Frustrated, she rubbed her fingers into her temples. Even if she found her diary, she wasn’t sure she’d trust it now, written in her own handwriting or not. “You can’t track a SIM card,” she said again, but he was dead serious, and a sliver of worry cooled her anger.
“Maybe.” His gaze went distant behind her. She’d accuse him of girl-watching, but she was doing the same thing as she scanned the floor for Allen or Bill—or anyone who looked too perfect. “It takes a while to zero in on a tracker. Even if you’re tagged, we probably have some time.” His eyes flicked to hers. “Seeing as you broke Allen’s kneecap and fingers.”
She winced at his accusing tone, remembering Allen’s face pale under his black curls when she snapped them. “Fingers, yes. Kneecap … I didn’t hit him that hard. Forgive me if I didn’t want to end up in the back of a white panel van.”
Silas held up a hand in acknowledgment, and she relaxed. “Yeah. I got that part. Here.”
Her emotions swirled as he reached for his wallet and took out a handful of bills, making her feel as if she was at the mall with her mom. Holy crap, my mom. Allen had said she’d called her last week. She didn’t remember it, and the need to hear her mother’s voice almost hurt.
“I’d rather you use cash,” Silas said as she punched in her mother’s number. It probably hadn’t changed. “Get yourself outfitted for light travel. And I mean light.” He did a double take, realizing the phone was to her ear. “What are you doing?”
“I’m calling my mom.”
“Are you crazy?” he blurted, reaching for it.
He pulled it from her ear, but she refused to let go, and they both held the phone over the middle of the table, neither one giving in. Peri could hear a woman’s voice on the end of the connection, and her face warmed. “You like that hand?” Peri said tightly. “You want to keep it?”
There was no easy way for Opti to track them down through her mother, especially through a new phone, and knowing it, Silas let go. Mollified, Peri lifted her chin and brought it to her ear. “Hi, I’m Belle Marshal,” Peri said, using the name of one of her mother’s longtime friends. “Can I talk to Caroline Reed, please? I can hold.”
“I’m sorry,” the voice on the other end said. “Mrs. Reed doesn’t have phone privileges.”
Peri’s lips parted in surprise. “Yes she does. I talked to her last week,” she said, and across from her, Silas grimaced.
“No,” the woman said again. “She hasn’t had a phone for over a year now. Who is this?”
Breath shaking on her exhale, Peri hung up. “Allen said I talked to her on Friday.”
“He lied,” Silas said sourly. “Everyone lies to keep you content and happy.”
Her eyes flicked up. “Funny. It only makes me pissed.” She hadn’t talked to her mother in over a year? A feeling of having been remiss slithered over her as Silas set a small stack of hundreds on the table. That’s right. I need to go shopping. But her earlier enthusiasm was gone. “You want me to pick you up anything?” she said as she stood, wanting to get away from his pity.
Still subdued, he shrugged. “You first. If no one shows, I might get a new toothbrush. If your phone rings, leave and meet me at the car dealership. The big one with the tent.”
Taking the cash, she jammed it into her pants pocket. “What if I draft?” she said, still trying to wrap her head around her mother. “It’s not hard to lose ten minutes.”
Nodding, Silas took the pen from his breast pocket and clicked it open. He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. Even though she’d thought to do the same thing to herself, it still felt degrading when he wrote CAR DEALERSHIP on her palm. It both tickled and hurt, and she made a fist to hide it when he let go.
“Brilliant,” she said sarcastically as she left her hat and coat on the back of the chair.
Silas hunched over the dirty plates. “You’ve got ten minutes.”
“I can’t outfit myself in ten minutes. I can barely buy underwear in ten minutes, and I need a new coat, pair of pants. And a sweater, apparently.”
“Fine!” His brow furrowed as he began piling the remnants of dinner on top of each other. “Take my ten minutes as well. I don’t need anything like Ms. Princess does.”
“Yeah? You see those shoes falling?” she said in a huff, but her eyes jerked to Silas’s. Why had she said that? He seemed as surprised as she was, but then he shrugged.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his mood clearly soured. “It’s a, ah … Jack thing.”
He was lying, about what she couldn’t tell. “A Jack thing?” she said, hand on the table.