61
KANE
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Wednesday, July 21
After completing my morning chores, I closet myself in Ross’s study and boot up my laptop. Late last night, I received an email from Justin containing a video of a necropsy on a still-alive primate. Over the years, I’ve witnessed my share of terrible things and this ranks right up there with the worst of them.
I call Justin and then Heather, wanting to check they’re both okay. Justin is his usual cocky self, but I sense something different about him, a new restraint in his attitude, an easing of his typical volatility. It looks like he’s finally maturing.
Heather, on the other hand, sounds shaky and a little teary on the phone. I attempt to remind her of the good she’s doing, but I’m starting to agree with Justin, she’s not going to last much longer in her undercover role. Hopefully, she can hang in there a little while longer.
After finishing the call with Heather, I type up a press release while the horror of the necropsy is still fresh in my mind. I have to hold off on releasing it though, because I don’t want to expose Heather.
With the press release done, I decide to tackle the question that’s been bothering me for days now. Why is Amy so afraid of the dark? Although I’ve done the usual cursory research on Graham and Amy Hutchinson, I need to dig deeper. Hours later, my head is throbbing and the screen’s a blur in front of me, but I’ve found what I was searching for.
It’s time to talk to Amy.
62
AMY
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Despair and anger swell inside me as Kane’s gaze searches my face.How dare he raise this topic again?There are rooms in my mind I never visit, and this is one of them.
We’re sitting on a bench overlooking a murky pond, ducks preening on the grassy bank. The scene is peaceful, unlike the chaos currently churning inside me, thanks to Kane bringing me out here and wasting no time asking what happened the night my mother died.
Yesterday, this was the spot where we kissed and allowed neither the past nor the future to intrude. There’s no kissing now. Now Kane is in interrogation mode.
“Why don’t you want to talk about it?”
Resentment ripples through me. “Why are you bringing it up again?”
“Because I think it’s important.”
“Important to your mission?”
“Not this time.” He rubs the back of his neck. “When I asked you about your fear of the dark before, I wanted that information as ammunition against you.” A muscle jumps in his cheek. “I keep replaying that moment I locked you in the storeroom. You looking at me like you’d just realized I was capable of anything.” Remorse shudders over his face. “I don’t want ammunition against you. Now I want to know you. And I think that whatever happened that night is an important part of your past.”
I say hoarsely, “Leave it alone, Kane.”
“I can’t leave it alone.” He drags a hand down his face, as if he’s trying to wipe something off that won’t come clean. “I did something unforgivable to you,” he says hoarsely. “I took what scared you most and I used it. I’ll carry that with me for the rest of my life.” He swallows. “Please let me help you. Let me try to make up for what I did.”
I stay silent. Apart from the sessions with a therapist my dad insisted I undergo right after Mom’s death, I’ve never spoken about what happened. The few times I tried to bring it up with my father he shut me down. It’s been a taboo subject for so long I have no idea how to overcome all those years of conditioning.
Kane entwines his fingers in mineand presses a soft kiss to the back of my hand. “Somewhere in the last couple of days,” he says, a curious note in his voice, as if he has trouble believing it himself, “you’ve become more important than this mission.”
Stunned by his confession, I stare at our joined hands, at a loss for words, disarmed by his frankness.
“There was a power outage the night your mom died,” Kane begins, a patient and tender look in his eyes. “A news article mentioned you were with her.”
My heart beats faster. He opened up to me, I can open up to him. The words, however, won’t come.
“Were you with her?” he asks gently.
I nod.
