When he logs in, the little chat window blinks.
No info yet, says the message. Wire the money to continue search. 1M.
Something sharp twists in my stomach. “One M,” I say, reading the end of the message aloud. “What does that mean? Is it her signature? A way of signing off?” My guesses seem unlikely, but I’m holding out hope.
“No, it’s an amount.”
Another twist of the knife in my stomach. “One million. One million dollars?”
“Euros, actually. Don’t worry about it.”
“Of course I’m worried about it. This is my sister, and someone’s demanding one million euros for information about her. Is this a hostage situation? What’s going on?”
“Relax,” he says, which has the opposite effect on me. “She’s not being held hostage. This woman, this hacker is providing a service, and I’m paying for it.”
“Listen, I understand that you are richer than me. I get that. And I understand you’re helping me here, but there’s something off about this.” I stand and stride away from him. “I just need to stop and make sense of this for a second. You’re not even blinking an eye at paying one million euros for information. What if it’s not even her? What if it doesn’t lead to her?”
“It will.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the hacker backs up her information.”
“I don’t understand why we even need a supersecret, superexpensive hacker to find my sister. Something is going on here, and I don’t understand.”
He flicks a few keys on the laptop—no doubt wiring one million euros, before shutting the lid. Then he stands and approaches me, hands out, placating. “Listen. You don’t need to worry. I promised you I would find her, and I will.”
Tears prick my eyes, and I press my palms against my sockets to hold them in. “Look, if we have to pay money to get her back, I’ll do it. I’ll mortgage my house or ask my parents or something. I don’t know. But we can’t owe you this kind of money. I can’t owe you this.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
He seems so serious, so sincere. I want to fall into his arms and believe everything. Except things that I accepted in that prison cell don’t make as much sense in the clear light of day. I walk away to the window, to the beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower, only now there’s fog blocking the sight. “It’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it? Me ending up in a prison cell with you.”
“Holly.”
“Except it’s not a coincidence, is it? I don’t understand it, but it’s not.”
“Don’t do this. Nothing good will come of you asking me these questions.”
“The truth will come from asking these questions.”
He gives me a sad smile. “The truth has never been anything good for me.”
I know he’s talking about his mother and her death at the hands of his father. I know he’s talking about the family secrets that nearly strangled him, but I need to know. This is my family at stake. “Why did I end up in that prison cell with you?”
“I don’t know.”
It feels like one of those half-truths. “Why do you want to find my sister?”
“Because you asked me to.”
It’s not a matter of finding the right answer. It’s about finding the right question. I look down, and then I know. “Where are the diamonds, Elijah?”
“Fuck, Holly.”
“Where are they?”
“You, too? It’s not enough I had Adam hounding me.”
“Where are the freaking diamonds?”
“They’re with your sister. Is that what you wanted to know? She saw me in Paris and recognized me from Reims. I stashed them on her, the same way I once stashed diamonds on you. It’s becoming a habit with you Frank girls.”
“Where did you really go today? Were you even looking for her?”
“I reported to my commanding officer.”
Hurt burns like acid down my throat. He may not have owed me his time, but he sure as hell didn’t have to lie about it. And it sounds like she’s some kind of enemy of the US government right now. Is she in danger? That wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t given her diamonds. He’s using her the same way he used me all those years ago. We’re nothing but props to him. Mules to carry things he needs moved around. Pawns on a chessboard.
He leans forward, setting his elbows on his knees. “Where’s your sister?”
“I don’t know,” I cry, my voice rising, panic a fist around my neck. “Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you? Isn’t that why I came to Paris?”
“Or maybe you came to run away with her and a fortune’s worth of diamonds.”
“I don’t want diamonds; I don’t care about diamonds. They mean nothing to me.” I’m going supersonic again, but I can’t stop. “I only want my sister.”
“Find one, and we find both.” Those green eyes flash. “And we will find both.”
“This is crazy,” I whisper, feeling like a cornered animal. Feeling like the hair at the back of my neck is raised in warning. My sister isn’t the only one in danger. If she’s an enemy of the US government, so am I. I want to lash out, but I know I’d lose that fight.
“I promise you’ll be safe,” he says.
He’s lying. I feel like throwing up that baguette and gruyere from earlier. I stand and head down the stairs without saying a word. The whole world looks surreal, underwater.
“Holly,” he says, his voice too close for comfort.
“Leave me alone.”
“Holly, you can’t go out there.”
I whirl on him, incredulous. “What do you mean?”
“You understand. It’s not so different from the place where we were.”
“The place where we were had iron bars. And a lock. And rats, probably.” I make a sweeping motion to the opulence and comfort of the safe house. “It’s nothing like this.”
“Except in one way. You can’t leave.”
“Why not?”
He looks away, as if overcome with some emotion. But when he looks back at me, there’s no feeling whatsoever in his green eyes. He might as well be a machine. “Because I won’t let you.”
Walls close around me. Iron bars lock into place. They’ve been there all along, only I couldn’t see them. This is a prison the same as the church. In both places I was kept by a man who thought I was an object. Not a person. Bile rises in my throat.
I run toward the door, expecting to hear Elijah’s footsteps thundering after me, expecting his strong arms to catch me. But I reach the door with no problem, only to be confronted with a black screen. I don’t know the code. I don’t know freaking the code. The handle doesn’t even turn. The door doesn’t open. The alarm system that I thought kept me safe is keeping me captive.
“Let me out,” I say.
He approaches me with caution, like you would a wild animal. That’s how I feel. It’s probably how I look, my hair and eyes gone crazy. “It’s not safe for you out there.”
“Says you, but here’s the problem. I don’t believe a word you say.”