Mouth agape, Colton shook his head. Staring at me with horror, as he would a monster. “How did he find you?”
I lowered my head, shame tightening my throat.
My voice felt brittle when I finally spoke. “I always end things with a clean exit. One identity vanishes at the departure airport; another emerges at the arrival. In this case, everything about Melanie Gates was destroyed—ID, phone, everything. Hattie took the flight with her real ID, and then Olivia Taylor was born the moment I bought a new phone and registered it at Harry Reid airport here in Vegas.”
I paused, my gaze falling to my fingers—white and frozen against my lap, trembling so badly I had to curl them into fists to stop the shaking.
“The trial,” I whispered, the words almost a gasp. “Winston’s murder ... it’s everywhere. My face is everywhere.”
I looked up, my voice tightening with dread. “He must’ve seen the coverage. Recognized me. When I chose Sinclair, I didn’t realize that his kid would have access to flight manifests, because of the family business. I didn’t imagine how desperate he’d be to find me, to make me pay for what I’d done. I never saw that coming, but I should have.” My stomach clenched. “Either way, he knows who I am. And he wants revenge.”
“How many times have you done this?” Colton asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
I shook my head. That number would die with me. “I’ve been doing it since I ran away that night. Well, I started a few months later.”
“How?” Colton asked, pulling up a chair and straddling it backward, then resting his chin on his arms. “How does one start doing what you’ve done? I can’t fucking believe it,” he added, looking sideways, disgusted.
“Whoa,” Billy Ray said, getting in Colton’s face. “Show some damn respect. If you think she did this for fun, you’re an idiot. She had to survive.”
Colton didn’t reply; he just looked at me. But it wasn’t the same Colton I used to know. This one was a complete stranger, repulsed by what he saw in front of him. “I think it’s way past the moment you tell me everything you’ve done since the day you ran away.”
My lips stayed pressed into a thin line, my secrets fighting to remain hidden. But I no longer had a choice—not any more than I had control over my own existence.
“I was homeless for a while,” I said, the memory of those days weighing on me. “I stole food off store shelves and clothes off people’s backyard lines. I read a lot, at first because I assumed the cops were looking for me; I was an underage runaway. My father must’ve reported me.”
“He didn’t,” Billy Ray said with a scoff. “What did you expect from the sick son of a bitch?”
I barely heard him, my mind lost in the haze of dark memories. “I read a lot, because cops don’t pick on a girl who’s reading in the park, but they’ll pick on a girl who’s just sleeping or doing nothing. There was this used bookstore in Dallas with a large display table in front. One day, I stole a book from there. I read it that day, and the next day, I brought it back and took another. Only, I got caught.”
“Damn,” Billy Ray muttered under his breath. “Did they arrest you?”
“No.” I smiled through a blur of tears. “The bookstore owner, an old Vietnam-era vet, took it upon himself to teach me a little of what he knew of the world. Every day, he’d give me a book assignment, and then we’d discuss it.”
“Did he take you in?” Colton asked, his voice less filled with contempt than earlier.
“No, I didn’t tell him I had no place to live, but I guess he must’ve known, because he started leaving the back door open. I spent a lot of time watching movies and shows, at first in front of an electronics store, and then in the bookstore at night, where I could finally sleep without being afraid. One afternoon, when I was returning the day’s reading assignment, I found police at the store, and an ambulance, too. He was gone, had a massive stroke.” My voice trailed off, shattered. “And I was alone again, with no place to go.” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. I still missed Mr. Barney.
Colton’s hand covered his mouth for a moment. “Why didn’t you call me?”
I ignored that; he’d find out soon enough.
“I just kept on going, still afraid the cops were looking for me, no idea they weren’t. I panhandled and got some cash, and then bought myself a gym membership at the Y in Dallas.”
“Gym?” Colton was visibly confused.
“It’s access to air-conditioned environments and showers for only seventy bucks a month. They gave me a locker where I could keep a toothbrush and some clothes. They don’t care if you spend your day there, reading on a slow treadmill or on the bench. Can’t beat that when you’re homeless.”
“I had no idea,” Colton whispered.
Billy Ray stared at him, disappointment visible in his eyes. My brother understood me better.
“Then what happened? How did you—”
I raised my hand, and Colton stopped talking. “I tried to get a job, but I didn’t have ID or an address. Out of options, I kept on reading and killing time in front of electronics stores, watching television where they had subtitles on, not daring to sleep on the streets until the break of dawn. Then one night, a store salesman approached me. He was about forty-five and had gray hair.” I drew a long shattered breath, thencontinued, “He started flirting with me, despite wearing a thick, shiny wedding band on his ring finger. He kept on promising me stuff, and taking me out to dinner, which I appreciated, but I didn’t like him. He made me sick. When he put his hands on me, I couldn’t take it, and I panicked. I shrieked and ran away. He called me a crazy bitch. But I’d learned something by leading him on—by never really saying no, but never sleeping with him, either.”
I stopped talking, gathering my strength. It was draining, visiting the bygone ghosts who’d all taken their pound of flesh.
“Don’t leave us hanging, sis,” Billy Ray said quietly. His brow was ridged, his face scrunched with concern and anger and powerlessness. My brother’s face was an open book.
