The Masked Truth(12)

Now, having been kidnapped, I should be a wreck. Instead, after I managed to rouse myself a couple of times, I only feel more numb than ever. As if tragedy is my new life. As if it’s all I can expect. The temptation to giggle at that is almost overwhelming. First my father gets shot in the line of duty. Then I’m in the house when my babysitting clients are shot to death. Finally I get taken captive—by armed men—in the therapy camp that’s supposed to help me deal with all that trauma. Ironic, huh? Not piss-my-pants terrifying. Not even but-it-isn’t-fair self-centered. Just ironic.

As for the others, all I know is that they’ve gone quiet, and with nothing to break through my numbness, I don’t rouse myself enough to look around. They’re in shock or they’re silent with terror or they’re calmly waiting for the next step, because that’s all they can do, all anyone can do. At least they aren’t causing trouble anymore. That’s what counts.

The hostage negotiator is asking questions. X-Files takes the phone off speaker and walks out of the room. Before he goes, he says, “You kids get a little more comfy. Talk about cute boys and cool movies and hot music and whatever else teens natter on about these days. Just don’t let the word ‘escape’ leave your mouths. My guys have good ears and itchy trigger fingers.”

After he leaves, there’s two minutes of silence. Then Aimee stands and clears her throat and says, “I think we should—”

“Oh, wait,” Brienne says, rising. “Are you still here? Didn’t they drug you guys or something?” She looks from Aimee to Lorenzo. “I was sure you two must have been sedated, because otherwise you’d have taken charge. Calmed us down. Told us it would be okay. Got in Max’s face when he started mouthing off.”

“I told Max—” Aimee began.

“You said his name. That’s not exactly taking charge. Riley had to handle it. Then Aaron had to handle Gideon. You two just kept your mouths shut and hoped no one noticed you. I think there are some blankets in the corner. Should we grab a couple so you can hide under them?”

My hands begin to shake. I watch her telling them off, and all I can think about is that afternoon at the Porters’, how I did exactly that. I kept my mouth shut and prayed that the intruders wouldn’t notice me. I let them kill two people and did nothing, because it kept me alive.

Coward.

That’s what Brienne was calling Aimee and Lorenzo, for doing exactly what I’d done. No one says that to me. No one dares. But I want them to. I dream that someday I’ll meet Darla again and she’ll do exactly what Brienne is doing: call me out as a coward. It’s a nightmare, but it’s a fantasy too, and in the dream I break down in a puddle of regret and self-hate and relief. Thank God someone finally said the word. Thank God someone finally saw me for what I am.

Not a hero. A coward.

I clench my fists, trying to stop trembling. Then I glance up to see Max, right beside me, watching.

I turn away fast.

“Brienne,” I say, and my voice trembles too.

Luckily, Aaron takes over, saying, “That’s not helping, Brienne. If those two aren’t taking charge, screw them.” He turns to me. “So your dad really did stuff like this? Hostage negotiations?”

I nod.

“Can you walk us through it? What to expect?” He shoots a look at Max. “You can leave out the part about what happens if we mess up. I think we all get that.”

“Except you,” Gideon says to Aaron. “They won’t kill you.”

“They will if my dad doesn’t pony up.”

“Can we stop this?” It’s Sandy. She hasn’t said a word until now, and she looks like she’s about to throw up. “Can we stop bickering?”

“Riley?” Lorenzo says. “If you can walk us through it, that might calm some nerves. Tell us what to expect.”

“But you don’t have to,” Brienne adds quickly. “I know this must be harder on you than anyone else.”

“How do you know that?” Gideon says. “It might be easier for her. At least she’s been through something like this.”

“Which is why she’s here, jerk-off. Dealing with it. She watched people die. That doesn’t just go away. It’s called post-traumatic—”

“I’m okay,” I cut in. “I’ll explain for anyone who wants to listen. If you’d rather not, just move over there, and I’ll keep my voice down.”

No one leaves. I explain that there will be two main people out there: the commander and the negotiator. The commander is in charge of the SWAT team, leaving the negotiator to deal with our captors. The first thing Agent Salas will do is gather information. Some of that comes from X-Files and some from the officers on the team, trying to get a sense of the building and where we’re located inside it and so on.

With X-Files, we aren’t dealing with a mentally ill guy who randomly grabbed some kids. He knows what he is doing, so negotiations will proceed rationally, meaning there is little danger he’ll suddenly start shooting us for no reason. He’ll make his demands and Agent Salas will chip away at them while the team tries to figure out if there is a safe way to infiltrate the building.

I’m still talking when X-Files returns.

“All right, kiddies,” he says, in that smarmy, I’m-such-a-clever-boy way that grates on my nerves. “Remember how Miss Riley said we might let a few of you go, as an act of goodwill? Wrong. Well, okay, not entirely wrong. One of you lucky children gets to go home in time to enjoy your evening. Negotiator Will is playing nice, and so will we.”