The Twin Missing From the Family Photo novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Good Girl

Trevor arrives at her office with flowers and tells everyone she has episodes. She says no in public and Talbot removes his hand from her wrist.

Trevor was sitting in the lobby of Ward Trail Co. at eight forty the next morning, holding a bunch of yellow roses.

He had flown overnight and he looked it.

His quarter-zip was creased, and his eyes were red.

He still looked like the nicest man in the building.

That had always been his best quality, and it had always been a problem.

"Nor!" He stood up with his arms open.

Three people from the sales team were waiting for the elevator.

The receptionist stopped typing.

I stayed where I was, six feet away, with my badge in my hand.

"Why are you here, Trevor?"

"Babe, you don't have to do this." His voice dropped, but not enough. "I talked to your mom. I know how bad it's been."

"I told you not to come."

"You told me a lot of things last night." He turned to the receptionist with a sad smile. "I'm sorry about this. She's been having a hard time since her sister got sick."

"She's not sleeping. She has these episodes."

I felt the whole lobby turn its head.

"I don't have episodes," I said.

"See, that's what she says." He said it gently, to the room. "I'm just taking her home to her family. They love her very much."

Then he turned back to me and held out the roses.

"Come on, good girl. Let's go get your things."

There was a time when that voice would have worked.

Three years of it had worked. Every time I wanted something, he had said it in exactly that tone, and I had put the thing down.

I looked at the roses.

I thought about the woman at the fountain, and about the deleted photo.

I thought about the word I had said to my mother the day before, and how it had felt in my mouth.

"No," I said.

Trevor blinked.

"Carrie."

"No, Trevor. I'm not going home. I'm not getting my things. I don't have episodes, and you don't get to tell these people I do."

"Okay, okay." He smiled again. It was thinner. "You're upset. We can talk about it in the car."

He reached out and took my wrist.

It was not a hard grip at first.

It tightened when I pulled back.

"Let's not do this here," he whispered, and his thumb dug into the bone.

Somebody behind me said, "Hey."

I did not turn around, because I already knew the voice.

Talbot Ward crossed the lobby.

He did not touch Trevor's shoulder or raise his voice.

He took hold of Trevor's thumb and bent it back, very slightly, until Trevor's hand came off my wrist.

"Ow! What the hell?"

"Her wrist has a bruise on it now," Talbot said. "That's the only reason I'm not calling the police."

His voice was flat and quiet, the same voice he had used on my mockup.

Trevor rubbed his hand and looked around for allies.

The sales team had gone very still.

The receptionist had her phone in her hand, and the screen was lit.

"Who are you?" Trevor asked.

"I own the building you're standing in."

"This is a private family matter."

"Then you should have had it in private." Talbot nodded at the glass doors. "You can leave on your own, or two people from receiving can help you."

Trevor looked at me.

For a second his face was not kind at all.

It lasted only a second, and then the warmth came back.

"You'll regret this," he said softly, so that only I could hear. "Your dad is a very important man, Nor. He's not going to let you throw it all away."

He dropped the roses on the reception desk and left.

The doors hissed shut behind him.

Nobody in the lobby said anything.

My wrist was throbbing, and I could see four red marks coming up where his fingers had been.

"Show's over," Talbot said to the room. "Elevator's here."

The sales team got in and found something to look at on the floor.

The receptionist was still holding her phone, and her eyes were wet.

"Carrie," she said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay."

I wasn't, but it was a lie that I could stand on.

Talbot was still looking at the doors.

When he turned to me, there was a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"My office," he said. "Bring your coffee."

"Am I in trouble?"

"No."

"Are you firing me for the scene?"

"I don't fire people for being grabbed." He pressed the elevator button for me, and stood back to let me go first. "I fire them for lying to me."

I stepped inside.

He followed and watched the numbers change.

On the fourth floor he spoke without looking at me.

"That man told a whole lobby you were unwell. You told them no, and they believed you."

"Yes."

"Tell me what he's lying about."

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