Pretty Wanted (21 page)

In the morning, we woke to sunlight streaming through the mall skylights. I was up first. I shook Tre. He rolled over, his mouth parting, eyes rolling beneath their lids.

“Tre. Come on.” I touched him again.

He sat up, startled. “Yo.”

“We should get up,” I said.

He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Right.”

We waited for the mall to open and we did a lap around, and when there was still no sign of Aidan, doubt began to creep in. Maybe he wasn’t coming back at all.

“I hope the guy wasn’t just wandering around waiting to get picked up by the cops,” Tre said.

“Who knows?” I said. “He could have turned himself in by now.”

“Do you think he would’ve done that?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I said, though I was reluctant to admit it to Tre. “As much as I want to think otherwise, there’s a lot I don’t know about him.”

If Aidan went to the police, he could give me up, too. I still didn’t think he would do that, but who knew? I was going to have to make a decision on my own, anyway. I felt it looming over everything, along with Tre’s words from the night before.

“Maybe something else happened to him,” Tre said.

“Like what?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

He didn’t say anything, and for a split second, I felt guilty for thinking the worst of Aidan, for assuming everything was his fault, and I could tell Tre was feeling the same way, too.

With an ache, I realized how much I missed Aidan. He’d been with me for weeks, and other than that short time in Tahoe when we’d been separated for a few hours, we’d pretty much been together 24/7 all that time. Now I wondered if I’d see him again. Had he really left for good?

I was still angry, don’t get me wrong. Still bothered by his behavior. But I was also pretty sure I loved him. And he cared about me, didn’t he?

How had this happened to us? I replayed all of my memories, looking for answers, everything from our first kiss outside of my house to the days snuggling on the long bus rides and our nights in the library, the museum. It had all seemed so right at the time, but now I didn’t know. Maybe I had been fooling myself. I had to have been. There was Sheila to think about. His deceptions. His inability to play by the rules when I needed him to.

“Should we go out and look, walk the streets?” Tre asked.

“No,” I said. “If we stay here, he knows where to find us.”

Probably, he was fine. And if we didn’t hear from him in a couple of hours, we’d have to go on without him. We’d just have to assume he turned himself in.

So we sat back down on our benches, watched the other shoppers passing us. The stores weren’t open yet, but people were already wandering around—tourists, mostly, and a few elderly mall walkers in coordinated sweat suits and Nikes. Instrumental music played overhead, cheery brassy versions of Top 40 hits. The smell of cinnamon buns started to waft through the air.

At 9:45, Tre’s phone rang.

I grabbed it instinctively and answered. It had to be Aidan. I knew it was. He’d be wanting to know where he could meet us. He’d have changed his mind, and he was ready to come back to our mission. He needed us more than we needed him, obviously. And I’d have to decide whether I was ready to forgive him.

But the voice that came out of the other end wasn’t Aidan’s. I didn’t know who it was because it was distorted through one of those voice changers, deep and burbling like the person was talking through water, or on the wrong speed of a recording. “We have your friend. Listen very carefully,” it said.

My heart stopped, or at least it felt that way as the words echoed through my brain. They were talking about Aidan. They’d found him. He
was
in danger after all.

“We want the money. All five million. And we need it within twenty-four hours. We’ll call you back and tell you where to meet us. Make sure you follow our instructions very carefully. No cops. No telling anyone. Get us the money and your friend will live.”

I gasped. The unspoken suggestion left at the end of that sentence chilled me to the deepest cells of my being.

I clicked the phone off and slid it back to Tre, wordlessly.

“What was it?” he asked.

I stared at him, wide-eyed. “Aidan. He’s been kidnapped.”

“Who called you? Was it Bailey? Chet?”

“Impossible to tell,” I said, stunned, staring out into the bright busy space of the mall.

“Well, what did they say exactly?” He pulled on my shirtsleeve, impatient for the whole story.

“They want the money. Leslie’s money. All five million. And they want it within twenty-four hours, or else. . . .”

“Or else what?”

I winced, feeling like a guillotine was hanging over all of us. I could barely bring myself to say it—the words came out in the hoarsest whisper. “Or else they’ll kill him.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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FIFTEEN

I CHOKED DOWN
the bile that had risen in my throat. They were going to kill Aidan, yet the world around me was oblivious. It all felt very wrong, these mundane details, life going on as usual when we were in the middle of a crisis.

The sunglasses guy was back on duty. Across the way, a woman was pulling up the security gate on a Claire’s Accessories. To my left, a fountain burbled lazily, water recycling itself over a scattering of pennies. If only I could dive in and steal a lucky one. But I needed much more than that right now. It occurred to me that in all my stealing, I’d never actually come away with lasting good fortune—just some fleeting breaks, and I was sure I had finally used those up.

Think.
I had to think. Aidan was out there, he was in trouble, and we had to do something.

But what? I knew these guys, and I knew they didn’t play around. Tre and I didn’t have guns or a crew to help us. We’d scraped together some clever ideas in the past—some plans, sure—but no amount of planning could get us out of this situation.

The choice was simple. There was none. I had to go to the authorities. I had to call Corbin. Yes, he was FBI, but he’d helped us in Oregon. Of course we’d ditched him, and he’d probably be angry about that. But maybe he would be willing to help us again, if I offered to turn us in. Promised him for real this time. We could make a deal. Surely, he would care that Aidan’s life was at stake. He would want to save him.

Tre didn’t resist. He was relieved, I think, that I was finally ready to turn myself in. “It’s the right thing,” he said.

“But this is it, Tre. If I do this, it’s over.”

He simply nodded. So be it, his expression said. We were living on borrowed time, anyway. And at least we’d be safe.

Hands shaking, I took Tre’s phone and dialed the number.

Corbin answered on the third ring, his voice gruff. I could hear typing in the background.

“It’s Willa,” I said, and my own voice sounded small and metallic. “We’re in St. Louis.”

“I know,” he said, salty as ever. “Give me some credit, will you?”

The words came tumbling out then, all at once. “They have Aidan. They kidnapped him. Chet and Bailey and whoever they work with. They called, demanding a ransom—five million dollars. I need your help. I’m ready to cooperate. And I have a deal for you.”

There was a pause. A sigh. Then, “I’m listening.”

“They want me to hand over the money. I mean, it has to be me, since it’s Leslie’s money they’re after. If you can help us figure that out—how to get it to them, real or fake—we can rescue Aidan. And then I promise I’ll turn myself over to you and forget about my mom’s murder and all of the rest of it.” My voice broke some. “Please, Corbin. Can you come out here?”

“It’s nice of you to offer to give yourself up, Willa, but it’s a little too late. I’m off the case.”

My heart sank. “But why? They’re still looking for us.”

“We’ve been down this road before, haven’t we? With your promises.” Now he sounded like a stern teacher. “And how am I supposed to know you’re not playing me again?”

“This is different. I swear . . . I’m not making it up. I wouldn’t lie to you, not about Aidan.”

“What you did in Oregon, that was unforgiveable.” His voice sharpened, intensified in volume, almost as if he was holding the receiver directly in front of his mouth like a microphone. “I helped you, I helped Leslie, and what do you do to repay me? The two of you take off, like Thelma and Louise. Like it’s some kind of game you’re playing, without regard for your own safety or others’. Do you have any understanding of what I put on the line for you? An eighteen-year career, Willa.”

“Listen, Corbin,” I said, feeling humbled by his chastising tone. “I never meant to hurt you or your career. I appreciate all that you did for us. I do. But I had to know more about my real mother. I was afraid I’d never have the chance again.”

I could explain but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize. Maybe I was stubborn or just plain stupid, but somehow, even after everything, all of my mistakes, I still stood by that decision.

I looked at Tre and he was watching me, brow furrowed.

“And what have you learned? You’ve been there less than a week. It’s a cold case. Did you really think you’d uncover what the FBI and local authorities couldn’t?”

“I’ve learned a lot of things—”

He talked right over me. “I don’t know what you expect to find but the facts are there for anyone to see them. She was in a mess of trouble, that woman. Whatever happened to her, she brought it on herself.”

My voice dropped to a whisper. “So you’re saying she deserved to be murdered?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not saying she
deserved
it. But it’s like I said to you before. It’s about choices, Willa. And choices have consequences. The same is true for you. If you think I’m going to drop everything and come out there to save you when you’ve shown yourself to be a thief and a liar, then you’re wrong.”

“You also said that it’s not always black and white,” I reminded him. “Remember that?”

He huffed impatiently, clearly not interested in the full blow-by-blow of our conversation. “Forget what I said. Now listen: The local cops are still investigating our little explosion in Three Rivers. Just so you know, just so we’re absolutely clear: If they come to me, if it’s a choice between my job and protecting you again, I’m going to choose me.”

“I know,” I said, the guilt about our actions swirling into the larger surge of guilt I felt about everything that was happening now. I was responsible. I knew it was my choices that had landed us here. Did that mean I couldn’t try to make to things right, though? “But what about Aidan?”

He was out there. His life was at risk. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to him.

“What about him? I don’t owe you anything at this point. Do you hear me? I’m not responsible for either of you. I was looking out for your sister. That was all.”

Leslie.
“How is she?” I asked quickly, realizing that he was my only link to her at this point. “Have you been in touch with her?”

“She’s doing just fine,” he said, his tone softening. I was pretty sure he had deeper feelings for Leslie—I’d seen something pass between them in Oregon—but I wasn’t about to point that out to him. Especially not now.

“So you talked to her?”

“Yesterday, actually.” He paused, then added almost reluctantly: “She’s all set up. She misses you, of course.”

And I miss her
, I thought, the feeling echoing in the deepest part of me. It was too much—losing Leslie, and now losing the mother I’d never even met yet. And Aidan . . .

“Look, I feel for you, Willa. You’re in a tough spot there.”

“But you won’t help me,” I finished for him.

“Not after everything, no.”

Feeling desperate, I tried another tack. “What if I told you there was more to this case? What if I told you I had reason to believe that a senatorial candidate was involved, a man named David Granger?”

“I would tell you that you’re out of your mind. You need to stop playing Nancy Drew, okay?” He choked out a bitter laugh. “Forget it. Why am I even trying to offer you advice? Not like you listen to me, anyway.”

“I might have new information, though.”

“And I might be distantly related to the Queen of England. Like I said: Not interested. Not my responsibility. Not my case. Call the local police. They’ll help you.”

He hung up the phone and I held it to my ear for a moment, listening to the blank sound between the click and the dial tone, a silence that seemed to stretch on into infinity.

“No go?” Tre said.

I handed the phone back to him, feeling dizzy. “No go. I guess I burned that bridge back in Oregon. He said we’re on our own. He thinks my mom probably got what was coming to her and that we should call the local authorities.”

He shook his head. “Sounds like a smacked ass.”

“He pretty much is,” I said, shutting my eyes, feeling everything close in on me. But could I blame Corbin for it? Not really. “What are we going to do, Tre?”

“I don’t know.”

“I got Aidan into this. If it wasn’t for me, he’d be home right now, hanging out at the animal shelter, or driving around Paradise Valley or geeking out over some computer thing. Instead, he’s . . .”

The image of Aidan, tied up somewhere, gagged, tortured, was too dark for me to even conjure.

Without Corbin, we were screwed. I didn’t have the slightest clue how to fix this. I was exhausted. I was scared. Most of all, I was tired of feeling like all these things were so much bigger than me. I wanted to give up.

I looked down at the tiled floor. “I don’t know. Maybe we should take Corbin’s advice and just go to the local police.”

Tre had been ready to turn us in for days. I figured he would jump at the chance. So it surprised me when he shook his head vehemently. “Nah.”

“What do you mean?”

“If Granger’s really behind all of this, then who knows what kind of connections he has? He could have the local police tied into his scheme and that could backfire quick. Cops can’t always be trusted.” He caught a corner of his lip between his teeth as he thought it through. “I want to take care of this ourselves.”