I’ll check the map later and figure out an escape route. But right now I feel like I should be doing something more—even though I know there’s nothing Icando. The cops and FBI were on the case long before I even knew who Nate Beaumont was.
I can’t stop thinking about him. Just a six-year-old kid who was kidnapped. Or possibly even murdered.
I take a deep breath and lie back on the bed. To distract myself I start to read the book. Slowly, memories of the first time I read it flash in my head. And all at once the day catches up with me. I put the book down and close my eyes. Within seconds I’m asleep.
Eight
When I wake up, there’s a blanket over me and the sun has set. Panicking, I bolt upright, forgetting where I am.
But then it all comes back.
I’m Nate. And I’m in Nate’s room in Nate’s house with Nate’s family.
Nate’s family, who are talking downstairs. Their voices drift up through the hall, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I reach for the phone Valencia gave me and there’s two texts, both from her.
We’re going to order pizza for dinner. Any toppings you want?
Then two hours later.
We didn’t want to wake you but there are leftovers in the fridge if you wake up hungry. FYI the doors and windows on the first floor have an alarm, which we set every night. You can open your own but keep the rest closed. I’ll see you in the morning!?♥♥♥
She sent that one about an hour and a half ago. The doors and windows are locked and alarmed, and I don’t have the code. My throat tightens. This is a huge house, but the longer I’m here the smaller it feels. Unlike the house I grew up in, the ceilings are high and there’s lots of open space. But still the walls feel like they’re closing in on me.
I set the phone down on the bedside table and carefully walk to the cracked-open bedroom door. I hear Marcus’s voice from the kitchen. The chandelier in the entryway is off, but the sconces on either side of the stairwell window are on.
Across the hall, Valencia and Marcus’s door is shut.
Another voice, this one male. It must be Easton.
As I step out into the hallway, the floorboard squeaks, and I put my weight down slowly to keep it quiet.
“—out of nowhere. Where has he been?”
“We don’t know yet.” Marcus again. “The shrink says he might not remember or he might not feel safe enough to tell us.”
Whatever Easton says back is too quiet for me to hear.
“Watch it,” Marcus says. “For now, we’re going to see how he adjusts to living with us and go from there. All we can do is take it one day at a time.”
“Or you can get a DNA test and be done with it.”
My stomach turns. Easton isn’t as sold on me being Nate as his parents are. Or at least as sold on it as Valencia. Marcus might be on the fence.
“Enough,” Marcus says. “He’s here. Just be cool, be nice, and we’ll figure everything else out later.”
There’s a long pause, but then Easton speaks again. “What if I give my blood for them to compare DNA?” Marcus doesn’t answer. “If Mom won’t do it and doesn’t wantyouto do it, what if I did? I’m nineteen. What’s she going to do if it comes back that he’s not my brother, disown me?” He could do that. In all honesty, heshoulddo that. Anyone in their right mindwould.
So why haven’t they?
“Easton, I said let it be.”
There’s a long stretch of silence before Easton speaks again. “Denial is my favorite family trait. Nineteen years, still going strong.” His voice is getting louder, and a shadow emerges from the kitchen doorway.
He’s coming up here.
I turn and step quickly back into my bedroom.
Easton’s footsteps reach the staircase, each step creaking beneath him.
