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“Thanks.” I slide the card into my jeans pocket.
Luna turns and starts walking toward the parking lot and news van. “Oh, and if you need me to send out more public announcements, just say the word.”
I nod. It’s actually good to have her in the chute. I found her by doing a little research online. She wrote a bunch of articles about me after I “died.” She said it was a shame the world lost me so soon. She said that people like me are born to change the world.
But is she right? Is this my calling?
Seems like something a narcissistic asshole would assume.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Speaking of narcissistic assholes, it doesn’t take long before Kyle’s calling to chew me out for my “stunt,” but here’s the thing: He never mentions being worried for the people of an entire city. All he talks about is how I’ve completely fucked his career.
What the hell, bro?Millions are about to die. In my humble opinion, their lives are a bit more important than his paycheck. Frankly, it seems extra shallow, even for him, so I add it to the list of things that aren’t making sense.
Then, when I make it clear I’m not going to sit by and let evil shits dictate how I live my life or threaten the people I care about, Kyle loses it. “You’ve fucked us all, Huff! You’ve put everyone we know in jeopardy by going public.”
“Here’s what I don’t understand,” I say. “You offered a deal to let me live out in the open if I helped with Morris. So how did you plan to keep Mom, Dad, River, even yourself safe once the world found out I was still alive?”
“We-well, we were going to-to—that’s not the point, Huff.”
My heart sags with the truth. “You never intended to let me be free, did you? It was a ploy to get me to help you.” I can’t believe my own brother would do this. “Were you going to let the government take me?”
“How can you say that? I’m your big brother. I’ve always protected you.”
“No, you’ve always looked out for your career. It’s why you want me to help Morris make more people like me.”
“Doing what’s best for our country is important, yes. But I would never use you, Huff. I’m genuinely insulted. I would put my life on the line for you.”
He’s lying.I know he is. In fact, I’m beginning to think he’s been manipulating me from the start—separating me from River, family, hiding me from the world.
“Why didn’t you tell me about River being locked up?” I ask. I’m guessing he didn’t want her blabbing to anyone that I was still alive, like she blabbed to her parents.
He’s silent for a long moment. A red flag. He’s thinking up an excuse. “I didn’t tell you because I thought it would upset you.”
“So you were just looking out for me again,” I say with an edge. “I gotta go.” I don’t know what he’s planning, but I know that looking out for me isn’t it.
“Huff, wait. What’re you going to do?”
“That’s no longer your business,brother.” Jerk.
I end the call and dial River’s house. Her mother picks up the phone immediately.
“Hi. It’s Huff. I want to know where River is.”
Turns out that River’s parents werenotin the process of having her released from psychiatric care, but her mom wouldn’t say why. She simply said she was relieved to hear I wasn’t dead. When I asked if I could visit River, she told me to call the hospital and ask when visitors were allowed.
Why wouldn’t she know? Hadn’t they been visiting River? There was something strange in her voice—a rigidness or unfriendly vibe. I’ve known River’s parents almost my entire life, and one thing they’ve never been was cold.
It only ignites my urgency to see River.
I find a photo online of the facility, Clover Care Hospital, just outside of…Baltimore? River’s mom said Kyle helped them find the facility, but it’s pretty far. River’s parents are currently in the Midwest. It’s one more piece of evidence that Kyle was up to something.
I zip to the front door. The facility is in a large medical complex with a dozen or so buildings. This one is gray, sterile, and anything but welcoming.
It’s early evening by the time I go inside, and I’m greeted by a man in a black shirt with a four-leaf clover on the shirt pocket, sitting at the reception desk.
Doesn’t look so lucky to me. He has the face of a sour turd.
