Page 115 of The Truth You Told

“Kate Tashibi met with Conrad this morning,” Raisa said. “We believe he told her where to find the woman responsible for her sister’s death.”

Max’s chin jerked up at that, but she quickly hid her face once more. It had been long enough to get a glimpse of her expression, to confirm what Raisa had guessed.

Kate may have gotten a head start on Raisa and Kilkenny, but Max had gotten a head start on her. She would arrive too late to mete out the justice she so wanted.

That had already been done.

Raisa thought about the weight of her gun holstered beneath her blazer. Max was slight, but Raisa was small, too, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. The woman might have hidden strength that could put her out on top. “Will she find Tori?”

“I’m sorry she lost her sister,” Max said, her fingers tightening around the envelope. When she looked up, her eyes were completely dry, her mouth set in a determined line. There was not an ounce of guilt or regret there. “But I lost mine first.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Shay

September 2009

Four and a half years before the kidnapping

Shay loved driving along the open road with the windows down, music blasting, the heat of summer baking skin that had been too cold all winter.

Max sang along beside her, body loose and relaxed after her session with Tori Greene. Her hand rode the wave of the wind. Joy filled the soft spaces of her face, the ones that hadn’t sharpened with age yet. She was still just a kid, despite the fact that she’d lived too many years in her short life.

Shay pushed the thought away. They were headed to Galveston, and the world was theirs for the afternoon, a long stretch of endless possibility.

Any tension from the morning was gone, as was any memory of the gun and a junkyard and FBI agents too handsome and adorable for their own good.

They found a cheap store for Max to get a bikini, and Shay, without regret, parted with the fifteen dollars. She dug out her own suit, half-buried beneath a twelve-pack of Diet Coke and a tote that she always tried to remember to bring into the grocery store with her but inevitably forgot.

The sand and water beckoned, and the two of them made do with one towel. Salt stung Shay’s eyes as she dived under the waves that could barely be called waves, with Max beside her doing the same.

They played like children for a half hour, Max brushing Shay’s ankle with her foot, making her shriek and flail enough that the lifeguard stood up in his stand.

Max collapsed into the water with unbridled laughter that Shay hadn’t heard in the entire time Max had been living with her and Beau.

When their fingers puckered into raisins, they lay out beneath the sun, Shay graciously allowing Max to take over the towel.

Sand stuck to all the wet bits of her, and Shay knew she’d be finding granules in uncomfortable places for days to come. But for now it just made her feel like she was a teenager again—no responsibilities, no job, no bills, no kid to feed. Max was her friend today, not a dependent who caused her to constantly worry.

She dozed, and when she came back to reality, Max was sitting up, staring at the ocean. But she had done so in a way that kept the sun off Shay’s face. Her heart and belly squeezed at the tiny gesture of love and kindness.

Because they didn’t say nice things to each other in moments like these, Shay instead shoved her gently, the surprise of it tipping Max over into the sand.

“Hey,” Max barked, and Shay seized the moment to take off toward the water again, hot and sea-salt-sticky and loving the way Max scrambled up behind her, laughing and wild.

They dived into the ocean once more, swimming out past a sandbar to where they couldn’t touch and the threat of something actually scary brushing against their legs kept them both well behaved.

“I wish you could always have this,” Shay said. Wasn’t that the dream? For someone you loved to have a joyful and stress-free life? To have days at the beach that didn’t feel as glorious as this one because they weren’t rare? Just another happy day in a life full of them.

Instead, what Max got was Shay and Beau trying to cobble together a bit of normalcy, but mostly running around like two chickens with their heads cut off.

The only alternative, though, was the foster system, and Shay couldn’t imagine Max faring better there. Not at twelve.

“I like what I have,” Max said, chin tipped up like it always was when she got stubborn about something. Her eyes were closed, the sun kissing her face. “I like our little family.”

Shay ducked beneath the water to hide her sudden rush of tears. When she reemerged, Max was smirking.

“Fucked up as it is,” she added, looking so pleased with herself for the curse word and the little jab.

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