More Than Jamie Baker (Jamie Baker #2) (16 page)

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“And, it’s not true anymore,” Mom insisted. “You’ve gotten so much better over the last year. You are living your life again.”

“I’m living it,” I agreed, “but I’m still wasting it. That little girl I saved last night? She’d been kidnapped by a horrible man who was dragging her off, bound and gagged, into the woods to do who knows what to her.”

My mom started crying again and even my dad looked nauseous.

I wiped another tear away. “It was so easy for me to find her. In minutes I did what those search and rescue guys couldn’t have done in days. Chelsea is alive because of me. So is the elderly couple I pulled from that fire. I have a gift. I have the power to do amazing things. I can’t ignore that anymore. I won’t.”

My parents were both quiet and still for the first time since I’d come through the door. Ryan sat back and stayed out of it, giving me this moment with my parents.

“I understand that you’re scared for me. I’m scared for myself. But after what happened with Mike, I don’t have a choice anymore. This is something I
have
to do. I hope you can accept it—or at least forgive me for it—because I need you guys now more than ever.”

I held my breath as I waited. Mom was the first to give. She hugged me tightly. “We’re not scared, Jamie,” she whispered. “We’re terrified.”

“So am I,” I admitted, “but I need this.”

“Then you have my support.”

I hugged my mom back and after a tearful thank-you I turned to my father. His grim face looked like it had aged ten years, but he was also resigned. He let go a long breath and held out his arms. “Come here, baby girl.”

I fell into his arms and soaked him up as if he were the oxygen that filled my lungs.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you, Jamielynn?”

If I hadn’t known, the quiver in his voice would have said enough. “I love you too, Daddy.”

“Then, please, for my sake, stop trying to give your old man a heart attack. Tell us before you do something like that again.”

“I promise.” I hugged him again and then laughed. “But just so you know, if I ever do manage to stop your heart I can always just restart it.” I held up my hands. “Built-in defibrillators.”

My father let out a strangled laugh and kissed the top of my head again. I gave him a minute’s peace—just in case he wasn’t joking about the heart attack thing—before telling him the rest of my bad news.

“Um, Dad?” He eyed me suspiciously—and rightly so. “There’s kind of more.” His eyes bugged. “You may want to sit down for this.”

I told my parents and Ryan everything—about meeting the man in Mike’s hospital room, about visiting Carter in New York, and about the people who were following me this afternoon. I even told them about Teddy and how he was now in danger simply because he’d been talking to me.

I didn’t have to restart my father’s heart, thank goodness, but he did have to put his head between his knees a few times.

“The strangest thing is,” I said once I’d finished, “the man in the hospital and the couple on campus were watching me
before
I rescued Chelsea. I’m not sure they even know I’m Chelsea’s Angel.”

“How can they not, honey?” Mom asked gently.

I shrugged. “I don’t know what they know about me. I’m not sure why they’re watching me. I’m not even sure if they’re from Visticorp. Carter left me a message and said that he couldn’t find any record of the guy from the hospital. He told me that was serious and that I needed to be careful.”

“Then what in the world are you doing masquerading as a superhero right now?” my dad roared.

“Dad. Think about it. My saving people doesn’t matter. These people obviously already know about me. Even if I’d never saved Chelsea, they’d still be here.”

“Well, your antics might just motivate them to act faster.”

Ryan sat up straighter and sent me a nervous glance. “He’s right, Jamie. Maybe you should cool it with the superhero gig right now.”

“What?” I shouted. “You’re the one who told me I should do it! This was your stupid idea!”

“
You
encouraged my baby girl to expose herself?” Dad’s face took on that scary shade of red again.

Even my mom sat there, gaping at Ryan. “Ryan Miller! How could you do that?”

If the situation wasn’t so serious, the look on Ryan’s face would have been comical. It might have been the first time he’d ever had parents upset with him. Not just my parents, but
any
parents.

“I was just trying to help,” he said, floundering. “I didn’t know about the people spying on her, either. I didn’t even know she’d gone to see Carter.”

He shot me a look that said we’d talk about that one later. Great. Well. It was his own stupid fault for not believing me in the first place about the people at the school.

“Whatever. None of that matters anymore. Right now we just need to figure out what to do. The only thing I can think of is to confront them the next time I see them.”

“No!” all three of them shouted at once.

“What other choice do I have? I have to know who they are, what they want, and what they know. How else am I supposed to do that? Even Carter couldn’t find the guy from the hospital, and he’s craftier than the devil!”

I had them all stumped. Good thing, too, because the problem gave my dad a chance for his temper to cool off a little. He sat down and tried to work through the situation I’d been trying to solve for days.

Ryan broke the silence first. “I think I might know a way.”

Ryan cleared his throat and swallowed when we all looked at him expectantly. He looked really nervous all of a sudden. Obviously whatever he was thinking was going to be one of his infamous, harebrained ideas.

“There is someone we can talk to who might be able to give us the answers we need.”

We all waited. I had no clue who he could be talking about.

Ryan cringed, but steeled himself. He leveled his gaze on me and said, “We need to go visit Mr. Edwards.”

. . . . .

I was all over the place with my emotions as the guards shuffled the prisoners into the visiting room. I couldn’t believe Ryan had talked me into seeing Mr. Edwards. This was the man who almost killed Ryan. He tortured him! I was afraid I’d kill the jerk on the spot if I had to be put in the same room with him again.

When the prison people said they were ready for us, Ryan slipped his arm around me and kissed the side of my head. “It’ll be okay, Jamie. He’s going to have answers for us.”

I took a breath. “He’d better. Otherwise, I might be tempted to hurt him.”

Ryan slid me a look, but after a minute he smiled and muttered, “Just make sure the guards don’t notice.”

Ryan and I were escorted into a large recreational-looking room where people were visiting other inmates. We were asked to sit down at an empty table where a single chair sat across from us. In a moment, the man I hated more than anyone else on the planet would be sitting in that chair.

“This was a dumb idea.”

“Shh, Jamie.” Ryan moved his hand to my lap and laced my fingers through his. “I promise everything will be okay.”

It was too late, anyway. They were bringing him in.

Mr. E. looked exactly the same as he had the year before when he was my English teacher, except that he’d traded in his khakis and button-ups for denim and blue chambray shirts. His hair was a little longer too, but he didn’t seem to have the wear and tear I expected a year in prison would have given him. In fact, he looked almost content.

Seeing him smile and chat with the guard as he entered the room, looking young and healthy—he was only twenty-six and the cutest teacher I’d ever had until he attacked my boyfriend and lost his appeal—sent mixed emotions through me. I felt surprisingly relieved that he looked okay since I was responsible for putting him here. At the same time, I also felt disappointed because I hated him for what he did and I wanted him to suffer. He didn’t look like he was suffering all that much. The conflicting emotions were confusing.

“Mr. Miller! Miss Baker!” Mr. E. greeted us both. His entire face lit up with pleasure when he saw me. His eyes never left mine. “Jamie! It’s so wonderful to see you again.”

Mr. E. held out his arms as if expecting me to hug him, but quickly sat down when Ryan gasped and yanked his hand out of my grip. I’d been so angry that I’d accidentally zapped Ryan.

“Ryan, I am so sorry!” I glared at Mr. E., letting him know that I totally considered that zap to be his fault.

Mr. E.’s face turned sad, but he accepted my coldness—he knew he deserved it—and tentatively said, “I almost didn’t believe it when they told me you wanted to visit, but here you are. Thank you for coming. I’ve wanted to apologize to the both of you for so long, but I wasn’t allowed to write to you. I’ve had a lot of time over the last year to think about how I handled things with you. I was a desperate man, and I made some very bad choices. I am so sorry for what happened; you have no idea.”

“Good,” I said. “You should be.”

“I’m especially sorry about what I did to you, Ryan.”

Ryan shrugged, his hand clenched into a tight fist in his lap.

“I allowed my personal feelings to cloud my judgment and hurt an innocent boy. I never wanted to do that. I’m sorry.”

I could see true remorse plain as day in his features, and finally I could see a little bit of the change I’d expected to see in him. He’d put on a good show, but the last year had affected him.

Ryan could see it too, because he finally took a deep breath and accepted the apology—a whole lot more sincerely than I could have.

Talk about an awkward situation. Before I could decide how to bring up Visticorp, Mr. Edwards cleared his throat. “You look great,” he said, his attention focusing again solely on me. “Grown up and more beautiful than ever. I take it you’ve had a good year? You must be in college now. That’s exciting. Where are you going to school? What are you studying?”

He really had some confidence in my self-control. I wanted to kill the guy, and he sat there chatting me up as if we were best friends.

“Are you
flirting
with her?”

I cracked a smile at that. I could hear the anger hidden in Ryan’s astonishment. Maybe it wasn’t my self-control Mr. E. should have been afraid of.

Deciding I needed to intervene before my boyfriend punched a convict in the face in front of a handful of prison guards I said, “This isn’t a social call, Mr. E.”

“Oh, no. Please, Jamie, it’s Blake.”

“Blake?”

Mr. E. chuckled. “My name. You’re not my student anymore. You don’t have to call me Mr. Edwards. I’d prefer you didn’t, actually. You’re an adult now and there’s only, what, seven or eight years’ difference between us? It’s okay for us to be real friends now.”

The lights flickered as my temper flared. I had to count to ten before I spoke. “You and I will
never
be friends.”

Mr. Edwards—I refused to call him Blake—sighed. “Please forgive me, Jamie. I am sorry. So, so sorry. I just wanted you to give me a chance to help you, but I was also afraid of your power. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I am willing to do whatever it takes to prove to you that I am not your enemy.”

I hoped that was true. “If you want to help, then tell me who you told about me.”

Mr. E. frowned. “What do you mean?”

“About my powers, my accident. Who did you tell?”

“Well, I told my superiors years ago after your accident, but that’s it—and I regretted even telling them. I haven’t breathed a word about you since then. Not even last year when I got arrested. Ever since I really got to know you, I’ve kept your secret. I will always keep your secret.”

I’d been instructed beforehand that I wouldn’t be allowed to bring my phone in with me, so I’d printed out the photo of my hospital visitor. “Then how do you explain him?”

I slid the picture across the table and waited to see Mr. E.’s reaction. I had expected some sign of recognition, but the amount of fear Mr. E. displayed was disturbing. His face lost all its color and his eyes doubled in size.

“What?” Ryan demanded while I said, “Friend of yours?”

“‘Friend’ would be a loose term. Jamie, where did you see this man?”

“He ambushed me in a hospital after Mike Driscoll was in an accident.”

Mr. E. continued to stare at the picture. Not forgetting about the topic at hand, he spared a moment to ask about Mike. Mike had been his student, too. “I read about that in the papers. Is he okay?”

“He’ll live,” Ryan whispered.

Mr. E. matched Ryan’s soft tone when he asked, “What happened?”

“Exactly what the paper said. Mike was drunk. He stumbled into the street, and now he’ll never walk again.”

“That’s terrible.”

Ryan dropped his gaze to his lap while I forced a shrug.

Mr. E. narrowed his eyes when he noticed my obvious discomfort. “What did Mike’s accident have to do with you?”