Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(29)

I gasp, but Farren ignores me and keeps talking, almost like he has to or he may lose it.

“All indications are that Haven is still alive.” He pauses, and then says, “Thank God.” A beat passes, and he adds, “Despite the stop in Oklahoma, she’ll be taken to New Mexico.”

“How do you know?” I interject.

“I just know.”

“I’ve sent Rick there ahead of us,” he continues. “He’s able to fly, since, as you saw,”—he jerks his chin to the back of the SUV—“I’m holding the bulk of the weapons. We’ll head to New Mexico soon, Essa, but first I want to make sure it was Haven’s car that was dumped.”

I have a million questions, and I begin to rattle them off. “Farren, why would Eric and Vincent abandon Haven’s car all these days later?”

Silence.

“And how do you and Rick know this stuff?”

Silence.

I falter momentarily, unnerved. I’m sure Farren expects me to be flummoxed by his lack of responses. But, no, I forge on.

“How does all this tie into you, anyway? Like I said before, I know Haven was taken due to something related to your mysterious job. And I know you told me not to ask questions, but, please, please, Farren, tell me something. This is hard for me, too.”

I choke up, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. After a beat, he says, “I know, Essa. And I’m sorry. What do you want to know? Ask me, and I’ll try to give you what I can.”

Finally, some answers.

I take a deep breath and begin with, “Do you know Eric and Vincent?”

“Yes.”

My heart stutters. “Are those their real names?” I whisper.

Farren chuckles, but it’s not because any of this is funny. “Surprisingly, yes, those are their real names.” And then he qualifies, “Actually I should say those are the names I’ve always known them by. It’s anyone’s guess as to what their real names are. They’ve probably been through so many aliases they’ve forgotten what their given names are.”

Okay, that’s disturbing. “So,” I venture, “how do you know them?”

“That,” he says, shooting me a look of warning, “I can’t tell you.”

I accept that, since he’s otherwise being forthcoming. I quickly move on to something different.

“Okay, what about Haven’s car? Why did Eric and Vincent keep it for so many days if they planned on dumping it from the beginning?”

“To keep up appearances, initially,” Farren says. “In case the authorities would have taken more of an interest. It’s the same reason why they used Haven’s credit cards for gas and hotel stays.”

“To make it look like she was traveling of her own volition?”

“Yes.”

“So,” I continue, “they stopped using her cards when it became clear nobody was looking for her?”

Farren shoots me a meaningful sidelong glance. “Except we’ve been looking for her, haven’t we, Essa?”

“Oh-h-h,” I say, catching on. “Eric and Vincent have always wanted you to know they took her. That’s why they continued to use her credit card. So you would see all the charges.”

He responds tightly, “Yes.”

“I was right all along then,” I exclaim. “You are somehow involved.”

No response.

“What about your friend Rick? Is he involved in this, too? He has to be; he knows too much.”

No response, which I take as a confirmation.

“Is he definitely someone we can trust?” I ask gently.

That sure gets a response.

“Rick is one of the good guys, Essalin,” Farren replies vehemently. “I assure you he can be trusted completely.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief. Thank God, since Rick is the one who will reach New Mexico—where Haven might be—first.

When Farren falls silent once again, I ask, “What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m just surprised you’re out of questions.”

“Why?” I whisper, dread creeping up my spine. “What should I be asking?”

“Aren’t you wondering which one I am, Essa?”

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you wondering if I am one of the good guys or if I’m one of the bad?”

I can’t tell if Farren is messing with me or not. I shrug and, with a touch of humor, say lightly, “Guess I’ll find out.”

But there’s not an ounce of humor in Farren’s voice when he replies. “Yeah, I guess you will.”





Not surprisingly, there’s an odd vibe in the SUV for the next hour. The rain that starts to fall doesn’t help lift the mood. Farren remains quiet. Contemplative, I assume. I mostly read, happy that I picked up a paperback at our last stop for gas.

Eventually the rain stops. The sun comes out, and, to my relief, the tension lifts right along with the bad weather. Despite his cryptic words, I just can’t think of Farren as a bad guy. From everything Haven has told me, he’s always been good. He was a good student, a good son. And he’s still an amazing brother to her. Farren was a kid who was forced by circumstances to become a man early—after his father left the family abruptly and especially after his mother died. Since then, from what I’ve observed, he’s done everything possible to take care of the only real family he has left—Haven.