The Masked Truth Part 11

My head jerks up. "Huh?"

"I'm distracting you with an unrelated and potentially rude question. Aaron called you Mexican. So did they. But you don't have an accent, and I knew a guy at school named Vasquez who was from Spain. So as the foreigner who hasn't quite figured out your country, what tells them you're Mexican?"

I want to brush off the question. Really not the time. But that's the point, isn't it? I look down at my quavering hands, and when I squeeze my eyes shut, all I see is Predator, pulling the trigger.

I can hear Gray's and Predator's footsteps. They're far enough away and we're well enough hidden that we're safe here. For now.

I glance at Max. "I don't have an accent because my family has been here for three generations. My father's family comes from Spain. My mother's is from Cuba. That makes me Hispanic, and the presumption herefar enough from the border that there aren't a lot of Latino immigrantsis that Hispanic equals Mexican."

"So Hispanic and Latino mean the same thing?"

I shake my head. "Hispanic means you are descended from a country that speaks Spanish. Latino means you're descended from a country in Latin America. Some are both, like Cuba. But if you come from Brazil, you're Latino and not Hispanic, because the official language is Portuguese."

"And if it's Spain, it's Hispanic and not Latino. Excellent. My lesson in American terminology for the day."

We both listen. The footsteps remain distant. My heart is still thumping, though, so I whisper, "I'm presuming that accent's real and you are British."

"Through and through. There might be a hint of Irish thrown in, but" he lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper "we don't talk about that."

When I raise my brows, he says, "I'm joking. Mostly."

"I've heard you mention your parents. Any siblings?"

"Not a one. Mostly it's just me and Mum. My parents never married. Both on the far side of forty when I came along. Quite the surprise, I'm sure. They decided to just get on with it. Co-parenting and good friends and all that." Another conspiratorial whisper. "I try not to think about the 'all that' part, but they're responsible adults and I doubt another slip is likely at their age."

"Uh-huh."

"A very odd parenting arrangement, I know. But it works. And returning to the question about siblings, I believe you have a sister?"

"Sloane. She's a year older."

"Good friend or pain in the a.r.s.e?"

"Somewhere down the middle. Closer to the latter." I think of Sloane and of Mom. Have they heard what's happened yet? I hope they haven't. As disappointing as it will be to get out there and not run into Mom's arms, I hope they know nothing of this.

"All right, then," Max says, slapping his thighs and rising. "I do believe we've chatted and stalled quite long enough. As lovely as it would be to stay here until the cavalry arrives, our intrepid captors seem to be searching the building. Best to give them a moving target. Let's head out, troops."

CHAPTER 14.

Max is right. If they're systematically hunting for us, we can't stay where we are.

"We need a cell phone," I say as we leave the room.

Max frowns over.

"Yes, I know that's why we went into the therapy room," I say. "But if Maria's phone isn't there, then Aimee left it upstairs."

"Or the bad guys found and took it."

True. "But Aimee thought she left it up there. Besides, Gray and Predator just came from upstairs, meaning it's the last place they'll look again. We can hunt for the phone and then hide while we wait for whoever heard your SOS."

"Presuming someone"

"I know it's not a given that anyone heard," I say. "Which is all the more reason we need a cell phone. And your meds. You don't keep backup ones anywhere, do you?"

He shakes his head. Then his eyes go wide. "Wait. Yes. There are two in my other jeans. I was wearing them yesterday, stuffed my pills in, got distracted with a book and took two from the bottle instead. Then I found the pills later and meant to put them back but got distracted again."

"Well, it's a good thing you're easily distracted then, right?"

I'm teasing him, but his smile falters and he mumbles something as we head into the hall.

"I do that a lot," I whisper. "Get distracted when I'm reading." When his cheeks flush, I say, "And the whole I-know-what-that's-like thing is never helpful, is it? Which I should know from therapy."

He manages a smile. "I hope no one would dare say that to you."

"Actually, yes, my last therapist did. He said he had some idea of what I'd gone through, because he'd seen his dog get hit by a car."

Max's brows arch.

"I'm serious. I walked out and told my mother. She fired his a.s.s on the spot. Mom's not the type to cause a scene, but she still knows how."

"Sounds like my mother," he says, and we both smile and then fall to silence as we make our way to the steps. There's little danger of our whispers being overheard. We can hear Gray and Predator, and they're heading the other way. Toward Aimee. Toward Lorenzo too? It'll be easy enough to find him, with the blood in the hall. And when they do, if he's still alive ...

Put down like a dog.

I tell myself they won't waste the ammo, because their supply is limited and he'll be smart enough to fake dead.

If he isn't already.

I don't think about that either. We reach the stairwell and slip through the door, shutting it behind us. Then we climb to the second floor. We're still in stockinged feet. We've abandoned our footweartoo much to haul around. So we move silently, and when we come out into the hall, it is not silent.

There's someone in Lorenzo's bedroom.

His is the first past the stairway door. Aimee had pointed it out as we'd pa.s.sed.

You and Sandra share a room. So do Brienne and Maria. The guys are on the other side of my room, Max in one and the two other boys in the second room. And Terrythat's the other counseloris at the end.

She'd stopped and shaken her head.

No, not Terry. It's Lorenzo. They swapped at the last minute. Not that you know either. But they're both good guys.

Max hears the noise from Lorenzo's room as soon as I do, and he performs his usual shoulder-check, to be sure we both caught it. I nod almost before he looks over, my gaze fixed on the closed door. Then I do a check of my own, moving closer to whisper, "I'm sure I heard two sets of footsteps downstairs. You?"

His turn to nod now. We both ease forward. Max covers me. I turn the k.n.o.b. It clicks louder than I expect, and I wince as noise erupts from inside, a scampering and scuffling. I open the door a crack, just as Aaron dives behind the twin bed.

"It's us," I whisper as I open it, and Brienne pops up from the bed, her eyes bright with terror. She blinks it back and then exhales and whispers, "We were sure they both went downstairs."

"They did," I say as I slide into the room, Max following.

Aaron's up now. He sees Max, and his eyes narrow. "Didn't get far, did you, a.s.shole? Took off and left the rest of us to fend for ourselves."

"Actually, he took me with him," I say. "But there wasn't any other choice or I would have"

"We know," Brienne says. "Aaron's just being cranky." She lowers her voice to a mock whisper. "Being shot at does that to him."

Aaron rolls his eyes, and she shoots him a smile, and I know that we aren't the only ones getting along better. Fighting for survival together shows you what counts and what doesn't, and all that counts, really, is Do you have my back?

"We're looking for a cell phone," Brienne says. She turns on a penlight. "Aaron remembered this was on his key chain. Luckily, it was still in his room. Now we just need a phone."

"Lorenzo confiscated Maria's," Aaron said. "So we were hoping he left it here."

"Aimee took it from him," I say, "and she said she put it in the therapy room or up here. But we couldn't find it downstairs."

I'm searching as I talk. Even if the phone isn't here, we should look for anything useful before we check Aimee's room. Max and Brienne join in, as Brienne says, "Aimee's still alive too? Good. I thought she'd come with us, but she must have stayed behind with Gideon. Where is she now?"

Brains splattered on the wall.

I don't answer. I can't. Max says, "No," and that's all he says, and Brienne says, "What?" Then, "Oh." And, "Are you sure?"

I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to remember how sure we are, but of course I do. I see Aimee there and open my eyes fast, dispelling the memory. I take Lorenzo's knapsack and dump it onto the floor as Max says, "We're sure."

"And Lorenzo?"

"He ... was holding on," I manage. "I ... I don't know if he's still ..."

"Gideon?"

"No."

"Th-they're both dead? Plus Maria? I thought you said even injuries in hostage situations are rare."

"Hey," Aaron says.

Brienne presses her palms to her eyes. "Sorry, sorry. I just ... I don't understand how it went so wrong."

"Ask Gideon," Aaron says. "Oh, wait, you can't. And, yeah, that's a s.h.i.+tty thing to say about a dead guy, but I'll say it anyway. He set them off, and once Maria was dead, everything changed. They can't walk away after that."

Brienne shakes her head vehemently. "I know guys like them. Well, not exactly like that. But guys who've been in jail or should be. My brother" She swallows hard. "I know people who've made mistakes, and that's what this is."

"So they kidnapped us by mistake?" Max says.

"I don't mean that. I mean that shooting Maria was a mistake. Then with Gideon, it was because he shot their partner. It was panic. That's all. Once they calm down, it'll be fine."

"No," I say, as gently as I can. "It won't. I heard them when they shot Aimee. This is all about cleanup. No loose ends. No witnesses."

Her hands are shaking and I put down Lorenzo's knapsack and pull her into a hug.

"The only way we get out alive is to get ourselves out," Aaron says. "Focus on that. Finish up here fast and then check Aimee's room."

He opens the side pocket on Lorenzo's backpack. As I sift through what I dumped, Brienne and Max look elsewhere. Aaron tosses the bag aside, and I hear an odd crinkling noise. I start going through the pockets again. He says nothing, just moves to the door to stand guard.

I find what made the noise. It's a piece of paper shoved up against the side of an inner pocket, easy to miss. I take it out. It's a photocopied blueprint of the building we're in. A bunch of rooms are labeled in marker. Therapy. Aimee. Mine. Girls A. Girls B. Boys A. Boys B. Bathroom A. Bathroom B. Storage A. Storage B. Kitchen. Rec Room.

Max is looking over my shoulder. "Well, that's handy in this maze," he says.

"You'd think he'd have kept it with him."

Max shrugs. "Memorized it, put it away. That's what I'd do."

Brienne is beside me now, looking. "Kitchen." She smiles. "Where there's a kitchen, there are knives. We'll search Aimee's room for that cell and then see if we can find a weapon."

Maria's cell phone isn't in Aimee's room. Nor are Max's meds in his jeans. The moment he opens his bag, he stops and looks at Aaron and Brienne.

"Did you search my things?" he asks.

Aaron bristles. "No, a.s.shole. I didn't rifle through your c.r.a.p hoping you've got something worth stealing."

"I'm not asking if you nicked anything. I'm asking if you searched for a mobile or a weapon, which would be understandable. Someone has been in my bag."

He pulls out his jeans and checks the pockets. I can tell by his expression they're empty. He shakes the jeans upside down to double-check.

"They might have fallen out in your bag," I say.

He empties it as I whisper for Brienne and Aaron to go check for weapons or anything useful in the other rooms. Once they're gone, I squeeze Max's arm. It's shaking.

"I need them, Riley," he says. "I really need them. Like"a glance at his watch"thirty minutes ago."

"Do you feel okay?" I ask. "Do you need to lie down?"

"It's not ..." He shakes his head sharply. "I just need them. Now."

I help him search his bag. We take out everything and shake it. Then we do it all a second time.

"Why would someone go through my bag?" He turns to me. "Check yours."

I do, but it's exactly as I packed it. Maybe one of the counselors went through Max's, suspecting he'd smuggled in contrabanda phone or a game player or a bottle of booze. If the pills fell out, they could have mistaken them for a very different kind of drug.

I suggest this to Max.

"I did make a smart comment to Lorenzo when I arrived," he says.