But I can’t kiss her, and I can’t say all that, so I just nod and say, “OK.”
Indie and Nathan are waiting for us outside. They are joking and laughing in their own little world near the truck like this is no particular big deal. Just another day when your world of secrets almost comes crashing down around you. Just another day.
“What’s in the box?” Nathan finally notices us.
“Files,” Wendy answers. “Carter’s, I guess. Breeding stuff.” Wendy doesn’t mention the Gerald Couture binder, so I don’t either. Her instincts are good and besides, Indie is so far gone, she doesn’t even need to know this shit. It’s not like she’s gonna be the one to solve this mystery.
But I watch Indie for a reaction because she’s got an overly developed opinion on the whole Fountain of Youth thing. I get it. It’s ridiculous. But she’s dug in. I don’t like it. Like maybe she has a secret or two up her sleeve.
But Indie’s reaction isn’t anything extraordinary. She pouts her lip a little, making her look younger than she is. More innocent than I’m sure she’s ever been.
“How about you guys?” Wendy asks. “Find anything else?”
“Nope,” Nate answers. He’s driving, and Wendy follows him over to the driver’s side of the truck to get in. Indie opens the door for me, since I’m holding the box, and I shove it across the bench seat until it hits Wendy’s hip. I look back at Indie just before I climb in and find her staring at me. “What?”
“Rats? Or humans?” She juts her chin at the box.
“There are no names on the files. Just numbers. So. We’re not sure yet.”
I catch Indie mumbling, “Well, that’s awesome,” as she and I get in the truck and slam our doors.
And then it’s a long, quiet drive back to Old Home as each of us pictures how this box of files might ruin our lives.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - ADAM
The implications of what I agreed to are starting to catch up to me.
At four-thirty, Indie still isn’t home from town. I text her, then call her. No response. Here we are, standing in front of McKay’s truck, ready to go, and Indie is missing. I considering hunting down Nathan, or Nick, or Wendy. But it feels desperate. Nathan would not pick up my call. Wendy probably wouldn’t either. But Nick might. Then he’d start asking questions—why I’m so worried about her and shit like that. And I’ve already told him as much as I care to, so it’s not a good idea to raise any red flags in Nick’s head.
“Why?” I ask McKay. “Why does she do this shit to me? Why does she hate me? It’s a serious question. What did I ever do to her to make her want to drive me crazy?”
“She’s not doing it to you, Adam. This is just how she is. She’s always been this way. What’s changed is your control over her.”
“So?” I’m irritated and it comes out in my voice.
“So? Let go, man. She’s really not your responsibility anymore. She’s twenty-four years old.”
I just look at him for a long moment, wondering if this is irony. But no. He’s serious. “How the fuck can you say that? Fourteen years ago I bought an insane little girl in a slave auction. I’m the reason she’s alive. So I’m responsible for her and everything she does.”
McKay scoffs. “I could say a lot of mean-spirited things about the size of your ego, but I won’t. I’ll just say this. If you hadn’t bought her, someone else would’ve.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“That’s what they all say, McKay.”
“Who?”
“War criminals. ‘If I hadn’t done it, someone else would’ve.’ That’s always the excuse they use when the trials start. It’s right up there with ‘I was just doing what I was told.’”
McKay cocks his head at me. “Adam, if someone else had taken her home, she’d be dead right now. And that death would’ve been horrible. I don’t want to talk about Indie. She’s with Nick Tate, Wendy Gale, and Nathan St. James. Nothing’s gonna happen to her. I mean, for fuck’s sake, if anything does happen to her when she’s in that kind of company, we’re all fucked.”
I hold my breath for a minute. I know he’s right. But I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong here. Something’s wrong and I’m missing it.
I hate that feeling. Especially when Maggie is here and I’m about to go off for a night with McKay. I let out that breath. “Maybe we shouldn’t go?”
“Why?”
“Because Maggie—”
“Maggie is fine.”
We both look over at the front porch where Maggie and Sasha are playing those hand-slapping games. They’ve been at it all afternoon. They took a break for lunch when I called Maggie in to eat, but other than that, they have been laughing and smiling their way through this day like nothing is happening, when in reality shit is going down. It’s just… invisible shit right now that no one else feels but me.