Page 29 of Irreversible

“Nick?”

And there she is.

Facing that damn security camera, I’m aware that every meltdown, conversation, and flicker of emotion is beingwitnessed by a sociopath who won’t hesitate to use it against me. I’ve got to squash the outbursts before I draw too much attention to myself and blow my cover. That’s the only thing I have going for me right now, no matter how ridiculous that might be. Nick Ford is the face I can hide behind while I stew in the shadows.

While I formulate a plan.

“Is there sound on those cameras?” I ask, knowing it’s a dumb question. She wouldn’t know. Can’t imagine her captors giving a damn about her crying for water or begging for mercy.

She hesitates. “I don’t think so… I spent those first few days screaming into the camera, until Roger came in and told me not to bother. No sound. He said when they wanted to hear me scream, I’d know.”

“Better theory is he’s lying.”

“He doesn’t have the brains to lie.”

Well, she might be right about that.

And I suppose if these fuckers are as arrogant as I think they are, they don’t have much use for sound. “Tell me something else, Beverly.” My voice has been reduced to a rasp.

“Everly,” she corrects.

“Sure.” I bet she’s heard it her whole life. Not my fault her mother gave her one of thosecreativenames that screams of trying too hard.

She sighs loudly enough for me to hear it through the wall. That could be my imagination, but I can picture it. I can pictureher—a tiny little thing, topped off with enough wild, frizzy curls to cover four of her. Like a lion’s mane, treading the boundaries of fashionably ridiculous.

Okay, fine, there’s a reason she attracted attention. The woman is undeniably stunning. Not that it matters in here. I’m sure her beauty has faded, just like her former life.

And that’s the real clincher, isn’t it? The thing sending me into a tailspin and turning all my assumptions upside-down. Everly Cross, the girl who was taken a full two months before Sara, and by all logic should be long dead, is still alive.

Whichshouldmake me more hopeful.

And yet?—

“Hey.” Two taps send vibrations through my aching head. “Nick?”

I can’t shake the thought that if she were alive, I’d feel it. My instincts are better than most; I’d like to think something deep in my gut would have told me there’s reason to hope. And, even now, with this new evidence, this open field of possibility, I feel…

Nothing.

“What did you want to know?”

Oh. Yeah.“Right. Let’s pretend you’re a competent individual who was able to find your way out of here after two years. How would you go about that?”

Silence.

Then, finally, a soft voice, stiff with irritation. “I’m not sure insulting the one person on your team is the best way to go about finding a way out of here. Which, by the way, there is none. Plenty of people have tried. It’s locked down.”

My lips twitch, despite myself. “Oh, we have teams now. I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah.” A forced brightness infuses the word. “I like to call it ‘Team Don’t Die in Here,’ and, might I point out, that as the last known member standing, you might want me on your side.”

I hold back a laugh. She’s got some bite to her. Maybe that’s helped her stay alive.

“Sorry.” Her tone softens a bit, taking the wind from her sails.

“Oh, don’t stop now. I’m a big boy; I can handle it.”

“Still.”

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