I frantically shake my head, trying to block out his words. “But I saw the men whose photographs were in the folders in Dr. Faust’s office. They weren’t children; they were grown men. Dean might be recruiting volunteer soldiers, but he wouldn’t hurt innocent kids.”
“Lydia. You saw the room of children. It’s only a matter of time before Faust starts approving use of them—if he hasn’t already. The Montauk Project becomes more and more ruthless as time goes on. If Dean’s working for them, then he’s ruthless too.”
“Oh my god.” Wes puts out a hand, trying to warn me about something, but I don’t notice. “I never thought Dean Bentley would turn out to be the bad guy,” I say roughly.
There’s a small sound behind me, a tiny squeaking noise. I turn to see Peter pop up from behind a rock, one of his toy soldiers clutched in his hand. He stares at me in horror.
“Peter—” I reach for him, the folder in my hands falling to the ground. Peter whirls around and runs back into the woods.
“Did he hear me say that his father is a bad guy?” I whisper. Wes nods and I press both palms against my forehead.
I feel Wes’s touch on the back of my neck. It’s only a slight sweep of his fingers, but it’s enough to make me feel calmer. I lift my head, unable to erase the image of my grandfather’s face. He worships his father, he always has. What must he be thinking of me right now?
“Do you want to go after him?” Wes’s voice is soft.
“No.” I bend down and pick up the folder. “I’ll find him later and apologize. You and I need to sort this out.”
I think of all I know about Dean, what my grandfather has told me about his father. He was supposed to be a good man. I thought he was a good man. But now I’m not so sure.
Wes watches me struggle with my thoughts and says, “People get caught up in stuff like this for a lot of different reasons. He probably thinks he’s doing the right thing.”
I scoff. “Nobody could think kidnapping and torturing children is the right thing.”
His mouth twists a little. “I’ve met a lot of scientists at the Facility as I travel across time, and all of them think what they do is for the greater good. And sometimes it is.”
At my horrified look, his voice gets firmer. “Sometimes the past does need to be changed, Lydia. If you could stop a huge disaster from happening, and save thousands of people, wouldn’t you do it?”
I nod reluctantly.
“Do you know how many events like that I’ve stopped over the years, just by changing one tiny moment in the time line?”
“But, Wes, you can’t be advocating for what they do. They use children. They torture them.”
He turns away so that I’m staring at the hard angles of his profile. “I’m not saying I agree with their methods. But sometimes the world isn’t always so black and white. People can do bad to do good.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t believe that.” I picture Dean at the picnic, his hand cupped around Peter’s head. “And I don’t believe that Dean could be kidnapping children off the street and then brainwashing them. Maybe he doesn’t know everything.”
Wes looks back at me. “Lydia …”
“He doesn’t, Wes. He might be sending soldiers on these missions, but he doesn’t know about the room of children. I know it in my gut.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I just am.” I look at the sky, where the tree branches weave together in the wind. The sound of the leaves rustling is oddly soothing. “I don’t know how to explain it. Dean is family. And if he could raise someone as kind and as loving as my grandfather, then he can’t be a part of something like this.”
Wes gives me an assessing look. There’s a war going on behind his eyes, and I can tell he’s wrestling with some kind of big decision.
Finally I watch as a strange peace settles over his features. “So what do we do next?” he asks, and his voice sounds lighter than it ever has.
I tilt my head at him. “We?”
“We.” He smiles slightly.
“You want to help me?”
He nods.
I step closer to him and lift the tan folder. “How did you get this?” I ask slowly.
His eyes drop down at the movement. “I broke into Dean’s office in the Facility.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you needed more information,” he says quietly.
“You did this for me?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “I thought, after last night …”
“Lydia.” He steps closer. “Last night was a mistake.”
“You didn’t mean to kiss me,” I say flatly.
“That’s not it.” He looks at the ground. “I didn’t kiss you because I was trying to get you to do something. I kissed you because … I wanted to.”
My breath catches.
“I’m not good at this,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know how to deal with … feelings.”
I step closer. We’re almost touching.
“I don’t think that’s true, Wes.” I’m finally starting to understand the magnitude of his actions. “You went into the Facility for me. You took out this file.”
I lift the folder again. “What about the butterfly effect? What about all your beliefs?”
“I don’t believe in what you’re doing, Lydia.” His voice has lost that uncertain quality. “I’ve seen what can happen when people mess with the past. But I thought about everything you said last night. You keep fighting so hard for the people you love. You’ll do anything, even if it means risking your own future. I’ve never seen anyone act like that before. That’s why I want to help you.”
His words flow through me, warm and comforting. I let go of my anger, of my fear, of all the unanswered questions I have about Wes. He is going against all his beliefs to help me.
I still don’t know why
