Exploited
Page 73
“It’s okay, Hannah. I don’t mind the questions. But she’s right, Mrs. Whelan, nothing is ever like it is on TV. Most of the time it’s pretty boring.” I took a bite of pizza and sat back down in the chair beside Hannah. She took my hand and squeezed it briefly before turning back to her sister.
“Abe always liked those FBI shows on television. He would have been tickled that Hannah was dating an agent. If you think I ask a lot of questions, just be glad Abe isn’t around,” Mrs. Whelan went on, a tender, sad smile on her face.
“Abe?” I asked.
“Our dad,” Charlotte piped up. “His name was Abraham Lee Whelan. He was into computers like Hannah.”
Charlotte Ann Whelan.
Abraham Lee Whelan.
Without conscious thought, I filed away the names. Though I wasn’t sure why.
I glanced at Hannah. “Oh, really? I didn’t know Hannah was ‘into’ computers.”
Hannah fidgeted in her seat, not enjoying the attention. “Cory says you got to sit out in the garden today, Char. Is that squirrel family still living in the oak tree?”
She was changing the subject.
“Han has always been obsessed with computers. She used to build her own computer games when she was little. She went to school to be a programmer,” Mrs. Whelan went on proudly, ignoring her daughter’s efforts to talk about something else.
“Wow, I had no idea.” I smiled at Hannah. “But she’s really smart, so it doesn’t surprise me.” Hannah was uncomfortable. She held on to Charlotte’s hand, not looking at me. I didn’t want to make her feel awkward by talking about her as if she wasn’t in the room.
“I’m into computers too; it’s what I did before I was recruited by the FBI. Seems that’s something Hannah and I have in common.”
“I wanted to be a basketball star,” Charlotte said as Hannah cleaned up after her meal.
“A basketball star? I thought you were a gymnast,” I commented. Hannah’s cheeks flushed as she smoothed Charlotte’s blankets over her lap.
Mrs. Whelan frowned. “A gymnast? Our Charlotte? Not likely,” she said and laughed. “Charlotte was the tomboy type, weren’t you, sweetheart?”
“I liked basketball. I miss playing,” Charlotte said.
“My brother was a basketball player too,” I said, a knot forming in my stomach. Mrs. Whelan began to fuss over her daughter and I turned to Hannah.
“Why did you tell me Charlotte was a gymnast if she wasn’t?”
Why did this woman keep lying to me?
Over and over again.
Hannah seemed confused. “I don’t remember saying she was a gymnast. If I did, it was an accident. Charlotte played basketball. Are you sure I said that?”
Now I was starting to question my memory of the conversation. I remembered it had been during one of our first phone calls. I was talking about Dillon playing basketball and Hannah mentioned Charlotte being a gymnast.
I was sure of it.
Was I?
“Charlotte was a basketball all-star at our high school,” Hannah went on proudly, patting her sister’s arm.
I wanted to press Hannah about the gymnast story, but she seemed so unconcerned. Maybe she had never said that. Perhaps I was getting the conversation confused with something else.
She lied to me again.
The voice was yelling again.
But I wasn’t convinced I should listen. Why would Hannah introduce me to her sister and mother if she was being purposefully dishonest?
She lies about everything.
Everything?
The doubt was there again.
I watched Hannah stroke her sister’s cheek lovingly. She picked up a brush from the bedside table and carefully ran it through Charlotte’s hair. She was doting. So gentle.
“I want a new basketball jersey for my birthday,” Charlotte said.
“Oh yeah, which one?” I asked, forcefully pushing past my reservations.
“Her favorite team is the Washington Wizards. She already has three jerseys,” Mrs. Whelan told me.
“My birthday’s next month,” Charlotte announced.
“Really? What day?” I asked her.
“Her birthday’s May twelfth,” Hannah informed me.
May twelfth.
May twelfth.
05/12.
Not able to sit still any longer, I got up and started to tidy up after dinner. I collapsed the pizza boxes and put the leftovers on an extra plate.
Hannah continued to tend to Charlotte, talking quietly with her, giving her sister all of her attention. She had a good heart. That was apparent.
But was it a dishonest heart?
“She’s always been protective of Charlotte. Even before the accident. They were incredibly close. Sure, they fought like all siblings do, but there was nothing Hannah wouldn’t do for Charlotte and vice versa. Losing her father and almost losing Charlotte nearly destroyed Hannah,” Mrs. Whelan confided quietly, wrapping the plate of pizza in a paper towel. “You said you have a brother?” she prodded.
I nodded. “A younger brother, Dillon. He passed away a year ago,” I answered quietly, wiping the grease off my hands with a napkin.
Mrs. Whelan’s face contorted in a shared pain. She put her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry, Mason.”
I briefly put my hand on top of hers. She was a kind woman. Just like her daughter. I could see where Hannah got it from. “Thank you.”
“Grief changes a person, doesn’t it?” she murmured, gazing at her oldest daughter with an expression that was a mixture of sadness and worry.
“Hannah told me it was a dark time for her after the accident.” I pulled the trash bag from the bin and tied it shut, putting it on the floor to be taken out when we left.
“She was so angry. Especially after the situation with Ryan Law—”
Alarm bells went off in my head.
“Ryan Law?”
Mrs. Whelan nodded. “The firm Ryan Law represented the city when myself and the other families involved in the accident on the highway brought suit. Hannah wanted to make the city and the contractor employed to put the road down pay. She was so mad when I decided to drop our end of the lawsuit. I just couldn’t put our family through that, not after everything we had already been through. Dominic Ryan used some nasty tactics too. It wasn’t worth it.”
I didn’t know what to say. The coincidence was startling. What were the chances that one of the victims of Freedom Overdrive’s exploits just happened to be the corrupt law firm responsible for screwing over Hannah and her family?
“Abe always liked those FBI shows on television. He would have been tickled that Hannah was dating an agent. If you think I ask a lot of questions, just be glad Abe isn’t around,” Mrs. Whelan went on, a tender, sad smile on her face.
“Abe?” I asked.
“Our dad,” Charlotte piped up. “His name was Abraham Lee Whelan. He was into computers like Hannah.”
Charlotte Ann Whelan.
Abraham Lee Whelan.
Without conscious thought, I filed away the names. Though I wasn’t sure why.
I glanced at Hannah. “Oh, really? I didn’t know Hannah was ‘into’ computers.”
Hannah fidgeted in her seat, not enjoying the attention. “Cory says you got to sit out in the garden today, Char. Is that squirrel family still living in the oak tree?”
She was changing the subject.
“Han has always been obsessed with computers. She used to build her own computer games when she was little. She went to school to be a programmer,” Mrs. Whelan went on proudly, ignoring her daughter’s efforts to talk about something else.
“Wow, I had no idea.” I smiled at Hannah. “But she’s really smart, so it doesn’t surprise me.” Hannah was uncomfortable. She held on to Charlotte’s hand, not looking at me. I didn’t want to make her feel awkward by talking about her as if she wasn’t in the room.
“I’m into computers too; it’s what I did before I was recruited by the FBI. Seems that’s something Hannah and I have in common.”
“I wanted to be a basketball star,” Charlotte said as Hannah cleaned up after her meal.
“A basketball star? I thought you were a gymnast,” I commented. Hannah’s cheeks flushed as she smoothed Charlotte’s blankets over her lap.
Mrs. Whelan frowned. “A gymnast? Our Charlotte? Not likely,” she said and laughed. “Charlotte was the tomboy type, weren’t you, sweetheart?”
“I liked basketball. I miss playing,” Charlotte said.
“My brother was a basketball player too,” I said, a knot forming in my stomach. Mrs. Whelan began to fuss over her daughter and I turned to Hannah.
“Why did you tell me Charlotte was a gymnast if she wasn’t?”
Why did this woman keep lying to me?
Over and over again.
Hannah seemed confused. “I don’t remember saying she was a gymnast. If I did, it was an accident. Charlotte played basketball. Are you sure I said that?”
Now I was starting to question my memory of the conversation. I remembered it had been during one of our first phone calls. I was talking about Dillon playing basketball and Hannah mentioned Charlotte being a gymnast.
I was sure of it.
Was I?
“Charlotte was a basketball all-star at our high school,” Hannah went on proudly, patting her sister’s arm.
I wanted to press Hannah about the gymnast story, but she seemed so unconcerned. Maybe she had never said that. Perhaps I was getting the conversation confused with something else.
She lied to me again.
The voice was yelling again.
But I wasn’t convinced I should listen. Why would Hannah introduce me to her sister and mother if she was being purposefully dishonest?
She lies about everything.
Everything?
The doubt was there again.
I watched Hannah stroke her sister’s cheek lovingly. She picked up a brush from the bedside table and carefully ran it through Charlotte’s hair. She was doting. So gentle.
“I want a new basketball jersey for my birthday,” Charlotte said.
“Oh yeah, which one?” I asked, forcefully pushing past my reservations.
“Her favorite team is the Washington Wizards. She already has three jerseys,” Mrs. Whelan told me.
“My birthday’s next month,” Charlotte announced.
“Really? What day?” I asked her.
“Her birthday’s May twelfth,” Hannah informed me.
May twelfth.
May twelfth.
05/12.
Not able to sit still any longer, I got up and started to tidy up after dinner. I collapsed the pizza boxes and put the leftovers on an extra plate.
Hannah continued to tend to Charlotte, talking quietly with her, giving her sister all of her attention. She had a good heart. That was apparent.
But was it a dishonest heart?
“She’s always been protective of Charlotte. Even before the accident. They were incredibly close. Sure, they fought like all siblings do, but there was nothing Hannah wouldn’t do for Charlotte and vice versa. Losing her father and almost losing Charlotte nearly destroyed Hannah,” Mrs. Whelan confided quietly, wrapping the plate of pizza in a paper towel. “You said you have a brother?” she prodded.
I nodded. “A younger brother, Dillon. He passed away a year ago,” I answered quietly, wiping the grease off my hands with a napkin.
Mrs. Whelan’s face contorted in a shared pain. She put her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry, Mason.”
I briefly put my hand on top of hers. She was a kind woman. Just like her daughter. I could see where Hannah got it from. “Thank you.”
“Grief changes a person, doesn’t it?” she murmured, gazing at her oldest daughter with an expression that was a mixture of sadness and worry.
“Hannah told me it was a dark time for her after the accident.” I pulled the trash bag from the bin and tied it shut, putting it on the floor to be taken out when we left.
“She was so angry. Especially after the situation with Ryan Law—”
Alarm bells went off in my head.
“Ryan Law?”
Mrs. Whelan nodded. “The firm Ryan Law represented the city when myself and the other families involved in the accident on the highway brought suit. Hannah wanted to make the city and the contractor employed to put the road down pay. She was so mad when I decided to drop our end of the lawsuit. I just couldn’t put our family through that, not after everything we had already been through. Dominic Ryan used some nasty tactics too. It wasn’t worth it.”
I didn’t know what to say. The coincidence was startling. What were the chances that one of the victims of Freedom Overdrive’s exploits just happened to be the corrupt law firm responsible for screwing over Hannah and her family?
