Chapter 26 #2
Knox swipes to the next. Haven is hanging from the branch of a tree. From her flushed face, she’s attempting to do a couple of pull-ups.
“She beat Spider,” Knox says, impressed. “Thirty pull-ups. He got to twenty-two, claims that he heard the branch creek and stopped cause he didn’t want to fall. Sounds like bull to me.”
Rage burns in my gut, incinerating my organs like fire.
“Give us a moment,” I say to the clerk.
She dutifully steps away, sensing the shift in my temper.
“Forward me those pictures, and then delete them,” I say harshly.
“Why?” Knox asks. “She’s just a friend.”
“It is inappropriate to be so attached to a recruit,” I snap. “And what the hell was Spider thinking, letting her climb that tree? She could have cracked her skull!”
“Ender, calm down,” Knox says, squeezing my shoulder. “I believe you about the twin switch. I know that she is yours, even if it doesn’t seem that way to anyone else. I understand why you are being protective.”
What am I doing? Knox is my oldest friend. I trust him with my life. I don’t need to get so worked up about it. This is ridiculous. I unfold my fists, letting the tension seep from my body.
I suppose I’m annoyed that Spider would rather send it to him than me.
“It’s fine,” I grumble. “Let’s get back to business.”
We return to the old woman. Her name badge reads, Birdie.
I give her a background on the file and dates.
Birdie returns to the shelf I searched, frowning when nothing comes up. And then she taps on her tablet.
“I can’t find any reports related to Astrid Mallory.”
“It’s fine,” Knox says, smiling at her kindly, when she scratches her head. “I might have got a lead. Come on, Ender.”
He leads me back towards his station.
“What did you find?” I ask.
“A digital file,” Knox says, voice low. “It’s locked. You need to log in.”
I follow him back to the second floor. Knox steps up to his terminal and swipes his ID card. He unfolds his reading glasses.
“Don’t make fun of me,” Knox mutters as he fumbles with the frame.
“Spider insults you enough,” I say. “Last time, he said you looked like a timid librarian who wouldn’t know his way around a woman’s body?”
“Not funny.”
I type in my access code. It processes for a second before the screen flashes: DENIED.
“That is impossible,” I murmur. “I am the Commandant. I have access to every criminal file.”
“Try again,” Knox says.
DENIED. Again.
“Do you think Warrick locked it?” Knox asks, frowning.
I tap the desk while I think.
“I outrank him. He couldn’t keep me out. This has to be my father.”
“The Supreme Director?” Knox asks. “Why hide it? Her execution was public.”
“I don’t know,” I mutter.
Unease coils in my stomach. This is all wrong.
“I’m going to call Warrick,” I say. “He must have read it or written the report himself. I’ll ask if he has a paper copy, since the digital file can’t be accessed.”
“This is weird,” Knox mutters. “Do you think the girls know why the case is hidden?”
“They know something,” I say. “I just don’t know what.”
“Why not ask her?” Knox suggests.
I scoff. “Haven wouldn’t tell me the truth if I put a gun to her head.”
“Not Haven,” Knox says. “Mercy.”
I turn to him. That’s a good idea. Haven is sealed tighter than a vault, but Mercy… Mercy is shy and afraid. She’d be far easier to crack than her sister.
“Good thinking,” I say. “We’ll have dinner together tonight. She may find it easier to confide in you than me.”
Knox smiles faintly. He is easy-going and charming. People tend to open up to him. He’ll have much better luck drawing out her secrets than I ever could.
I’m sitting at the head of the table when the housekeeper escorts Mercy into the dining room.
Dark wood paneling stretches along the walls, interrupted by tall, arched windows draped in heavy royal blue curtains.
Outside, the late afternoon sun filters through, painting streaks of amber across the floor.
Mercy slips into the room wearing a lavender dress. A matching ribbon floats around her ponytail. Her fingers clutch the fabric like a lifeline.
We’ve both done an excellent job of keeping out of each other’s way. I spend my nights sleeping in Block A, and when I do come to work in my study, she makes herself scarce. The arrangement works well for us both.
Mercy’s green eyes are narrowed in suspicion as she sits on the opposite end of the table.
“Is my sister well?” she asks immediately. “She wasn’t kidnapped again, was she?”
“No, I reckon the rebels needed to be stuck with your sister for a few hours before they decided she is unbearable,” I say. “Personally, I wouldn’t kidnap her once, let alone twice.”
“That is an unkind thing to say,” Mercy says in a cool tone. “My sister is clever and stronger than you know.”
“Oh, I know,” I say with a wry smile.
Mercy frowns, as if she didn’t expect me to agree with her.
“Why am I here?” she asks. “Is it about the garden?”
“What garden?”
“The staff said I could plant some flowers and produce,” she explains. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Do you remember my friend, Knox Fraser?” I ask, ignoring her words.
“The blue-haired boy?” she asks.
“Correct,” I say. “He is visiting for dinner, and I thought you could use some company, since your sister is so busy with her training.”
“You want me to entertain your guest?” she asks. “I’m not a good conversationalist. I don’t know what I will say.”
The doors are drawn open, and Knox strolls in. His blue hair falls lazily into his eyes, and he’s grinning, ear-to-ear, as he approaches Mercy.
His eyes glitter wickedly under the chandelier light.
“Ms. Warrick,” he purrs. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
He holds out his hand for her, and she nervously lets him capture it. Knox drags it to his mouth, brushing a kiss against her knuckles.
I let out a loose cough. He is laying it on too thick.
Knox takes the seat to her left instead of near me—his usual spot. I should have given him a lesson on being discreet. His behavior is quite appalling.
“Mr. Fraser, I wasn’t expecting company today,” she says, placing her hands on the table to rise. “I will allow you both to converse in private.”
Knox wraps a hand around her wrist.
“Do not leave me with this dreadful bore,” he pleads. “I cannot handle a one-sided conversation.”
“I’m afraid I will not meet your expectations either,” she says. Her eyes brighten. “Perhaps, we can invite my sister, oh, she’s a lovely companion and wi—”
“We are not interested in vile insults and colorful curses,” I say. “We would like to dine with polite company.”
Mercy sits down with a pout. She murmurs something under her breath that I can’t make out. Knox barks out a startled laugh.
“What?” I demand.
Mercy’s cheeks grow flush.
“She says you were probably deserving of her insults and curses,” Knox says with a wide smile. “I’m afraid she might have a point.”
I glare at her, but Mercy refuses to meet my gaze. I suppose there is some sharpness to her if she dares to insult me. Perhaps, she shares some similarities with her twin sister, beyond their appearance.
A sage porcelain bowl is set before us with black truffle soup. Pearls of caviar glint like tiny obsidian jewels, floating limply across the surface. At the bottom, a small nest of fragrant rice, cooked to perfect fluffiness, absorbs the rich broth.
“So, Mercy, how have you been keeping busy in this place?” Knox asks.
“I’m planting a garden with squash, beets, and strawberries along with a row of daffodils and hyacinths.”
Mercy organizes her plate. She plucks the rice from the soup and sets it in a small bowl. Then she hunts every individual piece of caviar and organizes it in a separate dish. She does this until the meal is divided. And then slowly she eats with meticulous focus.
“Sounds lovely,” Knox says. “Perhaps, we can take a stroll after dinner. I’d like to see it.”
Mercy glances at me, waiting for permission.
“That’s a great idea,” I say, a tad eagerly. “I’m behind on some work, so I won’t be able to join.”
Mercy looks relieved that I won’t be joining them. She isn’t a big fan of me. It must run in the family.
“Why is your hair blue?” Mercy asks, curiously studying Knox.
“I had a bet with an immature man-child,” he explains. “The results were that we both dyed our hair an unfortunate color.”
“What color is his hair?”
“Black and white.”
“I can’t imagine it,” she says.
People don’t dye their hair much. It isn’t trendy anymore, not like it once was. So, Knox and Spider receive their fair share of looks when we are outside.
“I have a picture if you’d like to see,” Knox says, digging into his pocket for his tablet. It takes him a few seconds to pull it up before he tilts the screen in her direction.
Mercy giggles. “Is that him?”
“The one and only: Spider.”
“It suits him,” she remarks.
Knox hastily folds his tablet and shoves it away.
“I look more handsome than him,” Knox says defensively. “Ender says he looks like a skunk.”
“A cute, little, dimpled skunk,” she adds.
Knox’s brows furrow. He’s really doing a great job pretending to be interested in her. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he was truly jealous.
“Yeah, well, Spider is a little shit. Nobody likes him, because he talks before he thinks,” Knox says, folding his arms across his chest. “I, on the other hand, have been described as eloquent and thought-provoking.”
“By who?” Mercy tilts her head. “Your mother.”
Knox’s cheeks turn pink.
“No!” he exclaims. “By Ender, our Commandant and the future Supreme Director.”
He glances at me with a desperate look. One that says ‘please, hype me up before she thinks I am a complete and utter loser’.
“Knox is quite intelligent,” I say.