“Why shouldn’t I?” She’d earned that scholarship, and because of it, she might get another scholarship to any number of good colleges. It was her ticket to a life where she could not only support herself but help her dad, too, after his life had been decimated.
“Because I’m there,” he said.
“I ignore you,” she retorted.
“No kidding.”
She gritted her teeth. “What about you?” she asked. “Who do you know sick and twisted enough to set up something like this? I’ll bet there’s a list. Someone totally soulless, with plenty of money to pay enough people off to go along with this? To aid and abet? What about your gang of purposeless androids always looking for the next thrill?”
“You’re getting emotional, Noelle.”
Fuck off. She didn’t say it, but she wanted to. Instead, she turned away with a huff because she was well aware that he’d be more than happy to fuck off if he could. He was right. She was letting her emotions take over when they were supposed to be thinking rationally in order to solve this. To come up with something that might help their situation. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Someone put us in these cages. Someone benefits from this. What types of benefits are there?”
“Financial.”
“Yes, but this is not a ransom situation. That makes no sense as far as me, and like you said, if they were interested in ransoming you, you’d know. Your father would have asked for proof of life, and they’d have put you on the phone or taken a photo or something.”
“Okay. Revenge. But it would have to be someone who hates us both and is looking to punish us both for something.”
“Or punish our families, those who care for us.”
“That’s still a type of ransom, though. Wouldn’t your father and my parents ask for proof that that person has us?”
“I mean, we’re missing. If the point is to scare them, that would be enough. Whether we’re alive or dead is sort of immaterial to that, right? Either way, they’re suffering. The not knowing might make it worse.” She pushed away the vision of her father, walking the floor until all hours of the night, gripping a handful of hair the way he’d done after her mother had been found shot dead. She couldn’t let herself imagine what he was experiencing now. She would lose it if she did.
Evan blew out a breath, bringing his hands up and massaging his temples. “Who hates both of our families that much? As far as I know, they haven’t had any contact since the trial, and that was six years ago.”
Yes, six years had passed. Seven years and three months since Noelle’s mom had died. And yet, in some ways, it seemed like yesterday. It’d taken that long for her father to get a handle on the lawyer fees he still owed. Six years where every day his eyes seemed to dull just a little bit more. He’d gone from thirty-seven to forty-three during that time, and yet he looked far older than that. Noelle sighed, massaging her head as she stretched her mind, trying to come up with anyone who might be connected to them both who also might hold some sort of grudge, rational or not.
The sudden squeak of a speaker made Noelle jump, and Evan jerked his head in her direction. “Deposit your trays and refuse in the dumbwaiters.” The voice was robotic, the cadence odd, and Noelle froze, fear climbing as the doors their food had been delivered through slid open. There was nothing on the back or sides of hers. It appeared to be a silver metal box. A dumbwaiter that would be pulled up to some unknown place above.
“What the fuck?” Evan asked as he stared into his. The message repeated, the rhythm identical to the first time it had played. It was obviously some system, not a disguised human voice.
“Where is it coming from?” Noelle asked, scooting to the end of her cage and peering out between the bars. She couldn’t see a speaker, and it was difficult to tell which direction the recording was coming from. It repeated again.
“Hey!” Evan called. “Hey, whoever’s playing that! What do you want with us? What do we need to do to get out of here? Hey! Help us!”
The recording repeated. Evan shook the bars the way he’d done the day before. “Fucking talk to us! Tell us what you want!” The recording repeated yet again. It seemed that was the only instruction they were going to get. Noelle picked up her tray and extended her arm as far as possible, giving the tray a small toss so it landed in the tiny elevator behind her, then picked up the stack of cups she’d collected and tossed those inside too.