Overtaken (2 page)

He rose to his feet and hugged me tightly. “Where did you disappear to so early this morning? I had no idea if something happened to you.”

His long, muscular arms enveloped me in a cocoon of welcome paternal warmth.

“I'm fine,” I replied, finally breaking free from his embrace. “I just had to get out of the house and clear my head.” I didn't offer up any other specifics.

“And is it cleared? Your head?” He leaned forward, his expression tentative and worried.

“To be honest . . . no,” I answered bluntly. “If fact, nothing seems clearer to me today than yesterday. Not about you. Or about anything else that's happened.”

“The most important thing right now for both of us,” he reinforced, looking directly at me, “is that we keep our secrets secret. And stick close to home.”

“Does that mean I shouldn't leave the house at all?” Did he know something important that he wasn't telling me?

“Just let me know where you're going. Until this Maya thing blows over and Chase gets released from the hospital.”

“So Chase is going to be okay?” I had to admit I was relieved about that bit of bright news.

“Looks as though he'll make a full recovery. Though he's still pretty out of it,” Dad replied, slipping naturally into his doctor mode. “Which is no surprise, given that he's been in a coma for two days.”

“Does he remember anything about what happened?” I pressed, still worried about what it meant for Maya and her future.

“No. But that doesn't mean Chase won't recover his memory. Eventually.”

The implication was clear. There was a ticking clock. I knew the longer it took for Chase to remember, the safer Maya would be. Until then, it was up to Oliver, Jackson, and me to keep Maya's secret—even from my father. It seemed to be the wisest course of action, where my father's safety was concerned.

In the meantime, my father thought the best course of action for me was not to do anything rash or call undue attention to myself.

“Just be observant and try to act normal.”

“Normal,” I muttered with a bemused chuckle. I'd almost forgotten what that was.

“An alien concept, I know,” my dad replied. “But do your best.”

I promised to do as he asked. And he promised to continue working Cochran and Bar Tech from the inside. His main focus was to ferret out whether I or anyone else was in imminent danger of being identified by the security-goon squad. My father kept reiterating how important it was that we worked together—as a team.

In the spirit of domestic cooperation, the one new fact I did offer up to my dad was about Dana Fox's sudden return to Barrington.

“She's back?” he asked, genuinely surprised by my revelation and looking a bit disconcerted.

“I met her this morning.” I didn't elaborate on any of the specifics, but I couldn't help expressing my nagging doubt. “Though her sudden reappearance does seem suspicious to me.” Of course, I deliberately failed to mention anything about my complicated relationship with Jackson to my dad.

“Agreed,” my father admitted, nodding his head as he processed this latest wrinkle. “I doubt it's just a coincidence.”

I doubted it, too. Timing was everything. And I intended to find out exactly what brought Dana back to Barrington.

Which was why, just a few hours later, I was standing in the middle of Dana's impromptu homecoming bash. What better place to start digging for answers than in her own backyard?

•  •  •

“I don't know what the hell is happening,” Jackson whispered in my ear somewhat forbiddingly as he walked up behind me. He had on his old navy and burgundy school jacket, which I'd never seen him wear at all.

“Makes two of us,” I remarked truthfully, trying my best to keep a stoic expression.

“I was so sure I'd never see Dana again,” Jackson confessed.

“And yet here she is.” I was desperate to get everything out in the open between the two of us. “Don't you have questions?” The floodgates opened, and so did my mouth. “Where she's been? Why has she never contacted you? Did her disappearance have anything to do with Bar Tech?”

“Of course I have questions, Nica,” he countered, obviously angered by my insinuating tone but keeping his voice low so others couldn't hear what we were talking about. “I just need to give her time to open up.”

“Time? Last night we were running for our lives,” I snapped back, reminding him of the imminent danger that surrounded us. “And tonight we're partying?”

Before Jackson had a chance to respond, Dana abruptly interrupted us, flashing her big, warm grin. “You guys having fun?”

Jackson and I exchanged tense looks.

“Can't believe how quickly you pulled this all together in just a few hours,” Jackson interjected, hoping to diffuse the awkwardness that hung in the air.

“You know me. Where there's a will, there's a way,” Dana flipped back playfully. “Can't believe how much I've missed everyone.”

“And everyone seems to have missed you,” I replied in my sincerest voice. “Judging by the turnout.”

Dana scanned the big crowd. Everyone seemed to be having fun. “I'm touched to know that people didn't forget about me,” she said, humbly patting her heart with her right hand. “I'm just sorry that Maya's not here.”

I stole a glance at Jackson, desperate for guidance.

What do we say about Maya's disappearance?

“Yeah, too bad,” Jackson said, all cool and calm. “Haven't seen her since school the other day. I don't know where she is.”

“Well, I'm happy everyone else came. And I know we only just met, Nica,” Dana added with a warm smile, “but I'm so glad you came too.”

“Thanks for including me.” I smiled back, relieved to be off Maya but also determined not to reveal even the slightest hint that I might not trust Dana.

“Now, if you don't mind,” Dana said, slipping her arm through Jackson's, “I need to steal this guy for a few.”

“Steal away,” I retorted dryly, my eyes lingering on Jackson, wondering what he was thinking.

Jackson looked back at me, giving me a subtle nod, knowing we had much more to discuss. “Catch you later, Nica.”

I nodded and watched Dana lead Jackson over to her suddenly effusive parents, who embraced him like a long-lost relative or future son-in-law—instead of the persona non grata he'd been since Dana's disappearance. I could read from Jackson's stiff body language that he was being polite but skeptical. He didn't seem to be buying their abrupt conversion any more than I was.

While everyone gorged on barbecue chicken wings and pasta salad, I felt claustrophobic and forced my way outside. The cold, crisp Colorado air hit my lungs. I needed to clear my head and try to think, which I seemed to be having a lot of trouble doing lately. I breathed deeply and looked up at the sky. Because of the altitude and our relative isolation, the sky was dotted with thousands of tiny stars. It was so beautiful.

“Everything okay out here, Nica?” A sweet voice expressed concern.

Busted, I spun around to see that none other than the hostess of the party, Dana Fox, had come outside to check up on me with a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

“Yes, fine,” I sheepishly replied to Dana, taking the mug from her with a grateful smile. I was completely mortified at being found out. “Just needed some fresh air.”

Dana furrowed her brow, definitely unconvinced. “You're going to freeze your ass off.” Her arms were crossed and she was rubbing them briskly to keep warm. The sweater she wore over black leggings seemed to help.

“That wouldn't necessarily be such a bad thing,” I joked, turning my head as I pretended to check out the size of my butt in my favorite black jeans.

Dana laughed and shook her head in casual dismay. “Anyone ever tell you you're—no offense—the tiniest bit crazy? And I mean that in a good way.”

“I seem to recall the expression nut job being bandied about by various shrinks.”

“Ugh, I hate shrinks,” replied Dana. “All they ever want you to do is yak, yak, yak about bullshit. Just leave me alone.”

“You went to one?” I was surprised by her admission. I hadn't seen that one coming at all. But I used the unexpected opening to do a bit of snooping.

“Please,” she remarked with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Who hasn't?”

“The curse of our generation,” I quipped, trying to engage her and create a sympathetic bond.

“Tell me about it. My overprotective parents had me see this very nice woman in Denver last year. Specialized in teenagers. She meant well. Such a huge time suck.”

“My mom sent me to one when I was ten,” I confessed. “To make sure I was coping with my parents' divorce. What was your problem,” I gently pressed, “if you don't mind me asking?”

“No big deal really.” Dana shrugged and shook her head. “Jackson and I were going through . . . a rocky patch. Things just got too intense between us.”

Her version of events certainly matched the official story I'd heard when I'd first arrived in Barrington.

“And that's why you left town,” I probed, hoping to get some additional insight or clue about those missing months when she was away.

“I stayed with cousins in Connecticut. Anyway, old news,” she declared with a sigh and an exasperated roll of the eyes, “because I'm back to stay.” Signaling she didn't want to discuss the matter any further.

I was about to probe a little deeper into Dana's time away when a gang of her BFFs from cheerleading, Annie, Emily, Maddie, and Jaden, suddenly came outside and surrounded her.

“Here you are,” squealed Jaden. “The party's inside! C'mon!”

And the girls dragged a laughing, protesting Dana by the arms back into the jam-packed pool house.

I wasn't exactly sure if Dana had told me the truth and nothing but the truth about her time away, but it was a beginning I intended to build upon.

•  •  •

Dana's party finally started to wind down around eight forty-five p.m. My father was on call at the hospital and insisted on picking me up, even though Oliver's mother had offered to drive me home. With everything so uncertain, I had wanted to skip Dana's party so that we could continue strategizing, but my father had practically ordered me to attend. I hoped it was because he saw us as a clandestine father-daughter
Alias
spy duo. Except without the exotic and glamorous locations.

Exactly where that left my mother in this complex equation, I had no clue. To be honest, I was so wrapped up in my own personal angst and turmoil over my life that I couldn't worry about her. Paranoia and caution had gotten the better of me. It was hard for them not to. Instead, I chose to send a brief, bland e-mail filling Lydia in on my classes (I used “fine” a lot), extracurricular school activities (busy supporting our football team in the playoffs), and my hectic social life. I told myself it was better this way, that I was protecting my mother. What could she possibly do all the way from Antarctica anyway? When in fact the truth was a bit more complicated and something I wasn't quite ready to face just yet. And that was my (not so) repressed anger at her role in all this.

How could she have sent me to Barrington? Did she have any idea what was really going on?
She'd
worked here years before, when the incident occurred—while she was pregnant with me. Did she have any clue that sending me back to the “safest town in America” would actually be the most dangerous thing for me?

I just wasn't prepared to take on that drama—a problem wrapped in a riddle wrapped in a bunker-buster of a bummer: If she knew, it would break my heart, and if she didn't, I had no earthly way of explaining it to her. I didn't have a shred of proof except for my currently nonexistent powers and a few hastily scribbled journal entries detailing a scattered selection of the whiplash-inducing revelations of the past few months. It'd be enough to convince my mom that I'd somehow developed an overreliance on cough syrup but not exactly groundbreaking revelations.

My powers? Bar Tech?

Hi, Mom, long time. Listen, I— No, no, things are good. They're great, actually. I discovered my DNA is—yes, I know. Good stock. Not so much Dad's side, sure, but— Are you sitting down? Yeah, you're gonna want to do that. No, I'm not pregnant. That would be easier to say than . . . Um. Well. I can turn invisible.

*Click*

And that would be that. For as much as she loved to explore different philosophies, religions, and schools of thought, she was scientist and a journalist at heart. Rational to the core. Tales of superpowers and conspiracies were not even gonna make it in one ear and out the other; they'd be torn to shreds halfway by her twin Gatling guns of “Reason” and “Logic.”

I felt my pocket buzz, and my eyes shot to a clock on the wall. Almost nine p.m. Curfew. The screen of my phone lit up with
DAD
. He didn't sound thrilled.

“I hate to do this to you, but do you think you can get a ride home?” Oh, Marcus. Always full of the best intentions, always coming up just a little short. I didn't need a superpower to see this coming.

“Sure, yeah. Everything all right?”

“Couple of scuff ups. Nothing serious, but we're slammed. Oh, and Chase seems to be recovering his memory.”

It was obvious that Dad didn't want to say anything more explicit to me on the phone. And I knew not to ask. Who knew if Bar Tech was listening to our calls?

“I'm sure a ride won't be a problem.”

“But with a parent, okay? No friends. I don't want to see you end up in here.”

“Got it, Dad.”
Click.

Oliver was waving down a car as my dad wrapped up the call. I started to jog over to the old station wagon as he got inside.