Pretty Wanted (15 page)

I searched his face for signs, for any features that looked like me. But his eyes were blue. Mine were hazel. Maybe the hair. It was hard to say. Either way he looked a lot older than he did on that video, but more polished, in much fancier clothes.

I took a deep breath. “I’m looking for information about someone. She died a long time ago, but I think you might have known her. Her name was Brianna Siebert.”

His expression softened at first in surprise, his eyes distant. Then his pupils glinted as he took in the sight of me. What did he see, exactly? Did he recognize her in me? Did he see himself at all?

“Who are you? Who sent you here?” His voice was hoarse.

How far to go? How much should I tell him? And how much time did I have? I reached for the necklace, running my thumb over its surface for support. It had become my talisman.

“I’m her daughter.” I let it trail off there, allowing him to fill in the blank.

Confusion passed over his face, obscuring his features like a shadow. “But she only had one daughter. And she was much older than you,” he murmured. Then, he looked up sharply but not unkindly. It was more searching. “Where’d you get that necklace? Who gave it to you?”

“She did,” I stammered, though technically, it had been Leslie. “You might not have known about me.” Again, I was hinting without saying it out loud.

But he seemed to get the picture because he pulled away, looked wary. “No. Now I know. You’re that girl on TV.”

I drew in a breath. I should have prepared for the possibility he’d recognize me, but I hadn’t.

Not him. Not here. This was bad.

He glanced around to see if anyone was watching us. Then he leaned in close, bending down so that his blue eyes were lined up squarely against mine, so close I could make out the dilated blood vessels on either side of his irises. “I don’t know who sent you, or what your agenda is. . . .”

“I’m not here for that. I don’t want—”

I felt the bulk of him towering over me and suddenly I was afraid. That warm hand closed around my shoulder and I could feel those strong fingers pressing into the hollows around my bones.

And then, suddenly, the hand relaxed. The eyes, too. “Of course not. For a moment you had me confused. What a long day this has been. Anyway, thanks for coming and thank you for your concern, miss.”

My concern?
His voice was loud, his tone phony. He was speaking for the benefit of onlookers now.

His face had brightened again, but I knew it was over. Clearly, the brief moment of understanding we’d shared had drifted past and now he’d turned against me, shut me out with his little act. Who was he fooling?

This was all wrong. Not how it was supposed to go.

Time, the room, the words were slipping away from me. I was losing control. “She cut off ties with you when she was pregnant,” I blurted. “She changed her name. She must have known something, something bad, and she didn’t want you to know about it. There was an accident and someone was hurt badly. Maybe she was trying to protect you from that, or from Chet—”

He spoke over me in a tone that was nearly theatrical. “Listen, I’m very busy and I need to get going. It’s always great to meet young stakeholders. Keep spreading the word, okay? We need you out there. I’m sure you can find your own way out. Joe?” He waved to a guard standing nearby, a burly, bearded guy in a similar getup as the guy out front.

Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe he hadn’t heard me correctly. “I need to know what really happened to her,” I said, my voice drifting up to a higher register.

Joe was closing in. The words were tumbling out of my mouth uncontrollably.

“Please. I traveled a long way to get here. I don’t want anything else from you. Just some answers. If now’s not a good time, we can meet somewhere else.”

Granger was no longer looking at me. He was gesturing to the guard but talking through his impossibly white smile. He was impenetrable. “I wish you all the best, young lady.”

“But wait!” I cried out. The guard’s hand clamped around my upper arm, and his grip was tight. “I think she loved you. I found a poem—”

Granger’s back was turned. He’d already moved away, down the hall. A shape in a suit. Gone.

Aidan and Tre saw what was happening and they were following closely as Joe the guard dragged me away. “Let her go,” Aidan called out. “She’s just a kid.”

“Orders are orders. I’ll do my job, man, and you do yours, okay?” Joe said. He slammed on the push bar of the exit door and practically threw me out of there.

And then we were outside again, in the last vestiges of the afternoon light, blinking, stupid. I was off balance, stumbling to regain my footing.

The tears came then, all at once. “So much for meeting my father.”

“He didn’t admit it, did he?” Tre was the first by my side. “We don’t know that was him.”

As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t agree. “That’s the whole point. The way he was acting was like someone hiding something. It wasn’t a straight denial. He knew more than he was letting on.”

I replayed the scene in my mind. No, I was pretty sure he
was
my dad. Turns out he was just a jerk. A liar like everyone else. More than that. He was completely creepy, the way he turned on a dime.

“You were right, Aidan,” I said through a choked sob. “Politicians are lying dirtbags.”

“Don’t cry, Willa.” Aidan stepped in and put his arm around me. “Look, I wish I was wrong. I really do.”

“The way he had me thrown out—that’s not something an innocent guy does. He’s afraid of something. I know it.” Of course he
had
said he recognized me. If I hadn’t been the Sly Fox, would he have done the same thing? Now I wondered. And for the millionth time I had to regret my mistakes, the chain of events that set this whole thing into motion. If I’d never stolen, I wouldn’t be here at all.

“I don’t want to defend the guy, but maybe it would help to put yourself in his shoes,” Aidan said. “He’s getting ready for his big election and some teenage girl pops up and hints around that she’s his illegitimate daughter. The media goes crazy over stuff like that. That could kill the election. All I’m saying is maybe you don’t have to take it personally.”

I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand, though they were still flowing freely. How could this not be personal?

My voice was gravelly. “You’d think, if he was a decent person with good values like he pretends to be, that family ties would be more important than some stupid election.”

“Hate to break it to you, Willz, but most people are not decent,” Tre said.

“Except us.” Aidan kissed the top of my head, his lips pressing into my hairline.

For some reason, I looked up at Tre. He caught my eye and then turned away. Was he embarrassed by our PDA?

Great. That was all I needed, on top of everything else: standard-issue high school awkwardness. Like we didn’t have enough adult, real-world problems on our hands. I unhooked myself from Aidan’s protective embrace and slipped a few paces ahead of them on the sidewalk.

“Where are you going?” Aidan called.

“Nowhere,” I answered. “I just need to think.”

I needed to be alone, really alone. The sky was darkening, the streetlights flicking on around us. The Christmas lights, too. They only depressed me, making me feel lonelier, and farther away from home.

I appreciated their help, but nobody could fix this for me. And knowing they were behind me, expecting me to keep it all together, counting on me to be optimistic and full of new plans, only made it worse. I was cold. I was tired. And for once I truly had no idea what to do next.

The only thing I knew now was that I had to figure this all out once and for all. I had to solve my mom’s murder, no matter who was behind it.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

ELEVEN

SO GOING TO
see the man who was most likely my estranged father was a bad idea. Maybe the worst idea I’d had yet. And over the past few months, I felt pretty much like a bad-idea factory.

We were nowhere near close to solving this thing. We’d already been in St. Louis for three days. How much time did we even have left before the authorities closed in on us?

After a while, the walking quieted my brain, and the storm of emotion inside me subsided some. I just wished I had someone I could talk to, someone who knew about the past. Someone who had been there, someone I could trust.

Leslie was the obvious person. But she was off-limits—no more reachable to me than my real dead mother. I missed her so much it ached like a bruise on my ribs.

But at least she was probably safe, I reminded myself. At least Chet couldn’t get to her now.

“What are you thinking about?” Tre asked as he caught up to me, his long strides easily narrowing the distance between us. I sensed he was handling me differently now, now that he saw how hurt I was over the stuff with Granger. They both were.

“I’m thinking we need somewhere to crash. Another public place we can sneak into.”

“Why don’t we get a room tonight?” he suggested. “I’ll buy.”

“Isn’t that risky?”

“Not if I do it. Nobody’s looking for me yet. I’ll pay with cash. We can sneak you guys in.”

Something told me I should take Tre up on his offer. The idea of sleeping on a real bed, of having a shower and watching bad TV was too good to resist. Especially right now. Especially when it sounded so nice and legal-like.

“I vote yes on that,” Aidan chimed in.

So, for the first time all day, the three of us were in agreement.

Tre got out his phone and keyed in his search. “There’s a few spots on the waterfront.”

Too exhausted to do much else, I let Tre lead the way. It felt good, actually, to give up some of the control. “Thank you,” I said.

And I was grateful again, to have them both by my side. I would have to make it up to them somehow, for going through all of this with me, but this IOU was bigger than anything in my book.

The hotel was a good sixteen blocks from where we were, and by the time we got there, my feet were covered in blisters after a long day of walking. Actually, it was more like an old-school 1950s motel that had been renovated into a boutique hotel. From the outside, it was all ground-hugging wings and balcony windows but the peppermint pink–striped awnings and the neon sign that said
THE FAIRMOUNT
in curlicue font was a giveaway that it had been fancified.

Tre went inside first, planning to check in while Aidan and I waited outside for a signal. It would be too strange if the three of us checked in together for a single room, and who knew what kind of security there was in the lobby?

“I’m sorry,” Aidan said when we were alone. “About that guy Granger. Tre was right. We shouldn’t have let you go in there.”

“You both said it was a bad idea.” I shrugged. “You were humoring me. I had to do it for myself. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I always want to help you get what you want. You know that, right?”

I did, and it touched me. The fact that Aidan supported me no matter what had kept me going all these weeks.

He took my hand and squeezed it. “I guess we’re not going to be able to make out in there, are we?”

“Probably not.” I wasn’t much in the mood, anyway.

“Waste of a good hotel room, if you ask me.” He waved the hair out of his eyes, then paused. “Is something wrong? I mean, beyond the obvious?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Why?”

“You seem distant. Mad at me or something.”

“I’m not. It’s just weird, you know? With Tre here. I don’t want to be too couple-y.”

Aidan frowned. “I don’t know why that should have anything to do with anything. He’s our friend. He understands.”

“Guys!” Tre hissed, emerging on a second-floor balcony facing the street, waving. “I’m in. Jump up here.”

“We’ll talk about this later, okay?” he said.

So much for legal. Aidan and I ran toward the building.
Here we go again
, I thought. This was dangerously similar to the break-in we’d pulled back in Santa Barbara at Sam Beasley’s house. Only this was a three-person maneuver. Aidan boosted me up, lifting me over his head, and Tre, hanging over the side of the railing, grabbed my arms, pulling me over in a swooping motion. I landed on the concrete deck. Then Aidan jumped up and took hold of the railing himself and, like some kind of ne’er-do-well gymnast, quickly cleared the barrier.

We went in through the sliding glass door. Easy. This was our thing now, a fact that filled me with equal parts pride and shame.

Tre drew the beige drapes closed behind us, blocking out the night sky and the red and green shapes of light from the street, and turned on the push-button lamps by the bed. The décor was funky, with midcentury-modern furniture. It probably wasn’t the biggest room in the whole place, but it was warm and dry and for that, it looked pretty great to me.

“One bed?” Aidan asked.

“Use your brain,” Tre said. “I couldn’t go asking for two twins now, could I? I can sleep on the floor. You two lovebirds can take the bed.”

Ugh. More awkwardness. I looked from Tre to Aidan. “Why don’t I sleep on the floor, since I brought you both here?”

“No offense to this guy, but I don’t know if I want to get that close and personal with him,” Tre said. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

I still felt weird. Tired as I was, I wasn’t ready for sleep quite yet, anyway.

“Mind if I shower first?”

They both shrugged and told me to go ahead, so I did, spending an extra-long time scrubbing myself down with the thick and foamy soap, letting the hot water pool around my feet. I washed and conditioned my hair. There was no way to shave now, so that would have to pass for the time being. I dried myself off with the sweet-smelling towels, finger-combed a part, and changed into one of the extra outfits from Aidan’s bag. There was no underestimating the value of cleanliness.

Once I was dressed again, I pulled out the files. Maybe another pass through the FBI documents with fresh eyes would yield some new leads, now that I was officially on the murder case.