The Bureau (A Cage for Men and Wolves Book 1) (26 page)

"The data." Her voice was much quieter than she'd expected, but even that much volume was surprisingly difficult. She met eyes expectantly with his as he looked at her, then felt her hands ball into fists as a look somewhere between guilt and apprehension passed over his features. "What did you find out?"

"Well..." He rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous, though Clover thought he was just using the gesture as an excuse to have his hand poised to block her if she tried to hit him. "What do you want first? The good news, the bad news, or the really weird—but also probably bad—news?"

- 25 -

The sitting room downstairs was dark, and Clover thought that maybe she should light a fire in the neglected hearth. The idea had only enough time to surface and gasp, though, before being lost again. She could hear Elliot upstairs. She heard the sink in the bathroom and the slide of dresser drawers. It was frustrating to know that he was going through his normal evening while she was trying to piece her life back together, but she also appreciated the time he was giving her to be alone.

She hadn't been surprised when Elliot had offered her the good news first. Her uninjured fist had been balled so tight that her knuckles still ached, and she could only imagine what her still-worn face had looked like on the verge of combustion. She couldn't blame him for wanting to ease her rising temper, but in retrospect, she wished he'd started with the bad news and had worked in reverse.

She tried to tell herself to be happy for what she
did
have, because the "good news" really was very good. Elliot had found her brother, Reed. It was impossible to remember the last time she'd felt such undiluted joy. The news had become even better when Elliot had told her that the school he'd been sent to was close by—they could get to it by train.

Clover realized then how lucky they were that that Reed had been taken when he had. He was eight, but by the time boys turned ten, their chances of being sent to a finishing school were cut in half, according to Elliot. By thirteen, the chances were nearly zero. She'd wanted to hug Elliot in that moment, but despite the high of endorphins, the promise of bad news had rested heavily between them. The weight of that promise had kept her body pinioned to the bed.

The "bad news" had been about her mom and sister. Their status was listed only as "sold to third party"—whatever that meant. Even Elliot wasn't sure what to make of it, and had been confused further when a deeper investigation revealed the information for the third party listed as "private." That was when the urge to hit someone had risen inside her. How could they not know the information of someone they sold
other people
to? Did the Bureau just not care what sort of people they entrusted
lives
to?

In an attempt to sooth her own temper, to keep her promise of not lashing out at Elliot when things weren't going her way, she told herself that at least Anise was still with their mother. They were together, she had to believe that if she was going to hold herself together long enough to figure out what to do.

After successfully navigating the dump of frustration the bad news had offered, Clover had thought the "weird news" would be easy. She'd been wrong. Elliot had seemed particularly cautious about this bit of information. He'd prefaced himself over and over, saying that he didn't know for sure what it meant, but after he'd finally gotten to the point, after he'd finally laid the news out, Clover had left the room without a word.

Her father wasn't listed—at all.

He hadn't been sent to a finishing school, he hadn't been sold. He hadn't even been terminated. According to the data, Weston Rhodes had never set foot inside the Bureau.

Clover perched her feet on the chair cushion, the feeling of confusion reminiscent of the night she'd burned Elliot's Evaluator files. How could her father be unlisted? What did that mean? The obvious answer was that he'd never been picked up at all, but she refused to believe that; it was impossible. Could they have just not listed him? Thinking about it honestly was something she'd been combating since the beginning, but she knew that he would never make it through the evaluation system—unless he'd had some sort of plan to start with.

A clenching in her stomach forced a sort of strangled warble from her throat and she was glad she was alone. He wouldn't have a plan to get through the system. It wasn't a secret: how he felt about the finishing school system. Clover knew it better than anyone, because he was the one who'd shaped her own feelings about it. He was the one that had instilled the pride inside her that made death seem so much more appealing than a life like the one Hannah was living. Would he play the system? A week and a half ago, Clover wouldn't have.

She scrubbed her face with her hands, trying to banish the image of her father sitting in a cell. They could buy her brother, they could find some way to locate the third party that had her mom and sister. She could save all of them, but she wasn't sure anymore if she could lie about the chances of seeing her father again.

"You okay?"

Clover jumped in her seat. She’d not heard Elliot's bare feet padding into the room. She clamped her hands on her knees, not wanting him to see how pathetically she'd been rubbing her face, or how wet her hands felt afterward. "Not really." Honesty was becoming easier with Elliot.

He sat down on the couch he'd once been bound to as a captive audience for a branding. The room was silent for a long time as Clover rubbed her fingers back and forth across her forehead, pretending she could wipe away the squall of bad thoughts.

"We'll go find your brother tomorrow," Elliot said after a respectable pause. "We'll start with the easy stuff, and figure out the hard stuff as we go."

"Do you think he's dead?" Clover's voice croaked painfully on the last word.

"Your father? I don't know. If I had to guess, the obvious answer would be that he was never picked up at all."

"That's impossible. If he hadn't been picked up, he would have come back home. He would be here helping me."

"I'm sorry." Elliot's soft reaction made Clover realize she'd been shouting. "We'll get Reed back," he continued, after Clover settled down again. "Then we'll find out who bought your mom and sister. When they're all safe, we'll figure out where your father is."

Clover covered her face with her good hand, taking deep breaths to try and clear her head. Elliot was right—they needed to focus on what could be fixed immediately. She couldn't leave Reed in a finishing school for a single second longer than was necessary.

"Can we really go tomorrow?"

"Yeah. We'll take the train right after work. But you're on probation, so we’ll have to be careful, okay?”

"Okay."

Elliot stood, waited a second, as though to see if she would go back upstairs with him, then walked silently from the room. Later, after she'd scoured every scenario that would leave her father unlisted in the Bureau's database, Clover returned to the bedroom. It was already dark when she let herself in, but she could still see the outline of Elliot's body nestled in the blankets that made up her floor pallet. An unwanted squirming had started in her stomach as she crawled into the soft bed he'd left open for her. He was definitely going beyond what was required to get his imagined cure, and Clover hated the now familiar ache of guilt.

"I don't need this." Clover felt like she was a child again, anxious to get out of an adults grasp so she could get on with her life. She was at least old enough now to keep from stomping her feet as Elliot fastened the splint around her two still-swollen fingers.

"If you hit them while you're working they'll just take longer to heal."

"Let me rephrase. I don't
want
this."

Elliot looked at her steadily, but the eye-rolling was implied. He finished wrapping her fingers, then insisted on changing the bandage on her ear.

"We should have gotten this stitched." He was chastising himself, then he addressed Clover more directly. "I know you don't want to seem injured in front of everyone—that you don't want to give Dom the impression that he's won—but I think playing the victim could buy us some time."

Clover hated that he was probably right,
and
probably the only one thinking about their mission logically.

"I know it's hard for you, but keep your head down. You have a way of challenging people just by looking at them. Don't do that. If you see him, duck your head, look pitiful. If you're not a challenge, then he'll lose interest in you." Elliot's words were stern, but his fingers as he changed the bandage were soft. "As soon as work is over, we'll go find your brother."

"Why can't we go now? We could just skip going to work."

"The last thing we need is to draw more attention to ourselves. Dom wasn't surprised you were missing yesterday, but if we both go missing then he'd know we were up to something. And
no
, you
can't
go on your own. If you're caught violating your parole, then I won't have the option to bail you out again."

Clover huffed without meaning to, though Elliot didn't seem to take offense.

"Not like I could buy him without you there anyway,
mom.
"

"After bailing you out, and after the number of times I've put up with you hitting me, I think I at least deserve this much respect. Your ear's finished." He tucked the extra gauze back into the first aid kit.

"I haven't hit you in
days.
"

"You've been in
jail
for most of that time. Or asleep."

"That still counts."

"Go put your shoes on."

Elliot walked away from her, and Clover considered kicking him in the backs of his knees. She kind of missed the meeker version of her prisoner—the one that would let her do whatever she wanted and didn't talk back to her. Instead, Elliot had turned into a nagging parental figure who always knew best. Despite that, it was nice having someone to rely on. She figured she could put up with his attitude. At least as a "thanks" for getting her out of that cell.

It wasn't until Clover reached the circle drive of the Bureau that she realized her heart rate had been slowly increasing since they'd left the house. Now she felt her feet begin dragging, her body intrinsically knowing to stay out of the building. Even when she wasn't thinking of it, her body remembered what had happened inside those walls. Her good hand found the splint on her broken fingers and she squeezed until it hurt, as if her fear came directly from her injuries. It wasn't until a Bureau worker who had been keeping pace behind them bumped into her that Clover realized she'd nearly stopped all together.

"You okay?" Elliot's tone was similar to the one he'd used the night before when he'd come to check on her in the sitting room, but it was quieter this time, and his face was set in the indifferent expression he wore when they were in public.

She let go of her fingers. They
were
in public, and she needed to remember that. As they entered the atrium of the lobby, Clover took a few deep breaths, reminding herself that she only had to get through the rest of the day. She could be with her brother in less than ten hours, and that was enough incentive to keep moving forward, even though her body begged her to leave.

"I'll come for you as soon as I'm done," Elliot reassured her as he dropped her off at the maintenance room. "Remember, just keep your head down. And, you know, don't beat anyone up."

Despite the nervous, queasy feeling that had formed in her stomach, Clover couldn't help but smile a little. A week ago, she wouldn't have pegged Elliot for the type of person to have a sense of humor.

"I'll try to contain myself."

Elliot kept his disinterested expression, but winked discretely at her, and Clover felt her heart rate begin to slow. He scanned the room, and for a moment Clover thought he was looking for his brother, then he nodded one more time at her. After spending the last day-and-a-half with him constantly at her side, it was hard to watch him go. She didn't like the idea, but as long as she didn't let
him
know that he'd become her security blanket, she figured she could live with the embarrassment of it.

She moved toward the back corner where her work group congregated, and as the eyes of other workers turned in her direction, she thought that telling Elliot was worth the humiliation if it meant she didn't have to be alone. The chaperone agents, with their brown shoulder guards looked venomous, and the workers shuffled away from her, like they wanted to make it clear to the agents that they had nothing to do with her.

She squeezed her splinted fingers again and tried to look straight ahead. She'd been expecting some sort of attention. After all, the last time she'd been seen by her coworkers had been on the previous Friday, when Pierson had plucked her from the ranks. Showing up now, days later and bandaged, she shouldn't be surprised that they looked uneasy.

When she found Connell, he looked at her with a sort of disgust she'd not seen from him before. "So you actually came back."

"Yes, sir."

"I don't want you talking with any of the others today, you understand?"