Текст книги "The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer"

Автор книги: Michelle Hodkin

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Noah’s jaw tensed. “No.”

“All right. Don’t. But I’m leaving.”

I stood to leave but felt Noah’s fingers on my thighs. The pressure of his grasp was feather-light on my jeans, but I was frozen.

“I’ll follow you,” he said.

I looked down at him, at his hand-stirred hair above his grave face; his lids were half-closed and heavy. Sitting on his bed, he was level with my waist. A thrill traveled along the length of my spine.

“Get off,” I said, without conviction.

The ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “You first.”

I blinked and stared at him carefully. “Well. Isn’t this a dangerous game.”

“I’m not playing.”

My nostrils flared. Noah was provoking me. On purpose, to see what I’d do. I wanted at once to smack him, and to rake my fingers through his hair and pull.

“I won’t let you do this,” I said.

“You won’t stop me.” His voice was low, now. Indescribably sexy.

My eyes fluttered closed. “Like hell I won’t,” I whispered. “I could kill you.”

“Then I’d die happy.”

“Not funny.”

“Not joking.”

I opened my eyes and focused on his. “I’d be happier without you,” I lied as convincingly as I could.

“Too bad.” Noah’s mouth curved into the half-smile I loved and hated so much, just inches from my navel.

My head was foggy. “You’re supposed to say, ‘All I want is your happiness. I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means being without you.’ “

“Sorry,” Noah said. “I’m just not that big of a person.” His hands traveled up the side of my jeans, up to my waist. The pads of his fingertips grazed the skin just underneath the fabric of my shirt. I tried to steady my pulse and failed.

“You want me,” Noah said simply, definitively. “Don’t lie to me. I can hear it.”

“Irrelevant,” I breathed.

“No, it isn’t irrelevant. You want me as much as I want you. And all I want is you.”

My tongue warred with my mind. “Today,” I whispered.

Noah stood slowly, his body skimming mine as he rose. “Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever.” Noah’s eyes held mine. His stare was infinite. “I was made for you, Mara.”

And at that moment, even though I didn’t know how it was possible or what it meant, I believed him.

“And you know it. So tell the truth. Do you want me?” His voice was strong, confident as he voiced the question that sounded more like a statement.

But his face. In the slightest crease and furrow of his brow, barely perceptible, it was there. Doubt.

Did he really not know? As I tried to comprehend the impossibility of that idea, Noah’s confidence began to fray at the edge of his expression.

Right would have been allowing his question to go unanswered. Letting Noah believe, impossible though it was, that I didn’t want him. That I didn’t love him. Then this would all be over. Noah would be the best thing that almost happened to me, but he would be safe.

I chose wrong.

56

I WRAPPED MY ARMS AROUND NOAH’S NECK AND buried myself in him.

“Yes,” I whispered into his hair as he held me.

“What’s that?” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I want you,” I said, smiling back.

“Then who cares about anything else?”

Noah’s hands on my waist, on my face, felt so familiar, like they belonged there. Like they were home. I pulled back to look at him and see if he felt it, but when I did, I shattered into a million pieces.

Noah believed in me. I didn’t understand until then, right then, how much I needed to see it.

I shivered at the lovely scrape of his jaw on my skin. His lips skimmed my collarbone and when he shifted his hips into mine, I became senseless. I knotted my fingers in his warm hair and crashed my mouth into his. When I tasted his tongue, the world fell away.

But then the bitter air of the asylum stung my nostrils. Jude’s face flickered behind my eyelids and I pulled away, gasping.

“Mara, what’s wrong?”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t know how. We’d come so close to kissing a thousand times before, but something almost always stopped us—myself, Noah, the universe. Before now, the only time we’d succeeded, I was sure, positive that he almost died. My heart rebelled at the idea, even though I knew I was right. What was happening to me? To him, when we kissed?

“What is it?” he asked.

I needed to say something, but that’s not the kind of thing you can just bust out with.

“I’m—I don’t want you to die,” I stammered.

Noah looked appropriately confused. “All right,” he said, and pushed back my hair. “I won’t die.”

I looked at the floor, but Noah ducked his head and caught my eyes. “Listen, Mara. There’s no pressure.” His hands brushed down my face. “This,” he said, as they trailed down my neck. “You.” My arms. “Are enough.” He laced his fingers into mine and held my stare. I knew he meant it.

“Just knowing you’re mine.” He released my hand and lifted his to my face, glancing his fingers over my lips. “Knowing that no one else gets to touch you like this,” he said. “Seeing the way you look at me when I do.

“And hearing the way you sound when I do, “A slight, uneven smile played on his lips. Just looking at them was not enough.

Seized by boldness and frustration, I grasped Noah’s hand and pulled him to his bed. I pushed him until he was sitting and climbed into his lap, ignoring his raised eyebrows as I straddled him. My hands furiously worked the buttons on his plaid shirt but fumbled. My dexterity had vanished along with my decorum.

Noah placed one of his fingers under my chin and tilted my head. “What are you doing?”

“We can do other things,” I breathed, as I slipped his shirt off his shoulders. I wasn’t completely sure if that was true but I was completely sure that at that moment, I didn’t care. I was desperate to feel his skin against mine. I was desperate to try. I gripped the hem of my T-shirt and started to pull it up.

Noah reached down and clasped my wrists gently. “You want to sleep with me, but you won’t kiss me?”

Well, yeah. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it, because I thought that might not fly.

Noah lifted me off of his lap. “No,” he said, and shrugged his shirt back on.

“No?” I asked.

“No.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why not? You’ve done it before.”

Noah looked away. “For fun.”

“I can be fun,” I said quietly.

“I know.” Noah’s expression leveled me.

“You don’t trust me,” I said quietly.

Noah measured his words before he spoke. “You don’t trust yourself, Mara. I am not going to die if you kiss me; I told you that already. But you still think I’m going to. So, no.”

“You’re kidding me,” I said, incredulous. Noah, Noah Shaw, was slamming on the brakes.

“Does this look like my kidding face?” Noah composed his expression into one of mock seriousness.

I ignored it and stood up. “You don’t want me.”

Noah threw his head back and laughed, rich and loose. A blush crept up into my cheeks. I wanted to punch him in the throat.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said as he stood. “I could barely keep my hands off you last night, even after seeing what you’d been through this week. Even after knowing how wrecked you were when you told me. And I’m going to spend an eternity in hell for that dream I had about you on your birthday. But if I could call it up again, I’d spend it twice.”

He took my hand and turned it over in his, studying it. “Mara, I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. And when you’re ready for me to show you,” he said, brushing my hair to the side, “I’m going to kiss you.” His thumb grazed my ear and his hand curved around my neck. He leaned me backward and my eyes fluttered closed. I breathed in the scent of him as he leaned in and kissed the hollow under my ear. My pulse raced under his lips.

“And I won’t settle for anything less.”

Noah pulled away and drew me up with him. I was disoriented, but not enough to ignore the cocky grin he was wearing.

“I hate you,” I muttered.

Noah smiled wider. “I know.”

57

I COULDN’T GO TO SCHOOL THE NEXT DAY, EITHER– that much was obvious. Who knew what triggered the deaths—was a stray thought enough? Or did I have to envision it? And what about the animals that died, even thought I never explicitly wanted them to? What about Rachel?

I needed to rebuild my world and figure out my place in it before I would be safe around the general population. I told my mother that I wanted to stay home, that going back to school yesterday was a little too much for me and I wanted to wait until after my appointment with Dr. Maillard today to try it again. Given my recent behavior, she was happy to oblige.

I made it to lunch without incident. But as I stood in the kitchen midway through making myself a sandwich, someone started pounding on the front door.

I froze. They didn’t go away.

I crept soundlessly to the foyer and looked through the peephole. I let out a sigh of relief. Noah stood on my front step, disheveled and furious.

“Get in the car,” he said. “There’s something you need to see.”

“What? What are you—”

“It’s about your father’s case. We need to make it to the courthouse before the trial’s over. I’ll explain, but come.”

My mind raced to catch up but I followed Noah without hesitating, locking the door behind me. He didn’t stand on ceremony and I flung open the passenger door and dove in. Noah backed out of the driveway in seconds, then reached into the backseat and withdrew a newspaper. He dropped The Miami Herald in my lap as he wove between lanes, ignoring the irritated honking that followed.

I read the headline: crime scene photos leaked on final day of palmer trial. I scanned the photos; a few of the crime scene and one of Leon Lassiter, my father’s client. Then I skimmed the article. It gave a detailed overview of the case, but I was missing something.

“I don’t understand,” I said, focusing on Noah’s clenched jaw and angry stare.

“Did you look at the photos? Carefully?”

My eyes roamed the pictures, disturbing though they were. Two of them showed Jordana Palmer’s dismembered body lying piecemeal in the tall grass, with chunks of flesh ripped from her calves, her arms, her torso. The third was a landscape, taken from the distance, with markers showing the position and location where the body was found. The little concrete shed where Noah and I had found Joseph was cast in a penumbral shadow by the flash.

My hand fluttered to my mouth. “Oh my God.”

“I saw it when I went to go buy cigarettes during lunch. I tried to call but there was no answer at the house, and of course you still don’t have a mobile. So I drove straight here from school,” he said in a rush. “It’s the same shed, Mara. Exactly the same.”

I remembered Joseph, lying on the concrete floor in a nest of blankets, his hands and feet bound by twist ties. And how Noah and I were almost too late to save him.

To save him from ending up exactly like Jordana. My stomach rolled with nausea.

“What does this mean?” I asked, even though I already knew.

Noah ran his hands through his hair as he sped, pushing ninety-five. “I don’t know. The photograph they have of Lassiter shows him wearing a Rolex on his right hand. When I saw the documents in the Collier County archives in my mind, whoever was pulling files had the same watch,” he finished, before swallowing. “But I’m not sure.”

“He took Joseph,” I said, my voice and mind hazy.

Noah’s expression was hard. “It doesn’t make sense, though. Why would he go after his own lawyer’s child?”

My mind flooded with images. Joseph, the way he must have looked when he was waiting for a ride home from school the day he was taken. My parents, as they spoke in tense voices about my father dropping the case. My father speaking to Lassiter—

That same night.

“My father was going to drop his case,” I said, strangely removed. “Because of me. Because I was falling apart. He spoke to him that afternoon.”

“Still doesn’t make sense. Your father would have dropped it for sure if one of his children disappeared. The judge absolutely would have ordered a continuance.”

“Then he took him because he’s sick,” I said, my voice a twisted hiss. My mind raced, tumbling ahead before my mouth could catch up. I flashed back to before I knew about the case, before this had all happened. To my brother watching the news one afternoon, as Daniel lifted an unmarked envelope.

“Where did this come from?” Daniel asked.

“Dad’s new client dropped it off, like, two seconds before you got here.”

Lassiter knew Joseph. Knew where we lived.

“I’ll kill him.” I spoke the shocking words so softly I wasn’t even sure I’d said them aloud. I wasn’t even sure I’d thought them, until Noah’s eyes turned on me.

“No,” he said carefully. “We’re going to go to the courthouse and find your father and have the trial continued. We’ll tell him what happened. He’ll withdraw from the case.”

“It’s too late,” I said. The words congealed on my tongue, and the weight of them pulled me down. “The trial’s over today. Once the jury’s out—it’s over.”

Noah shook his head. “I called. They’re not out yet. We can make it,” he said, his gaze flicking to the clock on the dashboard.

I turned the paper over in my hand, examining it as my dark thoughts grew and spread and swallowed up any possible alternative.

“Whoever leaked these photos did it to influence the jury. They did it because my father—because Lassiter—is winning. He’s going to be acquitted. He’s going to be free.”

I couldn’t let it happen.

But would I really be able to stop it?

I had wanted Jude dead, and he was. And I’d killed Morales and Mabel’s owner just by wanting it, thinking about it, about her choking, his head smashed in. I grew nauseous at the imagery, but swallowed hard and forced myself to remember, to try to understand so that if I needed to, I could do it again. The collapsed building, the anaphylactic shock, the head injury; those were the causes of the deaths.

I was the agent.

Noah’s voice snapped me back into the moment. “There is something profoundly wrong here. I know it, which is why I came to get you. But we don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on. We have to get to the courthouse and speak to your father.”

“Then what?” I asked, my voice hollow.

“Then we’ll give statements about Joseph’s kidnapping, and Lassiter will be indicted for it.”

“And he’ll be out on bail again, just like this time. And what evidence can we give?” I said, my voice rising. I hadn’t meant to say—to think—my earlier words, but a crazed enthusiasm was taking over. Adrenaline flowed through my veins. “Joseph doesn’t remember a thing except for the lies we told him. And I’m on antipsychotics,” I said, my voice growing steadier and steadier. “No one’s going to believe us.”

Noah switched tactics, no doubt because I was right. In a low voice, he said, “I brought you because I trusted you. You don’t want to do this.”

As Noah asserted his knowledge of what I wanted, my mind rebelled. “Why not? I’ve killed people for less than murdering and butchering a teenage girl and kidnapping my baby brother.” I grew incomprehensibly giddy.

“And last week—that was you at peace with it, then?”

Noah’s words stopped me in my tracks. But then. “Maybe I’m a sociopath, but I don’t feel sorry about Mabel’s owner. At all.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Noah admitted. The muscles worked in his jaw. “Jude deserved it, too, you know.”

I tilted my head at him. “Did he? You say that because he almost hurt me—”

“He did hurt you,” Noah said, suddenly fierce. “Just because it could have been worse doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt you.”

“He didn’t rape me, Noah. He hit me. He kissed me. I killed him for that.”

Noah’s eyes darkened. “Good riddance.”

I shook my head. “You think that’s fair?” Noah said nothing, his eyes a thousand miles away. “Well, the way you feel about him is the way I feel about Lassiter.”

“No,” he said, as he turned off the highway on to a bustling street. I could see the courthouse in the distance. “There’s a difference. With Jude, you were alone and terrified and your mind reacted without you even knowing it. With him it was self-defense. With Lassiter—it would be an execution.”

The air swallowed his words as he let that sink in. Then he said, “There are other ways to solve that problem, Mara.”

Noah swung into the shaded parking lot next to the courthouse and cut the engine. We flew out of the car, my mind turning over his words as we ran up the courthouse steps.

There were other ways to solve the problem, Noah had said. But I knew they wouldn’t work.

58

I WAS BREATHLESS BY THE time we reached the wide glass front doors. After Noah went through the metal detector, I emptied my pockets into the little plastic bin and held out my arms so the security guard could wand me. I bounced a little on the balls of my feet, beyond anxious.

Our footsteps echoed down the enormous hall, mine following Noah’s, and I swung my head in both directions, checking the room numbers as I went. Noah stopped at room 213.

I wiped the sweat from my face with my sleeve. “Now what?”

Noah walked over to a hallway and made the first left. I hovered in the background as he spoke to a young guy sitting at the front desk. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I examined his face. It told me nothing.

When he was done, he returned to my side and began walking in the direction we came in. He didn’t say a word until we were outside, back on the courthouse steps.

“What happened?” I asked him.

“The jury’s been out for two hours.”

My feet turned to stone. I couldn’t move.

“It’s not too late,” Noah said, his voice quiet. “They may come back with a conviction. Hell, Florida’s a death penalty state. You might get lucky.”

I bristled at Noah’s tone. “He went after my brother, Noah. My family.”

Noah placed his hands on my shoulders and forced me to look at him. “I will protect him,” Noah said. I tried to turn away. “Look at me, Mara. I will find a way.”

I wanted to believe him. His confidence was unshakable, and it was tempting. But Noah was always sure. And he was sometimes wrong. In this case, I couldn’t afford it.

“You can’t protect him, Noah. This is not something you can fix.”

Noah opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off. “I’ve been so lost since Rachel died. I’ve tried to do the right things. With Mabel, Morales—I did everything the right way; calling Animal Control, telling the principal. But nothing worked until I did it my way,” I said, and my own words sparked something inside of me. “Because everything that’s happened—it’s been about me from the beginning. Understanding who I am and what I’m supposed to do. This is what I’m supposed to do. It’s what I have to do.”

Noah looked down, directly into my eyes. “No, Mara. I want to know why this is happening to us, too. But this isn’t going to help.”

I looked at Noah, incredulous. “It doesn’t matter for you, can’t you see that? So you get headaches and you see hurt people. What happens if you never figure it out? Nothing,” I said, and my voice cracked.

Noah’s eyes went flat. “Do you know what it means that we were able to help Joseph?”

I didn’t speak.

“It means the two others I saw were real. It means I didn’t help them and they died.”

I swallowed and tried to compose myself. “It’s not the same thing.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because now you know. Now you have a choice. I don’t. Unless I can channel it—use it, maybe, for a purpose—things will keep getting worse. I make everything worse.” A tear rolled down my burning cheek. I closed my eyes, and felt Noah’s fingers on my skin.

“You make me better.”

My chest cracked open at his words. I stared into Noah’s perfect face and tried to see what he saw. I tried to see us– not individually, not the arrogant, beautiful, reckless lost boy and the angry, broken girl—but what we were, who we were, together. I tried to remember holding his hand at my kitchen table and feeling for the first time since I’d left Rhode Island that I wasn’t alone in this. That I belonged.

Noah spoke again, cutting my thoughts short. “After you remembered, I saw what it did to you. It won’t compare to knowing you did it on purpose.” Noah closed his eyes and when he opened them, his expression was haunted. “You’re the only one who knows, Mara. The only person who knows me. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Maybe you won’t,” I said, but I was already gone. And when I looked at him, I saw that he knew it.

He reached for me anyway, one hand curving behind my neck, the other skimming my face.

He would kiss me, right now, after everything I’d done. I was poison, and Noah was the drug that would make me forget it.

So of course I couldn’t let him.

He saw it in my eyes, or maybe heard it in my heart, and dropped his hands from my body as he shifted back. “I thought you only wanted to be normal.”

I looked at the marble steps beneath my feet. “I was wrong,” I said, trying not to let my voice crack. “I have to be more than that. For Joseph.” And for Rachel. And for Noah, too, though I didn’t say it. Couldn’t say it.

“If you do this,” he said slowly, “you’ll become someone else.”

I looked up at Noah. “I already am someone else.”

And when he met my eyes, I knew that he saw it.

In seconds, he broke our stare and shook his head. “No,” he said to himself, then, “No, you’re not. You’re the girl who called me an asshole the first time we spoke. The girl who tried to pay for lunch even after you learned I had more money than God. You’re the girl who risked her ass to save a dying dog, who makes my chest ache whether you’re wearing green silk or ripped jeans. You’re the girl that I—” Noah stopped, then took a step closer to me. “You are my girl,” he said simply, because it was true. “But if you do this, you’ll be someone else.”

I struggled for air as my heart broke, knowing that it wouldn’t change what I had to do.

“I know you, Mara. I know everything. And I don’t care.”

I wanted to cry when he said it out loud. I wished that I could. But there were no tears. My voice was unexpectedly hard when I spoke.

“Maybe not today. But you will.”

Noah held my hand. The simplicity of the gesture moved me so much that I started to doubt.

“No,” Noah said. “You made me real, and I will hurt for you and because of you and be grateful for the pain. But this? This is forever. Don’t do this.”

I sat down on the steps, my legs too shaky to keep me upright. “If he’s found guilty, I won’t.”

“But if he’s acquitted—”

“I have to,” I said, my voice breaking. If he went free, he might go after my brother again. And I was the agent. I could stop it. I was the only one who could.

“I don’t have a choice.”

Noah sat down next to me, his expression grim. “You always have a choice.”

We said nothing for what seemed like hours. I sat on the unforgiving stone and the unnatural coolness of it penetrated my jeans. I turned the night of the collapse over and over again in my mind, until the thoughts and images whirled like a cyclone.

Like a cyclone. Rachel and Claire were caught up in my fury, which was too explosive, too wild to have any focus.

But that was not the case today.

When the doors clicked open behind us, we were up in an instant as a throng of people flooded the courthouse steps. Reporters with microphones, cameras, flashbulbs, and cameramen shining their painful lights in my father’s direction. He was in front.

Lassiter was behind him, beaming. Triumphant. Cool anger coursed through my veins as I watched him approach, followed by police. With guns in their holsters. And in an instant, I knew. I knew how to keep everyone else here safe while I punished Lassiter for what he tried to do. Before he could hurt anyone else.

My father made his way to a podium so close to where we stood, but I shifted out of his way, out of his field of vision. Noah held my hand, squeezed it, and I didn’t pull away. It didn’t matter.

Microphones jabbed at my father’s face, vying for dominance, but he took it all in stride. “I have a lot to say today, as I’m sure you can all guess,” my father said, and there was a murmur of laughter. “But the real winners here are my client, Leon Lassiter, and the people of Florida. Since I can’t hand over a microphone to the people of Florida, I’m going to let Leon say a few words.”

I saw the gun. The matte black metal was so plain and unremarkable. The metal was dull on my fingertips. The grooves on the grip dimpled my palm. It almost looked like a toy.

My father stepped out of the way, moving his head to the right, and Leon Lassiter’s took its place. I was right behind him.

It was strange the way it felt; the weight unfamiliar and somehow dangerous. I looked down the muzzle. Just a hole.

“Thank you, Marcus.” Lassiter smiled and clapped my father on the shoulder. “I am a man of few words, but I wanted to say two things. First, that I am grateful, so grateful, for my lawyer Marcus Dyer.”

I pointed the gun.

“He took time away from his life, his wife, his children to get justice for me, and I am not sure I’d be standing here right now if it wasn’t for him.”

Blackness seeped into my field of vision. I felt arms holding me, felt the brush of lips by my earlobe, but I heard nothing.

“Second, I want to tell the parents of Jordana—”

And then the oddest thing; before another thought appeared against the backdrop of my mind, someone began popping popcorn right there at the courthouse. Pop pop pop pop. The sound was so loud that my eardrums tickled. Then rang. Only then did I hear the screaming.

Moments later I could see again, and there were bowed heads, ducked and tucked under hands and knees. The hand holding mine was gone.

“Put the gun down!” someone shouted. “Put it down now!”

I was still standing. I looked straight ahead, straight in front of me, and saw a pale arm extended in my direction. Holding a gun.

It clattered to the steps. A wave of screams erupted with the bounce.

I didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of me. She was older, her face splotchy and red, with streaks of mascara trailing down her skin. Her finger pointed at me like an accusation.

I heard the voice of Rachel in my mind, the voice of my best friend.

“How am I going to die?”

“He killed her,” the woman said calmly. “He killed my baby.”

Officers surrounded the woman and gently, reverently placed her hands behind her back. “Cheryl Palmer, you have the right to remain silent.”

The piece semi-circled the board, sailing past A through K, and crept past L. It settled on M.

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Landed on A.

The sound died away, and the pressure lifted from my hand. I looked beside me, but Noah wasn’t there.

Zigzagged across the board, cutting Rachel’s laughter short. R.

Panic overcame me, threatened to pull me under as I searched for him with feral eyes. There was a flurry of activity to my right; a swarm of EMTs buzzing around the leaking body on the courthouse steps.

Then back to the beginning. To A

Noah knelt beside it. My knees almost buckled to see him alive, not shot. Relief flooded me, and I took another step just to be closer to him. But then I glimpsed the body lying on the ground. It was not Leon Lassiter.

It was my father.