Set Me Free (A Fugitive #2)(17)

"You're such a douche bag."

Elliot just winked at his friend and shuffled around in his seat. The smile disappeared from his face as he looked up at me. "Come here."

I nibbled the bottom of my lip as I edged around the table, past Alex, who was already scanning the screen.

"Try that one first." He pointed to a file named Tate, J with a long number after it.

Elliot double clicked and a file popped onto the screen.

"We need to keep our movements minimal and fast. Trust me, somebody is onto this already, but it's cool. I've got this breadcrumb trail bouncing a spider's web across the globe with an evolving encryption algorithm that the Chinese recently knocked out. So yeah, this one will get some real attention and the Chinese will now be on my ass."

With a nod, I quickly scanned the details. "This is the right file."

"I'll image them to my desktop."

Elliot nudged me out of the way and quickly copied the entire file over. A blue line slowly inched across the screen, my heart rate increasing with each second that passed by. Finally, it disappeared and a few keystrokes later, Elliot logged off.

"Damn, that's cool. Our own little hacker. Good job, man." Alex slapped Elliot on the back with a broad grin. "Now let's take a look at these files."

Elliot double clicked the first file. Inside was a long line of photos, which he selected and opened up. They popped onto the screen, stealing my breath and making me want to crumple to the floor. I squeezed the back of the chair I was leaning on, grateful when Zach's hand silently snaked across my back and pulled me against him.

Images of my house wrapped in yellow tape were suddenly replaced by the floppy armed corpses of my parents.

I gasped and covered my face. Zach's hand cupped the back of my head and pushed me into his shoulder.

"It's okay. I'll tell you when it's over," he croaked.

The room fell silent. I could feel their struggle to stay calm as they sifted through images of my parents, dead on the floor. I shifted my head on Zach's shoulder. On the floor? My mother didn't die on the floor. Well she did, but her body was leaning up against the kitchen cupboards. Pushing away from Zach, who tried to hold me in place, I wriggled free and turned to the screen.

"Go back." It took all my courage to utter the command. I chewed the edge of my mouth as I waited for Elliot to start clicking the arrow button. "Back. Back. Back." He sped through them and I leaned down over the screen. "Stop."

I felt like I was swallowing cinder as I gazed at the image. My insides trembled, but I finally found my voice. "She wasn't lying like that. She was leaning against the kitchen cabinet. She couldn’t have fallen and landed way over there.” I pointed to the image of my mother lying in the middle of the kitchen floor.

"Are you saying she's been moved?"

I nodded. "The scene looks all wrong. Dad was over there." I pointed to the edge of the kitchen, closer to the refrigerator. "He and Tenner fought. There was a shot and then Dad fell, landing on his back." I leaned closer to the screen, knocking Elliot's shoulder. "What does that gun on the floor even mean? Why didn't he just take it with him?"

"Well, we have to look at the crime report to see, but remember the newspaper articles implied that you shot your parents and ran." Alex cleared his throat and gave me a tight-lipped smile.

"And I was dumb enough to just leave the gun at the crime scene?"

The reporter gave an awkward shrug.

I slammed the back of the chair and moved away from the table. "What does the report say!"

"Um..." Elliot fumbled with the keys and opened up the second file, double clicking on the first report. Alex immediately started reading the information.

I watched his lips move as he took in the words, before finally I couldn't stand it any longer. Pushing past Zach who was studying me with worried eyes, I squinted over his uncle's shoulder and started reading.

"That's not right. It didn't happen like that." I pointed to the sentence about how my father was shot from behind. "That's a lie too." I frowned as I found another fact inconsistent with my memories. By the time I got to the end of the report, I was filling the room with a steady stream of curses. "That's all bullshit! They've taken the evidence they did have and just made up a completely different story! As if I would kill my parents, it's such crap! Where the hell would I get a gun from anyway? I was thirteen years old!"

"Did your dad own one?" Alex asked.

I paused, closing my eyes with a sigh. "Yes, it was in a lock box upstairs, under his bed."

"Because the report says he was killed with his own gun." Alex pointed to the screen. "And your fingerprints were on the weapon."

"I didn't do it!" I threw my arms wide.

"We know that." Zach's soft voice reached me through my red haze. "He probably planted them there. Your fingerprints would have been all over the house, he could have easily transferred them."

"He must have set the whole damn house up before he left." My words were clipped.

"The bullets wouldn't match though. I mean, sure I've only watched crime shows, but don't the bullets have to match the gun?" Elliot spun in his chair to look up at us.