Page 53 of Tango
Dylan is silent as he drives us back out of town. Delta lies in the backseat, just as quiet as his owner, though he stares out the window like the happy boy he is. The two make quite a pair—the broody soldier and the happy pup.
“Thanks for taking me.”
Dylan grunts in response.
“I’m sorry if I pulled you away from something.”
“It’s not a problem,” he replies, casting me a friendly look. Not quite a smile, but not a scowl either, so I’ll take it.
Silence descends around us again. “We couldn’t find proof that the video is a fake.”
As casually as he would be pulling into a parking lot, Dylan pulls over onto the shoulder and turns to face me. “What?”
“The video. It’s not what really happened, but every program I’ve run on it has come back saying it hasn’t been tampered with.”
Dylan’s hazel eyes—the same shade as his mother’s—darken. “Tucker failed to mention that.”
“He was ready to turn me in. Every reason why that can’t be me in that video is circumstantial, and I know that. A few hours later, we got the message from Logan.”
Dylan remains quiet for a few moments. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you and Tucker—all of you, really—don’t strike me as people who keep secrets from each other. And I don’t want to be a source of discontentment between you. If you want to turn me in yourself, I understand. I’ll go willingly.”
It’s completely true. Because even with everything Pastor Ford said about fighting, I don’t have the energy to keep running for long. I have no doubt that even if I’m killed—or jailed—Tucker will find a way to bring the truth to light.
My life—in the grand scheme of things—doesn’t matter. Not when there are other lives on the line should the hackers manage to get their hands on the information they’re looking for. Truthfully, they might already have it, though my gut says otherwise. They wouldn’t have killed Logan if they have everything they need.
Dylan pulls off the shoulder and begins driving again. “I trust Tucker,” he says. “If he believes you’re innocent, then I won’t argue it.”
“I’m worried he’s going to get in over his head too.” It’s the first time I’ve vocalized it. But knowing what they did to Ramiro and Logan—what they tried to do to my parents—Tucker is getting closer to this by the second. What if he’s next?
Dylan snorts, catching me completely off guard. “Alice, my brother has been in over his head since the moment he met you. However, there’s no one—and I mean no one—more capable of figuring this out. Besides, as he’s said, he’s never been shot. Too fast for bullets.” I get a sideways grin from Dylan, and for a brief moment, the mask of pain he wears slips away, and he looks more like his twin than he has since I’ve known them.
I find myself smiling in return. “Let’s hope he stays that way. I don’t want any of you to get hurt because of me.”
“You let us worry about us. This is hardly the first situation we’ve been in like this, and I can guarantee it won’t be the last. No matter how many times we should’ve died, we’re still standing. Let that bring you at least a little peace. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”
Chapter 19
Tucker
I’ve been staring at this video so long my brain hurts. After drinking some herbal tea and going for a quick workout, I’m back at it, determined to discover how they managed to make it look as though Alice killed Ramiro when I know she didn’t.
She’s been gone most of the day, wanting to spend some time with her parents after the discovery that Logan was killed. Then Dylan texted me about two hours ago, letting me know she’d asked to go to the church. Since he was there, he took her.
Which I’m grateful for because I can’t bring myself to tear my gaze from this video. I have to find something. Anything that will give her hope. So far, no matter how many times I replay it, I can’t see past what they want us to see.
Which is Alice, raising a weapon and murdering Ramiro Caine.
Tango raises his head, ears perked, as the front door opens. “Hier,” I say, then head out into the hall. Alice stands at the end of it, her Bible in hand. As Tango rushes over to greet her, she bends down and pets him while he sits at her feet and stares up at her as though she hung the moon.
My boy adores her.
Just like I do.
This has to stop.
“How are you feeling?”
