saw me, he jumped off, glancing between us as though one of us might combust. I forced my chin up, but wanted badly to blend in with the walls.

“I can’t believe—”

“What happened?” interrupted Chase. I gave him a small, grateful smile.

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” began Marco. “You say
Lori Whittman,
and I say to Polo here, ‘Lori Whittman. Sounds familiar, right?’”

“And I say, ‘Yes, Marco, sounds real familiar.’ And so we come back to the office, and I remember. Last week the carrier from Chicago comes through, saying he’s stopped at a new checkpoint on the way.”

My heart was beating hard, anxious to know where this was going.

“And your friend Sean here remembers that you’re from Louisville,” said Marco. “And I say, ‘That’s where the carrier stopped!’”

“How does Lori Whittman tie into it?” Chase asked when I couldn’t find the words.

“She’s the one!” said Billy, picking up a scrap of paper. “She’s the one that set up the checkpoint in Louisville. The Chicago carrier even wrote down the address so Marco and Polo could see if it was being scouted by the Bureau. Fourteen-fifty Ewing Avenue.”

My knees gave way. I barely registered the hard feel of the floor beneath me. Chase was as pale as death itself. He was right to be. He knew that place all too well.

Fourteen-fifty Ewing Avenue was my address.

CHAPTER

12

“THAT’S
not possible,” Chase choked out.

Could it be possible? Who else could it be, in
my
home? If she had survived, she would have perfect motive to set up a checkpoint. No one would better understand the need for a safe house.

She’s alive. She doesn’t know I’m alive. She’s looking for me. She’s putting herself in danger.

She needs me.

My hands covered my mouth, as though I’d been speaking my stream of panicked thoughts aloud. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t make them real. Hope was a dangerous thing. Too much hope in a time like this could destroy a person. Set up unrealistic expectations. Yes. Best to proceed with caution.

“It’s a trap,” Sean said. “Think about it. Why else would a checkpoint in her name come up now, while the Bureau’s hunting for the sniper? They’re baiting you.”

My heart sank like a stone. Sean’s assessment seemed far more likely than the alternative that my mother was actually alive.

“The Chicago carrier had us look up the name and address a week ago.
Before
they framed you,” said Polo. “The mainframe does say that Lori Whittman’s deceased,” he added, looking sorry.

“But it says that about Chase, too,” said Billy helpfully. “I checked.”

“Are you sure she was dead?” I asked, but my words were so quiet that no one heard me. I repeated myself.

“Yes,” Chase said. “I saw her die.”

“But you got in a fight with Tucker, right? You told me you don’t remember what happened.”

“Whoa,” I heard Billy say.

“Someone hit me,” Chase admitted. “I woke up in a holding cell.” His hands hung slack at his sides. His shoulders bowed. He looked like an old man, and for the first time since before her death, I wanted to comfort
him
.

Marco, Polo, and Billy were glancing back and forth between us.

“Maybe she was just hurt,” I said. “Maybe…” I covered my mouth again.
Don’t hope don’t hope don’t hope.

“I guess there’s only one person that knows for sure,” said Sean cautiously.

Chase was far away. My insides, when I could feel them again, were tight as a drum. I whispered his name, needing him to come back.

He looked up, remembering the rest of the room. He coughed. “Right. Tucker.”

“And I told him to leave,” finished Sean.

Chase spun on him.
“What?”

“How was I supposed to sit here with him knowing…” Sean looked away, like he was afraid of upsetting me again. “Cara was leaving for her cousin’s anyway, so he went with her.”

My heart rate kicked up a notch. What had Sean done? At the worst, he’d given Tucker an out to go straight to the MM. At best, Cara and Tucker would be out in the community, close to curfew, attracting a lot of attention as an unwed couple. One glance at Chase and I could tell he was thinking the same.

“When? When did they go?” I asked.

“I don’t know … twenty minutes maybe,” said Polo. “Marco and I were still looking for the address the carrier left.”

Chase’s hand gripped mine so hard I winced.

“We need to leave,” he said urgently. “We all need to get out. He’s turning us in.”

“Hold up, big guy,” said Polo. “Who’s turning us in?”

Chase zeroed in on Sean. “We have to risk the roads tonight.”

Sean gave him a sober nod and left the office.

“What about the safe house?” Billy said. “Wallace said…”

But Chase was already following Sean toward the truck. I snagged his sleeve as he barreled past.

“I have to go,” I said.

“I know. We are.” Chase’s tone was clipped.

“I have to go
home
.”

His eyes brightened with caution. Hands on my shoulders, he leaned down to make sure I understood his next words.

“Em, she’s gone. I know what I saw.” He stopped when he registered the determination on my face. “What if Sean’s right, and it is a trap?” He sounded frightened. Not of the MM, but of what he might find. Of hoping, just like me, that she was alive.

“I have to know,” I said.

He glanced over my shoulder, staring at nothing. Then, with a short, muttered curse, he swung back into the office.

Marco and Polo had already set out water and food for our trip, and Sean was preparing to load it in the back of the truck. I raced to help him, finding Cara’s folded Sisters of Salvation uniform on one of the dismantled crates.

I broached the silence. “We have to make a detour.”

To my relief, he only sighed and said, “I figured.”

Low voices rumbled within the office, and then I heard Billy’s cracking voice yell, “You’re doing
what
?”

“Oh no.” I reached the threshold just in time to see Polo place a set of car keys in Chase’s open palm.

“You’re going to get caught.” Billy’s face had gone ashy.

“Our shift is up at eight
A.M.
,” said Polo. “That’s when we’re reporting it stolen.”

“Unless you get caught before then, in which case we’re reporting it stolen early,” added Marco. “You’re all right, Jennings, but a lot of people count on us working this angle.”

“Thanks,” said Chase.

“Don’t thank us yet,” said Marco reluctantly.

The adrenaline was already kicking through my veins. The only vehicles that couldn’t be caught breaking curfew were the ones enforcing it. FBR cruisers. Like the one we were about to steal.

Still reeling from our whirlwind plan, I turned to Billy. “You’ll come with us, right?”

He pulled a string from the frayed hem of his shirt, frowning.

Chase put his hand on my arm, as if suspecting I might try to drag him with us.

“What’s it going to be, Billy? It’s your call,” he said.

I held my breath.
Please come with us.
I felt a gnawing inside of me, like I had in the days after they’d arrested my mother. I didn’t want to let Billy out of my sight.

Billy swallowed audibly, shoving his mop of dark hair out of his eyes. He transferred his weight from foot to foot. Chase was right, it was important that Billy make this choice for himself. He hadn’t gotten a say before.

“I’m waiting for the carrier,” he said at last. “Wallace is going to meet me at the safe house.”

Silence seeped across the room. No one knew how to say the words Billy would never believe, not unless he saw it for himself.

Wallace is dead.

“If Tucker brings back soldiers…” I couldn’t finish.

“We’ll take care of it,” said Polo. Beside him, Marco nodded.

Something pinched deep inside of me. If we didn’t deliver Billy all the way to South Carolina, we’d let Wallace down, but short of forcing him into the cruiser, there was nothing we could do. Decisions had to be made, and quickly. I grabbed him then, squeezing him tightly, despite his awkward, adolescent stance, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Take care of yourself, Billy. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

He blinked rapidly and muttered a good-bye under his breath.

In less than ten minutes we were ready. Outside the loading dock was a single gas pump, meant for the delivery trucks on their distribution routes, and Marco filled three red plastic canisters with fuel so that we wouldn’t have to stop in public. The cruiser was parked in a single parking spot beside the building’s generator, just beside the high chain-link fence that surrounded the plant. When he placed the sloshing drums in the trunk I had the fleeting fear that hauling around that much gasoline was dangerous, but figured combustion was the least of our concerns.

With Chase and Sean in borrowed uniforms, and me in the Sisters of Salvation skirt and blouse that Cara had abandoned, we rolled down the ramp onto the highway and gunned it home.

*   *   *

WE
watched the images on the television, horrified. The ground was crowded with hunks of concrete and fallen streetlamps. The dust was powdered chalk, thick as fog. People, coated in white, ran from it, screaming, coughing, like it was a living creature chasing after them, not another building crashing to the ground. Our living room crackled with static.

The camera shook. The guy taping the scene was running. And then the screen went black and returned to the newsroom.

Chicago had been bombed. Like Baltimore and San Francisco. Washington and New York. But so much closer.

“Baby, come here.” Mom reached out her hand and I slid beneath her arm, feeling how she was damp and trembling. I pinched my eyes closed. Outside, kids were playing. A car drove down the street. How could people be so unafraid?

Chase,
I thought. Just his name, over and over. I didn’t know where his uncle lived. I prayed it wasn’t in the heart of the city.

“Ember, if something like this happens, you come straight home, okay?” Her voice cracked. I wrapped my arms around her waist to make her stronger. “I’ll meet you here, and we’ll figure out what to do.”

*   *   *

I HAD
a hard time sitting back in the leather seat. Between the lingering fear of driving after curfew in a borrowed cruiser, the daunting computer panel beside the steering wheel, and the glass partition behind my back, I had a hard time calming down.