Page 106 of Alik

Did they find out? Are they blackmailing her father?

The timeline seems to add up. I look back down at the knife then pull it from the bag before wiping off the prints and tossing it into the lake.

Next, I crack the disk into pieces and toss it in as well. With a lighter to the photos, I watch the ashes rain down onto the water, swallowing up my crimes along with Olive’s.

I don’t know all the details of what went on between Arthur Solace and the Irish, but I know what I have to do. I may never be able to fix things between Olive and me. But I can fix this.

I can keep her safe.

26

OLIVE

The kitchen feels different.

I wander my gaze around the counter, searching for things that have been rearranged, newly bought items, old items replaced. The curtains in the kitchen window are a different color, I think. They’re yellow. Were they blue last time I was here? Or was that the bathroom?

My chair scrapes on tile as I shift and twist to look behind me. It could be my imagination, but everything feels so different.

Dad strolls into the kitchen, an overly chipper smile tilting his lips like he’s going to try to make this less awkward for us. Like we’ll all get back to being a happy family.

“Morning, dear,” he says to Mom who stands over a waffle iron billowing with steam. He kisses her cheek then picks up the paper she left on the counter for him. “Is this for me?” he asks, lifting the mug I saw her pour a minute ago.

She smiles tightly and nods. It’s the same interaction I watched every morning of my childhood. She can swap out the curtains, but some things never change.

Dad clears his throat when he sits down at the table with me, newspaper and coffee in hand. Things were awkward last night, but adrenaline was still pumping then. I woke both my parentsby pounding on the door, and when they opened up, they said my face was ghostly white.

I’ve never cried so hard in my life. When they asked me what was wrong, I didn’t tell them about Alik. I recalled everything that had happened with Creeper as if it had just taken place, and I told them about the men who tried to kill me in the hotel before I’d dropped off the radar. My mother cried quietly while my dad stewed, his anger not directed at me for once.

I never wanted to come here. If I’d had the means to disappear on my own, I would have. I’ve made my mother shed enough tears in my life, and I vowed that this would be the last time. I’d take whatever money they could give me and leave their lives, and Vegas, for good.

But to my utter disbelief, my mom demanded I stay. That it was too dangerous. That I was still her daughter.

I cried harder.

She cried harder.

And now, sitting in her kitchen the next morning while she makes her Sunday waffles in her heels with her burnt-smelling hair curled, it’s awkward as hell.

My dad offers me a section of the paper, and I take it for the sake of having something to stare at. Mom plates the last waffle then grabs the butter from the fridge just as the doorbell rings. We all glance that way, but Dad is the only person to make a move. Probably because it’s doubtful anyone but him would have company here. Mom ispolite, Mom hasacquaintances, she makes pies for the bake sales, but she doesn’t have friends. Dad doesn’t either, not really. But he has his work.

His corrupt work.

As he gets up to leave, I watch Mom sit down at the table and wonder if she knows what he’s been up to. They have the most boring marriage imaginable. If they were a color, it would be beige.

There’s no way she’d be okay with what he’s been doing.

“So.” She clears her throat as she slides my plate toward me. “Other than the obvious… How have things been for you?”

I stare a moment at her awkward smile that’s trying so hard to be sincere, then I pick up the syrup and drizzle it over the waffle.

“Fine.”

“Dad told me you’d found a job… Will it still be there once Dad takes care of thisCreeperperson?”

Dad won’t be taking care of Creeper. He’sworkingwith him.

I cut into my waffle and feel tension ease at the realization that my mom doesn’t know what my dad has been doing. She’s still good. Too good for us.

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