Page 151 of Keeping Kasey
I don’t dislike Ford—my only issue with him is the way he treats me. I stayed civil before, but I have no reason to play nice now.
Can’t make things worse.
Ford sets his laptop down. “What a coincidence that you’re able to findyour ownprogramandrecover it after four months. Seems awfully convenient if you ask me.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say. “If I wanted to help Mason, I never would’ve made the recovery software in the first place.”
“Could’ve been a backup plan in case you were found, which you were.”
“If I worked for Mason, I wouldn’t have killed Brandon,” I say, pushing the words out despite their wanting to get caught in my throat.
Ford sits up straight, but he doesn’t snap back right away.
In all the time I’ve been back, we haven’t talked about that day.
“You think that changes anything? That Ioweyou?”
“I think you should consider that I actually told the truth about what happened and why I’m back.”
“Why did you make the Seeker?” he asks, expression calculating.
I cross my arms over my stomach, which twists at the question. My throat suddenly feels thick, and I want nothing more than to be back in the safety of my hotel room.
But I’m not, so I match his question instead.
“Who told Logan I made it?”
Like my question was the answer he was expecting, his face takes on a satisfactory edge.
“Guess neither of us is getting the answers we want,” he says, glancing at his laptop.
Ford pulls out his phone and holds it between his ear and shoulder as he types.
“James,” he greets. “I have it. I’ll go see Mr. Consoli as soon as you get here.”
While Ford hasn’t kept his eyes off my work, I have no idea what he’s been up to this whole time, and though I figure it’s nothing more than desk work, I’m still curious.
I get back to work, and Ford busies himself, printing whatever he’s been working on. He takes the few papers and stands by the door.
“For the record,” he says in a tone just above a whisper, “I am grateful you saved my life, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”
I turn in my chair, and the look on Ford’s face is the most human I’ve seen yet. It’s not warm by any means, but it’s the first time I think he might not feel pure hatred for me.
“I didn’t do it for your gratitude or trust. I did it because I wasn’t going to let that bastard kill either of us.”
He nods and reaches for the door handle.
“Ford,” I call, and he pauses. “Why did you stop him?”
“What?”
“You were only shot because you came in to save me, but I can’t figure out why you did. Would’ve saved you a lot of trouble to just let Brandon attack me.”
Ford’s expression cracks, revealing a surprisingly open confusion. “You’re asking why I didn’t stand by andlethim hurt you?”
I give him a knowing look. “Let’s not pretend you’d go into mourning at the news of my untimely death.”
He shakes his head, a shadow of a humorless smile touching his lips. “Unfortunately, you’re wrong.”
