Beep beep.

Where are you?

I had to leave.

And lock me in?

Sorry.

I could have left.

I didn’t want you to try and convince me to let you stay.

I’m leaving now so you can come home.

I don’t trust you.

I’m the most trustworthy person you know.

Says the kidnapper.

Don’t trust anyone, Bianca. Don’t talk to David.

I don’t and I won’t.

Tell me where you are. There are some things you should know. This is for your own good.

No thanks. I don’t trust you.

You can trust me. It’s the others you shouldn’t trust.

Why should I trust you?

I was just in your bed.

Sex doesn’t equal trust.

Methinks someone wants me back in her bed.

Methinks you have the wrong century, Shakespeare.

Did Shakespeare coin methinks?

Jakob.

I like it when you text my name, though I prefer when you scream it.

I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to call you Mattias.

Tyler Durden.

Huh?

Figure it out.

Figure what out? Tyler Durden from Fight Club? What does that have to do with anything?

What I told you before is true.

What are you talking about?

You watch movies right?

Yes, so what?

Figure out Tyler. It’s the only clue I can give you for now. And even that’s too much.

So what did you tell me?

I told you your mom wasn’t an innocent.

His next text was a photograph of a woman and man in bed, naked and laughing. They looked wild and illicit.

What is this? I texted back as my phone let out a warning beep.

My dad and your mom. Just as his last text arrived, my phone died. I bit down on my lower lip as I tried to picture the lady’s face in the photo. I was almost positive that wasn’t my mom. Why did he think it was? Did he blame my mom for his father’s cheating and making his mother unhappy? Was this what all of this had been about after all? I had no idea who the lady in the photo was, and now my phone was dead and I couldn’t even let him know.

I realized then that he really did think that my mom had slept with his dad. Someone had to have put that in his head, someone who wanted to pit us against each other. The woman in the photo was not my mom, but he seemed convinced it was her. Had David told him that? And if so, why? I needed to talk to Larry right away. I was going to have to help his wife locate him.

Now was the time for me to start getting the answers I needed. A ray of hope flickered in my heart. Maybe Jakob wasn’t so bad after all. Someone else was orchestrating these lies, but I didn’t know who or why. I needed to find out what was going on, but now it was for more than just my parents. It was for my relationship with Jakob as well.

The good thing about staying in cheap hotels is that they always have a Yellow Pages. I stared at the address that I’d scribbled on a scrap of paper and smiled. The address had matched up with the phone number I’d called for Larry. This had to be right.

“Will you need me to wait for you?” the cabdriver asked as he drove down the long, tree-lined street in Syosset.

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” I shook my head and ignored the doubt that had crept into my mind. I didn’t even know if Mrs. Renee would be home or if she would see me, but there was no way I could pay the waiting fee for the cab. I didn’t have much money left and I had to stretch what I had. I couldn’t afford to be taking so many taxi rides after this; not until I started working again. This had been an extravagance I’d allowed myself because of my eagerness to see Mrs. Renee, but I couldn’t afford to spend all my cash on transportation.

“You live out here? It’s a nice place.”

“No, I’m visiting a friend.”

“It’s one of the nicer parts of Long Island.” We drove past huge houses. “I’m a Staten Island guy myself.”

“That’s nice,” I said politely.

“Not really, but that’s where my family is. If I could afford it, I’d move to a big high-rise on Park Avenue with a doorman and all that shit.”

“You and me both.” I laughed.

“Yeah, but what we going to do?” He laughed. “People just gotta make do.”

“Yeah.” I sat back and looked out the window, feeling slightly put out. I couldn’t afford to live on Park Avenue or in a building with a doorman, but maybe I would have been living that lifestyle if Jeremiah Bradley hadn’t ripped off my dad’s inventions.

“We can’t all be Donald Trump.” The driver chuckled. “If you don’t have billions like The Donald, you’re just a schmuck in New York.”

“I guess we’re both schmucks, then.” I laughed and tried to ignore the feeling of entitlement that had coursed through me at his words. Maybe I wasn't meant to be a schmuck like him. Maybe my father was meant to have riches like Donald Trump. Maybe the cabdriver was assuming things he knew nothing about. I sighed as I felt myself becoming riled up. Maybe I was being oversensitive . . .

“This is it.” He pulled up a long driveway to a house that looked like a miniversion of the White House. “Your friend has a lot of money.”

“More money than I thought.” I handed him some twenties and got out of the car. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” He grinned as he backed out. “Have a fun time.”

“I’ll try,” I mumbled as I watched him back out of the driveway and walked to the front door. This was it, then. In all the years I’d known Larry, I’d never thought he was rich. I’d only seen him a few times. I’d never gotten the feeling that he was super successful. I rang the doorbell and waited. And waited. Then I rang the doorbell again. I took a few steps back and looked up at the house. The curtain at a window on the right side of the house moved slightly and I walked back to the door and banged hard.