Elusion(59)

Head games. That’s exactly what Josh played with me. Last night, Patrick insinuated that Josh was acting out some kind of vendetta, and that getting close to me was part of that plan. It seemed like a wild accusation then, but now that I know Josh gave the QuTap to Avery—who literally hates me—and leaked some of the information that we were investigating together, how can I think anything else?

But what about all those messages that Josh sent me? He said he wanted to explain. His sister is still missing—maybe everything he did today was because he’s desperate to get her back?

“You’re being too hard on him,” I say after a few seconds of silence.

Funny thing is, I don’t know who I’m talking about.

“You’re right,” she murmurs.

When I turn back to Cathryn, her shoulders have slouched forward a little and she is wringing her hands in her lap.

Definitely not her usual body language.

“I know I’ve made mistakes, and he’s paid the price for them,” she begins.

“Like what?”

“Well, somewhere along the way, I think my pride in him became more important than what was best for him. I let him fast-track school, I let him intern at Orexis, and I let him take over the Elusion project when your father—” She stops herself. “I never said no, Regan. I haven’t protected him enough.”

“But you only want him to succeed,” I say. “You’ve done whatever you could to make sure he has every opportunity to be what he wants to be.”

Deep down, I’ve always known the truth—together she and my dad did so much more for Patrick than anyone else because he had this unlimited potential. However, I also know something Cathryn may not—that her son can keep secrets from the people he cares most about, and risk hurting people like Anthony Caldwell, Nora Heywood, and perhaps even my father.

She may be the president of Orexis, but in many ways she is merely a figurehead at the company. Cathryn doesn’t run the show day-to-day. She might be totally in the dark about Elusion’s apparent corruption, and someone we both know could very well want to keep it that way.

So I have to see for myself—without letting on how much I know, or the things I’ve found, like my dad’s passcard. Josh’s betrayal has made me so paranoid I can’t allow myself to reveal anything.

“Cathryn, are the claims in the news about Elusion true?”

Her eyes snap back to me, the blue irises tinged with fire. Clearly, I’ve put her on the spot, or offended her. But soon she softens and gently runs a hand down my arm—something that Patrick used to do all the time when I was afraid.

“No, Regan,” she says confidently. “Not one word of it.”

The sedan takes a sharp turn in the tunnel and I lunge forward, grabbing on to the leather door handle so I don’t smack up against the media screen in front of us. Cathryn is oddly unmoved, sitting straight with her legs crossed.

Once I’m tucked back into my seat, I pull the shoulder harnesses across my chest and snap them together. Then I continue on.

“But there seem to be all these pieces of—”

“Evidence?” she interjects. “A lot of the information they have is pure conjecture. And whatever proof they have of Elusion being faulty or harmful reeks of a setup. Do you know how many competitors of ours would love to see Elusion fail?” Every muscle in Cathryn’s face seems to tighten as she speaks. “Do you know how many of them would be willing to pay someone off to sabotage our corporation, get our CIT approval revoked, or get us banned from the market altogether? Believe me, the number of hatemongers out there is staggering. We have sources of our own who are hunting for leads. When we find out who is responsible for this shakedown, they’re going to wish they hadn’t picked this fight.”


My head is spinning so fast, I think I’m going to be sick. While I’m sure there are plenty of companies who would love to see Elusion fail, I know two people who share the same motives, and they are apparently working together to make it happen.

Using me to get what they want.

But does it stop there? Is there another, larger conspiracy going on, with the Josh-and-Avery connection being just the tip of the iceberg?

The sedan takes a harsh jolt when we finally come out one of the tunnels and merge onto the main road. It’s enough to set me into action mode. I press the eject button on my seat harness, and as soon as it releases me, I lean over and activate the intercom.

“Pull over here, please,” I say, my throat suddenly raspy.

My breathing is a little constricted too, but that eases a bit when the car slows to a stop close to a pedestrian bridge.

“Regan, wait—we’re only in the Merch Sector,” Cathryn says as crinkles of confusion form near her eyes.

Detroit’s premier shopping district is still a far distance from home, and my mom is probably worried sick that I haven’t InstaCommed her yet. But my mind is made up.

“I know. There’s someone here I need to see.”


It’s a miracle that I’m able to make out the tiny blinking neon sign of an inconspicuous eCafé in the distance. Holding on to my umbrella, I gallop down the metal staircase of the bridge, hoping I don’t slip and fall on the wet surface. The storm has lost some of its strength, but visibility is still awful, which is why traffic on the Merch Sector’s central eight-lane avenue is so slow.