“Not a problem, Ms. Pierce.”
“Well, I can’t help feeling a little bit guilty. After all, you’re bringing me a hell of a story. A corporate conspiracy resulting in the deaths of hundreds, an innocent man framed for murder, a jailbreak…it’s an amazing story—if justice agrees our evidence is enough to prove it to be true, of course.”
“I’ve got some proof right here,” I say, giving her the flash drive. She palms it and sighs.
“No offense, but I have to let our science boys go over this and make sure it’s legit. I assume you’re willing to swear to the authenticity of this information?”
“You assume correctly.”
“That’ll help speed things along.”
I clear my throat. “If you don’t mind my asking, what evidence did you receive that proved my innocence?”
“Where have you been, living in a cave?” She shakes her head and laughs. “A prisoner at Sandpiper Cove named Sam Cruikshank just confessed to the murder you were convicted of. His cellmate ratted him out, and Sam confessed in exchange for staying out of solitary.”
I shudder. “I can’t blame him for wanting to stay out of solitary.”
I wonder if the Factory knew about Sam the entire time or not. I think I remember the guy. Damn, he was right there with me before solitary confinement and I never knew.
We give her our number in case she needs to contact us for more information. Jolene assures us the story will be front page as soon as they verify the facts. They have to do their due diligence to make sure the story is solid.
“Now what do we do?” I ask Victoria as we take the elevator down.
“Now?” she looks at me grimly. “Now, we wait.”
VICTORIA
Ahazy white mist hangs over the valley containing Palo Alto. Beyond the low cityscape, the mountain foothills rear up like silent sentinels.
Jack drives us silently toward the city limits. A sense of melancholy descends upon me as we pass the threshold.
“Not a happy homecoming?” Jack glances over at me with concern before returning his gaze to the road.
“Well…” I shift about in my seat, striving to find the right words. “No, not really. I’ve lived here for years, but I guess it’s never felt like home.”
He lapses back into silence, either satisfied with my answer or spurred on to deeper thought.
The familiar sights and sounds of main street speed past us. In many ways, Palo Alto remains your quintessential college town. All American, mom and pop businesses, champion high school football team. The works.
I never felt as if I belonged here, however. Not really.
“Take the next right.”
Jack slows the town car and bleeds off onto a side street. The houses here expand to fill lots twice the size of the previous neighborhood. My own colonial-style, four-story home sits alone on the end of a cul-de-sac. I own the lots on either side, ensuring my privacy.
“Wow,” Jack says, punctuating with a whistle. “Nice crib. I mean, wow.”
“One thing about being a thief, there’s no overhead. Since I steal the things, I sell instead of buying them, it’s all profit.”
“How do you get away with it on your taxes?”
“Oh, I invest enough to cover for my lifestyle, I assure you.”
The nervous edge in my voice grates on my ears. I can only imagine Jack notices it as well. I don’t know where we stand, now that the evidence has been turned over and I’m allegedly finished with the Factory.
The truth is, Jack is the one making me nervous. When I look at him, my chest goes all aflutter in a way it never has before. I’m not sure if I should tell him how I feel or not.
“Where should I park?”
