The Chaos Crew: Killer Heart (Chaos Crew #3) – Chapter 6

THE SPREAD of food across the Maliks’ outdoor dining table looked more like a Thanksgiving feast than a basic luncheon with close family, although the options were more suited for a summery meal than a fall one. Chunks of watermelon and pineapple lay in large ceramic bowls next to sweetly creamy dips. Sandwiches cut into bite-sized pieces stood heaped on platters. Each placemat had a glass on the top filled to the brim with what looked like a frozen red juice.

It was all so… extravagant. But then maybe my frame of reference was off considering that I’d only ever eaten alone for all the meals I could remember until just a few weeks ago.

“Did you bring a bathing suit, Rachel?” my mother asked, following behind me and Carter as we approached the patio table.

I eyed the large pool and the stone patio surrounding it. Lounge chairs and pool inflatables littered the patio. From the new assortment of towels draped over the porch railing, it looked like the family had made use of the pool earlier this morning in the late summer warmth.

“I don’t really swim,” I admitted.

I could swim, of course. It’d been a part of my training with Noelle. But if I wore a bathing suit, way too many of my scars would be exposed. I wondered how my mother would react to them, no matter what excuses I came up with to explain them away. I’d told the Maliks that the people who’d kidnapped me had treated me like one of their own, and it would be suspicious to change up the story now.

I was wondering a whole lot of things, really. After my phone call with the man who called himself the Hunter, it was hard to take this cheery family get-together at face value. Had he discovered something about the Maliks that should make me concerned? What could they possibly be up to?

Or had he just been trying to create tensions for his own bizarre agenda? I had no idea who that man was.

Of course, the truth was I barely knew who any of these people were either.

I glanced at Grandma Ruby and Grandpa Bo, the only other Maliks in attendance today, who’d followed us over to the table. Grandma Ruby had her nose turned up at the feast waiting for us as if she found it wanting. I couldn’t imagine what it was missing, but then, Damien’s mother seemed to enjoy criticizing whatever she could. And she got worse on days like today when her son had been called into work. I wasn’t sure whether I felt more or less at ease without my father among us.

“Well, everyone take a seat.” My mother pointed to one of the trays of small sandwiches. “I made sure to have some pepperoni and cheese sandwiches made special for you, Carter. Rachel, do you have a sandwich preference?”

I wanted to laugh. I’d never been offered options. At the household, they’d given me whatever they pleased, and I was expected to eat it or starve. With the guys, I’d grabbed whatever I found in the refrigerator or what Steffie, their housekeeper and general assistant, made for us.

“I’m not picky,” I said with a small shrug. “I’ll eat pretty much anything.”

Did Carter make a bit of a face as he sat down? I hoped he didn’t think I was implying anything negative about him having his own favorites. His shoulders rounded into their typical slouch in his chair, and I hesitated before taking the seat next to him. Sometimes he joked around with me a little, but sometimes he seemed like he’d rather I wasn’t around.

It had to be pretty weird having a big sister drop out of the sky without any warning. I couldn’t blame him for being a bit awkward.

“Maybe I’ll try the pepperoni and cheese if you can spare some,” I said to him, shooting him a smile. “I do like pizza.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into half a smile. “These are the closest things I can get to it at one of these dos.”

Our grandparents sat across from us, and my mother sank down at my other side. She looked around the table, and a smile stretched across her face. “Wow. I could have never imagined this in my wildest dreams. Sitting at lunch with my family, my daughter at my side. My son a seat down. Damien’s parents across from us. I’m so grateful.”

She sounded a bit choked up by the end of that speech. Even if the Hunter had sown some doubts in my mind about the Maliks in general, I was completely sure that my parents were grateful to have me back in their lives. Iris got close to tears at least once during every visit, and I could never tell what the best response would be.

Today, I ventured a touch of my hand on top of hers. She flipped her hand and squeezed my fingers, and I knew I’d judged the situation correctly. The physical contact put me a little on edge, but it seemed to soothe her as she took a deep breath.

“I don’t think any of us could have predicted how happy we’d be, Iris,” Grandma Ruby said, piling watermelon on her plate and sprinkling a generous amount of salt on top. Her gaze veered to the garden. It was full of blooms with narrow yellow petals around a dark center. I didn’t know much about flowers, but they appeared to be in excellent health to me. Vibrant in a wild sort of way.

“You need to get out there and pull those weeds,” my grandmother remarked. “They’re taking away the effect of the black-eyed susans.”

“I think it looks really nice with a little wildness in there,” I said, trying to offset the criticism of her statement.

My mother waved my protest off. “No, she’s right. I haven’t been out to pull weeds in the flower beds for a couple of weeks. It’s about time.”

“You don’t have a gardener?” I asked.

I never would have imagined my mother pulling the weeds from the garden on her own. I glanced over at her perfectly manicured nails—not a chip in sight.

She laughed. “Oh, we do have a groundskeeper who sees to all the yard work, but that garden is an important symbol to the family. I like to handle it myself. Black-eyed susans symbolize justice, you know, and so much of our work—especially your father’s—goes toward bringing more of that into the world.”

“Look at how well they grow for our family,” Grandma Ruby said, gesturing to the lush garden. “We’re clearly doing a good job of it. They couldn’t be in better bloom.” She paused. “Well, maybe a little better without the weeds.”

“I’ll get on that this evening, Ruby,” mom said with a genuine smile. She must be used to the nagging after nearly three decades of marriage into the family.

Other than the nagging, all of these people seemed so… nice. Even Carter’s awkwardness came across as more shy than hostile. Maybe it was because the idea of them having some nefarious side seemed so absurd that I couldn’t get the Hunter’s warnings out of my mind.

If he’d been lying, why? Why would he have it in for the Maliks? He hadn’t appeared to know anything about my past, so I had no reason to think he was connected to the household, but a man as high up in politics as Damien Malik could definitely have made more than one enemy.

As I chewed on one of the pepperoni and cheese sandwiches, which actually were pretty good, I considered how I could get at whether the family might be aware of this man’s vigilance.

“I heard some people talking about hunting when I was at a corner store in town yesterday,” I said, making up the story as an excuse to broach the subject. It seemed like something Garrison would do to get people talking. If the gambit worked, I’d have to let him know his influence had rubbed off well on me. “Is that a common hobby around here?”

“Oh, sure.” Grandpa Bo nodded, speaking up for the first time. He mostly seemed to let his wife do the talking between the two of them. Given her personality, maybe that wasn’t surprising. “Every couple of years I go out with a few of my buddies, and we bring back a buck or two.”

Carter grimaced and gave a little shudder, and my mother shook her head. “Let’s not discuss that at the table while we’re eating.” She glanced at me. “Carter saw him bring back one of those deer when he was younger and just thinking about it makes him queasy.”

“I’m fine,” Carter mumbled, but he did look a bit green. “I just prefer my animals either alive or already in a form where you can’t tell what they were before they made it to the grocery store.” He waggled his sandwich in the air to indicate the pepperoni.

I raised my eyebrows slightly. “I guess you all don’t spend a whole lot of time with avid hunters then.” I motioned to Grandpa Bo. “What are your buddies like? The hunters who go with you? I’ve never known anyone who was into that kind of pastime.”

Grandpa Bo chuckled. “Between you and me, they’re all old men who like to shoot their mouths off more than they like to hunt. One is nearly deaf, and one can’t walk through the woods for more than ten minutes without needing a breather. The two of them live in Ohio, so they only come around when we plan a trip.”

I resisted the urge to clench my jaw in frustration. The man on the phone had shown no sign of hearing problems, and he’d seemed very familiar with the city. He also hadn’t sounded as old as my grandfather.

“Does Damien—my dad—ever go with you?” I had to ask.

Grandpa Bo laughed again and patted Ruby’s hand. “My son has never been interested in hunting, and he certainly has never asked to go with me.”

Well, it was totally possible that the Hunter’s moniker had nothing to do with any interest in hunting animals, only his penchant for hunting down information. I switched tactics. “I guess Dad has to stay pretty conscious of the image he presents even on his down time. Maybe all of you do. Do you find you’re under a lot of scrutiny because of his political career?”

“Oh, it’s nothing we can’t handle,” Iris said quickly. “We’re proud to see how much he’s accomplished.” Then she paused. “But you’ve been thrown into the mix out of the blue. If you find anyone’s bothering you, you only have to let us know. We can help you navigate those waters. And I know your father has already been working to ensure no one intrudes too much on our privacy despite the investigation into your kidnapping.”

“He has,” I acknowledged. “I’ve actually been okay.”

Members of the FBI had questioned me, and I’d given them an expanded version of the story I’d told Damien, saying that I had no idea where I’d been held and that I’d escaped when my usual caretaker had taken me on a trip and our van was attacked. It was an easy way to avoid having to point to any locations where I’d supposedly lived. I didn’t want them digging too closely into the real details of my life, or they might uncover more about me than I was ready to share.

My mother had seemed awfully eager to respond to that question, though. And Grandpa Bo had been quick to dismiss my inquiries about hunting. Was it possible they didn’t want me digging too deeply into the inner workings of the family?

I shook myself mentally. That was ridiculous. The Hunter’s words had gotten under my skin and made me overly suspicious.

“If you feel it’d be easier living closer to home…” my mother ventured. “I realize you might not be comfortable moving in here, although of course you’d be welcome. But we could see about setting you up with accommodation closer by. I’m not sure how nice a place you’ve been able to arrange on your own.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” I said. “I’m happy where I am.”

“I just know that hotels can be so expensive around here, and not always all that comfortable. And we’ve gone years without being able to support you the way we should have been.”

“Most of the hotels around here are shitholes,” Grandma Ruby announced. “Your mother’s just too polite to say it outright. You really should be with family.”

Iris winced. “Ruby, language.”

I wanted to laugh at the way she looked offended. The curse word had flown right by me, especially after spending so long with the Crew. The foul language that came from their mouths would have sent my mother into an early grave. I made a mental note to make sure nothing similar fell out of my mouth around her.

“I’m only saying the truth,” Grandma Ruby said with a huff.

“I promise, I’m fine,” I said before the conversation could become a full-out argument between my mother and her mother-in-law. “I enjoy where I’m staying. And I… I’m proud of how I pulled myself back onto my feet when I escaped the people who took me, and I prefer to have some independence for now. I went too long without having any.”

It was immediately obvious that I’d played the right card—so obvious a jab of guilt hit me in the gut. My mother’s eyes clouded with grief before she nodded. “I understand that. If you need anything, though, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

I gave her a grateful smile. “I appreciate that.” The emotional direction our talk had taken left my skin itching. And I still hadn’t found out anything that could convince me one way or another about the Hunter’s intentions.

I had one more strategy I’d meant to employ, one that didn’t involve any talking at all. “Would you mind if I went inside and used the restroom?” I asked.

“Oh, by all means. You remember where to find it, right?”

I stood with a bob of my head. “I believe so. I’ll be right back.”

Thankfully, no one offered to join me on my trek into the house. The second I stepped past the door, I darted down the hall to maximize the time I had before they started wondering why I was taking so long.

First I closed the door on the downstairs bathroom so it’d look like someone was inside. Then I slipped up the stairs. I’d already seen all of the rooms on the ground floor, but there were a few upstairs that I hadn’t been shown into. My parents’ and Carter’s bedrooms I wouldn’t expect to get a tour of, but what was behind the third?

The door at the front of the house led to the master bedroom, and Carter’s had a cheeky DO NOT ENTER sign pasted on it. I’d bet Iris just loved that. But hey, he was a teenager. Pissing off his parents was his job, as far as I’d gathered from my limited TV and movie consumption.

I never really had the option to piss anyone off while I was a teenager living in the household. Not that I’d had parents there anyway.

Two doors down from that was one of dark wood with a knob that jarred at my twisting hand. Locked, as I’d expected.

Because I’d expected it, I’d come prepared. I pulled two small pins from my hair—an excellent hiding place for these basic tools—and stuck both into the lock, using one for leverage. I felt my way around the mechanism in a matter of seconds, jerked one of the pins, and the contraption gave with a click, the bolt sliding over.

I palmed both pins and pushed the door open.

The sharp smell of masculine cologne wafted over me, and I recognized the scent my father often wore. It lingered in this room as if he spent a lot of time in it.

Which I’d guess he did. The space was clearly a home office, with built-in bookshelves along two walls and a sturdy mahogany desk stacked with papers—a little more haphazardly than I’d have imagined my straightlaced father would have stood for. I glanced over them carefully, getting a sense of a personal system of organization that I couldn’t decipher immediately.

The wall behind the desk held several framed photos, a few of family, others of important work events, including one where Damien had met a previous president and shaken his hand. I took out my phone and snapped a few pictures as my gaze skimmed over them. My attention settled on a larger frame to the right of the photos.

This frame held a piece of parchment that was yellowed with age, though otherwise in excellent condition. It held a column of writing in brown ink, most of the characters symbols I didn’t recognize. Next to those symbols were an ascending sequence of four-digit numbers: 1903, 1904, 1905… all the way to 1928.

Were those years? Why did my father have a paper about something from a century ago in his office? Did it have some political or historical significance? Nothing about it made sense to me, and that unnerved me just a little.

I took a picture of that document too, just in case the guys knew what to make of it.

I only spent another few seconds scanning the surfaces in the room before backing into the hallway and relocking it. I was running out of time, and I couldn’t risk someone finding me snooping around. I padded back down the stairs quietly and turned toward where my family waited for me outside, taking a brief detour to open the downstairs bathroom again.

The sunlight had just started beaming straight through the bathroom’s large, glazed window. It streaked across the hallway on an angle. As I walked through the swath of brighter light, my eyes caught on a detail on the floor that made me pause.

Something about the carpet by the wall just a few feet down from the bathroom was… different from the surface around it. Just a tad flatter than the rest. A slight indent that was a ghost of the more obvious wear in front of the bathroom door I’d just left behind.

As if there was another doorway here that had seen periodic traffic.

All I could see next to that spot was a seamless wall with its striped red-and-gray wallpaper. I frowned, tilting my head to the side as I stepped in to take a closer look—and my mother’s voice echoed through the house.

“Rachel, are you all right?”

I jerked back my reaching hand as if I’d been burned. I couldn’t delay here any longer. Besides, there might not be anything unusual about the spot I’d noticed at all. Maybe a piece of furniture like a side table had once stood there, and it’d caused the wear.

“I’m coming,” I called, forcing my voice to sound friendly. I turned on my heel and strode back toward the lunch my family had prepared for me.

I’d found nothing. Nothing to prove the Hunter’s warnings right, and all possible evidence that I had a loving, concerned family.

I couldn’t let myself get so paranoid that I wrecked everything good I’d found for myself over the ravings of a stranger.