For a moment, Becca couldn’t speak. “You really think I would do something like that?” she said when she had recovered her voice. “We’ve known each other for ten years! I went to 117 to find you!”
“Only a dissident would think any of that could be true,” Heather said, like she didn’t understand why she had to state the obvious. “But you’re not a dissident. So why would you ask me whether I thought it was true unless you were trying to set me up?”
Becca swallowed her angry words. Heather did have a point. Only a dissident would even consider believing what the note had said.
She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground eroding around her.
She shook her head, and the image disappeared. “I wasn’t trying to set you up. I promise. I was… confused, that’s all. Forget I said anything.”
Heather didn’t answer.
Becca stayed where she was, quiet, hoping. Like coaxing a wild animal to her hand.
Heather sagged. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I thought something like that. You’ve stuck by me since this started, and I…”
“It’s okay.” With everything Heather was going through, it was understandable for her to get a little crazy sometimes. Besides, Becca would rather let it go than think through the implications of what Heather had said.
Only a dissident would think any of that could be true.
“I was so sure they were innocent.” Heather spoke so quietly that Becca could hardly hear her. “If they could be dissidents, anybody could.” She took a shaky breath, and another. “I keep thinking about that note we found, and wondering if there’s some way we got it wrong. Maybe it didn’t say what we thought it said, or maybe somebody else put it there… but I can’t come up with anything that makes sense.” She fixed her eyes on the carpet. “Not that it matters anymore. They must be dead by now.”
Becca would never find a better time to tell her.
The silence stretched on too long. Heather pounced. “You know something.”
Becca’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. “There’s something you need to know.”
Heather stumbled back to the bed. She sat at the edge, not looking at Becca. “They’re dead.” It wasn’t a question.
Becca wished she could tell Heather that her parents weren’t dead, that someone had planted that note in their photo album, that Internal had let them go and they were waiting for her at home right now. “When I asked Mom about them for you, it was too late. She had already…” Her voice trailed off. Even now that Heather knew, Becca couldn’t say the words.
Heather raised her head slowly. “She?”
Too late, Becca saw her mistake.
“You said ‘she.’ Not ‘they.’ Not ‘Internal.’”
Becca saw it coming in slow motion, saw the exact moment when the realization hit Heather.
“Your mom killed them.”
Why did Becca suddenly feel like she was the one who had pulled the trigger? “She had to do it. There was evidence… they had confessed…”
“I’ve known her for years. I’ve slept over here hundreds of times. I helped her figure out how to redecorate your room for your birthday last year. And she—” Heather gagged.
Becca placed a comforting hand on Heather’s shoulder. Heather jerked away. “How long have you known?”
“A few days,” Becca admitted.
“And you didn’t tell me.”
All Becca’s rationalizations melted away under Heather’s accusing gaze. “I didn’t know how you’d react. I wanted to wait until the right time.”
Heather’s eyes burned through Becca. “And when, exactly, would be the right time to hear that your mom killed my parents?”
“It’s not like she had a choice. They were dissidents!” As soon as she said it, Becca wished she could take the words back.
“I can’t stay here.” Heather ran for the door.
Becca opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Before she could figure out what to say, Heather was gone.
Only a dissident would think any of that could be true.
Becca rolled onto her side and pulled her blanket over her head, as if it could block out the words. She had to get to sleep. School would start in just a few hours. She drew the blanket tighter and tried to think about something else. Something that had nothing to do with her conversation with Heather, or the note, or Anna.
Only a dissident would think any of that could be true.
Sleep obviously wasn’t going to happen. With a sigh, she stumbled out of bed. Then, with bleary resolve, she strode to the door. As long as she was awake, she was going to answer this question once and for all.
She tiptoed down the hallway to her mom’s bedroom. The door was closed, giving no hint as to whether or not her mom was home. If she was, Becca would go back to her room, try to fall asleep, and forget about this idea.
Please be home, she found herself whispering in her mind as she eased open the door.
She peered into the dark room. It took her eyes a moment to adjust. The covers of her mom’s bed lay flat, the blankets pulled all the way up to the pillow the way she always left them when she wasn’t home. Becca snaked her arm inside and flicked on the light. She squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden brightness, and had to squint until her eyes adjusted all over again.
She didn’t let out her breath until she saw for certain that the room was empty.
Still, it took her a minute to move, to make her way across the room to her mom’s computer.
She knew her mom had work files on there. Some nights her mom would get home late and then spend a couple of hours poring over prisoner files before finally going to bed. There had to be something on there that would give Becca the information she needed.
She had never betrayed her mom’s trust like this before. Had never even considered it.
If the information in the note was true, her mom had lied to her first.
And if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter what she saw in the files, because her mom had nothing to hide.
Her mom had given Becca her password a couple of weeks ago, just a day or two before Heather’s parents had been arrested, so Becca could get some pictures off her computer. She probably hadn’t changed it since then. Why would she? She trusted Becca.
Becca sat with her hands poised above the keyboard, paralyzed by what she was about to do. Going any further would be admitting—if only to herself—that she didn’t believe what her mom had told her.
Only a dissident would think any of that could be true.
But it wouldn’t just be an admission of her doubts. It would also be dissident activity. Accessing an Internal agent’s files without authorization—it would get her arrested if anyone found out.
Nobody would find out.
She had to know.
Becca typed in her mom’s password, hoping it wouldn’t work, hoping her mom had changed it. The password let her in as easily now as it had the last time she had used it.
Her mom hardly kept anything on her computer, so Becca easily spotted the icon that would lead to her work files. She let her cursor hover over it for a second before closing her eyes and clicking. When she opened her eyes again, the Internal logo filled the screen, and a small window in the center prompted her to enter a code. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS PROHIBITED, read the warning below the blinking cursor.
Becca had seen her mom do this often enough. She reached her right hand down to open the top desk drawer, and felt her way past carefully arranged pens and notecards. Her fingers closed around her mom’s security fob. She brought it out, her hand shaking.