Page 5 of Lost Echoes

I swallow, uncertain I’ll ever be, but I take the items with a shaking hand. “Let’s do this.”

He marches on ahead of me.

Suddenly, I’m not sure I want to find anything my younger self left for me.

3

Ember

My eyes go bleary as I try to read the words on the largest computer monitor on my desk. I’ve been at this too long without a break. I rise and stretch, giving myself a charley horse in the process.

I definitely need to sit less, even though I desperately need to get these answers for Kenzi. She needs her memories back so she can return home to all of us—especially to baby Fenna, who’s growing and changing every day without her.

Once my leg muscle chills out, I stretch it with care until it feels normal. Then I grab the empty energy drink cans spread across my room, managing to knock over some papers with scrawled codes, notes, and login details for fake accounts on them.

Stepping into the hallway, I nearly trip over the doll that moves on its own no matter how many times we lock her in a room. I’ve even gone as far as putting her in a wooden chest with a padlock in a room with a chair shoved under the knob. All to no avail.

Here she is. Again. I keep telling myself I’ll miss this when I move out on my own. It’s part of the Brannon house charm, creepy as it is.

After dumping my recycling in the bin downstairs, I check Uncle Jack and Aunt Carol’s apartment. It’s empty. They’ve been the ones mostly watching Fenna when Dad’s at work. Billa, Ryker, and I help too, but not as much. They work full time, and I’m finishing up my homeschooling. I’m already behind and should have graduated, but since I’m not doing a ceremony, I don’t care when I finish. After I get done, I’ll go to college. It isn’t like there’s a law stating I have to finish my lessons and start college by eighteen. I’m taking my courses and helping my family.

If I’m being honest, neither school nor family obligations are the problem. I’m spending most of my time digging into the Radley secrets, but to be fair, the things I’ve learned about how to get the information is more educational than anything I’m taught in my online courses.

Not that I’ll likely be able to use encrypted browsers, proxy servers, or VPNs in many jobs. But who knows? If I go into law enforcement like Dad, I could possibly use those. I don’t want to be a detective like him—no patrol duties for me, which he had to do first—but something like the FBI might be fun. I feel like with the deep research I’m doing, that would be along the same lines.

I was originally thinking about going into something like programming or creating video games, but I have to admit the thrill of seeking information people want to keep hidden is much more exciting.

Who’d have thought trying to find answers for my aunt-turned-adoptive-mom would be what would help me figure out what I might want to do for a living? That was kind of the point of homeschooling. Actually, the real point was so Luke could be my boyfriend. With me still being a student and him working as a PE teacher in the district, it was too much of a risk. His own homeschooling allowed him to get his teaching degree early, which gave us that unusual problem, even though there’s no real age gap between us to speak of.

I find some leftovers in the fridge and warm them for lunch. As I’m about to dig in, Luke sends me a text wanting to know if I can hang out.

This early? I glance at the time and realize it’s already past three. Where did the time go? I must’ve spent more time than I thought digging up information that had been previously scrubbed from the internet on Dr. Elias Radley.

So much has been removed, but now that I’ve learned how to find things, almost anything can be found. As they say, the internet is forever. That’s why, unlike most of the friends I had in school, I don’t post every stupid thing on social media. It’s crazy what people share.

Luke texts me again, and I realize my mind wandered. It’s been doing that a lot lately. I think because I’m filling it with so much. Between learning hacking techniques and secrets from a mysterious psychiatric facility, I’m probably overloading my brain cells.

I text Luke that I’d love nothing more than to hang out. And since nobody else seems to be home, I don’t even have to worry about telling anyone where I’m going.

After scarfing down my late lunch, I hurry back to my room—the doll is no longer in the hallway—pull my hair into a messy bun, apply concealer so I don’t look as tired as I am, then swipe on lip gloss and call it good.

Just as I’m about to shut down my multiple computers and monitors, something on the smallest screen catches my attention. A place in Oregon has one of the exact program names as Radley.

Therapeutic Reimagining and Reintegrating System for Children.

There’s zero chance that’s a coincidence.

The two facilities have to be working together. It shouldn’t be hard to find the connection—not with such an obvious link between them. It’s probably nothing, considering nobody went to any effort to hide this. But even so, I refuse to leave any stone unturned.

My fingers race across the keyboard and slide over the mouse pad as quickly as my synapses fire.

There’s another facility with a program of the same name in Idaho. Three?

I stare in disbelief. It will take more digging to figure out if this has anything to do with Kenzi’s time there. Or even Billa’s, though I’ve yet to find anything official about her being there. Only a few options come to mind as to why—they didn’t document her, didn’t enter her records into any computer system with internet access, or didn’t put her under her name. I’ve checked everything I could think of, even seeing if she stayed under the last name Brannon.

The amount of secrecy surrounding Radley is astounding.

My phone buzzes with a text. Luke’s outside.