“You’re talking about the people you’ve…the ones you’ve had to kill.”
“Yeah.”
“But when you started all of this, you hadn’t killed anyone. That wasn’t until later, when you escaped.”
I can’t fault her logic, but I’m also not sure what to think about it.
“What was her name?”
“My mom? Helen.”
“How did she die?”
“She got sick.” I swallow hard, not wanting to think about this part of my life. “She went to the hospital, but she never came back home.”
“Did she get the virus?”
“I think so.”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“I was a kid. I didn’t ask for a lot of details. She went to the hospital one day, and she never came back.”
“When did you last see her?” Aerin asks.
“I was seven years old,” I say, “and she handed me my lunch before sending me off to school. When I got home, I was told she was in the hospital, but she was contagious, so I couldn’t go see her. She died a few days later.”
“Did she seem sick?”
“Not that I remember.” I frown. “What are you getting at?”
“Talen, your father had you sent to prison for helping the Naughts, and he told everyone you died in the hospital. Now you’re saying your mother helped the Naughts, and she died in the hospital, too? That doesn’t seem a little coincidental?”
“Wait a minute!” I sit partway up and look down at Aerin. “You think my dad had my mom killed? She was his wife. He loved her. Why would he do that?”
“You are his son, and he did it to you.” Aerin runs her hand over my arm. “Was he president when your mother died?”
“Not yet. He was campaigning.”
“And would your mother helping the Naughts help or hurt his election chances?”
“No.” I shake my head violently. “That’s not possible.”
“It is possible.” Aerin tightens her grip on my arm. “Talen, you know it’s not only possible; it’s likely. He got rid of you because you were getting in the way. It sounds to me like your mother was getting in the way first. It worked once, so why wouldn’t he try it again?”
Chapter 22
By the time the sky lightens with daybreak, I’ve barely slept. Aerin’s words from the night before rushed through my head every time I closed my eyes. I still can’t stop thinking about it.
Is it possible? Could my father have done the same thing to my mother as he did to me when I got in his way? I try to remember a time when they argued about it, but they didn’t have such discussions in front of me. I only remember them speaking in low voices from my father’s study, but I never heard the words.
I don’t want to think that my father could do that to his own wife. I don’t want to think about it at all, but I can’t seem to help myself. If he was willing to eliminate me, he may very well have done the same to her.
I never thought much about my mother. As a child, it was just too painful. Dad removed all the pictures of her from the house because it was just too difficult to have the constant reminders of her, or at least that’s what I had thought. Shortly after my mother’s death, my father hired a string of nannies that never lasted more than a month or two. For the most part, I learned to take care of myself.
Aerin picks up her pack and slings it over her shoulder.
“About ready?” she asks.