Reparation of Sin (The Society Trilogy 2)

When I’m about halfway through the files, I finally come across one I recognize. One that makes me shudder.

Judge.

It’s in italics beside what I guess to be his real name. Lawson Montgomery. I flip through the pages of the file and, like the others, see a date of birth, parents’ names—some seem to have a whole family tree, but this one doesn’t. He does have a brother, but according to this, they’re estranged. I see his address and wonder if that’s where the cellar is. It would match up to the length of time it took us to drive to IVI.

I close the file and set it aside. I don’t want to read about him. I don’t want to think about that time.

I don't recognize the next set of names, but then I come to another one I do. Van Der Smit. Jackson’s last name. The file is about another man, though. Marcus Van Der Smit. From the date of Marcus’s birth, I’d say he’s maybe an uncle? Are these all members of IVI? And why does my brother have detailed files on all of them? Is it my brother or my father, though, who’s kept these?

Opening another one of the drawers, I find more of the same stacks. I don’t have the energy to go through them, though, and there’s nothing about my father or Hazel in here, so I get up and go back to the kitchen to try the back door. I can at least walk around in the backyard to get some exercise and fresh air.

The door has the same keypad on it as at the front, and I dig out the sheet of paper from my pocket to unlock it, not sure how it works to get out once I’m in, but when I punch in the code, I hear the same sounds and see the green light. Just in case, though, I drag a chair over to keep the door open. The day is cool, and I don’t have a jacket, but it’s nice to be outside, so I hug my arms around myself and walk around the yard. I can hear cars drive by. A baby cries somewhere not too far away. And I think about my own baby and then about Santiago. How it could have been different for us. How I’d felt like it was getting there, at least a little.

I still remember his face the night I burned the bloody sheet. I’d never seen him look like that before, and I’d thought I’d seen Santiago at his worst. But I understand, too. The fire must have triggered an old memory. I wonder about his memories of the night of the explosion. He never talks about it. Does he remember? And did seeing that fire, seeing the photos of his father and brother just beyond the flames, did I stir something up in him that made him so angry? Did it remind him of the night they died?

God. Did he watch them die?

I shake my head. There are moments I think how ridiculous this is. How if he’d just let me talk, if he’d listen, he’d know I don’t mean him harm. But as long as he doesn’t tell me his secrets, doesn’t tell me what it is that happened that made him hate my family and me so much, it won’t matter anyway.

My phone rings then, startling me even though I’ve been expecting Abel’s call. I fumble to drag it out of my pocket and answer.

“Abel?”

“Yes,” he says, sounding on edge. “You’re still at the house?”

“Yeah. My phone’s almost dead. I think it hooks up to the cord I have in the car, though. If we get disconnected, I’ll—”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just be a minute. You won’t need it. Stay inside the house, Ivy. Don’t fuck this up.”

“Okay. It’s not a big deal.”

“Good. I’ve got some friends coming to get you later tonight.”

“Friends? Why don’t you come?”

“I can’t. Your husband has eyes on me.”

“Oh. Have you seen him?” I ask, hearing that little upward turn of my words, wondering how he’ll read it.

“You want an update on the man who put you in the hospital?”

“He didn’t…No. I just…never mind.”

“Good. You’ll need to be ready to go when they get there between eleven and midnight.”

“Where are they going to take me?”

“I’m working that out now.”

“Who are they? Do I know them?”

“They’re just some people I work with. Listen, they’re doing me a favor. You just be ready and don’t give them any trouble, understand?”

“I wouldn’t give them trouble.”

“Good. I have to go.”

“Can I talk to Eva? I called her, but she isn’t picking up.”

“She forgot her phone, and she’s not here. I’ll let her know you called.”

“Why isn’t she there? Is she okay?”

“She’s at school, Ivy. It’s a school day, and believe it or not, life goes on. Has been even without you in it. Now, I really have to go.”