Chapters (57)
- Books by Gregg Olsen
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Hear More from Gregg
- Books by Gregg Olsen
- A Letter from Gregg
- Acknowledgements
I open a box of dye and apply it with the thin plastic gloves that come in the box. I smell the chemicals as my hair eclipses from brown to blond. I rinse in the sink, the acrid odor wafting through the still air of the bathroom. I tear a ream of paper towels to wring out the water and then, in what I think is a brilliant move, I turn on the hand dryer and rotate my head against the hot spray of air. I am in Maui. I am in Tahiti. I’m on the beach and I have a tan. A handsome boy looks at me and I smile.
The dryer stops, and I look in the mirror and I see her. Mom. I look just like my mother. It was unintended genius.
Hayden, now awake, seems to agree.
“I miss Mom. Do you think they found Dad?”
I indicate the second box of hair dye. “Your turn, Hayden.”
He climbs up on the counter and lays his head in the sink as I wet his hair with lukewarm water. It reminds me of when he was a baby and Mom washed him in the sink instead of the tub. He scrunches his eyes shut as I rub in the dye. When I’m done, he will be transformed. He’ll no longer be the little boy with the shock of blond hair, the one that makes him look like he’s stepped out of the page of a cute kids’ clothing website.
I look down at the name on the dye box.
Dark and Dangerous.
* * *
The tape spins to the end and all I can think about is Hayden. We had a blowout of a fight the last time we saw each other. It was my fault. All of it. I was like some insidious weed that took over every inch of his life. We’d met in a crowded bar near SeaTac airport. He was all grown up, going on a vacation to Cabo before deploying for the Middle East. Things were going well for us, I thought. We’d moved on and made something of ourselves.
I don’t know why it happened, but it did.
All it took was four words from my little brother.
“Mom really misses you,” he said.
“I can’t go there, Hayden.”
“Why?” he asked, leaning closer to me, scanning my face. “She’s our mom, Rylee. She hasn’t had it easy. She misses you. Don’t you even love her a little?”
I didn’t. Not even a drop of love for her. I couldn’t tell Hayden why.
“You’re one selfish bitch of a sister,” he said. “After all we’ve been through, you don’t care about anyone. Do you?”
I put down my gin and tonic. “I care about you.”
Hayden shook his head. “Really? That’s funny. You’ve only seen me three times since foster care.”