Page 22 of Thick and Thin

“As planned, the lab was unlocked, so we simply slipped in.” I felt a chill dart down my spine again. It all made sense. Jenna had to have been part of his scheme—his crew, as he’d put it. That explained why she’d been such a lame assistant. She hadn’t actually wanted to help with the lab—she’d just wanted to be there to make sure to do her part. Had her incompetence been an act?

Sherwood continued. “I say we—but, as you already noted, I wasn’t there.”

I had to be sure I was on the right track about Jenna. “But I came back to the lab and locked it. Were they already in there?”

“Didn’t you see the tapes? Of course, they were—and that’s why everyone blamed you. My crew of warriors slipped inside and you showed up just a few minutes later. I’m sure you understand the reason why the most destruction happened toward the back was to keep the noise to a minimum—our theory was that people passing by wouldn’t hear something happening deeper inside. But the spray paint and dog feces—and tearing things apart—were ways to damage sections closer to the front without making a lot of noise. It didn’t help that campus security never had set times for when they’d patrol anywhere, so we knew we had to be as quiet as possible throughout the operation—and my…crew also understood that they could potentially be caught wearing their gear either on the way or leaving.”

“Gear?”

“They were dressed in black from head to toe, including ski masks. And the reason no one knew who they were is because they couldn’t figure out where they’d come from or where they went afterward. There are no cameras on the side of the humanities building where my office is because it’s right next to the hill—although that has since changed. They installed two light poles close to the building and positioned them with cameras last month, so maybe they’re not so stupid after all.”

“But there aren’t any doors on that side of the building. How—”

“Ah, but there are windows—and we’d practiced it once or twice. The students put their shirts and masks on in my office and left out the window. I gave them five minutes and then headed over to the auditorium. But that wasn’t just as an alibi. I also had my phone in my pocket and an earbud tucked in my right ear so I could let them know if they had to get out sooner.

“But they didn’t. You gave them quite a scare when you showed up instead of going straight to the auditorium. But once you left, they finished leaving their mark and then left the way they came. They were back in my office when I joined them there, and then we all left—my students back in their regular clothing—one at a time to avoid rousing any suspicion. And it worked. I’m pretty sure security never even looked at the cameras inside the humanities building because they never made the connection. Don’t get me wrong, though. We considered spray painting the camera lenses indoors but we knew it would be impossible to cover up the ones outside—so we just made sure the crew emerged from a blind spot. I think they just assumed the crew had come from the hiking trail behind campus—so they didn’t check cameras in the other buildings.”

Finally, I spoke. “Because it was so easy to pin it on me.”

“Yes. That’s the only part of this whole ordeal I regret. You were…collateral damage.”

So many emotions roiled inside me—from anger to frustration. It was one thing to be falsely accused of a crime; it was quite another to find out who’d actually done it. What made it worse was it was coming from a man who purported to care about me, even if in an inappropriate way.

And my mind quickly scanned the past few months: had none of this happened or if I had somehow avoided being accused, I never would have gone to Sinclair’s mansion…never would have given myself to him.

Never would have experienced having to push him away.

Sherwood was looking at me expectantly, almost like a child expecting a reward, and it made the emotions flare again, like taking a poker to a fire. “What makes you think I’d want to join your crusade?”

“It runs in your blood, Anna.”

This time, my anger spilled over so much that I lost track of where I was. No longer was I concerned about neighbors potentially coming out of their homes to overhear—or even of my dad catching any of our conversation through the door.

And that was how I missed the car pulling up in front of the next door neighbor’s house. “That may be—but if you know anything about my father, you’d know that he never hid his face when he fought. He never cowered or hid or tried to be stealthy. The entire time he fought, they knew exactly who they were dealing with.”

“And look where that got you.”

I shook my head, trying to fight against the fury threatening to overtake my tongue. “I don’t get you. You go on and on about revolution and how great you think it is, but the men fighting in the American Revolution didn’t wear ski masks or let someone else take the fall for what they’d done.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?” I demanded, practically screaming now. “Life with my dad might have been hard, but I don’t hate him for it. He stood up for what was right, regardless of the consequences—and he didn’t hide behind a mask or other people to do it!”

Mr. Sherwood started to reply but turned his head—as did I—at the unexpected voice. “Is this man bothering you, Lise?”

There in my front yard stood the man I loved to the depths of my soul…but I didn’t know that he was any more welcome here than the man next to me, the one who’d set everything in motion last summer.

Chapter 9

Sinclair looked more handsome than ever. He wore a light jacket over a beige sweater and khaki pants. In the cool air of the morning, his blue eyes looked sharper than ever, his jaw like stone. And, unlike his frequently clean-shaven face, he had grown out a few days’ worth of whiskers.

My heart ached at the sight of him.

Before I could answer his question, Mr. Sherwood took a step closer to him. Both men were tall, but Mr. Sherwood was slightly shorter by about an inch or so. In what looked to be a standoff, neither man said a word.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. Although his presence wasn’t necessarily unwelcome at this very moment, I had already told him we were through. Seeing him again simply reopened the wound.

“I came to apologize.”

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