Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1) (14 page)

Mom shakes her head. “But all the bodies you work with have already failed. Don’t you find that depressing?”

“No. I don’t find anything depressing anymore.”

Mom picks up her fork. “Well, I’m glad to hear you say that.”

I smile and dig in. All this running makes me ravenous.

Mom clears her throat. “And now I’d like to hear more about this Franco person. Is he giving Liam some competition for your attention?”

I flush. “He’s been working at Plant Production for quite a while now
.
He’s in charge of a lot of projects. He’s really smart.”

“He must be if you keep saying so.” Mom raises her eyebrows. “What I’m more curious about is whether or not you think he’s cute.”

I clear my throat. “Very much so, I’m afraid.”

She laughs. “You know, before I met your father, I had a crush on my Orchestra Conductor. And he was quite a bit older than I was.”

“Not that ancient guy who’s there now, I hope.” I shudder, remembering how he used to glare at me as a child.

“Not at all! This was a different conductor. But then I met your father…” She sighs. “But enough about me and my foolishness. Let’s focus on you. Tell me more about this Franco. He’s not married, is he?”

“No. At least, Liam didn’t mention it.” The thought makes my heart sink. But surely it would’ve come up in conversation by now. Right?

“Then Liam knows Franco? Does he know him well?”

“Yes. They’re cousins. In fact, it sounds like Franco took care of Liam’s family after the accident.”

“What accident?”

I cringe, realizing my mistake. Mom and I never talk about my tenth birthday, for good reason, and now I’ve brought it up without thinking.

I clear my throat. “
The
accident, Mom.”

Her face pales. “What’s Liam’s last name?” she whispers.

“Harman. Do you remember them?”

She stands up, pushing her plate and chair away. “I can’t believe you’re friends with
them.
Harman was Dad’s replacement. The whole reason your father died is because that man didn’t show up for his shift.”

My eyes widen. I don’t remember any of this. “Are you
sure
that was the name of Dad’s replacement?”

She glares. “It’s not something I’d likely forget, is it?”

I scramble for the TV remote. “I’ll bet there’s a history file on the Memorial Service. It was sponsored by the government, after all.” I click on the search function, punch in the date, and wait for the programs to load.

“Are you sure you want to see that?” Mom wrings her hands, hovering a few feet behind me.

I answer her question by clicking on the Memorial Service program option. Yellow words flash across a black screen.

In the worst factory accident of modern times, fifty-three people burned to death in the Wardrobe Production District. The New Order investigation found faulty wiring to be the cause. Due to this horrific incident, new regulations on the use of electric heat and lighting have been implemented. This will never happen again.

Mom exhales. “That’s what they always say. So many empty promises.”

Footage of the families follows. I remember the long line of mourners, every one of them wearing the traditional black scarf of mourning around their necks. A long row of sympathizers passes by, shaking everyone’s hands, perhaps giving a quick hug. It’s so odd to watch myself staring at the ground, shunning any gesture of comfort. That day, all my senses were muffled. I could barely hear my mother’s voice or see her face. Everything was fuzzy. Even her hand, pulling me from place to place, felt fake.

But this time as I watch the footage, I’m fully awake. I search for one face in particular, to prove he’s telling me the truth. First I see Liam, a young light-blond boy with a face smeared with tears. My heart reaches out to him. After the long line finishes, I see him walk slowly, hand-in-hand with one of his younger sisters who was just a toddler. They walk past me, my ten-year-old self. Liam pauses for a moment, his sister breaking away to move on ahead without him, then a younger Franco crosses the screen, puts his hands on Liam’s shoulders, and steers him away.

I point. “That’s him. That’s Franco. And Liam is the blond boy in front of him.”

Mom doesn’t say a word. I feel bad for making her relive the worst day of her life. The names of the fallen roll across the scene.
Daniel Wood
and
Jack Harman
jump out at me.

Mom’s voice sounds hollow. “When your father called that night and said he’d be late, it was because Jack called in sick. Why would you call in sick and then show up afterward? And why didn’t Daniel come home when his replacement arrived? Why were they both killed? That never made any sense to me.”

he next morning, Mortuary Sciences is swamped because we’ve taken on another hospital’s deceased as well as our own. The other facility is having “technical difficulties,” whatever that means. I’m actually grateful for the extra load. There are a million questions racing around my mind, but there’s only one person I want to discuss them with—Franco. And I’ve no idea when I’ll see him again.

Gus throws me concerned glances all day, but I pretend not to notice. I’m thorough in my work, concise in my answers to his questions, and perform the clean up routine with perhaps more vigor than usual. I feel slightly dirty, or tainted, and I don’t know why. But I mean to find out.

On the way to the gym, I try to convince myself that it’s silly to hope to see Franco today. After all, he can’t bike with us until Liam gets permission, and who knows how long that will take? I idly wonder what would happen if we went out there and ran
without
permission. Would helicopters fly down at us from the sky like I saw in one of Gus’ old movies once? Would the Suits haul us away like they did with that poor, pregnant red-haired girl?

Maybe I don’t want to know what would happen.

Squelching one last silent plea for Franco to make an unexpected appearance, I reach the 37
^th
Northwest Street Gym and race up the steps to the glass doors. Again, Liam is waiting for me, a sheepish look on his face.

He grimaces. “You’re not really going to make me take this yoga class, are you?”

“You
promised
you wouldn’t weenie out on me. Come on. We need to strengthen our core muscles just as much as we need to log miles.”

He groans.

“Plus, it decreases our chances of getting injured.” I start to bluff. “And, last night, I read an article about someone who won this race once, and she did yoga three times a week.”

Liam’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Um. No. Actually, the woman came in mid-pack, but—”

Liam puts his palms together to beg. “Please don’t make me do this. It’s all girls in there.”

“Yeah, girls wearing tight tank tops and clingy shorts.” I put my hand on my hip. “But I thought you’d like that.”

Liam grins. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. Now, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Promise you won’t embarrass me in there.”

He winks, and I hurry off to the locker room then pick up two yoga mats before hunting for him in the hallway. After passing the classroom twice, I duck my head in to find him chatting up the lithe, petite instructor. I roll my eyes, but at least it should be easier to get him in here next time.

Liam knows nothing about yoga, and this is a moderately advanced strength class. He teeters in tree stance. He wobbles in warrior. He falls down doing a backbend, causing a smattering of stifled giggles across the classroom. The instructor smiles and gives encouragement. She circles the room, assisting everyone, but pays particular attention to Liam, the golden-boy.

By the end of the class, Liam shows his exhaustion. He remains in Savasana—the corpse pose—long after most students have left the room. A slow, grinding noise emits from his throat.

“Are you actually snoring?” I poke him. “I can’t believe you! How could you fall asleep in a room full of people?”

He doesn’t move. But he opens one blue eye and moans. “You failed to mention how hard this was going to be.”

I laugh. “You wouldn’t have believed me if I told you.”

“That’s probably true.” He slowly sits up. “And you profess to find this a relaxing stress-reliever?”

I smile. “Yes, I do.”

“That’s because nobody laughs at you.”

“It was your first time.” I hide a smirk. “Cut yourself some slack. Besides, it’s so obvious all those females thought you were adorable.”

He grins. “Told you I’m irresistible.”

“Okay, Mr. Popular. Now all you have to do is win with this race, and you’ll have a ton more fans.”

“And what about you?” He stands and rolls up his yoga mat.

I do the same. “I just want to make my mom happy. Plus, I love running outside. I don’t know what I’ll do once we’re stuck back on the treadmills.”

“That will suck,” Liam agrees. “Let’s see if our permission to run out in the boonies came through, yet.”

We approach a perky woman working the front desk.

“Liam, I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Here’s your permission slip. It says that since those roads are mainly commuter tracks anyway, your training team can train on them between the hours of four and seven p.m. each day.”

“That’s excellent news.” Liam flashes a winning smile. “Thank you.”

“When can we start?” My heart races. Despite my growling stomach, I’m ready to go right now if it means I can see Franco.

“Tomorrow,” Liam answers. “I’ll meet you out front here. We’ll take the monorail out, and Franco can bike back to meet us. Okay?”

“I can’t wait.” And, boy, do I mean that.

When I get home, there’s no warm meal waiting for me. Just a leftover spaghetti dish—not a good sign. A crack of light shines around Mom’s bedroom door. I peek through to watch her tuning her violin. When she starts to play, the mournful melody that pours from her soul through the strings stabs my heart.

This is probably my fault.

I back away from the door, careful not to make any noise with my feet. If I’m going to dig more in the past, I’ll keep it a secret. She’s been hurt enough as it is.

At work the next day, I barrel through a mountain of paperwork. Gus is too busy and distracted to send any more questioning looks my way, which is a relief. My limbs overflow with nervous energy. Every single part of me, starting with my brain, wants to see Franco. I need to get him alone to explain what happened with his uncle. I don’t want to do this in front of Liam. I don’t want to hurt him like I hurt my mother.