More Than We Can Tell

  “They stopped,” I say. I swallow. “Half a mile down. On the right.”

  He repeats that for Kristin.

  This light is taking forever.

  Declan must take me off speaker, because his voice is suddenly low and clear. “Rev. You don’t know anything about this guy. I was kind of kidding about your dad having a gun, but—”

  “I know, Dec. I know. I’ll wait.”

  “Promise, Rev.”

  “I promise.”

  Then the light changes, and I make the turn to follow.

  FORTY-ONE

  Emma

  We’ve been driving forever.

  Ethan’s hand hasn’t let go of my braid. He grips the hair so tightly that I know pieces are pulling free from my scalp, bit by bit.

  It hurts. A lot.

  I’ve been crying into his shirt. I keep trying not to, but it’s impossible.

  Freeway changed to surface streets miles ago, but my face is shoved down, almost into Ethan’s lap, and I have no idea where we are. Between his fist in my hair and his arm pinning me against him, Ethan has such a tight grip on my head that I can barely breathe. At the first traffic light, I struggled and tried to press on the horn, fighting his hold, trying to gain some attention from nearby vehicles.

  Ethan slammed my head into the center console. Blood runs into my eye from somewhere.

  Now he’s pressing down on my shoulder blades, keeping my head low. At first I think he’s pushing me toward his crotch, but then I realize he’s just trying to keep me out of sight now that we’re in heavier traffic. Sunlight streams through the windows. A beautiful day out there. A complete nightmare in here.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” he keeps saying. “I can’t believe you did this, Emma.”

  “I’m not doing anything to you,” I say.

  “You are. You asked me out, and then you started playing games.”

  “Please, Ethan. Please just let me out of the—”

  “NO.” He jerks my braid so hard that my neck is wrenched sideways. Stars flicker in my vision. The car turns sharply, and I’m completely off balance. My face is rocked into his lap. I almost throw up on him.

  Then another turn. And another. The car rocks as we go over several small bumps.

  And then we come to a stop. He kills the engine.

  I shouldn’t think about killing things.

  We’re in the shade. Somewhere under a canopy of trees. The lacy pattern of shadows throws Rorschach images across the upholstery. I can hear traffic, but it’s distant.

  My breathing is suddenly loud.

  So is his.

  And then I realize he’s crying. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says softly. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “It’s okay.” I swallow back my own tears. My voice wavers. “It’s okay. Ethan, just let me out.”

  He hasn’t let me go. If anything, he’s clutching my hair more tightly. “I liked you so much.”

  I want to punch him in the crotch, but I have no leverage. I don’t want him to hit me again. But if he’s talking, he’s not hurting me. I need time to think. “I like you, too. You’re my favorite game partner.”

  “But that’s all I am to you. A game partner.”

  “No,” I say. My voice sounds thick. “We’re friends.”

  “I found Nightmare for you. I did that for you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

  A siren kicks up in the distance.

  Oh, please be for me.

  I know there’s no way.

  Another siren joins it.

  Oh, please. Oh, please.

  They seem to be growing louder. Closer.

  Maybe someone saw us. Maybe my location went through to Rev after all.

  Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

  Ethan freezes.

  The sirens grow loud—then rocket past. They don’t stop.

  NO. Oh, god. No.

  But he’s quieter now. More mellow.

  “Can you let me go?” My voice shakes. “We can talk. We haven’t gotten a chance to talk yet.”

  For an eternal moment, he doesn’t move. I worry I’ve said the wrong thing.

  “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Yeah.” He lets go of my hair. I straighten in the seat.

  We’re in an old parking lot, facing the woods. I can’t see anything else. I hold very still. I think about my position. I think about his.

  And then I grab the lock with one hand, seize the door handle with another, and burst out of the car.

  “Help!” I scream. “Help me!”

  It’s an abandoned parking lot. We’re surrounded by woods. Ritchie Highway is five hundred feet away, cars racing by on the other side of a line of trees.

  There’s no one here.

  No one except Ethan, who moves fast for someone his size. I expected him to be slow and lazy, but maybe hiding in his mom’s house gives him a lot of time to work out.

  He brings me to the ground. He’s so heavy. I crash into the pavement. I fight to roll away, but he traps me on my back. Asphalt tears into my skin.

  And then—and then—I do remember something Rev said. It’s like his voice is in my head. Stay close. Distance gives someone room to hurt you.

  When Ethan draws back, I hook an arm around his neck. Another under his arm. I cling to him.

  I can feel his surprise. He tries to shake me free, but I dig in with my nails. I press my face against his. I hold on for dear life.

  Sirens again. Coming closer again.

  I’m underneath him, but suddenly I feel like I have an advantage. I can’t breathe with his weight on me, but he can’t hit me when I’m up against him. I’m heavy enough that he can’t get leverage to get himself off the ground. I refuse to give him my grip on his neck.

  Then he tries another tactic. He rears back and slams me into the ground.

  The back of my skull hits the pavement. I can’t hold on. I can’t see. I’m going to be sick.

  He grabs my shoulders. Lifts me.

  He’s going to slam me again. My head won’t be able to take it. The last thing I’m going to see will be his horrible face, crying about how we were friends, as he crushes my brain into the pavement.

  And then his weight is just … gone. He’s lifted away.

  No, he’s dragged away.

  And then Rev draws back a fist and hits Ethan square in the face.

  FORTY-TWO

  Rev

  Sirens are everywhere now, but they’re too late.

  I was almost too late. I tried to wait, but I couldn’t.

  He would have killed her. I could see it when he tackled her. He would have killed her.

  My first punch almost sent Ethan to the ground. I wish I’d had the momentum to knock him flat, but I was off balance from dragging him off her. I hurt him, but I didn’t knock him unconscious.

  He’s quick, and he tackles my midsection.

  Ethan is not like Matthew. He’s got some solid mass, and fury is a good motivator. He gets me off my feet. The pavement hurts when I land, especially since he’s on top of me.

  But then he draws back to hit me. He leaves himself wide open.

  Every movement is so clear, almost happening in slow motion. My thoughts aren’t clouded with self-doubt. Just crystal clarity.

  I can’t hit him from the ground. He’s got the advantage. I lunge inside his movement and take control of his midsection. I duck my head into his shoulder. I brace one foot and flip him over.

  Now I’m on top. I’m in control.

  I’ve never hit someone from this position. I wait for my brain to imagine it, going too far, hitting him too hard, splintering bone and shattering his face. I wait for fear and hesitation to kick in.

  While I’m waiting, training has already taken over. I’ve hit him twice. He’s still. Blood is on his face, on my hands, on the pavement.

  Oh. Oh no.

  I think of my father.

  It would take nothing.

  Your hand.

&
nbsp; For just a moment.

  But Ethan’s chest rises. He’s breathing. He’s alive.

  My wrist didn’t like me before. Now it hates me. Pain like fire lives in my forearm.

  I look at Emma. Tears have made streaks of her makeup. A bruise has formed along the side of her face. She’s hurt, but she’s staring up at me.

  “Are you okay?” I say. I want to go to her, but I don’t want to leave him in case he wakes up.

  She nods quickly. Her eyes stare up at me with some kind of wonder. “You found me.”

  “Yes,” I say. “I found you.”

  She chokes on a sob and swipes at her face with both hands. “I did what you said. I tried to hold on to him.”

  “I know. Like I said, fearless.”

  She chokes on a laugh. “I’m so not fearless.”

  Police cars fly into the parking lot. The sirens are deafening. There’s an ambulance, too, and Emma is quickly hidden by EMTs and paramedics.

  The police arrest Ethan.

  They arrest me, too.

  Declan was right. It is terrifying.

  FORTY-THREE

  Emma

  During the ambulance ride, there’s this stupid little part of me that hopes my parents will reunite in the hospital and realize how much they need each other. I keep hearing Rev’s voice saying Things happen when they’re meant to happen and wondering if that means I had to endure everything with Ethan so my parents wouldn’t get a divorce.

  I must be delusional—which is possible, considering the situation I got myself into.

  My fantasy does not happen. My father does not come to the hospital.

  I talk to him on the phone, and he tells me he’s trying to hang on to his job, and the worst thing he can do is step away right now.

  He says, “Your mom is there for you, right?”

  And yes. She is.

  She sits beside my gurney in the ER. She has not let go of my hand except for when they took me for a CT scan. We’ve been here for hours, but she keeps asking me the same questions. Saying the same things.

  She knows everything. About Nightmare. About Ethan.

  About how I saw one threat so clearly that I didn’t bother to pay attention to the other.

  After she’s heard everything twice, she gets very quiet.

  “I need to understand something,” she finally says.

  I feel raw, cracked open. Only some of that is because of the head injury. “What?”

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me you were getting those messages? From that Nightmare person?” She pauses. “Or—at the very least, your father—”

  “I tried.” I swallow. “I started telling Dad, but he was so busy—”

  She sighs, a sound full of disappointment. “Emma. I’m so sorry.”

  “I wanted to fix it myself. It’s a very male industry.” I look away. “I just—it happens to everyone. I didn’t want to be all like I couldn’t take the heat.”

  Mom sighs.

  “And clearly I couldn’t,” I say disgustedly. “Since Ethan had to fix it for me.”

  Now she straightens up, and her face looks fierce. “He didn’t fix anything, Emma. He could have killed you. You don’t even know that he fixed anything. He just told you he did.”

  She’s right.

  She’s so right. I’m such a fool.

  She sighs again. “Let me tell you something about medical school.”

  My eyes have filled, and I’m still stuck on the fact that I fell for Ethan so easily. This doesn’t sound like a prelude to a lecture, and I’m confused. “You want … to talk about medical school?”

  “Yes.” She pauses. “I used to go through the same thing.”

  “What same thing?”

  “The sexism. The misogyny. The man’s world.”

  “I don’t think medical school is like a computer game.”

  She charges forward as if I haven’t spoken. “This one time, when I was a resident, there were these two male doctors who would turn on pornography right in front of me. When I asked them to turn it off, they mocked me for being unable to look at a human body. I felt like an idiot. I put up with it for far too long, because I believed it was just part of what women had to go through.”

  I stare at her. I don’t know what to say.

  “That’s all in your head, Emma.” Another pause. “You’re allowed to play a game without having to go through this. You’re allowed to design a computer game without being harassed. You’re allowed to go through life without having to put up with this, regardless of what kind of field it is. You are not weak for not wanting to look at pornography or not wanting to be called a—that disgusting word he used. I’m horrified that you thought you had to put up with any of it.”

  I swipe at new tears. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry your father ever made you think that was acceptable.”

  “He didn’t—”

  “Emma, I think we need to come to an agreement.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll back off about the gaming,” she says.

  “You’ll what?” Maybe I’m hopped up on painkillers because that does not sound like my mother.

  “But I’m going to need to know what you’re doing. And I’m going to need to know who you’re doing it with.”

  “Mom—”

  “You must agree.” Her eyes fill now. “Emma, I need you to agree to this. I can’t lose you, too.”

  Then I start crying. “Okay, Mom. Deal.”

  A police officer knocks on the wall, then tentatively pokes her head around the curtain. She looks to be around thirty, with hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. “Emma? I’m Jennifer Stone. I’m an officer with the Anne Arundel County Police Department. Do you feel up to answering a few questions?”

  I hastily swipe at my face. “Yes. Yes. I’m okay.”

  She comes in and shakes hands with my mother, and then with me. Mom offers her the chair, which Officer Stone waves away. She leans against the wall between us, and pulls out a notepad.

  “Would you mind telling me how you met Mr. Nash?”

  It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking about Ethan. Calling him Mr. Nash makes all of this sound more serious.

  But of course it’s serious.

  I go through everything again. OtherLANDS. Battle Realms. The e-mails from Nightmare, and the way Ethan helped find him. As I’m talking, I realize again that I don’t even know if Ethan really found Nightmare, or if he’s still out there, waiting to do more damage. The officer promises to look into it.

  My voice falters when I talk about the divorce and exchanging phone numbers, especially when Mom makes tsking noises.

  “He said his mom and dad went through a divorce, too,” I say. “He said he lived with his mom. We talked about how difficult it was. I thought we were friends.”

  Officer Stone makes a note on her pad. “And how old is Mr. Nash? Did he tell you?”

  “He said he was a student at Old Mill.”

  “So he said he was in high school?”

  “It—it was on his 5Core profile.” I swallow. “I thought he was a senior.”

  She makes another note. “Do you mind if we keep your phone to pull any messages?”

  “But—but I need—”

  “Emma,” my mother hisses. “Of course they can take it. Whatever they need to do to lock that man up.”

  I swallow. “Okay. It was in Ethan’s car. It fell under the seat.”

  Another note on her pad. A lot of notes.

  “Can I ask a question?” I say.

  She stops writing and looks at me. Her eyes are cool and analytical, but there’s compassion there, too. “Of course.”

  “How old is he really? Are you allowed to tell me?”

  She flips her notepad back a few pages. “He’s twenty-nine.”

  My heart flutters. I have to put a hand to my chest. Beside me, my mother is doing the same thing.

  Officer Stone glances back at her not
es, then meets my gaze. “He lives alone, in an apartment. No mother.” A pause. “He works in IT for Anne Arundel County. That’s how he had access to their servers.”

  E Nash. Information Technology.

  It was literally hanging right in front of me. And I was stupid enough to believe it was his mother’s.

  “He has some charges of harassment and stalking on his record,” says the officer.

  “Emma.” My mother starts crying again.

  I’m not crying. I’m too shocked. “But—but—”

  I almost say, He was so kind. He was my friend.

  He was not kind. He was not my friend.

  “This happens a lot,” says Officer Stone. “These guys are smart. They take something you say and spin it in a way that you feel you have a connection. It doesn’t take much to build from there.” She hesitates. “You’re very lucky this didn’t end differently.”

  “He said he and his mother went to Saint Patrick’s,” I whisper. “He said she was controlling and mean to him.”

  Mom chokes on a sob. “And what did you tell him about me?”

  I told him so much. The more I think back on our conversations, I realize I fed him everything he needed.

  I want to curl in on myself. I feel so stupid. So foolish. They should put me in prison.

  Officer Stone puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Like I said, they’re savvy. This wasn’t his first time. And you’re lucky. I heard what you did about sharing your location. I wish more people knew about that.”

  Rev. “Is Rev okay?”

  “He was arrested—”

  “What?” I demand. “Why?”

  She puts a hand up. “This is a pretty clear case of self-defense, and the MTA has surveillance cameras on that lot. If your friend hasn’t been processed and released yet, it’ll be soon.”

  FORTY-FOUR

  Rev

  By the time they release me from the police station, night has fallen, and the pain in my wrist has gone from fire to inferno. The skin is swollen and purple under my sleeve. I’ve been gritting my teeth for the last hour, but I’ve been terrified they would charge me with assault, so I’ve kept my mouth shut and tried to be invisible.

  I wonder if I’m going to have to call Mom and Dad, but an officer leads me out to the front lobby, and they’re both there, waiting. Matthew isn’t with them.