Page 54 of The Knight

"He knew." Meeting Lukas's sympathetic blue eyes, I do my best to stay steady and calm, despite everything. "He must've known how risky it was to dig into... into the people he was working for. So he left me a message, just in case something happened to him. I should've realized it sooner, but I was so stuck on believing that I didn't know him. I forgot how well he knew me."

Of course my beloved twin brother, who protected me and kept me from seeing the worst, darkest parts of our lives, would have programmed the partition full of secrets to open only if I was the one trying to crack it. I was so busy trying to figure him out that I forgot I already knew him as well as any person can know another.

"There are folders inside the partition." Looking at the screen, I devour every letter, every word. "One named 'June 27th,' while the rest are called... 'The Cook, The Thief, The Master, The Apprentice,' and... 'Brenna.' Why did he name a folder after me?"

"Let's find out." Lukas double clicks the folder, but an error window pops up, announcing that the folder is password protected. "Wow. Your brother was thorough."

"Or paranoid." Frustration mounts inside me. "We're so close that I can taste it. But it doesn't even matter if I can't open up this folder."

"Any idea what the password might be? He named it after you."

"I have no idea. Scratch that, I have a few ideas. Way too many to count. I'm just not sure if I want to know what's in here." Taking over the laptop trackpad, I scroll through the window and count a dozen folders total, none of them specific except for the one with the date and the one with the name. "All of these are in code. I'm sure they're all password protected too."

"Let's find out." One by one Lukas double clicks all the icons, and every one of them throws up the same window. He shrugs at me. "It was worth a try."

"I can't believe him." I huff out a sigh of frustration. "If I'd known this was what Silas was up to, I would've looked over his shoulder while he was on his laptop more often."

"It's not that bad. If he had twelve passwords, they all had to be memorable. He might've even written them down somewhere—do you have any notebooks of his?"

"No." Miserable, I tell him, "If he had any, the tornado would've destroyed them."

"Well then, we'll just have to figure it out the old fashioned way. Don't worry." Lukas shoots me a surprisingly optimistic smile. "We'll figure it out eventually. Just give it some time."

That's the thing I'm worried about.

There isn't much time to spend.

* * *

My spring break is lost to a fever of trying to crack the password to the Brenna folder.

I take a shot at a few of the others, knowing that some of them, at least, are named in honor of the movieThe Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover.It was one of Silas's favorite movies, even though it was produced long before we were born. Cook could be a code name for someone who makes drugs, and Master is probably whoever is in charge of the Syndicate. But many of the folders—The Dog, The Rebel, The Boss—seem repetitive or strange.

What I want to know is why he named a folder after me and kept it with all of this information on the men who he was apparently digging into. Every day I wake up and type passwords into the window until my stomach grumbles; every night I tug my comforter over my head to shield the screen from keeping Holly up, and then later just to keep me warm, as I wrack my head trying to figure out new passwords that could crack it.

The break is almost over when it hits me, while I'm out for a walk, the laptop on my back safely in my backpack. I should've realized it before, but I was too busy looking for the obvious, trying everything from my birthday to my astrology sign to the nickname Mom gave me when I was a toddler, Knee-High.

But it wasn't any of those, because the folder isn'taboutme. It's a messagetome. Which means that my brother would've used a password that related to our relationship. Not some obscure fact about me that anyone could figure out or guess, but instead something only I would know, because we were the only two people who knew it.

Jogging over to one of the outdoor picnic tables in the quad, I swing the backpack off my shoulders and pull the laptop out with trembling hands. It's a good thing no one is here to see me, because I'm shaking from head to toe, full of nervous anxiety as well as an incredible amount of excitement—and more than a little dread.

I hope that whatever is in this folder, it's something I want to see.

My fingers shake so hard as I type out the password that I have to delete it twice and start over again. But once I get it in right, the password window clears, and the folder opens wide, for my eyes only.

FLAMEBUGS.

It was a word I came up with for fireflies when we were both eleven. My tongue tied, my brain spaced, and I couldn't remember any of their nicknames: lightning bugs, fireflies, even glow worms. So I blurted out the first thing I could think of, Silas laughed for minutes, and ever after that we called them flamebugs—but only when it was just the two of us around, catching them in our cupped palms.

I didn't even name the painting I made of the two of us after our nickname. It felt too much like a secret. I haven't said that word since he died—and even before he did, we'd long outgrown our era of catching bright, glowing bugs in our hands and watching them light up our skin, letting them go against each other's arms and laughing at the tickling they caused.

My eyes tear up at the fact that the password worked. He really did make this folder for me. As a message to me.

I have to wipe away the tears to focus on the screen and see what's inside. All I find are two files: a word document, and a video clip with a thumbnail of my brother's face.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, breath out, and close the laptop. Swallowing, I look at Lukas and tell him, "I'll watch it later tonight. When I'm alone."

"Of course." Reaching over, he briefly covers my hand with his—then winces, as if remembering something, and pulls back from me. "If you need anything, just let me know. But I have the feeling that the passwords are all going to be things only you can figure out. And whatever information is inside, it's up to you to decide what to take to the police."

---