Читать книгу The Disappearance Of Sloane Sullivan - Gia Cribbs - Страница 13

Six

I’d remembered something.

Not the recurring nightmare or the flashes I got when it felt like someone was watching me, but something new. I was certain. But I wasn’t certain I wanted to tell Mark about it. Not after the conversation we’d had that morning about remembering.

I pulled open the screen door after school, still debating what to do, when Mark’s voice stopped me.

“She doesn’t know anything.”

I froze. Is someone here? I scanned the kitchen, the only room I could see from my vantage point at the back door, but there was no sign of Mark. I could hear him, so he had to be close. The family room? I hovered in the doorway, one hand propping open the screen, and waited to see if anyone else spoke.

“I’ll take care of it.” Mark sighed. “You promised I could do this my way.” There were three quick footsteps, a pause, then three footsteps again.

He’s pacing, which means he’s on the phone. Is he talking about me?

“Then let me handle it,” he snapped. “Yes, it’ll be soon. Have a little faith... I’ve got to go. She’ll be home any minute.”

The faint sound of a long sigh was followed by what possibly could’ve been Mark dropping onto the couch, but I wasn’t thinking about him on a couch. I was thinking of him in an elevator.

“Thanks for taking me to the carnival.” I grinned at Mark. My hands were sticky from cotton candy and caramel apples and my voice scratchy from hours of screaming on the rides—I’d had fun. Actual fun for the first time since the day we’d left ten months ago. “Which floor?”

“Three,” Mark replied as we stepped into the elevator. “I’ll take you back to your place before I tackle the long commute home.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, because one floor down is sooo long.”

He chuckled. “It’s too bad your dad wasn’t feeling well. I bet he would’ve had fun too.”

“Yeah.” My good mood deflated. I wasn’t sure whether Dad really hadn’t been feeling well or whether that had been an excuse not to leave the apartment. He’d had a lot of excuses lately.

The elevator dinged its arrival on the third floor. “Maybe he’ll be feeling better tomorrow and we can go back,” Mark suggested.

“Really? That would be great!” I’d make Dad come tomorrow. I’d tell him about all the fun rides and games and he’d have to want to come. “It’s too bad the carousel didn’t have rings to catch. I bet I could get more than both of you. I’ve got a secret method.”

“Oh really?” Mark knocked on my apartment door. “I’d love to see you try to beat me.”

“I’d do more than try,” I said, then laughed at his doubtful expression.

He nodded slowly. “I like seeing you smile. It looks good on you, Kid.”

I knocked again, eager to tell Dad about the carnival, but he still didn’t answer. A slight chill ran down my spine.

Mark pulled his keys out of his pocket, eyebrows furrowed. “Maybe he’s asleep.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

A man wearing a suit and a gun on his hip was standing in my kitchen.

Fear clawed its way up my throat. I took a step back, ready to run, but Mark wrapped a hand around my arm, pulling me close.

He led me into the apartment, shoulders tense, the skin around his eyes wrinkling slightly. “What are you doing here?” he asked as the door swung shut behind us.

Despite the surprise in Mark’s voice, he obviously knew the man, and the man wore a suit like all the other Marshals I’d ever seen. An ominous feeling settled in my chest. Mouth dry, I asked, “Where’s my dad?”

The man’s gaze darted to me and back to Mark in silence.

Mark leaned closer and squeezed my arm once. “Stay here,” he whispered. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” He motioned for the guy to follow him into the bathroom and closed the door.

I dragged in a few deep breaths, trying to steady my racing heart and trying not to look at the closed door to my dad’s bedroom. It didn’t work. In the time it took me to take a single breath, I was in front of the door, my eyes searching for any explanation as to where Dad was. I reached out with a shaky hand. My fingers were just about to wrap around the doorknob when the bathroom door flew open.

I jumped away from the bedroom door, my heart nearly exploding out of my chest.

The man in the suit stalked out of the apartment without even glancing at me. Mark locked the door and rested his head against it.

I moved behind him. “What’s going on?” I whispered.

Mark turned and I knew. It was like my mom all over again. Tears welled in my eyes.

“Something happened and...”

My throat felt like it was closing but I forced the words out. “He’s dead?”

Mark winced.

My heart beat as fast as the possibilities racing through my head. “Did someone find us?”

“No. He...” Mark swallowed hard. “He killed himself while we were at the carnival.”

“What?” Hot tears streamed down my face. “Why? Why would he do that?”

Mark tried to wipe my tears away. “That was an agent. Your dad called the emergency hotline before he... He wanted someone to find him before we got home. They tried to talk him out of it and get here to stop him but...it was too late.”

I shook my head.

“He told them he couldn’t take being on the run anymore. But he wanted you to know that he loved you, very much.”

“Yeah, he loved me so much he left me by myself!” I could feel something inside me breaking, shaking into loose bits.

Mark cupped my face in his hands. “No. You have me, do you hear me?” I tried to jerk away but he made me look at him. “Listen to me, Kid. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll take care of you.”

He wrapped his arms around me and rocked me as I cried. He started humming something, the sound vibrating in my chest. It wasn’t until he began to softly sing the words that I recognized the tune to “Have a Little Faith in Me” by John Hiatt. It was the song my dad always sang to my mom when she was upset.

I listened, transfixed, until the song ended. I wiped away tears that were still falling and asked, “Where’d you learn that song?”

“I used to sing it to my little sister when we were younger. I took care of her a lot.”

It was the first time he’d ever mentioned anything about his real life, but I didn’t have any trouble imagining him taking care of a little sister just like he’d often taken care of me. I realized he was right. I had to have faith in him. He was all I had left. “So what are we going to do?”

He wiped more of my tears away. “We’ll start over someplace new. We’ll live together from now on, okay?”

I took a shaky breath. “I need a new name?”

Mark nodded. “Do you have one in mind?”

“Faith.”

I took a deep breath. In the almost five years since that day, I’d only heard Mark say “have a little faith” a handful of times. Only when something was important, when it was big. And this time, he’d been talking about me not knowing anything. I buried the echo of the voice I’d heard deep inside my head. I don’t know anything.

I silently counted to twenty and let the screen door slam behind me in what had quickly become my way of announcing I was home. “Hey!” I called, forcing my voice to be light.

A moment later, Mark poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey! How was your day?” He sounded like he hadn’t just been sighing and snapping and faithing at someone.

“Good.” I tossed my backpack on the island and opened the refrigerator door, pretending to search for a snack. What I really wanted was to know what was going on.

Mark hopped onto the island and played with the straps of my bag. “How was school? Anything interesting happen?”

Cold dread filled my whole body. They know. They know Jason’s here. That’s what’s big. Mark has to handle telling me I screwed up and we have to move again, and soon. My shoulders slumped. There had to be a way to reason with him, to get him to understand that I couldn’t do it anymore. But wait. If Mark knew who Jason really was, he wouldn’t be making conversation. He’d be telling me we have to leave right now. So maybe he doesn’t know everything yet.

I grabbed a yogurt and turned to face him. I was going to find out exactly what he knew. “I invented a nephew for you today.”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s...not what I expected you to say.”

“I accidentally called my friend Jase instead of Jason, and before I knew it I was explaining the slip by saying that’s what I’ve always called my cousin Jason.” There. I’ve opened the door to all Jason-related topics. Now tell me what you know.

Mark nodded in mock seriousness. “I’ve always loved Jason. He’s my favorite fake nephew.”

I pursed my lips. Nothing? “He’s your only fake nephew.”

“Oh. Right.” He grinned.

Okay. “What did you expect me to say?”

He threw his hands up. “I don’t know, something about the senior scavenger hunt perhaps? I mean, how many times does a person get to do something like that, even someone like you who’s been in tons of schools?”

“Oh. It was pretty fun, I guess. Better than being stuck in class.”

“And?”

“And how was your day? Anything interesting happen?”

Mark frowned. “No. Why would it?”

I threw my hands up too. Because you were talking to the Marshals about me! “Because it was your first day on the job.”

“Oh.” The corners of his mouth twitched slyly. “It was pretty fun, I guess. Better than being stuck in the house.”

I made an annoyed noise at his use of my own words against me.

He jumped off the island and stole my yogurt and spoon in one swift move. He ate the whole thing in three bites. “I’m going for a run and then I’m playing basketball,” he announced as he tossed the empty cup in the trash. “Wanna come? But I’m warning you, if you come I’m making you spill more details about the scavenger hunt than, ‘It was pretty fun, I guess.’” He hummed as he left the kitchen.

I watched Mark leave. What just happened? I’d given him the perfect opportunity to talk about Jason and he hadn’t mentioned a thing. The sound of Mark’s bedroom door closing gave me an idea. “I’m coming!” I called as I hustled to my room to change into running clothes, glaring at his closed door as I passed. If you’re not going to tell me what’s going on, I’ll just have to find out myself.