Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
EREZ
We’ll be finished scanning the contents of Alice’s room today.
All the coloring books. Every notebook and homework assignment that had been stuck in her desk drawers.
All the birthday cards she kept and notes passed to her from her friends at school.
Every little thing that Alice might have made a note on or even made an impression on because it was beneath a piece of paper she wrote on.
We debated whether or not to scan her books for the same reason. In the end, we chose a dozen or so of the ones I read to her the most, the ones she requested the most often, such as Scoob and Alice’s Haven book.
Dadwa and Dadaz are in the scanning room with me, Lanzo, and one of Zephyr’s boyfriends, Darwin.
We’re working on the last of the coloring books now.
I’m not actually scanning or using the computer.
It doesn’t look overly complicated, but Lanzo uses them constantly, so it’s quicker for him to do it than it is to teach me how.
Which means I’m letting my brain wander as I stare absently. The screen off to the side pulls up the image just scanned, and I look at it. The color rapidly changes, adjusting and clarifying over and over until the image is clearer and crisper than the original.
Smaller screens pop up, selections are clicked, settings changed. More boxes all over, then the screen becomes blank again, ready for the next image.
Aven is probably the one doing everything except actually turning the pages of the coloring book on the table.
Once they figured out what we were doing and what we were looking for over the first dozen canvases, they took over and made the process far more efficient.
It would be a lie to say that Aven didn’t save us at least a month by taking over the controls, digital processing, and saving nomenclature.
After I watch another colored image on the screen become adjusted and enhanced before all the little blocks pop up, I turn away and look around the room. There are half a dozen of Alice’s dark art pieces sitting in a corner, though I’m not sure why these ones are still here.
A lot of people talk about how to admire art.
What you’re supposed to see and how you process the message the artist is trying to portray.
If I’m honest, I’ve always found it stupid.
The only one who can tell you absolute truths about an art piece is the artist themselves, yet everyone is insistent that there’s endless symbolism and purpose behind every single brushstroke despite what the artist can tell you about their art.
There was a short story I remember studying in a high school English class, where we spent an entire ninety-minute class on the blue curtains in the room. Why did the author choose the blue curtains? What do they represent? What feelings does blue evoke in you?
The entire time, I kept thinking that the author—or the character written by the author—just liked blue curtains. I went home and stared at my gray curtains then asked my mom why my curtains were gray. She said, “They match your comforter. Do you want a different color?”
Maybe the blue curtain matched the character’s bedding, but the author didn’t think it was that deep so they didn’t explain why they chose blue curtains. Not everything needs to be interpreted. Sometimes they’re just blue curtains.
As I’ve looked at Alice’s art over the last ten years since she died, I’ve tried to remind myself of that lesson.
Intention versus interpretation. I suppose that’s the difference between Alice’s art and the stories we dissected in high school.
These are moments from Alice’s life that she put on canvas.
Maybe they were moments that haunted her and she hoped that painting them would free that particular demon from her mind.
Dadwa steps beside me and silently looks at the paintings too.
“Do you think she painted these because it was cathartic? Finally allowing herself to speak her truth in a sense?” Dadwa asks.
I remember Matty saying that the victims like Alice were likely conditioned never to speak. You can’t speak your truth if you don’t talk. She didn’t talk at all for the first three years she was with us. She never once spoke of what she went through.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I keep thinking the memories haunted her and she couldn’t get away from them. That’s why she painted. To give them an escape.”
That’s why she killed herself. No matter the medium she used to let them go, they wouldn’t release her, so she did the only thing she could think of to escape them.
The door to the room opens, and Greylyn Van Doren steps inside the scanning room. She’s only a short time away from being the new king. Yes, king. She insists that she’s keeping the same title that everyone has given her father over the years.
She’s a beautiful mix of her fathers, too.
Both of them are the calm, quiet, strong type that observe, and instead of making a big show of acting, they quietly conduct their business without fanfare.
That’s how King Jalon built his empire, and I have a feeling that’s exactly how Greylyn will take it into orbit.
Greylyn smiles. She’s wearing this cute little sundress with the skirt poofing out a little.
On her feet are sneakers. Her style always makes me laugh.
Business apparel only goes as far as her ankles, then she’s about comfort and fuck anyone who tries to comment on it.
Her smile reminds me of her father. She has Levis’ Asian features.
I’ve always said that she looks exactly like Levis, though somehow, she’s softer.
“Grey,” Lanzo says when he briefly looks up from what he’s doing. Since he’s in the middle of clamping down the coloring book to scan the next page, he doesn’t give her his full attention. Not that I think he would anyway.
“Hello,” Greylyn says, smiling at all of us. “How are you progressing? Do you need anything?”
“This is the last batch,” I tell her, gesturing to the dwindling pile of coloring books just inside the door. “Thanks for letting us use the scanning lab.”
She inclines her head. “Of course. We protect family.”
I wonder if she remembers Alice. They were the same age. Maybe they shared classes. They must have.
“Do you need the scanner?” Dadwa asks. “We can take a break.”
“Not at all,” Greylyn answers as the scanner lights up and begins capturing the next page in the coloring book. “I only wanted to see if you needed anything else. How can we help?”
Everyone in the room looks in my direction, which has Greylyn looking at me as well. I shake my head, feeling a little lost and helpless. I prompted this project. I know that. My determination to find a message that may or may not exist has led to this point.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe there’s nothing to find.”
“Bullshit,” Dadaz says. “At the very least, we’ll identify these men.” He nods in the direction of the paintings Dadwa and I were just looking at. “We’ll serve them Deth-style justice.”
“You’ve already engaged with Paisley, then?” Greylyn asks. “Opened a project with her?”
“Zephyr has been looking into a different part of what is likely the bigger picture,” I say.
“The day I found Alice, I killed a man by shoving him into oncoming traffic to get her away from him. Zeph had identified him a while ago, but twenty years after the fact, it’s difficult to find any trails that might explain why he had Alice in his possession since those trails have likely been long covered up. ”
Greylyn nods. “Good. Please utilize whatever resources you need. Let me know if there’s something we don’t have, and I’ll make sure you have it available to you.”
“Thanks, Grey.”
Her smile is gentle when she meets my eyes.
“I’m not going to pretend we were best friends, but I’d like to think we were friends.
It’s a heavy burden knowing that someone you spoke to every day, someone you spent time with regularly, was struggling so much right before your eyes yet you never knew. ”
Tears sting my eyes. Dadwa grips my shoulder. Of course I’m not the only one who feels that way. But hearing someone else say it in reference to Alice hits differently.
I nod because I’m not sure I can speak evenly right now.
Greylyn closes the distance between us and grips my hand for a minute.
“You’re not the only one who wonders if she was asking for help yet you just never heard the request, Erez.
I promise you, we all carry that same guilt.
Nothing we do can bring her back, but we can bring her justice.
Deserved justice. Not the bullshit the government calls justice in these situations.
No pedophile is living off my tax dollars in prison for thirty years. ”
My laughter sounds watery. I squeeze her hand in return. “I appreciate your understanding.”
She leans up and kisses my cheek. “I’m really glad you finally asked for help,” she whispers.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I didn’t struggle like Alice.
Suicide never crosses my mind. But I don’t.
I’m not sure that’s what she means anyway.
I’ve been doing this on my own since she died.
As my family accepted that Alice didn’t leave a letter behind and gradually got back to their lives, I persisted.
“It helps that I finally found something,” I reply.
“You were ready to find it,” Greylyn responds as she steps back.
Her tone shifts, and she finishes in such a way that we all know we’re listening to the future king of Van Doren Technologies.
“Now we’ll unravel the truth and deal with the people involved.
You have support and resources at your disposal. Use them.”
Greylyn inclines her head toward the room at large before taking her leave. Silence follows her departure. Besides Lanzo and Dadaz still working at the scanner, there’s no movement in the room for a solid thirty seconds.
“That woman gives me straight panic,” Darwin mutters, and I burst into laughter.
She’s not the only Van Doren who stops in. Three coloring books later, Orev walks into the room. He watches silently, though I don’t think he’s actually watching what we’re doing so much as studying Lanzo. Lanzo doesn’t even acknowledge his presence.
I’m not surprised Orev joins us. He has every day we’re here, which means I already know how this is going to end.
Dadwa joins Lanzo and Dadaz at the scanner, and I join Darwin at the computer to watch Aven process the images as they’re scanned. Orev remains for several minutes. It bothers Lanzo when we address him, so no one does. Not that I think Orev even notices.
“What’s the next step?” Orev asks after a few minutes. “I can begin.”
“This is a family matter,” Lanzo responds. “You’re not family. You can go.”
Orev rolls his eyes. “We’re family. We grew up together.”
“I grew up with the shrubs in my backyard too. That doesn’t make them family.”
Despite myself, laughter escapes before I can swallow it down and hide it behind a cough. Darwin nearly chokes trying to stifle his laughter. Dadwa doesn’t hide his at all.
Again, it doesn’t bother Orev. I’m not sure he sees anyone else in the room besides Lanzo. “Lan—”
“Go away,” Lanzo interrupts. “You’re a pain in the ass, and I’m tired of your mixed messages.” He finally looks up and meets Orev’s eyes. “I hate games. You know that. Go away.”
Irritation flashes across Orev’s features. “I’m not playing games. You are.”
“Well. I quit.”
Orev watches him with confusion. “Quit? Working here?”
Lanzo slowly exhales and turns his entire body to face Orev. “I quit you. Go play with your brother’s boyfriend and leave me alone.”
“That’s not—”
“Just go away,” Lanzo snaps, voice louder and sharper. “I said no. No means no. I don’t want help. I don’t want you. No. Now leave.”
Orev winces when Lanzo says “I said no.” Having also grown up with the Van Dorens—not just in school but socially too—if there’s one thing that’s been made very clear as a child, it’s consent in everything.
Touch, conversation, company, sex—everything.
Which means the lesson is that everything except an enthusiastic yes means no.
Not try harder. Not try again later. Not try differently. It means go the fuck away.
However, Orev isn’t normal. I can see the battle in his very existence as he struggles to accept Lanzo’s no, because that’s how he was raised, or disregard it because his moral compass is missing arrows entirely.
Eventually, he walks out, and once again, we’re plunged into silence. Lanzo doesn’t falter as he continues to scan pages. Half a dozen pages after Orev leaves, Dadwa grips Lanzo’s chin and forces his attention up until Lan is looking at Dadwa.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Lanzo answers immediately.
“Just because you don’t feel situations in the same way I might doesn’t mean you don’t feel them. You remember that, correct?”
Lanzo studies Dadwa for a moment. His dark eyes glance toward the door for a moment before looking at Dadwa again. “I’m tired of his games. They’re not fun.”
“Your mother forces us to talk,” Dadaz says. “Even when we throw a fit.”
I bite the inside of my lip to keep my smile from my face. That’s as close to Dadaz scowling as he gets. Darwin looks at me with amusement.
“Perhaps, before you quit the game, you have a conversation with Orev,” Dadaz suggests. “Then, when your mother asks if you talked to him about it, you can say you did.”
Lanzo’s eyelids lower so he’s looking at Dadaz through hooded eyes. “Maybe. I hate talking.”
Dadaz huffs in agreement.
When the door opens again, it’s Fade. He looks around the room until his eyes meet mine and he smiles. I don’t know why, but that smile makes my stomach swoop.
Well… That’s new.
“Hey,” Fade says, setting the paper bags on a table. “I brought lunch.” Then he holds up a flash drive and looks at the glass panel walls dubiously. “I also brought a digital donut for Aven.”
Aven’s face appears, and Fade flinches away. This only makes Aven grin. “How thoughtful of you. Bribery will not win my loyalty, but it will go a long way toward not giving you a virus.”
Fade hands Darwin the flash drive and narrows his eyes at Aven.
I’m a little amused when we see a donut appear in Aven’s hand.
Aven makes a show of eating the digital donut before their face disappears again, which means their disembodied “Thank you, Fade Callum,” is a little disconcerting for Fade.
“Your strikes have now been wiped clean.”
Fade looks at me with bemusement, and once again, I laugh. It feels good to laugh.