Riley Clifford by The 39 Clues: Rapid Fire #4: Crushed Page B

there were other mothers in the world like Isabel Kabra.
    “Sir,” said Bickerduff, interrupting Ian’s panicked thoughts. “Your luggage has been sent to your room.”
    “Why?” asked Ian.
    “For your trip to America, sir.”
    Of course. He would be going to America — to the same place where his mother would be, to the same place where Amy and Dan would be. Two Cahills and two Kabras in Boston. If Amy knew that Isabel was free, she might not want to see him. But why would it matter if Isabel were free or not? Ian was still the son of the woman who murdered Amy’s parents. His stomach sank deep down inside of him. The Kabra charm was an impressive thing, but even Ian wasn’t sure it could overcome a murder conviction.
    “Bickerduff, I don’t think I’m going to go.”
    “Of course, sir,” said the butler.
    Natalie stood up from her seat and folded her arms across her chest, almost as if she were hugging herself. “You don’t suppose we’ll get our allowance back?” she asked.
    “Is that really what you’re thinking?” he asked. Though, now that she mentioned it, he really wouldn’t mind being put back into the Kabra good graces. Before the Clue hunt, Ian and Natalie had never wanted for anything, but now that they had proven to be such disappointments, they were quite impoverished. As co-winners of the Clue hunt, they’d been given a measly two million each, but he had a feeling that Natalie had been dipping into his share. Ian hadn’t been raised as a Kabra for nothing, though. He’d had the family stockbroker’s phone number memorized since childhood and he was parlaying two million into something far more respectable. Not that he was going to tell that to Natalie any time soon.
    “And what are you thinking of? How sad Amy Cahill is going to be?” asked Natalie.
    Ian paused. She would be sad to see Isabel out of jail. And she’d need someone to help her — someone more mature than her brother or that babysitter, Nellie. She’d need
him
to help her. If Ian found himself in trouble, he’d certainly appreciate having someone as suave and confident as himself to be there in support.
    Bickerduff appeared in the door again. “Sir, your luggage has been returned to the box room.”
    “Why?” asked Ian. “I need to pack. I’m going to America soon! Fetch it, Bickerduff; we’ll pack this evening.”
    “Very good, sir,” said Bickerduff, turning and walking out again.
    “You know she’s not going to want to see you,” said Natalie. “Our mother is the one . . .”
    “Don’t say it,” he said. But Natalie was right. His mother’s release put a kink into his plans. Maybe Amy would think he was spying for his mother or in league with her — but it wouldn’t be like that at all. Amy would know that, right? She knew what he had done — what he had given up — at the end of the Clue hunt.
    “Someone should say it,” said Natalie. She shifted in her chair. “It’s what I’m really thinking of. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if she hadn’t gone to jail. If she hadn’t — hadn’t set that fire.”
    “Natalie, stop. Stop that.” They shouldn’t talk about it. Talking about it made it real, highlighted the horridness of the whole thing. If they kept on as things were, they could just pretend that their parents were off chasing down some piece of art, or sailing along some string of tropical islands.
    “No, I’m just saying that sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if she’d been the kind of mother who had taken me to ballet and who had cheered at polo matches and hadn’t, maybe, been the kind that expected . . . so much. From people.”
    The Kabras fell quiet. Ian wouldn’t admit that he felt the same, sometimes. Only sometimes. A lot of the time.
    “Just sometimes I miss her. Sometimes, I wish she had been different.”
    “Then . . . ,” said Ian. “But then you wouldn’t be you.”
    “I don’t like me all the time,” said