Calculated Risk. Janie Crouch

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СКАЧАТЬ it had been bearable.

       Crisscross, applesauce.

      That phrase had been their agreed-upon code, hidden from the Organization, to let each other know if they were truly in need.

      They were quite possibly the only words in the world that could’ve stopped Bree from crawling out that window and leaving here forever.

      Was it a trap?

      If Bree’s mother was still alive, she would’ve definitely said yes. They would’ve already been out the window and moving to separate locations to meet up later if it was safe. That had always been their agreed-upon plan, even when it meant Bree had to spend a week living by herself when she was fourteen. Whatever kept them alive.

      Knowing she might be making the worst mistake of her life, that her mother was probably rolling over in her grave, Bree stopped and turned back toward her front door.

      Saying a quick prayer and calling herself all sorts of stupid, she cracked open the door.

      She knew immediately it was Melissa. She was more than a decade older than when Bree had last seen her at thirteen, but her features and long blond hair were still the same. Bree had been so jealous of Mel’s beautiful curls when they were kids. Her own straight brown hair had seemed so boring in comparison.

      She’d made a mistake by opening the door. Even if Melissa wasn’t here because she meant to kill her—and Bree still wasn’t sure of that—Melissa was part of a life Bree wanted nothing to do with.

      “I’m sorry, you’ve got the wrong place. There’s nobody by that name here.” Bree quickly shut the door.

      “Bethany, I know it’s you. Please, it’s Melissa. I’m not going to hurt you, and I haven’t told anybody in the Organization where you are. But I need your help.”

      Bree rested her forehead against the door. It had been so long since...everything. Since seeing Melissa. Since hearing anyone call her by her real name.

      Since talking to anyone person to person at all.

      “Crisscross, applesauce. Crisscross, applesauce.” Melissa kept softly saying it over and over against the door.

      Shaking her head, Bree opened it again.

      “Oh, God, thank you,” Melissa said before Bree yanked her inside. Immediately Bree started patting down her cousin, looking for a weapon. Not finding one didn’t make her feel any better. If the other woman was here to betray Bree, she wouldn’t be here alone.

      “I don’t have any guns,” Melissa said as Bree finished the pat down. “And I don’t have very much time.”

      “Why are you here, Mel?”

      Bree stood stiff as her cousin threw her arms around Bree’s torso. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged her. Her mom had stopped long before she died.

      “Why are you here?” she asked again. “How did you find me?”

      Melissa stepped back. “I discovered you were in Kansas City a few months ago. But only recently did I find this place.”

      Bree tried to focus on what Melissa was saying and not on the fear coursing through her system. If Melissa could find her, so could the rest of the Organization.

      Melissa grabbed her hands. “Nobody knows but me. I promise. I need your help, Bethany.”

      “Bree,” she said automatically. “I go by Bree now.”

      “Bree. It suits you.” Melissa gave her a small smile, her hands wringing. “I don’t have much time. It won’t take them long to figure out I’m gone. They’re suspicious already.”

      Bree watched her closely, still ready to run if needed. “What do you need?”

      “I found out the truth about the Organization. I want to get out. I’ve wanted to for a long time, but now I think I have the means.”

      Bree shut her eyes and shook her head. “I—”

      “Things are so much worse now than when you were there. The things they can do now...”

      Bree didn’t want to get drawn back into this. She was already going to have to run again. The thought of leaving this place hurt. “I can’t help you. Honestly, I’m not in any position to help anyone. And if you know I’m here, the Organization does, too.”

      Melissa grabbed Bree’s hand, and she fought not to flinch away. “No, they don’t know. They may know I’m here, but they don’t know it’s you. And I have a couple of allies on the inside now. People who can be trusted.”

      The only person Bree trusted was herself. When it came to the Organization, the price on her head was too high to trust anybody.

      The phone in Melissa’s hand pinged, and she let out a curse.

      “I’m out of time.” Her features became more pinched. “There’s so much I need to tell you. Please, Bethany—Bree—please meet me tonight so I can explain everything. There’s so much more at stake than you could ever dream, than I could’ve ever dreamed. I have to make my move now or I’ll lose everything.” Desperation dripped from every word.

      “Mel, I just don’t think—”

      “Just meet me tonight,” Melissa cut her off. “At the downtown train station at midnight. I’ll bring the hard drive. It has everything we need to truly get our freedom. I’ll show you why it’s critical I make my move now.”

      When the phone in her hand beeped again, Melissa bolted to the door. She turned, eyes entreating. “Crisscross, applesauce, Bethany. Please.”

      All Bree could do was watch her go.

      * * *

      TWELVE HOURS LATER, at almost midnight, Bree sat in her car in a location giving her good visual access to the train station.

      She was making a mistake. She knew she was making a mistake, that this was all going to end badly...yet here she was.

      She’d been watching the station for the past two hours, looking for any sign that Melissa had set her up, that this was a trap and the Organization would be moving in to capture Bree.

      She’d found no indication at all that that was the case.

      Just like she’d found no indication of betrayal after she’d immediately vacated her apartment this afternoon when Melissa left. As far as Bree could tell—and she’d become very proficient at the tactical skill of observation—no one had been watching or following her all day.

      It disturbed her slightly how much she wanted to believe her cousin’s intentions were good. Even if it went against the idea her mother had spent so many years instilling: no one could be trusted.

      In the end, her mother hadn’t even trusted Bree. She rubbed the raised flesh of the knife scar on her shoulder under her shirt. Her mother’s parting gift, before taking her own life, thinking Bree was about to do it.

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