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  “She’s real bad. She won’t remember,” Amilee said.

  Mrs. Gray used to have only a glass or two until Mr. Gray left her. “Your mom’s worse?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve put her to bed every day since you moved. Which basically means I put the blanket over her on the couch.”

  “Have you seen your dad?” I asked.

  “Not in the same exciting way you saw yours,” Amilee snorted.

  “Geez.”

  “Well it’s true. Dad’s been around. Says he’s going to send Mom to rehab, and then he runs off to wherever he lives. Typical modern teenager stuff over here.”

  “I’ll trade you lives. According to Aunt Charlotte, Uncle George went over to Luke’s house hours ago, mad. He’s still not back.”

  “Does he know about the sex?“

  “I’m not sure, but I think everyone knows. Including your mom.” I sighed. “And for the record, it was nothing like you said.”

  “Clumsy, bad, awkward, and painful. Hmm . . . then how was it?” she asked.

  “Great. I might be addicted.”

  “To sex, or to Luke?”

  “Both,” I said. “Even with all this drama, I’m still thinking about Lucas Drake.”

  I heard clicking noises. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m looking on Facebook. I don’t see him.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t have an account.”

  “How long have you known him?” she asked.

  That dark cloud crept around me again. Amilee had a way of getting to the heart of the matter. I knew nothing about Luke, yet he was haunting me. “Twenty-four hours. No, I take that back—forty-eight hours.”

  “All of this happened in the last two days?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you fly out here? Right now. Whatever’s going on . . . this isn’t like you, at all.” Amilee’s voice rose till she sounded like a soprano, when she usually had a deep, husky tone. “I’ll have Dad pay for your ticket. I can use the credit card he gave me. This is an emergency.”

  We’d been friends since the first grade. She was the wild one, not me. For her to be the voice of reason meant that everything in my world was completely upside down.

  “I’ll think about it. I really want to see Luke. And—”

  Before I could finish my sentence Aunt Charlotte came barreling through the door. “Let’s go. George was in a car accident. Put your shoes on, hang up.”

  “What! Amilee, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

  Within seconds we were out the door and on our way to the hospital.

  “You didn’t tell her—” Aunt Charlotte made a gesture with her hands and then mouthed the word, “everything.”

  “No,” I said. “Is Uncle George okay? Do you know where the accident was?”

  Aunt Charlotte’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “He totaled the car, but the details are sketchy. He called me, so he can talk. We know that much.”

  “Don’t you think the timing of this accident is odd?”

  “Meaning?”

  “The FBI, my dad . . . ” I leaned my head against the window. The cold glass felt good. “Maybe I’m a little sensitive right now, but it all seems related.”

  “I hope it’s not,” she said.

  “Amilee wants me to come visit. Maybe I should.”

  “Might not be a bad idea, but I’m supposed to keep an eye on you,” she said. “I promised your mom and dad.”

  She parked the car where the ambulances normally park and we ran through the emergency entrance. Mr. Drake was sitting near the front counter with his hat in his hand and his face a purplish color.

  Chapter 9

  Aunt Charlotte ran to Mr. Drake and hugged him. But he wasn’t making any sense when he tried to tell her what had happened.

  A nurse interrupted them. “Are you George Hoffman’s wife?”

  Aunt Charlotte nodded.

  “Right this way.” The nurse went through the double doors.

  “Go. I’ll stay here with Mr. Drake,” I said. She ran after the nurse and I sat down. He stared straight ahead, mumbling inaudibly. I didn’t want to disturb him. But then his face turned pale and I was glad that Aunt Charlotte came back followed by an orderly with a wheelchair.

  “Sir, let me take you to a doctor,” he said.

  Aunt Charlotte said, “They were looking for Luke when a car crashed into them. A hit and run.”

  We followed the orderly into the emergency area and left Mr. Drake with the nurse.

  Aunt Charlotte led me past several beds. “Your uncle’s up here.” When she pulled the curtain back I cringed at the sight of Uncle George’s battered face. “They’re going to run some tests. It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said, and then she tapped Uncle George on the shoulder. “Tell her.”

  “I didn’t do it,” he said in a low voice. “He was here when we got here.”

  “What’s he talking about?” I asked.

  She pulled me away from the bed and put her arms around me. “When they got here a boy was in the emergency room. It was Luke. Listen . . .” She gripped me harder. “He’s in ICU.”

  “Another accident?” I asked.

  “No. Luke was beaten, real bad,” she said. “Looked like a mugging. No wallet. That’s why it took them a little while to identify him.”

  “ICU?”

  Aunt Charlotte nodded.

  “Is he okay?” I asked.

  “We don’t know. His mother is with him.” But the distressed look on her face said everything.

  “Does this have anything to do with Dad?”

  “Not sure,” she said.

  This isn’t happening.

  I stumbled. Aunt Charlotte caught me. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in a chair. She crouched down next to me. “Maybe you should go to Seattle for a few days.”

  I closed my eyes and begged a silent forgiveness. God, please heal Luke. I will never be so careless again.

  Aunt Charlotte nudged me. “C’mon let’s go to ICU.”

  We found Mrs. Drake in Luke’s room, holding his hand. When she saw us, she quickly stepped away from the bed and stood in the doorway.

  “Samantha, how is he?” Aunt Charlotte asked.

  Somebody was in that bed attached to an IV and a few other pieces of medical equipment, but from where I stood I couldn’t tell if it was Luke. And I couldn’t get any closer. His mom’s feet were spread apart and her arms were crossed. She was blocking the door on purpose and she didn’t even acknowledge me. I wondered if she’d seen the video, too.

  “He’s got a cracked skull—a concussion. It’s touch and go. The doctors are saying tonight is the most critical time. He may need surgery,” she said.

  My aunt took Mrs. Drake in her arms and they both began to cry. A nurse came by and said, “A few more seconds and you’ll need to leave. Family only.”

  That was all I saw of Luke.

  I felt like a disconnected balloon, floating behind Aunt Charlotte through the corridors in a dreamlike state. My legs were moving, but I didn’t feel my feet on the floor. Maybe time had just stopped, and yet somehow the world was continuing around me. When we got back to the ER, Uncle George was not in his bed; he was getting an X-ray. So we went to the waiting room, where the morning light crept in through cracks of the blinds.

  “Do you think Mrs. Drake knows about everything?” I asked.

  “No, I doubt it.” Aunt Charlotte stroked my hair.

  I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes, Aunt Charlotte was standing at the counter and Uncle George was in a wheelchair next to her, being discharged.

  Chapter 10

  Uncle George groaned when he got in the car. He frowned and looked away from me.

  “Tell me what happened—please?” I said.

  Aunt Charlotte opened the back door and said, “Sit down.” She got in the front seat. As we slowly drove away from the hospital, both she and Uncle George nervously scanned the area.

>   “Luke is in surgery. He has a traumatic brain injury.” Aunt Charlotte aimed the rearview mirror at me. “They had to drain the blood.”

  My throat tightened. “Do they know who did this to him? It doesn’t sound random.” I couldn’t help but think this happened because of me, or more specifically, my dad. “Who crashed into you, Uncle George? And how’s Mr. Drake?”

  Uncle George’s cheek under his left eye was swollen. A black and blue bruise covered most of the left side of his face. I thought his ribs must be cracked because he kept wincing whenever the car jostled us and it seemed as if all of his injuries were on his left side. “Kyle was just in shock, he’s fine.”

  “Was your car side-swiped?” I asked.

  “Happened so fast, some guy came out of nowhere.” Then Uncle George mumbled, “But there are no coincidences, Bea.”

  “George. Don’t,” Aunt Charlotte said, and then she looked at me in the mirror. “We can’t just say everything that happens from now on is because of this supposed conspiracy . . .” She pulled the car to the side of the road.

  “Is there any way we can check on Luke?” I asked.

  “Samantha is going to call me as soon as they have more information,” Aunt Charlotte said.

  Uncle George handed her a note he’d scribbled. She held it open for me to see. Rental car, lose our cell phones, get a room to talk freely. We all nodded, and no one spoke as Aunt Charlotte drove us to the airport. I wrote down the few phone numbers I’d need and left my cell phone in the car.

  “Do you want to go to Seattle?” Aunt Charlotte said as she drove the rental car up the coast.

  “Not yet,” I said. “Luke.”

  “As soon as we know something, we’ll call you. It’s not like you can do anything for him by being here,” Uncle George said.

  “I’d like to know more about who’s doing all of this to us. Can you reach my Dad?” I asked.

  Uncle George pulled out a cell phone. “I kept this from yesterday. We can try to redial.”

  “Probably should throw that out too, George,” Aunt Charlotte said. “I wish Grace were around. She’d know exactly what to do.”

  “If Mom were around this wouldn’t be happening.”

  At all . . . like losing my virginity in view of the FBI and evidently everyone else, getting a boy practically killed, and Dad being some sort of super spy.

  My voice trembled when I said, “I miss her so much.”

  Aunt Charlotte glanced at me in the mirror. “I know, dear, we all do.”

  Uncle George held the small cell up to his ear. “Nothing here,” he said, and threw it out the window.

  The Seaside Motel had a vacancy sign so Aunt Charlotte parked the car and pulled out her credit card.

  “Charlotte, cash only,” Uncle George said. “We have to be smart.”

  Be smart. Where had I heard that before?

  After a few minutes Aunt Charlotte tapped on the window. “C’mon.”

  She led us to a room with two queen-sized beds. When my head hit the pillow I realized how tired I was. “Can you call the hospital?”

  “Not from here . . .” Uncle George said.

  “Be smart,” I mumbled, almost asleep.

  “I’ll buy a throwaway phone.” Aunt Charlotte stood at the door. “And some food. You two rest.”

  Chapter 11

  When I woke up, most of the day was gone. Uncle George was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching TV and drinking a beer.

  “You’re awake. Good.” He winced when he walked over to the window and opened the drapes. “Luke is out of surgery. They’re keeping him in a coma on purpose. Strange way to cure someone, don’t you think?” Uncle George cracked the window and lit a cigarette.

  Who could blame him?

  I rubbed my temples. “Is he going to be okay? Do they know who did it to him?”

  “Nothing is known.” He flicked the cigarette outside after two quick puffs. “I think you should call your friend and go to Seattle for a few days. Don’t worry about school, or anything.”

  “I don’t want to.” I sat up and straightened my clothes. I’d been wearing the same outfit since before the pier—and Luke.

  “Your Aunt Charlotte bought you these at the Target store across the street.” He handed me a pair of jeans and an old lady T-shirt. “Don’t worry, she went off to find you more suitable clothes. She didn’t want to go home by herself and we didn’t want to leave you alone.”

  I went into the bathroom, and after a quick shower I cuffed the pants and ripped the shirt before I put it on. It was the best I could do to make it my own.

  When I stepped into the room Uncle George handed me a cell phone. “Call that girl in Seattle.”

  I hesitated because I didn’t want to leave Luke. But maybe my uncle was right. Maybe it was best to get away for a few days. I dialed Amilee’s number.

  “Speak!” Amilee yelled into the phone.

  “Hello?” I said. “Is that how you answer your phone?”

  “Bea, is that you? Whose number is this?” she said.

  “It’s borrowed. Hey listen, can I come stay with you for a few days?”

  “Yeah, I think you should come right away. I’ve been trying to call you all day.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of everything that’s going on,” she said.

  My life over the last few days, or even the last year, was complicated. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t jumped at the chance to go to Seattle.

  ‘And what’s the big hang-up with this boy you just met? He probably had other girlfriends anyway. So just go!’ I said to myself.

  “I’ve got a few options for a ticket, are you close to the airport?” Amilee said.

  “But I don’t have any clothes or anything.”

  “Stop making excuses. We’ll shop! Besides I’m using Dad’s credit card. He won’t even notice until next month.”

  I rested my head in my hands and felt like crying again.

  Uncle George encouraged me with a nod. “Just for a few days. Arrange it and get out of here,” he said in a low voice.

  When we finished with our travel plans, Amilee said, “Be safe. Be smart.”

  “What did you just say?” I asked.

  “You heard me. See you in about five hours.”

  The hotel room was mildewy from the damp ocean air, and Uncle George must have been drinking for a while before I woke up because after my conversation with Amilee he started talking to the sports show on TV, getting louder as more time elapsed. Finally, we heard the rattling of the doorknob and Aunt Charlotte entered.

  She brought in the energy of the outdoors, and for a second she had a smile on her face. And then we seemed to realize our predicament. She snapped at George, “Put down the beer! I smell cigarettes. I thought you quit.” She waved her hand in the air as she walked by him and handed me a duffel bag. “Did you talk to Amilee? Are you going?”

  “Uh huh, in a few hours. But what will you two do?” I asked.

  Aunt Charlotte’s makeup was perfect. Her hair had a wonderful lift and looked a little darker. I’d have sworn she’d been to a spa or something. She touched her hair and said, “What? I had an appointment at the beauty parlor.” Then she looked at Uncle George, “Life back to normal, right?”

  Uncle George nodded.

  “We’re going to make sure you get to Seattle,” she said. She put her hand on my cheek. “We’ll go to the house, and your uncle will debug everything. And when you get back, we are going to try and be normal again.”

  “Normal?” I said.

  “Well, as close as we can get,” she said.

  “How’s he going to debug the house? I thought Uncle George was a construction worker.” I looked in the duffel bag and smiled when I saw that Aunt Charlotte had bought the kind of makeup I used and a pair of jeans, some underwear, and my favorite tees.

  She put her hand on mine. “Your Uncle George is ex–military ops.”

  And right then, with perfect timing h
e yelled, “Are you blind, ref?” and belched so loud we all burst out laughing.

  “If you say so, Aunt Charlotte.”

  Chapter 12

  At the airport, Uncle George handed me some cash, but this time it was much more than the usual five dollars.

  I went right through security and stopped at the first souvenir shop I saw. With the money Uncle George gave me, I bought a Laker’s sweatshirt and a pair of thick socks that had CALIFORNIA across the top. I smiled at the touristy look I’d be rocking in Seattle. That made me think of Luke’s comment about me rocking the tomboy thing and I got sad.

  I was moping my way through the airport when I passed by the newsstand. I saw his picture but it didn’t register right away. I stopped and turned around to confirm that it was Dad. His face was splashed across the front page of USA Today below the headline: ENEMY OF THE STATE? My stomach turned, as I put the newspaper on the counter and piled some magazines on top of it—as if anyone seeing Dad’s photo would instantly know that he was my father. I bought the whole stack. My shoulders pulled in tight as I lugged my duffel bag and my purchases to the gate. I was about to read the article when a woman sat down next to me.

  “Hello, Beatrice,” Agent Carter said.

  I looked at her and then realized there were a few of her coworkers standing nearby that I hadn’t noticed before. I guess I’d dropped my guard.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Are you going to Seattle, too?”

  She chuckled. “You wanted to know what your father did . . .” Agent Carter opened a folder and showed me a picture of someone lying in the street.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “That’s your love, Luke. He is your love, right?” And then she dropped the folder and a few pictures scattered on the floor. “Oh, sorry, this one’s real . . . personal.”

  A red-hot flame shot through my body. I was mortified as she slowly picked up a photo of me with my face and breasts mashed up against the car window. “And this one . . .”

  Sirens went off in my head when I saw Luke and me during the act itself. My legs were straddled over his body. Clearly anybody with a pair of eyes could see that Lucas Drake and Beatrice Malcolm were in the middle of the nasty!