his thoughts, then walked up to Kellan in the lunchroom and punched him in the face. Dislocated his jaw. The healers fixed Kellan right away, but Heath won’t let anyone heal his hand, not even Amy. He’s proud of those bruises.”
Heath had never even spoken in my presence. The idea of that sweet, shy man punching Kellan in my defense filled me with vengeful glee.
Tristan’s duffle bag lay open on the floor, another of his sweatshirts folded on top, this one white with royal blue lettering and a lightning bolt. On impulse, I slipped it over my gray prison top.
“You can make holes in the cuffs if you want,” Tristan said. “You did on my other one.”
“I did? I’m sorry.” I looked down at the sleeves. I’d already started rubbing the fabric with my thumbnails.
“It’s okay. I like it when you do that.”
“Lilybrook High Lightning,” I said, reading the sweatshirt.
“I went from the Lilybrook High Lightning to the TLC Thunderclouds.”
“You told me you were from Milwaukee.”
“Milwaukee is about four hours south of here.”
I traced the blue letters with my fingertip. “Are all the kids in Lilybrook undercover agents?”
He laughed. “No. Most kids in Lilybrook are just regular kids. But the people who work here at the APR are all psionic, and usually their kids are too. We can work here as interns once we’re in high school. I was interning in the lab back in March when Kellan asked me to help him out with his new case. He wouldn’t tell me any details, just that I’d have to live in a town called Twelve Lakes and wait for a family to move in, then befriend the kids to find out if anyone in the family had psionic abilities. I accepted the job. Being an investigator for the APR was all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“What about school?”
“I was a senior just weeks away from graduation. I had straight As and I already had enough credits to graduate. The APR arranged it so I could finish my senior year by correspondence. But I had to enroll as a junior at TLC because we didn’t know how long we’d have to wait for your family. When you still didn’t come by the end of summer, I had to postpone college and be a senior again.” He sank to the cot, chin in hand. “Taking this job was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
I refused to be impressed or to feel sorry for him. “I’m sure your father gave you lots of advice.”
He shook his head. “He was against it, even though Kellan told him it was a basic fact-finding mission and he’d arranged for a safeguard and a healer to be my chaperones. Combined with my warning premonitions, I’d be perfectly safe. My dad was still against it, but I was eighteen, so ultimately it was my decision.”
That’s right—Tristan was eighteen. He’d graduated high school. “There’s still so much I don’t know about you,” I said, “and you know everything about me.”
“That’s not completely true,” he said. “I didn’t know your last name until Friday night.” He said my full name aloud. “Tessa Carson.”
“Tessa Lynne Carson,” I added.
“Really? Your initials are TLC? Like the school?”
“Yep. ‘You’ll find TLC at TLC’,” I quoted Twelve Lakes Community High School’s slogan. “I guess you really did.”
He laughed. “TLC. That’s amazing.”
“Why?”
“My middle name is Lawrence.”
“Tristan Lawrence... Oh. We have the same initials.” I was quiet for a moment, and then I decided to be cruel, because for a moment I’d forgotten he was the enemy and his kindness was just another one of his tricks. “But I think for you, TLC stands for terrible, loathsome and contemptible.”
The light left his eyes, and he sank to the cot with a sigh. “I hope one day you’ll change your mind about that,” he murmured.
I just shook my head.
* * *
“You want me to believe my parents are criminals,” I said to Tristan after sitting in silence for a while. “That they blackmailed and murdered people.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to believe that Denn—that he isn’t going to kill us.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to believe the complete opposite of everything I’ve known for the last eight years.”
“Yes.”
“Even after everything Kellan did. Punching me, kidnapping me, holding me as bait. He made me watch his men shoot my parents. After all that, you still want me to believe that my parents are the bad guys.”
Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair. “Yes.”
“If I believe you,” I said, “that means my parents were lying to me.”
“They were,” he said.
“If I believe my parents, that means you’re lying to me.”
“I’m not lying to you.”
“But you did lie to me, Tristan Walker.”
He winced. “Yes.”
“So the only thing I can prove is that you are the liar.”
He slowly nodded his head. “What can I do to make things better?”
Nothing he did now could ever make things better. He’d lied to me. Used me. Betrayed me. Tristan was the son of Dennis Connelly. Killer’s blood coursed through his veins with every beat of his heart.
I studied him from the corner of my eye. Legs wide, shoulders slumped, elbows on knees. Head down. Dejected.
He turned his head to look at me, his eyes wide and sorrowful.
He was desperate as well.
I licked my lips. Tristan had used me; now I was going to use him. “There is something you can do.”
“Anything.”
“I need you to help me get that green binder Dr. Sheldon had.”
“Why?”
“Whatever evidence you claim to have is in that binder. I want to see it.” And then I would prove there was no evidence. Once I convinced him of that, I would get him to help my parents and me escape.
And then I would leave him behind forever.
He eyed me for a long moment, and I offered him a tiny smile.
“Okay,” he said. “Tonight.
