Hellbent (Orphan X #3)(89)

“Then Tim wasn’t good enough.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Joey stepped forward, shouldering Evan aside, her intensity catching him off guard. “He died for you.”

David’s mouth pulsed as he fought down a swallow. But his eyes stayed fierce.

Joey leaned over him. “You don’t even know what the Program is.”

“I don’t care what,” David said. “I don’t care. I want to go back with the guy who took me. I want something better than a shitty life in some shitty facility.”

“Did Jack teach you anything?” Joey said.

“Yeah. To be better. I deserve better than this.”

Joey said, “None of us deserves anything.”

“Maybe so,” David said, hopping to his feet and finger-stabbing at Joey. “But that’s my choice. I’m not going with you if you’re not part of the Program. You take me back to those guys, or the first chance I get, I’ll tell that you kidnapped me.”

His features were set with a bulldog stubbornness that seemed well beyond his thirteen years. Given the life he’d led up to now, that made sense. Hard years counted double.

Evan had been a year younger than David was now when he’d stepped off the truck-stop curb into Jack’s car and never looked back. He thought about who he was then and what he thought he knew.

Evan said, “Is there anything we can say to dissuade you?”

David’s face had turned ruddy. “No.”

“Can we give you more information to—”

“No.” The boy was on tilt, his nose angled up at Evan, shoulders forward, fists clenched by his hips.

Evan looked at the boy calmly until he settled onto his heels. David shook his head, eyes welling. “I don’t want to be a nobody.”

Evan said, “You go down this road, that’s all you’ll ever be.”

At that, Joey touched her hand to her mouth as if trying to stop something from escaping.

“Maybe so,” David said. “But it’s my road.”

Evan watched him for ten seconds and then ten seconds more. Not a thing changed in his expression.

Evan said, “Stay here.”

He walked over toward the Dumpster, Joey trailing him. They huddled up, facing the minivan to keep an eye on David.

Joey looked rattled. “We have to change his mind.”

“It’s not gonna happen,” Evan said.

“So we just what? Leave him for Van Sciver to pick up again?” She took a few agitated breaths. “He’ll kill him, you know. Sooner or later, directly or indirectly.”

Evan said, “Unless.”

“Unless what?”

Evan cleared his throat, an uncharacteristic show of emotion.

“Unless what?” Joey repeated.

“We take him public.”

She gawked at him.

“He doesn’t know anything yet,” Evan said. “Not one proper noun in his head.”

“He knew Tim Draker. And Jack.”

“Both of whom are dead. Anything he has to say about them will sound like a foster-kid fantasy.”

The words were so true that saying them out loud felt like a betrayal.

“There’s safety in exposure,” he said. “No one wants a spoiled asset.”

“Then why didn’t Jack just do it months ago?”

“Tim Draker was alive. I’m sure he wanted to get David back once it was safe.”

Joey flipped her hair over, revealing the shaved band. She lowered her head, crushed shards of glass with the toe of her sneaker. “I don’t know. It’s a risk.”

“Everything’s a risk. We’re juggling hand grenades.”

She didn’t respond.

Evan said, “With everything else going on, with us still out here, you really think Van Sciver’s gonna burn resources and risk visibility for a screwed-up thirteen-year-old kid?”

She fussed with her hair some more. Then she pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaled. “Okay,” she said. “Fuck. Okay.”

When she looked up, all emotion was gone, her features blank.

She walked back over to David, her hand digging in her pocket. She came out with the phone in the stupid Panda case, held it four feet from David’s face. The shutter-click sound effect was more pronounced than necessary.

She bent her head, a sweep of hair hiding her eyes, and clicked furiously with a thumb.

“What the hell?” David said. “What are you doing?”

She kept on with her thumb.

David grew more uncomfortable. “I said, what are you doing with my picture?”

“‘My cousin’s best friend was kidnapped by the U.S. government,’” Joey read slowly. “‘Jesse Watson. Please retweet. Exclamation point.’” Now her eyes rose, and Evan was startled by how little they seemed to hold. “Twitter. Facebook. Instagram.”

A few chirps came from the phone, notifications pinging in.

Joey frowned down at the screen. “Looks like BritneyCheer28’s a popular girl. Lotta ‘friends.’”

She held up the phone. David’s face duplicated with each new post, a Warholian effect on the endlessly refreshing screen. The chirps quickened, reaching video-game intensity.