Hush - Anne Malcom Page 0,59
had been her plan to cut all ties to her past. Threads, really. And there were only two of them, so it should’ve been easy.
But nothing was ever easy.
And she had made a promise to a friend. The girl who gave her kindness when she shouldn’t have had any left inside her. The girl who should’ve lived if this world gave good people what they deserved. Karma . . . what a crock!
But she didn’t live.
“I need you to find someone for me,” she said.
A pause. A long one. Orion could understand why. Maddox knew that Orion didn’t have anyone left. No one left to care, and no one left to find.
Orion wasn’t ready for this. She took a sharp breath. “Mary Lou, the girl who was there when I first . . . arrived . . .” Orion was making great pains to control her voice. She didn’t want it to crack, to betray any emotion that would paint her as any more of a victim. Maddox was itching to play her protector, that much was clear.
“I need to find her family,” she continued.
Maddox cleared his throat. “Is that a good idea?”
Orion bristled. “It’s none of your business whether it’s a good idea or not. Can you or can you not get me their information?”
He paused. “It’s kind of against protocol—”
“Fine,” she interrupted, hating herself for making the call, for asking for help in the first place. It was humiliating.
“But I’ll do it,” Maddox said quickly, as if he sensed she was about to disconnect the call.
Orion gritted her teeth, unable to let go of her anger toward him. She couldn’t open her mouth to thank him, couldn’t spout those words. A fucking break in protocol was the least he could do for her.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she said.
A pause. “Come again?”
“Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Maddox. Unless you got more concussions playing football, I know you know what I mean,” she said, acid in her voice. “This doesn’t mean anything for us. There is no us. You’re just the detective on the case. I’m not going to turn into anyone else you think you know. I’m no one to you but a victim you’re doing a favor for. Okay?”
Another pause. A longer one. “Okay, Orion,” he said with a sigh.
She should’ve felt something at the emotion in his voice, the sadness and exhaustion.
But she didn’t feel a thing.
Three Days Later
“What are you doing here?”
“Following a hunch,” Maddox said, leaning on his car.
It was a black Camaro. Nice, shiny, impressive. It was what she imagined Maddox might have driven when she was fourteen years old. One single thing that had stayed the way she thought it might.
He pushed his Wayfarers to the top of his head. “Actually, it’s not a hunch at all. April told me you were planning on catching a bus. In fact, she’s the real detective here, since she peeked at your ticket.” He held up his hand to quell the anger Orion showed at that. “Now, before you decide to let her feel your wrath, she was only trying to look out for you. She knew that you wouldn’t do something like ask one of us to drive you. I had a feeling that you wanted the address for a reason. I also know I don’t want you on a bus full of strangers.” He shrugged. “It’s not something for me to decide, I know. And you can tell me to fuck off.” He paused. “But I’ve got the weekend off, a tank full of gas, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got enough horsepower in here to beat a bus, and a badge to ensure an expedient trip. It’s your choice.”
Orion gritted her teeth, gripping the tote bag she’d slung over her shoulder. She had makeup, a change of clothes, and some other essentials crammed in there. The Devil in the White City, for reading.
She wanted to be mad at April, for invading her privacy, for telling Maddox this, for thinking that she had the right to do any of it. Orion should be mad at April for that, but she couldn’t bring herself to be angry with April anymore. Her persistence had managed to chip away at Orion’s tough exterior, little by little with each visit.
She could, however, bring herself to be mad at Maddox. Leaning on his car so fucking casually, like he had the right to be there, the right to look at her, to follow a fucking bus across the state.
“I