CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
I grinned, but it felt more like a mask. My hope scared me. I was a step closer. So much would change after Friday night.
ELEVEN DAYS LEFT
I paced outside the Fox estate gate under a starless night.
I asked Leo not to stay after dropping me off.
He planned to check on Estelle, her multi-day hellflare having passed, and was letting Skye crash in his room, complete with gummy constellations, fizzy peach teas and chili popcorn, all so she wouldn’t notice me missing from my bed tonight.
She passed out an hour ago after ten rounds of street fighting on Leo’s old holo gaming deck, just in time for Leo to drive me here.
This would be my second unofficial date with Cas: breaking and entering into the home office of billionaire scientist Albert Fox.
Apparently, Gemma had mastered sneaking out at fourteen with the help of Perla.
She’d taught Cas how to knock out the surveillance in the main house.
It’d take twenty minutes to reboot. I stood on edge.
In less than twenty minutes, I’d discover whether there was a cure hidden in my barely-an-ex’s house.
I sent a text to Cas, my fingers shaking.
Nova
Outside
I hadn’t stopped thinking of him since the beach. He was so willing, but I still kept my guard up to the stars. I couldn’t give him the chance to let me down. I wouldn’t take another apology from him.
Cas
On my way
The gears of the gate churned and it rolled open as a dark figure jogged down the curve of the driveway. Moonlight caught Cas’s gaze. Stars. The way he looked at me always made me forget my worries. It made me want to put me first; he made me feel like I could, even when I hated him. I turned away.
‘Cameras are out,’ Cas announced by way of greeting me, nervous energy flitting between us.
‘We have about twenty minutes before the system resets.’ He held out his hand.
Hope filled his eyes as he waited. We were twenty minutes away from finding answers.
Would he still be this willing if what we found revealed the worst about his family?
I slipped my hand into his. ‘Let’s go.’
We hurried around to the west wing of the main house, passing through a door into a back stairwell. The upstairs hall was almost bare, one side completely glass, the automatic shades down for the night. A mahogany door stood at the end, a numeric keypad set where the door’s handle should’ve been.
I tilted my head. ‘No biosig lock? I know he’s old-school, but I didn’t know these still existed.’
‘Eh. About that …’
I sighed, already bracing myself. I knew this story would rival the one about Gemma’s ruined prom dress. I was learning he liked wreaking a little havoc on his family.
‘When I was seven, I might’ve lifted his print to see if my birthday gifts were hidden inside his office.
Then I might’ve tested the 3D printer at the labs when my favorite security guard left me unsupervised.
Jerry’s the best.’ He showed me his free hand – the one not holding mine.
A thin, flesh-tone sleeve covered his thumb.
‘Grandfather confiscated the one he found on me that day, but I’d made two – just in case.
Seven-year-old me prepared for the future. ’
‘Of course you did.’ A small smile tugged at my lips. It was easy to slip back into the comfort of him, but I couldn’t forget why we were here. Where would each of us stand when tonight was over, with everything bare?
‘Grandfather decided new technology, while shiny, might not be the best defense against a kid on a mission to find presents.’ His hand hovered over the keypad, fingers moving like he was copying the motions from memory.
He took a breath and entered the code. The door unlocked but his smile fell before he straightened his shoulders. ‘I can’t believe he used my birthday.’
‘I’ve always thought you were his favorite, from the way you talked about him.’
He paused, letting go of my hand, steeling himself. ‘Come on.’
Inside, dozens and dozens of awards and plaques lined the walls, alongside an old map of Alta Bay and a large family portrait behind the desk at the center of the room. The heavy drapes were drawn closed, a faint glow spilling from the solisDesktop on his grandfather’s grand wooden desk.
Cas went straight to it, swiping the same code across the hologlass screen. A new field appeared, prompting another password – this time with a riddle.
‘Do you know the answer?’
His gaze drifted. ‘He let me choose it. It’s an inside joke we used to have: out of all the animals on land, who surfs the best?’
My shoulders softened. ‘A fox.’
‘Yep. But he uses the scientific name so it’s not too easy for anyone else to figure out. Just me.’ He didn’t look up. ‘I guess I am his favorite,’ he added quietly, brushing it off as he connected a microdrive to copy the files.
It was hard watching him go like this. He’d said yes to me so easily, but the tension in his movements told me reality was crashing down on him now.
There was no regret in his eyes, only fear.
I’d asked him to help me prove his grandfather might be a monster.
He didn’t want to believe it, and I couldn’t blame him. This was his family.
‘I don’t see anything.’
I frowned. That was barely two minutes of searching. ‘There are probably a lot of files. We can just copy everything.’
‘There’s nothing here.’ He spun in the chair, rummaging through the papers behind the desk, opening the drawers. ‘We have fourteen minutes.’
I scanned the room. Mr Fox didn’t have file cabinets or anything remotely close.
There was nowhere else to look. Sweat gathered beneath my heavy clothes, not from heat but from panic.
We were wasting time. I’d been so sure this would be easy – evidence right there on his solisDesktop.
I swiped the holoscreen to see for myself, but Cas was right.
Mr Fox barely had anything saved to his hard drive.
I stilled, thinking. Apollo had called Mr Fox old-school. He used numeric keypads. He probably trusted paper over digital – physical files. From my research (and by research, I meant heist-movie binge), the likely place would be a safe.
My eyes landed on the portrait. In it, Cas couldn’t have been more than five, seated at his grandfather’s feet, Gemma and Jacinta standing on either side.
Cas’s hands in the painting were slightly discolored, the paint worn thin from repeated contact.
I ran my finger over the spot. A faint click sounded as the portrait swung away from the wall.
‘Wow,’ said Cas. We stared at the locked safe hidden behind it. ‘How’d you figure that out?’
‘The paint. Oils from fingers cause discoloration. That’s why museums rope off artwork.’
‘Only you would notice that.’ His lips curved, then faltered. ‘I never apologized for Dominion using your mural at the appreciation ceremony. I really hate that they treated it like a prop – that they used you. And I’m serious, no matter what we find, I’m taking back –’