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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
It wasn’t too late to turn back.
She watched the blinking cursor for a second, then typed in the six numbers displayed on the thin silver fob’s small display. She held her breath as the window disappeared. The code changed every sixty seconds; what if she had missed the brief window of time when it was valid? Would some alarm go off in Processing if she entered the wrong code? She didn’t breathe again until a seemingly endless list of files appeared on the screen.
Each file was labeled with nothing but a date and a long number, with the most current files at the top. Becca’s relief gave way to frustration as she scrolled through the list. How was she supposed to find what she was looking for? After all that, she didn’t even know where to start. What was she supposed to do, search for “false confession”? Assuming there was even a way to search at all.
She scrolled through yesterday’s files, and the ones from the day before, and the day before that. Watching the dates count down to the night that had started all this. The night Heather’s parents had been arrested.
The night her mother had killed them.
If she went just a little further down the list, she could—
Bile rose in her throat. She scrolled back to the top and hurriedly opened the first file on the list.
Her eyes glazed over as she scrolled through page after page of information. Internal knew everything about this dissident, from his pets’ names to where he had gone to kindergarten. So much information, but none of it helpful to Becca.
Maybe she couldn’t find what she was looking for because it didn’t exist. Maybe her mom had told her the truth after all.
Maybe she should just assume that was the answer and go back to bed.
She was about to close the file when the next paragraph caught her eye.
Matches 80% of criteria for Public Relations request 10843-A. Requirements: police officer, male, 30 to 45 years old, unmarried. Necessary role: Part of a conspiracy within the local police force to help dissidents escape the notice of Internal Defense. Purpose: The rivalry between the police force and Internal Defense, particularly the Investigation division, is impeding our ability to find and apprehend dissidents. If police officers are concerned about being seen as part of this conspiracy, they will be less likely to interfere with our efforts.
Becca might have stayed frozen there forever if she hadn’t heard a key in the lock.
She closed the file and shut down the computer. The security fob was still lying on the desk; she grabbed it
