Page 10 of Charging Dodge

“Tell me about your parents’ murder and why you think these people are after you, Adalynn,” I command. She flinches as if I’ve struck her. The night's silence feels sudden and fragile. She stares at the slats of the floor for a long time, her chest rising and falling in erratic bursts. I don't push her. I just wait for the words to come.

“My folks weren't involved in anything illegal,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the crickets. “The kids don’t know what I’m about to tell you and I’d like to keep it that way, Dodge. I want to keep them innocent for as long as I can.” She sighs, the weight she’s been carrying has finally dragged her down and she needs to tell someone before it destroys her. “Dad was a lead accountant at a firm downtown. He was just doing his job. He found a ledger that didn't balance. At first, he thought it was a simple error. But he kept digging. He found names in those records that didn't belong. Powerful people. People who don't like being noticed.”

She looks up, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “He made a mistake by taking a copy of those files. He thought he was doing the right thing, that he could go to the authorities once he had enough proof. He didn't know he was signing our death warrants. They didn't just want him quiet. They wanted that data back. They’ve been tearing our lives apart trying to find where he hid it.”

The air feels thin in my lungs. She isn't just running from a tragedy. She's sitting on a ticking bomb. It explains the desperation, the aliases, and why she looks at every shadow like it's a threat. This is no random act of violence. It’s a clean-up job. I reach for my beer, but I don't drink. I just hold the bottle, staring at her, trying to figure out how the hell I'm supposed to keep them safe when they're carrying the kind of leverage that gets people erased.

“Did he leave it with you?” I ask, my voice dropping to a low rumble.

She shakes her head, her movements slow and weary. “He left it with someone he trusted, but I don’t know who that is. A friend. Someone he thought was safe. Whoever he is, he hasn’t reached out to us, and I'm terrified they got to him, too.” I don’t voice this out loud, but they probably did and it’ll be on her to figure out where those files are.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Adalynn

“What about your mother?” he inquires. “Why do you think she became a victim?”

“I think Dad shared everything with her,” I confess. “She worked at a bank, so numbers were a language they both understood.”

“That makes sense,” he murmurs. “If I had a wife and stumbled onto something like that, I’d probably share it with her, too.”

Focusing on the rough texture of the porch railing, I say, “They never allowed their work to bleed into our lives. Whenever they needed to hash things out, they would shut themselves away in their bedroom, whispering for hours. I used to think they were merely being polite, keeping their professional stress away from us kids. But looking back, I now realize Mom wasn't just sitting there listening to him vent. She was right there in the thick of it, digging through those columns and matching numbers against names. She didn't just support him, she was the one helping him connect the dots. She was just as deep in the thick of things as he was.” I glance at him, needing him to understand the weight of that realization. “That’s why she wasn't a bystander they accidentally caught in the crossfire. They killed her because she was clever enough to figure it out, just like Dad. She was a liability they needed to erase.”

“Why do you think it’s necessary to keep these things from Carter, Adalynn? He’s going to shit a brick when he finds out you’ve kept that from him.”

“Since he’s only fourteen,” I whisper, barely making a sound, “destroying his memories by showing him they were built on a lie will completely gut him. He’s already under immense pressure, forcing himself to act as the man of the house. I can’t bear the responsibility of revealing that she was just as involved as Dad was in their deaths.”

Dodge shifts, the swing groaning under his weight. “He’s smarter than you think. You’re trying to keep him a boy, but this life hasn't left him that luxury. He’s holding that gun, Adalynn. He’s already crossed that line. Keeping the truth from him won’t make him safe. It’ll just make him resent you when he figures it out for himself.”

I slide down onto the stoop, pulling my knees tight against my chest to keep from flying apart. My breathing hitches, and I stare into the dark, turning his words over in my mind. “I just want him to have a little more time before the world eats him whole. I want to keep him in that space where he believes Mom and Dad were just victims of bad luck, not architects of their own destruction.”

Dodge stops rocking. The quiet on the patio is suddenly loud. He leans forward, the light from the living room catching the lines on his face. “You're not saving him,” he says, his voice losing its roughness, turning into something almost kind. “You're just delaying the inevitable. When he finds out you knew and didn't tell him, he won't see a sister protecting a kid. He'll see a partner in the deception.”

That cuts deep. I look up, my eyes burning. “And if I tell him? What happens then? He loses his last bit of faith in them. He'll feel like he’s grieving strangers. I can't be the one to destroy the last good thing he has left.”

“You’re looking at this the wrong way, Adalynn,” he rebuffs. “You’re worried about tarnishing their reputation, but if you spin it the way it should be, he’ll realize they were the good guys trying to right a wrong.”

I flip his perspective over in my head until it feels rudimental. I’ve spent every day since the funeral viewing my folks as victims of a chaotic, random world, and rewriting that story feels like a betrayal of who I thought they were. It shifts Mom from a savvy banker into a woman who understood the high-stakes game she was playing. Knowing the odds, Dad transforms from a man caught up in a catastrophe into a calculated fighter. The version of them I’ve carried since I was a girl is disintegrating right before my eyes. I used to believe they were just unlucky souls who stumbled upon the wrong data. Now, I see two people who looked straight into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer and decided to face it head-on. It makes them seem courageous, sure, but it also makes them appear terrifyingly reckless. That’s a volatile legacy to leave for us.

I look at Dodge, seeing the steady, unrelenting gaze of a man who’s never had the luxury of a gentle worldview. “It changes everything,” I whisper. “If I tell him, he won't just be grieving. He'll be realizing that his entire childhood was built on a foundation of danger. You’re asking me to hand him a weapon that might blow up in his hands.”

Dodge doesn't look away. He stays locked onto me, his expression softening just enough to show he isn't trying to be cruel. “Sometimes the truth is the only tool that works. You’re keeping him in the dark to protect him, but he’s already walking around with his eyes open. He’s just waiting for you to tell him what he’s looking at.”

I press my heels into the porch floor. The air between us is thick, but for the first time, it doesn't feel like I'm gasping for breath. The idea settles in—that maybe Carter isn't a kid who needs to be hidden from the truth, but a young man who needs to know exactly who he comes from.

The screen door lets out a soft whine as it swings open. I spin around, heart hammering against my ribs, expecting an enemy. Instead, I find Carter standing in the doorway. He’s backlit by the living room lamp, his face cast in shadow, but his stance is unmistakable. He’s been listening all along. He walks out onto the patio, his movements slow and deliberate. He doesn't look like the scared teenager who walked into this house a few hours ago. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the span of one conversation.

He stops a few feet away, leaning his back against the railing, his voice entirely steady and devoid of the tremor I’ve come to expect. “I'm not mad at you for keeping it to yourself, Adalynn,” he claims. “I wasn't born yesterday. I knew there was a missing piece in the story you were feeding me. But Dodge is right. Knowing they weren't just random bystanders doesn't make me pissed, it makes them real. They didn't just get wiped out cause they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They made a play against the dirt they dug up. To me? That makes them heroes.”

Tears stream hot and fast down my face at his admission. I murmur his name, my voice cracking under the emotional strain. “Carter. I should’ve known better than to keep this from you. But like Dodge said, I didn’t want to tarnish them in your eyes.”

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, but the tears won't stop coming. I look up at my little brother, who suddenly seems so much bigger than the world around him. He reaches out, grabbing my shoulder. His fingers are calloused and firm, the grip of someone who has accepted his new reality without flinching.

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Carter insists. “You did what you thought was right. But don't keep treating me like I'm a toddler. I understand what they did and the risks they took. If they were willing to face death for what they believed in, I have the strength to hear the whole truth.” Dodge watches us from the swing, his face an unreadable mask in the moonlight, but he doesn't interfere.

“This ain't just the baggage they left us, Adalynn,” Carter adds, his gaze drifting to Dodge. “It’s a warning. And now we know what we’re up against.”

“We don’t,” I argue. “We don’t know who they are or how to convince them that we don’t know enough for them to keep coming after us.”