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“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Her father stepped forward, anger echoing in his tone even as Liza glimpsed a flash of guilt. “Do you think I wouldn’t know my own daughter? That I wouldn’t know if she had been replaced by another?” Heavy mockery filled his tone and marked his expression.
“Enough, Audi,” her mother protested as she laid a hand on his arm, her fingers trembling as she caught Liza’s gaze. “This is only upsetting Liza. Let’s see what we can do to help her, rather than upsetting her.”
The love she had always seen in her mother’s face was there. There was also all the love and acceptance she had always known. Her life, until now, had been charmed. Loving parents, an uneventful past, a good job.
She had everything but the husband, kids and white picket fence.
“Mr. Wyatt,” she said softly, never taking her gaze from her mother’s. “If I were who you and the Genetics Council wanted me to be, wouldn’t I know it?” She turned to the director, shaking her head at the solemn look on his face. “I wish I were Honor Roberts or Fawn Corrigan, and if I thought for a minute I could help your child, then I would. But I’ve grown tired of assuring you I’m not either of those girls, nor do I know them, know where they are, who they are, or what happened to them.”
Breathing in roughly, she turned to Stygian. “Could we go to whatever little box of a room he’s assigned us this time? It’s nearly midnight, I’m tired and I have to be at work in the morning.” She turned to Claire. “Claire, if you’re staying here at the hotel, then I’d like to talk to you at breakfast.”
“Claire won’t be staying,” Ray Martinez spoke up, his voice low and for the first time since they were teenagers, lacking any emotion when it came to her and Claire.
Liza turned to her friend slowly.
Claire’s head was down, her gaze hidden. Liza knew that look. She’d almost forgotten it. Seeing Claire so silent and still, her attention focused entirely on her hands, was a sight she hadn’t seen since before the accident.
For the briefest second, it wasn’t Claire she saw sitting there. The girl she saw was much younger, her hair several shades darker, her body just a bit stockier.
Blinking, the image receded, disappearing as quickly as the memories that tormented her.
“Mr. Martinez, your daughter will be safer here.” Command naturally hardened Jonas’s tone.
“She’s going with me.” Ray was at the point of belligerence.
Liza had to agree with Jonas for a change. If Gideon Cross was indeed in Window Rock and asking about her and Claire, then at least for the moment, the hotel was the safest place.
Liza turned to her father.
Her parents were silent, her father’s gaze apologetic while Ray and Maria Martinez stood stiff, unemotional.
“You could let her stay tonight,” she whispered to the Nation’s president. “Give the Breeds a chance to catch this Gideon Cross rather than giving him a chance to strike out at her.”
A heavy frown filled Ray’s expression then. “I didn’t ask for your advice.”
Liza knew that tone well. Ray was furious at the situation, and she feared that he would blame Claire, just as he did when she and Claire were children.
She turned back to her friend.
Claire was shaking her head, silently pleading with Liza not to begin a confrontation that would only result in additional trouble for her.
“I’ve had enough.” Liza sighed wearily as she turned to Stygian, refusing to glance again at her father or Claire’s. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”
“We have two suites reserved here for you,” Jonas informed her as he stepped forward once again. “Claire will be across the hall from you with Ashley and Emma Truing, if she decides to stay. Rule, Mordecai and Dog’s team will have the rooms on each side of the two of you. You’ll be protected.”
“From what?” Liza snorted, shaking her head. “You know, Director Wyatt, you have to figure out why we’re in danger before you can eliminate the danger. Good luck with that one, by the way. Because I’ll be damned if I can figure it out.”
She moved for the door, aware, surprisingly, of Claire moving behind her, silent, too damned silent, refusing to bid her parents farewell.
“Liza.” It was her father who stepped forward before she could leave the room.
As he’d done when she was a child, he stood before her, staring down at her, his expression filled with guilt. “I’ll fix it, baby girl,” he promised.
How many times had he promised her that? He would fix it. And he always had before.
She was terribly afraid there was no fixing this one.
“I know you’ll try, Dad.” She nodded, her chest tight with the knowledge that he couldn’t fix the danger she w
