“Didn’t you even think about us? Your family?” The tears started to fall, hot and heavy. “I don’t want to move. I don’t want to run away or be someone else again. I want to be normal and do normal things!” Her voice was getting high and sharp. No one ever yelled in their house, but Riley didn’t care. “I’m not going to move. I didn’t ask for any of this!”
Riley’s mother stepped in, the set of her jaw stern. “None of us did, Riley. There wasn’t any choice.”
Riley’s breath was coming in short bursts that pushed against her chest. “You could have chosen not to lie to me.”
Her father took a steadying breath. “You didn’t know any different. We thought it would be easier—and safer—for you.”
“But my life—you ruined my life! I can’t do anything. I can’t go out for cheerleading—”
“And your father and I can’t see or talk to our family. It’s been hard on all of us, Ry. We had to leave our home and nearly everything in it in the middle of the night. We could only take what we could carry. I wasn’t supposed to take the birth certificate.” Her voice broke on the last words. “I shouldn’t have. We were the Spencers from California. Your father ran a print shop. I was a stay-at-home mom and you were Riley Allen Spencer.” Riley’s mother gave Riley a half smile as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“And I wasn’t named after your friend or your family. I was named after a dead baby.” A sob broke in Riley’s chest. “And now you’re going to make me do it again.”
“If there was any other way, turnip…”
Riley felt herself flinch. Even her father’s pet name for her—usually so reassuring, annoying but reassuring—sounded wrong. Did the FBI tell him to call her that? Is that what the real Riley Allen was called? She shuddered, the tears coming harder.
“I’m sorry, Ry-Pie.”
The adults moved around the room doing things Riley couldn’t focus on. She sat there, silent, pressing her thin shoulders back against the cool wood of the high-backed dining room chair. Shelby called three more times; Riley only knew because she switched the phone to vibrate and shoved it under her leg as she sat, staring. Eventually, her mother came and patted her on the back, saying something in the soothing voice she used when Riley was sick. Riley let her heap some more spaghetti onto her plate. She eyed her father, and he offered a small smile then went back to eating. She wanted to look away from him but couldn’t tear her eyes away. She stared at his bent head as he ate.
Riley’s cell phone went again, this time thudding wildly as it flopped onto the ground.
“Sorry,” she breathed. She glanced down at the readout, her eyebrows going up. It wasn’t Shelby this time; it was JD. Riley looked around the table and knew she didn’t dare answer.
Deputy Hempstead carefully set down his knife and fork, lacing his fingers together. “Your service is going off tomorrow. I’m sorry, Ry, but it’s safer this way.”
“And one day I’ll understand,” Riley muttered under her breath.
“What was that?”
“Right. Cell service off tomorrow. Can I at least tell my friends they can call the house or is that taboo too?”
The muscle in her father’s jaw jumped and Riley knew the answer.
“So that service is going off too. What am I supposed to tell my friends?”
“You’re not going to tell them anything, Ry.” Her father’s eyes were dark and fierce, and Riley felt her heartbeat speed up. “Understand?”
She didn’t but nodded anyway.
“I won’t be your handler at your new location,” Deputy Hempstead said.
Riley stared at her spaghetti. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not moving.”
Gail cleared her throat and put her hand on Riley’s. “Jane—”
Riley snapped. “Don’t call me that! I’m not Jane—I’ve never been Jane! My name is Riley.”
“Calm down, Riley.” Her father was standing, his cheeks flushed. He, more than anyone Riley knew, hated confrontation. “It’s going to be OK.”
“I know this can’t be easy, Riley”—Gail carefully enunciated her name—“but you really don’t have a choice. You’ll make new friends—”
Anger bubbled under Riley’s skin. “This is not about my friends, Gail, this is about my life.”
“Riley Allen Spencer! Gail is a guest in our home. You will not speak to her like that.” Her father’s eyes were sharp, his nostrils slightly flared.
A tense silence filled the room.
“Why don’t you go up to your room and get a few things together?” Riley’s mother may have been talking to her, but she didn’t look up from her plate.
Riley stomped up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door. She flopped on the floor and yanked out her laptop, staring at the throbbing cursor on the search engine bar.
She started this.
She could finish it.
Before she could consider how she was going to finish the ordeal, her phone blasted again.
“My God,” Riley grumbled. “Shel?”
“Uh, no, it’s JD. I take it you haven’t seen the news.”
Riley pulled her hand over her face, thumbing away the last of her tears. “That’s a weird hello.”