But with this girl? I don't even need to decode anything; she's as candid as it gets. Her emotions are all laid out for the world to see and I can't decide if I find it refreshing or baneful.
“That would be kind of hard,” she whispers. “Not only because Becca probably pawned it by now, but both my mom and dad died in this river when I was eight.”
Talk about a punch to the gut. “Shit—”
“Spare me,” she says, but there's no bitterness in her tone. Only sorrow. “Your apology won't bring them back.”
“I wasn't going to apologize. Their death wasn't my fault.” I follow her gaze to the water. “I was going to say that it sucks.”
For the first time since we've been talking, she gives me a look I can't decipher. “Yeah, it does.”
Deciding to get more comfortable, I sit on the hood of my own car. “Mind if I ask how they died?”
“Something tells me that even if I said I did mind, you wouldn't give a shit and you'd ask anyway.”
I shrug. Her assessment isn't wrong.
Her eyes drift back to the water. “They were celebrating their ten-year wedding anniversary by going to the Caribbean. The weather was bad, but the new pilot they hired assured them there would only be a bit of turbulence and the rest of the flight would be smooth. A couple of minutes after takeoff, however, their plane crashed into this river.” Heartache floods her features. “My parents were killed, but the verdict's still out regarding the pilot.”
Now I do feel sorry; I'd have to be a complete sociopath not to. That said, something about her statement doesn't sit right with me. “Not to be morbid, but how is that possible? I thought you said the plane crashed into the river?”
She exhales a ragged breath. “It did, but he wasn't in the crash...not exactly. There's no one to verify it for sure given the only two passengers on the plane didn't make it out alive, but according to the investigators, the plane went idle shortly after takeoff. They also found a parachute along with a life preserver in the water, and when they found the plane at the bottom of the river, the door was open. Based on that, they thought there was a possibility he jumped out of the plane before it crashed.”
My chest tightens. “You mean to tell me—”
“That my parents' last moments on earth were spent watching the pilot they hired jump to safety while leaving them to crash to their deaths? Yeah, pretty much.”
My stomach sours. “Fuck, this is so wrong. It doesn't take a genius to figure out there's something ridiculously disturbing about what happened to them.”
Agony slashes across her face. “I know. But seeing as they never recovered the pilot's body, they had no choice but to assume he died too.” Her nostrils flare. “The investigation went on for years, but nothing ever came of it.”
“Do you think the pilot's still alive?”
Her face collapses. “I do. To be completely honest, nothing about my parents' death ever sat right with me.”
I can't blame her for feeling that way. “Not to go all conspiracy theorist on you, but were your parents' dangerous people? Spies? Mobsters? Inside traders? Did they have information about something they shouldn't? They obviously had money, given they were taking private planes to the Caribbean.” I pause when I realize I'm not only crossing boundaries with my questions, I'm leaping over them. “I'm just trying to figure out what happened is all.”
She visibly swallows. “Save yourself the trouble. I'm pretty sure I've already figured out the truth and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. No one believes me because I don't have a scrap of evidence to prove it. It's a dead end.”
“You can tell me the truth.”
She pins me with a cold stare. “Not only do I not even know you, but you're one of my least favorite people on the planet at the moment. Why should I trust you?”
“It's not about trusting me,” I tell her. “Earning your trust isn't something I care enough about to put effort into.” When her mouth falls open, I add, “I wasn't trying to insult you, I just don't waste my energy on people who serve no purpose for me. And you've already made it clear you hate my guts. This is nothing more than giving you an opportunity to speak the truth to someone who will believe you.”
She snorts. “And you'll believe me?”
“Of course, I have no reason not to.”
Because I know what it's like to think no one will.
I rest my elbows on my knees, focusing on her. “Besides, I've got a few more hours to kill. Mostly because I'm lost, but that's neither here nor there.”
She gives her head a slight shake. “You're the strangest person I've ever met.”
I wink. “I've been called worse. Now spill it, angry girl.”
She looks positively irritated. “Angry girl? Christ, did you really just give me a nickname?”
“If I say yes, will you start talking?”
“No.”
“Good, because I didn't.” I have to bite back a smile as her annoyance grows. “Although as far as nicknames go, that one suits you.”
“I can think of a few choice ones that would suit you,” she mutters under her breath.
I tap my watch. “I think we both know listing those will take you entirely too long. You'll save yourself both time and effort by telling me who you think is behind your parents' death instead.”
She draws her knees up to her chest. “Fine, but only because my night can't get any worse, not because we're friends or anything.”
“Duly noted.”
“Have you ever heard of Kit-Bit?”
“Yeah,” I say, recalling one of the world's largest personal-computer software companies out there. “I think everyone uses Kit-Bit.”
A ghost of a grin touches her lips. “My dad was the computer programmer.”
My mouth nearly hits the ground. “No shit.”
Her eyes gleam with pride. “Shit.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Go ahead...ask me what my name is.”
I eye her suspiciously. “What's your name?”
“Kit.” She folds her arms around her knees, locking them in place. “Most people think it's short for Katherine, but it's not. It's my actual name. Although my parents usually called me little-bit.”
There's so much anguish in her eyes I have to suck in a breath. “I take it you were close?”
She nods. “They were the best parents anyone could ever ask for. My dad worked a lot, but he always made time for his family. Neither he nor my mom treated hanging out with me like a chore or obligation. We would always have so much fun together.”
“Sounds like you had a nice life,” I say, tamping down my jealousy.
On the surface, my life was one that dreams were made of, but anyone living in the Holden household knew the reality was more like a nightmare.
“I did. Eight short years wasn't nearly enough.”
Our eyes connect. “No, I can't imagine it was.”
She clutches her knees so tight her knuckles turn white. “When my dad developed Kit-Bit, he became wealthy and successful really fast.”