But that’s not the strangest thing about this Escape. I don’t feel that euphoric hum filtering through the atmosphere and into my blood. Now that I think about it, I didn’t experience that rush of energy when Patrick touched me, or the traditional brain fog either. There’s just a small flurry of anticipation in my heart, like someone has injected it with a low dose of adrenaline.
“Pat? Where are we exactly?”
“This is stage one of the Prairie Escape,” he says, his eyes not leaving my face for a moment, like he’s expecting a big reaction from me. “Trypnosis isn’t as intense because I’m still constructing the landscape. But it’s turning out beautifully, don’t you think? I tried to get all the details right.”
I feel a lump form in my throat. Patrick knows all too well that I have a thing for prairies. There’s a series of children’s books that my great-grandmother on my father’s side passed down through the generations, and when I was little, I was pretty obsessed with them. I loved reading about pioneer times, and I thought the characters, even the little girl at the heart of the story, were so brave. Patrick listened to me go on and on about these novels for years, and here we are, standing in a field that flawlessly resembles the hand-drawn black-and-white illustrations.
This Escape is obviously some kind of romantic, loving tribute to me, and I know Patrick’s trying to impress me, but instead of feeling flattered and appreciated, I just feel uncomfortable. He has done nothing but lie to me since the day I saw the vision of my dad in Elusion. Does he think this is enough to make up for it?
“What is it?” he asks, reaching out to me. “What’s wrong?”
Instead of answering, I turn the tables on him, reminding myself that I have to stay on the offensive. “Why did you ask me to come here, Pat?”
When he steps closer to me, a lock of his blond hair falls in front of his eyes. “I wanted you to see that I’m not the monster you think I am. That I care about you more than anything.”
“Pat . . . ,” I begin. I don’t want to discuss our relationship. Not now. Not here.
“I can feel you slipping away from me.”
“I don’t think you’re a monster,” I say, even though I’m not sure if I really mean it. But I don’t argue with him about me slipping away—it’s true. As scary as it is to admit, we might be at the point of no return.
“Well, then you’re in the minority. The media is going wild with this story, Ree. Especially now that Anthony . . .” He trails off as his gaze casts down at the ground.
I can’t blame him for not wanting to finish that sentence. Nor can I blame myself for what I’m about to say and do.
“I’m afraid it’s going to get worse.”
Patrick glances back up at me, his lips wrought into a tight line. “Why?”
I take a deep breath. Throwing Avery under the bus isn’t something I feel good about doing, but my back is up against the wall.
“Avery has the QuTap.”
His mouth hangs open a little and I notice his Adam’s apple slowly bobbing up and down, like he’s swallowing hard. “Avery? You’ve been plotting with Avery?”
“I didn’t have a choice. You stonewalled me, and she was the only one who had the resources to crack the decryption the files,” I say coolly. “And she got a few open.”
Patrick just stands there, staring at me in the same tortured way I stared at Josh when I saw him handing the QuTap over to Avery. For a minute I feel a tug of sympathy at my heart, but I push it away.
“There was a memo,” I continue, listening to the sound of my pulse pound in my ears. “It was from Bryce to my father, warning about the danger of nanopsychosis. And giving him the idea to put sodium pentothal in the wristband.”
Patrick brings his hands up to his face, first pressing down on his cheeks and then pushing them toward the back of his head, like he’s trying to relieve the pressure. I’ve seen that move before. No one else might understand it, but I’ve known him long enough to translate—it’s practically an admission of guilt.
“You know exactly what memo I’m talking about, don’t you?” I say. “You’ve known Elusion could hurt people from the very beginning, just like my father seems to have.”
“It’s not like that,” he says. “Do you really think he or I would have intentionally harmed anyone? Especially you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we should ask Principal Caldwell.”
He reels back, like I’ve just shot him in the chest with an assault rifle. But when he steadies himself, he levels a nasty glare at me. “You think you have everything all figured out, but you don’t.”
“That’s why you’re going tell me, Pat. Everything, including what’s really behind the firewall,” I threaten. “Because if you don’t, that memo is going public and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
He shakes his head, like he’s ashamed of me, which I find pretty outrageous, all things considered.
“I’m prepared to do whatever needs to be done to make this right,” I say.
“Even if you’re wrong? Even if your mere accusation is enough to ruin everything your father and I worked for? Drag our reputations through the mud?”
“Those things aren’t as important as people’s lives!” I shout, my cheeks flushed with heat. “Has your mind been so corrupted by big business and fame that you can’t even see that?”
“Corrupt?” Patrick narrows his eyes at me. “I didn’t find that memo until after David died. When I took over his office and started working on his quantum, it was a wreck. The files were completely disorganized, and some were even missing.” He’s starting to pace now, back and forth, back and forth, like a caged animal. “When I came across the memo, Elusion was already undergoing trials at the CIT. At that point, there wasn’t anything I could do without sabotaging the entire project. There was way too much riding on it then, and when we got the approval, I assumed your dad and Bryce had successfully worked all the kinks out.”
“So I’m supposed to believe that you never knew what they were up to? You helped my father with every aspect of Elusion,” I say, as a slight wind blows a golden stalk against my leg.
“You’re wrong, Ree,” Patrick says, shaking his head. “There were parts of the Elusion creation process that even I wasn’t involved in. I’m great with coding and designing the Escapes, but the trypnosis application has never been my specialty.”
“Oh really? Then whose is it?”
“Bryce. Your dad chose him personally to run that division.”
“So what? As soon as Josh told you about Nora, you had to have known the sodium pentothal wasn’t working. You keep coming up with excuses, Pat. Problems with the app being downloaded, signals being hijacked because a new company is hosting the server—you’ve got a reason for everything. And you haven’t done anything about it.”