Chapter 30
Andy
January
Stacks of thick hardback books line every corner of Glenn’s office, forming a gradient so dark, the space can only be described as looming.
Ian’s been sitting behind our dad’s computer for the past twenty minutes, trying to crack the password of a man who seems to hold no sentimentalities, especially when it comes to cyber security.
“Mother fucker,” Ian groans. A message pixelizes on the machine signaling we are locked out for ten minutes.
“Maybe we should look around. Maybe he wrote it down somewhere?” I try to be helpful but am met with that dead stare he’s given me more than once the past few weeks, wordlessly telling me I’m a moron anytime I open my mouth.
It was my idea to go through the office and yet, Ian seems to think he thought of it himself.
I considered that maybe we should look through the stark stacks of paperwork splayed on the shelves but Ian insisted that what we were looking for would be locked away, thus—we’re hacking Glenn’s password.
“Why am I even here, Ian?” I huff out, raking my hand through my hair.
“Moral support?” he shrugs, absentmindedly playing with a Rubik's cube sitting near the computer.
“You ever solve one of those?” I nod toward the cube he’s spinning in a direction that will get him no closer to completing it.
“No. I didn’t realize that was something people actually do.” He lets out that sardonic laugh of his and I snatch the cube from his hands.
“You know—” I smirk, sliding the squares into their correct place, “you might have more friends if you weren’t so snobby.”
“Who needs friends when I have such an amazing half brother?” He smirks sarcastically back and relaxes into the rolling chair just as the final square locks into place.
The cube shifts in my grasp and I realize the completion of the puzzle unlocked some part of it.
He sees the cube shift, too, the top of it opening just slightly to reveal that it isn’t just a normal Rubik’s cube, but a box.
Both our eyes widen simultaneously. “Looks like you and dear old dad have more in common than we thought.” He jumps to his feet. “Don’t just stare, Andy. Open it.”
I hold back a grimace, cracking the small box open, revealing a thumb drive and a small silver key that looks like it belongs to a—
“File cabinet,” we say in unison before looking at the numerous ones lining the far wall of the office. Ian snags the key from the box and begins turning it into them with little luck.
“Dammit,” he mutters after the key gets stuck in the fourth cabinet he’s tried.
I sit behind the desk in the seat still warm from Ian, staring at the thumb drive when my knee hits something hollow in the interior.
I glance under the desk and find a drawer hidden in the side of the desk, a small keyhole barely visible.
“Ian…” A chill passes through me as I consider that maybe I don’t want to know what our dad’s been hiding. That freeing myself from the man that made me may come at the cost of understanding all the horrible things I helped him do. Nausea roils in my stomach as Ian slides the key across the desk.
“Open it,” he instructs but his eyes have shifted into the same haunted expression I know I’m wearing. Like he too realizes that there's no going back from whatever we might learn.
“Ian…we can stop if—”
“Open the damn drawer, Andrew.” His voice is hard, despite the hollowness in his gaze. I turn the key, hearing the soft click of the lock before pulling the drawer open. Three cream colored file folders are laid in the drawer, each labeled with a name.
William Chapman
Elliot Walker
Rebecca Spellman
A boulder falls to the bottom of my stomach as I see mom’s name, her folder significantly thicker than the other two and my fingers tingle with the urge to open it.
To see all the tabs Glenn’s kept on mom over the years—on me.
The knowledge is bittersweet. I think this is the most care, if you could call it that, my father is capable of.
Ian slides past me, grabbing the folders from the drawer and dropping them on to the desk.
He opens Will’s first and there has to be over a hundred papers inside, from school records to candid photos taken of him around town.
My pulse is racing at the sheer mass of information sitting in front of us.
At the realization that there is a bombshell in this folder just waiting to be uncovered.
Ian begins flipping through the pages when we hear the gears of the garage door thrum to life.
“Fuck,” Ian whispers as both our eyes snap to the door.
“I thought you said he was going to be out of town this week,” I hiss, panic shooting up my spine.
“Do you really think he gives me that much information? I just assumed…” Ian quickly snaps photos of the pages in Will’s folder as I fumble around, trying to shove everything back into place.
“Hurry up,” I urge, my heart crashing into my rib cage.
We can’t get caught. Not when we’re just getting started, when we’re finally on to something.
The hum of the garage door quiets just before we hear a door slam. “Ian!”
He slams the folder shut, moving to swipe the remaining folders off the desk but it’s too swift. Elliot Walker's folder goes sprawling to the floor.
“Shit…” Ian stands still for a second as we hear the door leading from the garage creek open.
I drop to the floor, quickly gathering the papers back into a neat stack.
The similarities pull the words and photos on them into focus, and I realize it’s profiles of women that are strewn across the floor, their faces just iterations of each other: blonde, tan, young, just different enough that I can tell they aren’t all the same person.
I grab the last two when my eyes catch on deep blue eyes, eyes that I haven’t been able to get out of my head.
Blue eyes like the ocean and the night sky all at once.
Eyes that I’ve memorized laying in bed next to me.
Her packet has multiple staples, is thicker than the others and cold dread fills my throat. Her name’s typed neatly at the top.
Sloane Fielder
I hear hard footsteps approaching and hurriedly shove the packet back into the folder before carefully shutting the drawer, bile sitting high in my throat.
When I look up, Ian’s in a doorway on the opposite side of the room, frantically gesturing to me.
I crawl across the room, sliding in just before the main office door opens.
He silently shuts the door and we both melt against the wall, our breath fast and hushed as we hear Glenn enter the office.
The sound of the computer powering up has me wincing, and I close my eyes because I know we are fucked when I feel the soft vibration of my phone.
My father’s name flashes on the screen and if I didn’t know better I’d think I was having a heart attack.
I show Ian who vigorously shakes his head no, so I ignore the call, sending Glenn straight to voicemail.
I hear him let out a loud sigh on the other side of the door, and suddenly my phone’s vibrating again.
Ian’s eyes widen, Glenn’s name filling the screen once again.
He points to the far edge of the ridiculously long bathroom, as far from the door as possible and mouths an answer.
I crawl against the cold marble, wedging my body in the furthest possible corner.
“Hello…” my voice is a hushed mumble, my hand shaking as I press the speaker to my ear.
“Andrew. Where are you right now?” His voice is harsh, abrasive against the cool silence of the bathroom.
Terror trickles down my back, and I wonder if he knows I’m here, if he’s trying to catch me in a lie, if he’ll drag me out of here and use everything in my mother’s file to make their life a living hell.
I look at Ian, his hands waving around, trying to conduct me to a response.
“The library, big bio exam this week.” I wince, not sure if my tone is calm enough to be believable. I hear Glenn let out a breath and can almost see the roll of his eyes, his expression so similar to Ian's.
“Any news on the Fielder girl? I need to know if she’s talking.” A knot forms in my throat, rage sitting at the center of it as I remember that packet remember the name Elliot Walker scrawled at the top of the folder it belonged in.
“Who’s Elliot Walker?” I ask before I can stop myself, even though I know. In my heart of hearts, I know it’s him.
Steady anger fills my ears like a loud thrum as I wait for my dad’s response.
“Did she say something about him?” His tone is hopeful, like this is what he’s been waiting for and I almost regret asking.
“Not directly…I just need to know what I’m looking for here…” I shut my eyes trying to focus my anger, trying to concoct a believable enough excuse as to why I haven’t found anything on Sloane except for the obvious one, that I simply haven’t been looking.
“Next time she brings him up…press on it. I need to know what she’s telling people about that particular name.” Pain radiates through my jaw as my molars clamp shut.
“Fine.” It’s a harsh whisper but enough for my dad as I hear the phone line end.
We hear him ruffling papers in the background and Ian gives me a wide eyed look that warns me to be quiet.
I shut my eyes, letting my head rest against the clean lines of the wall, and wish, not for the first time, that I never found myself in this situation.
That I went to an affordable state school, focused on getting an engineering degree or maybe even pre-med, something that would allow me to help my mom without all the back stabbing and secrets.
“Andy…Andy!” Ian’s voice is a loud hiss as I realize the room’s gotten eerily quiet. “I think he’s gone. Let's go.” I stand up and follow as he cracks the bathroom door enough just to look out. He nods before opening and moves back to the desk.
“Dude!” I shake my head, eyeing the entrance to the hallway.
“Later,” I mouth, dragging him out the door and through the back entrance of the house until we are in the alley between Glenn’s townhouse and the one next door.
I put my hands on my knees groaning as I bend over, trying to shake off the nervous energy.
“Remind me not to make deals with you again.”
“You’re such a baby,” he says but his attention stays on the photos he took on his phone. “Give me a couple days to digest these. I’ll text you when I’m ready to meet.” He barely looks up and I roll my eyes.
“You know if it weren’t for me we would’ve never gotten that rubik’s cube open…” I tilt my head, positioning my hands on my hips.
“Are you…whining, Andrew?” He meets my gaze amused.
“Just, a thank you would be nice every once in a while,” I huff out.
“Thank you. Now run along. I have research waiting for me and based on that call from Dad, you have a certain Fielder girl who needs your attention.” He winks before rounding back around the house to the entrance we just came out of, leaving me rattled and relieved because this…might actually work.