Girl of Rage Read Online Free Page B

somewhere in northern Virginia, under the protection of Diplomatic Security. Dylan and Andrea were missing, but Alexandra had received one last text from Dylan shortly after midnight.
    I’m with Andrea. We’re safe for now. I’ll be in touch. Dylan.
    Not enough information to do anything with, but at least they knew he was alive. Which was more than they knew about her mother or sister Jessica. Carrie had filled her in on that, too. Jessica had called, after being missing for days. She was with their mother, and according to their mother, everyone needed to run and hide.
    That was oh-so-helpful. Typical of their mother, really. Make a short, cryptic phone call about something urgent and expect everyone to drop everything. It didn’t make any sense. But then again, little about Adelina Thompson made sense. Julia had long since made her peace with her mother, and generally wasn’t bothered anymore. But moments like this—when the entire family was in danger—she couldn’t help but be a little cynical.
    But then she remembered the photos. The file.
    It was pretty clear-cut. Carrie—Julia’s next youngest sister—wasn’t related to their father. Therefore, Adelina must have had an affair. That didn’t really surprise her—she had known for years that neither of her parents had been entirely faithful.
    But the result was a surprise. In her father’s files, she’d found the report with the genetic testing. And filed away with it, she found a police report, documenting her mother’s brutal beating and rape.
    The beating took place one day after the date of the test results.
    The conclusion was inescapable. Her father—Richard Thompson—her father— had beaten her mother nearly to death. Raped her. Impregnated her.
    Julia had run it through her mind a thousand times in the last six or so hours and it still made no sense at all. The whole concept was unbelievable. How was any of this possible?
    Julia didn’t have a chance to completely absorb the news however, because two men had shown up at the house. Normally that wouldn’t have fazed her in the least—but Andrea had just been kidnapped, everything was confused, and as they tried to figure out what to do, the men broke in. Julia and Crank—along with the reporter from the Washington Post who had been along for the confusing ride—tried to escape out the back door, only to be shot at. They made it out, but it was close.
    Then, the unthinkable happened. The men had set off a bomb of some kind in the house. Julia stood there in shock, watching her parents’ home burning, until the police and fire department showed up.
    And so here she was. Waiting. Because the police had apparently disappeared, leaving her locked in this room. She had to go the bathroom, she didn’t know where her husband or sisters were, and every second that went by without answers she got more and more angry. The more she thought about it, the more angry she became. Finally she gave in and began pacing.
    And that, of course, was when the police came back in. Julia froze and said in a cool voice, “Unless you’re planning on pressing charges for some crime, you need to let me go to the bathroom, then talk to my family, right now. I’ve done nothing wrong and I don’t know why I’m locked in this room.”
    The detective who had originally talked to her—Detective Sergeant Pam Larson—raised her eyebrows. An attractive woman with dark hair and a slightly red face, she had red cheeks and nose—broken capillaries—the obvious look of someone who drank too much.
    Sergeant Larson said, “I think you’re going to want to talk to the gentleman.”
    She didn’t say anything else, as a man in an off-the-rack grey suit walked into the room.
    He set a briefcase on the table in front of him and said, “Mrs. Wilson, have a seat.”
    A woman followed him, also in a grey suit. She had prematurely white hair, but unlined skin.
    “And you are?”
    The man nodded and gave a half smile. “I’m