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Gibby shrugged. “Then go to hell.” She slapped her hand against the phone, disconnecting the call.
They stared at her.
She arched an eyebrow. “What? She’ll call back. Three. Two. One.”
The phone started to vibrate from an incoming call.
“Told you,” Gibby said smugly.
“You’re scary cool,” Nick said. “I’m so glad you’re on our side.” He pressed the answer button. “Hello?”
“You goddamn—”
Nick hung up on her.
They stared at him.
“What?” he asked. “She’ll call back. Three. Two. One.”
The phone did not vibrate.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Nick said. “Having evidence that I’m not scary cool sucks balls.”
The phone vibrated once more. “Validation is the best!” Nick said, connecting the call. “Are you done?”
For a long moment, Nick thought she wouldn’t answer. He could still hear the sounds of the city in the background, so he knew she was still there.Wait,Seth mouthed at them, nodding toward the phone.
They didn’t have to wait for long. “Fine,” she muttered, whatever she’d been using to modify her voice gone. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I can see I don’t have any other choice.”
“We’re listening,” Seth said, leaning forward, eyes narrowed.
“I’ve been investigating Simon Burke for the last four years. And before you ask, I’m not affiliated with any news organization or law enforcement. I’ve been doing it on my own.”
Nick blinked. That wasn’t what he expected to hear. “For someone who claims to be investigating Burke, you sure seem happy being his personal bootlicker.”
“I needed him to trust me,” she retorted. “To believe I was on his side. To work my way into his inner circle.”
“Why not just go to the police, then?” Jazz asked. “If you’ve found anything, why come to us?”
Rebecca Firestone laughed. “Are you out of your mind? You know he’s got the NCPD in his pocket. Aaron Bell and Rodney Caplan resigning was the best thing that could’ve happened to him. With them out of the way, it leaves his sycophants to step up and take over. After he’s elected, he’ll appoint a new police chief, one who backs his anti-Extraordinary agenda. That, coupled with putting the blame of an attack on him squarely on your shoulders, will mean no Extraordinary will be safe.”
Nick scoffed, a swell of anger coursing through him. Listening to her attempt to rewrite history made him want to scream. “As if you care about Extraordinaries. You’re one of the big reasons people are scared of us.”
“Fair,” she allowed. “But there’s a reason for everything.” She hesitated, and Nick was about to snark at her, but he didn’t get the chance. She said, “My name wasn’t always Rebecca Firestone. I changed it when I became a reporter. My name used to be—”
“Lauren Underwood,” Nick said, still reeling even hours later. All attention was on him and Gibby, who stood next to him in the Kensington backyard as the sun set, a tablet in her hands, pointed toward their rapt audience. On the screen of the tablet, a picture of a girl at age eighteen, mousy brown hair, her front two teeth crooked, wearing a blue cap and gown and holding her high-school diploma tightly in one hand. Next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, was a heavyset man beaming with pride. They looked so much like each other, they had to be related.
“The daughter of Martin Underwood,” Gibby said. “Who we think was murdered by Patricia Burke four years ago. Sheconsumed his abilities to manipulate water, and then used them on him. She drowned him in his apartment.”
Trey said, “Hold up, Gibster. You’re saying Rebecca Firestone is Lauren Underwood?” The adults sitting in folding chairs around him on the patio looked just as confused. “How doesthatwork? Someone like Burke would vet the hell out of anyone who came to work for him, especially a former reporter.”
“He did,” Jazz said, standing up from her chair and joining Gibby and Nick. “May I?” Gibby handed over the tablet, and Jazz swiped along the screen. “If you look upLauren Underwood Nova City,you won’t find much. She paid to have her entire online footprint wiped out. No photos. No announcements. No mentions of her in any articles. Nothing. As far as the internet is concerned, this Lauren Underwood never existed. But if you look up Rebecca Firestone, you get years of hits that pertain to her reporting along with a manufactured backstory that’s vague enough not to have holes poked through it.” She shook her head. “It’s really clever, if you think about it. It must have cost a fortune.”
“Underwood’s obituary mentioned he was survived by his daughter,” Seth said, leaning forward on his own chair, elbows on his knees. “Firestone sent us the graduation photo as proof. Gibby says that as best she can tell, it hasn’t been altered. That’s Martin Underwood with her, the same Martin Underwood who worked for Burke.”
“I knew that hair wasn’t her real color,” Mateo said as Chris chuckled next to him.
“Okay,” Cap said slowly, hands folded over the swell of his stomach. “So she went by a different name. Still doesn’t mean we can trust anything she’s saying. Why the sudden conscience? She’s done everything she can to hurt you kids and other Extraordinaries.”
