We sent Celine photographs of our victims. And then we waited. Waiting was not one of the Naturals program’s collective strong suits. Within an hour, Agent Sterling was out working the case again, but the rest of us were stuck twiddling our thumbs at the hotel. Waiting for Celine to put her skills to the
test. Waiting for the truth. Waiting to find out if our efforts would lead us any closer to my mother.
“Dean.” Of all of us, Lia was either the best at waiting or the worst. “Truth or dare?”
“Seriously?” I asked Lia.
Her lips tilted upward ever so slightly. “There’s a certain tradition to it, don’t you think?” She sat down on the arm of the couch. “Truth or dare, Dean?”
For a moment, I thought he would refuse to answer. “Truth.”
Lia looked down at her hands, examining her fingernails. “How long are you going to be mad at me?”
You don’t sound vulnerable. You don’t sound like the answer could break you.
“I’m not mad at you,” Dean said, his voice cracking.
“He’s mad at himself,” Michael clarified loftily. “Also: me. Definitely me.”
Dean glared at him. “Truth or dare, Townsend.” Those words weren’t issued like a question. They were a challenge.
Michael offered Dean a charming, glittering smile. “Dare.”
For almost a minute, the two of them were caught in a staring competition. Then Dean broke the silence. “Agent Starmans is downstairs patrolling the perimeter of the hotel. I dare you to moon him.”
“What?” Clearly, Michael had not been expecting those words to exit Dean’s mouth.
“The term mooning arises from the vaguely moon-shaped form of the human buttocks,” Sloane volunteered helpfully. “Although the practice dates back to the Middle Ages, the terminology was not common until the mid-
1960s.”
“Really?” I asked Dean. I was a natural profiler. He was my boyfriend, and I had in no way seen this coming. Then again, he had promised the universe a significant reduction in brooding if it returned Lia to us intact.
“You heard the man,” I told Michael.
Michael stood up and dusted off his lapels. “Mooning Agent Starmans,” he said solemnly, “would be my pleasure.” He stalked to the balcony, let himself out, waited for Agent Starmans to pass by, and then called down to the man. When Starmans looked up, Michael saluted him. With military precision, he turned and bared his backside.
I was laughing so hard, I almost didn’t hear Michael as he came back in and turned to Dean. “Truth or dare, Redding?”
“Truth.”
Michael crossed his arms over his waist in a way that made me think Dean was going to regret that choice. “Admit it: I’ve grown on you.”
Sloane frowned. “That wasn’t a question.”
“Fine,” Michael said, grinning, before returning to torture Dean. “Do you like me? Am I one of your closest bosom buddies? Would you cry your little heart out if I was gone?”
Michael and Dean had been at each other’s throats for as long as I’d known them.
“Do. You. Like. Me.” Michael repeated the question, this time with gestures.
Dean glanced at Lia, whose presence was a reminder that he couldn’t get away with lying.
“You have your moments,” Dean mumbled. “What was that?” Michael cupped his ear.
“I don’t have to like you,” Dean snapped back. “We’re family.”
“Bosom buddies,” Michael corrected loftily. Dean gave him a dirty look. I grinned.
“Your turn again,” Lia reminded Dean, nudging him with the tip of her foot.
Dean resisted the urge to target Michael. “Truth or dare, Cassie?”
There were very few things I kept from Dean—very few things he couldn’t ask me, if he wanted to know.
“Dare,” I said.
Sloane cleared her throat. “I would just like to point out,” she said, “that this is one of only two-point-three percent of hotel rooms that come with a blender.”
Hours ticked by. The blender and the minibar proved to be a dangerous
combination.
“Truth or dare, Lia?” It was my turn, and I could feel reality creeping back up on us. Every round that went by was that much longer without hearing from Celine. It was that much closer until the point in time when Agent Sterling would either have to charge the Darby family or let them go.
“Truth,” Lia replied. It was her first in a very long game. “Why did you go after Darby alone?” I asked her.
Lia stood up and stretched, arching her back and twisting from one side to the other. She had the advantage in Truth or Dare.
No one else in this room could lie and get away with it.
“I got out,” Lia said finally. “My mother didn’t.” She stopped stretching and stood very still. “I ran away when I hit puberty. By the time Briggs found me in New York…” She shook her head. “There was nothing left for us to save.”
Nothing left of the cult. Nothing left of your mother.
“Some of Darby’s followers will just find someone else to latch on to,” Lia continued. “But there’s at least a chance that with him in prison, some of them will go home.”
I thought of Melody and Shane. And then I thought of Lia—younger and more vulnerable than the girl I knew now.
“Besides,” Lia added flippantly, “I wanted to stick it to Michael for that stunt he pulled in New York.” She turned on the tips of her toes. “Truth or dare, Sloane?”
“Would choosing truth involve a question about beagle and/or flamingo statistics?” Sloane asked hopefully.
“Doubtful,” Michael opined. “Dare,” Sloane told Lia.
A slow, wicked grin spread over Lia’s face. “I dare you,” she said, “to hack into Agent Sterling’s computer and change her wallpaper to the picture I took of Michael mooning our Agent Starmans.”
