Page 93 of Wicked Games

Past

Itapped on Caleb’s door. It swung open without resistance, revealing an empty room. His bed was made, the pillows smoothed. And no sign of the boy I was searching for.

Instead of calling out for him, I left the doorway and crept down the hall. Voices were coming from his parents’ room. I paused, unsure for a split second, then continued on.

“You’re being unreasonable,” Mrs. Asher hissed.

I froze again.

“Me? I’m the unreasonable one?” A male voice… but not Caleb’s dad. “This is insane, Lydia. You can’t expect me to go along with this.”

“I can, and I will,” she snapped. “Lord knows we pay you enough.”

“There isn’t enough money in the world to help us if we get caught,” he answered. “Something I’m sure you’re well aware of.”

She sighed. She often sighed at Caleb and me. We did ridiculous things just to get a sigh out of her—her whole body moved with it, an exaggerated slump. She was an actress in aformer life, she often told us. Dramatics were etched into her soul.

“We’ve come too far to turn back.” Her voice got louder, and the door opened.

With a start, I realized I was in the middle of the hall, about to be caught eavesdropping. I ran back to Caleb’s room, pressing myself against the wall behind his door.

“Lydia, I don’t think?—”

“Quiet.”

I held my breath.

Her footsteps came closer and closer to Caleb’s room, slowing down. She was visible through the crack between the door and the wall. She paused, taking a step into the room and vanishing from my sight. Any second, the door would fly closed and my hiding spot would be revealed.

“Mom?” Caleb called.

Mrs. Asher retreated into the hallway. “Ah, there you are. Where have you been lurking?”

“I was getting a snack. Amber said it was okay.”

Lydia hummed at the mention of my mom. “Fine.”

“Nice to see you, kid,” the man said.

He flashed by the crack in the door as he walked past Lydia. His footsteps hammered down the stairs. And then he was gone, and Lydia was retreating, too.

Caleb walked into the room and swung his door shut. He stared at me, frowning. “What are you doing?”

Fear wrapped around my throat. “Shh!”

“Were you hiding from Mom?”

“No!”

My first lie.

Present

“Parker, Wheeler, and Smith. How can I help you?”

“Can I speak with Mr. Rodrigues?” I twirl a piece of my hair in an effort to keep calm.

“Are you a client?”

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