“Didn’t you want it to be cool?”
“No,” she says, distracted, picking up a zebra-print pair of trousers. “No, I did not.” She smiles sweetly at me. “We’ve been invited across the road to the housewarming of Candy Crevan.”
“Candy Crevan is moving into the Tinders’?”
“Right beside her brother, to keep an eye on him through his difficult time,” Mom says, without a note of sarcasm, though I know it’s intended. “So I will go to her party, for your father’s sake, because she always likes to have the presence of an international model at her parties,” she says through gritted teeth. “And I will sashay up and down for all her party guests in my beautiful outfit. Give them all something to look at,” she grumbles. “I’ll tell them it’s the new season’s look. And then, hopefully, they’ll all rush out and all be looking like clowns by next week. I’ll show them what Flawless is all about.”
She pulls off the cardigan, aggressively, and fires the T-shirt to the far corner of the room and starts again, rooting through more boxes. Her toned arms and fists rid her of her tension, while her face still manages to look calm and serene. I’m still standing there looking at her, feeling shock by what she has said. Candy Crevan is Judge Crevan’s sister, who owns News 24, the news station my dad works for, and the Daily News, the newspaper Bob Tinder was famously recently fired from and that Pia works for. To have her directly across the road would be a disaster, is a disaster. They’re closing in on us. Them versus us.
I exit the bedroom and leave Mom to herself to figure it out, how best to continue her silent protest at the treatment of her daughter. I’m worried, but the overriding feeling is pride that she is trying to find her own way to rebel. There’s a first time for everything.
*
In the home study downstairs, I search through the filing cabinet for Mr. Berry’s invoice. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I need to see if there’s any hint, any code that would tell me where the video is, if he’s hidden it, or even better a copy of the video itself. I find the letter and take it out, my heart pumping.
The invoice is still in the envelope. I slide it out and study the pages. A cover letter explaining the breakdown of charges, a second page, which is the invoice, and a business card. I turn the business card over and find a phone number scribbled on the back. I pocket the card. No clues, no private messages, no hints as to where the video could be. It isn’t even signed by him, but by his secretary on his behalf. I look inside the envelope. It’s empty. I hold the pages up to the light, wondering if anything will reveal itself, but I’ve watched way too many mysteries. There’s nothing to be found. It’s just a regular bill.
I sit at the desk and open Carrick’s file.
There’s a photograph of him from the day he was taken into the Guild’s custody, and my stomach flips at the sight of him. His entire demeanor has succeeded in being captured in the photograph, those black eyes, broad shoulders, pumped arms, and chiseled jaw. He’s like a soldier. I run my finger across his face. I’m surprised by my physical reaction to seeing him. I only knew him for two days and we never really spoke, yet … I feel such a connection to him.
My ghost is about to have a name, age, and address.
But the file is as enigmatic as the man. All the file reveals to me is that my ghost is eighteen-year-old Carrick Vane and his status is F.A.B., which I’ve no idea what that means. I take a guess that it’s similar to AWOL, because despite being found guilty of being Flawed, and branded on his chest for disloyalty to society, and being appointed a Whistleblower, he failed to appear for any of his tests and is AWOL.
I hope Crevan didn’t find Carrick, but that Carrick found a crack.
FIFTY-TWO