Page 45 of Because I Killed Him
Now more than ever, I’m sure the Copper intended to kill us both in the tunnel, at least until Jack showed up. Narcotic dogs are well-trained and rarely attack humans without cause. No one would have questioned the Copper when he removed their muzzles, thinking they were sniffing out illegal stashes of Bliss.
But they weren’t. The dogs were sniffing out the Irasbis Gas that marked Jane and me as targets.
The hair on my nape stands up as I recall the dogs lunging at me when I left the lavatory. If the Copper had released them on Jane and me in the pitch-black tunnel, we wouldn’t have seen them coming. We would’ve swung blindly while being torn apart. With the security cameras sabotaged and no witnesses, the truth would’ve died with us. People might’ve assumed Jane and I provoked the dogs, saying we got what we deserved.
The only issue is the cleanup. How did the Copper plan to explain a reprogrammed Pinkie and the sabotaged security cameras? How did he plan to erase all traces of the Irasbis Gas from our seats and our mutilated bodies? One thing is for sure: the hit wasn’t carried out by a single person.
Charlotte is sitting on a sofa, her red-rimmed eyes fixed on Jack. Her manicured nails dig into the armrests as if she’s about to lunge and tackle him to the floor. Jack ignores her as he uses a torque wrench to finish repairing the toy airplane. More than ever, I want to know what happened between them and how Edmund was involved, but now isn’t the right time to ask.
“Fixed.” Jack tosses the airplane to Dickie. “Try not to fly it into the bathtub again.”
“As a wise man, I never make the same mistake twice,” Dickie replies.
Jack grabs a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart, salutes Dickie with it, and heads for the door.
Charlotte calls out after him shrilly. “I’llneverforgive you for what you did.”
Jack stops, his fist tightening around the neck of the whiskey bottle. “I warned you not to come.”
“What other choice did I have? If we’d stayed in the green first-yearcarriage, Lore would’vedied. And I thought—”
“You thought what?”
“I—” Charlotte’s voice falters, small and frail. “I thought you’d protect me.”
“That’s not my job, darling. Not anymore.”
“But Jack—” She rocks out of her chair. “What about Rosamund? I know you’re mad, and I know you don’t believe me when I say I never meant for things to go as far as they did, but you and Edmund are theonlypeople she listens to. If you don’t step in, she’s going to come for me.”
Jack remains turned, but I catch his reflection in the wall mirror. His drunk, bloodshot eyes aren’t nearly as cold as his tone. “You’ve still got a favor from Ed. Be smart about it.”
He leaves.
Charlotte’s desperation fades into the same vacant stare she wore on Harrison’s jet. I reach for her shoulder, but she squeezes her eyes shut and vanishes into the cool dimness of the lavatory.
As she shuts the door, I feel like it’s closing on me.Again.Charlotte and I used to share everything, but over the two years we were apart, she’s built an entirely new life I know nothing about. Jack, Dickie, Edmund, and now some girl named Rosamund. Given the similarity of her name to Edmund’s, I assume she’s his twin sister.
At the table, Dickie fiddles with the control panel on his airplane's belly. As I walk over to him, he says, “Don’t look at me. I don’t know a thing.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
He shrugs. “We’ve all got our secrets.”
I nod, unable to argue with that.
Minutes pass quietly. Dickie alternates between inspecting the airplane and trying to contact the Pinkie through his Bond. Each attempt fails. Finally, he parks himself in front of the salon’s door and taps his foot impatiently.
“Why do you need Edmund’s Pinkie?” I ask.
“It’s not Ed’s,” Dickie says. “It’s mine. And I’m not allowed to go anywhere without it because I’m a minor.”
“So, it’s your babysitter?”
“No. My chaperone.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is thesnitching.” Dickie glares at the door. “That shifty robot records everything I say and do, then sends the footage to the Office of Student Affairs to make sure I’m not engaging in any ‘adult activity’. It’s oppression, if you ask me. A violation of my rights.”
