Read Nowhere to Run for Free Online

life to date.
    â€œHello, Olivia.”
    Della Larson, Hague’s companion, stood in the open doorway, answering Liv’s knock. She leaned her head back and crossed her arms, assessing Liv suspiciously; behind her the place looked like a dark hole. Hague didn’t like lights, or fresh air, or anything remotely different. Unless, of course, he chose to do an about-face himself, which happened occasionally.
    Della was older than Hague by about a decade and was a nurse-cum-attendant-cum-friend and maybe lover. She’d been with Hague for most of his adult life, ever since his release from Grandview Hospital, the mental institution for teens where he’d been sent briefly while Liz was at Hathaway House. Even though Liv had been adopted by the Dugans—a fact the birth certificate she’d just received spelled out clearly—and wasn’t related to Hague by blood, it sure seemed like mental illness relentlessly plagued their family. Hague was a genius with a 160 IQ but it didn’t mean he knew how to live in this world. Maladaptive was the word often used to describe his behavior. On that, Liv was way ahead of him, though her problems had been diagnosed as derived from mental trauma, not from a mind that moved in ways the rest of the so-called normal humans couldn’t understand. As the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer once said—as quoted by Della more often than Liv cared to count—“Talent hits a target no one else can hit; Genius hits a target no one else can see.”
    That and a dollar would buy you a newspaper. Maybe.
    Della’s white-blond hair was scraped into a bun at her nape and her icy blue eyes raked over Liv as if she were someone she’d never seen before. It irked Liv, but then she knew it really was a reflection of the suspicions her own brother held inside himself as well.
    â€œYou didn’t call ahead,” Della said.
    â€œHi, Della,” Liv said. “The last time I called the line was disconnected.”
    â€œIt’s been reconnected for over a month.”
    â€œUnder whose name?”
    She hesitated briefly. “Mine.”
    â€œNo matter what you may think of me, I’m no mind reader,” Liv said. “I’ll leave that to Hague.”
    Her nose twitching in annoyance, Della stepped aside and Liv was allowed into the dim recesses of her brother’s den. The place smelled like bleach and lemon and everything clean, which was a relief given the fact Liv’s eyes were adjusting to a whole lot of clutter. Hague might be a hoarder of sorts, but everything had to be squeaky clean, per his decree and by Della’s hand.
    â€œHe’s in his room,” Della said, leading the way to the northwest corner of the apartment. She knocked on the door panels and when he barked, “What?” she said, “Your sister is here.”
    A long silence ensued, before Hague bellowed, “Well, let her in!” as if Della’s interference were just that, interference. She ignored his tone and opened the door and when Liv crossed the threshold, Della was right on her heels.
    Hague sat in a brown leather chair that nearly swallowed him whole. He was lithe to the point of wispiness but he was tall like Albert—his biological father and Liv’s adoptive one. He looked a lot like Deborah, too, Liv realized, seeing those hauntingly large blue eyes of her dreams stare at her from Hague’s thin face.
    â€œWhat do you want?” he asked gruffly.
    â€œNice way to greet me. I came to find out if you know anything about this.” She held up the manila envelope and his eyes followed it, a frown creasing his brow.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œGuess that answers my question.”
    â€œWhat is it?” he demanded more loudly and Della moved to his side and laid a comforting hand on his shoulders.
    â€œIt’s from the law firm of Crenshaw and Crenshaw. Ever heard of them?” Liv asked.
    â€œ