by Kathy Reichs
I couldn’t get through to Ben. He wouldn’t listen.
What’d you expect? Technically, you’re not even talking to him.
My steps slowed.
When was the last time Ben and I had spoken alone?
The hurricane. The hospital.
When he admitted his feelings for me.
The realization jarred me to a standstill.
That morning’s fight had been our first private conversation in five months.
I never said anything back. About any of it.
Because I don’t know what to say.
Suddenly, the hairs on my arm stood at attention. With a slap of awareness, I realized it was happening again. The ephemeral feeling had returned, lodging at the edge of my conscious thoughts. I could barely detect its presence.
I stopped dead, extending my arms like wings, as if achieving outward balance might create the same within me.
No good. The sensation abruptly winked out, leaving no trace.
“This is getting really annoying,” I muttered.
My mind raced, struggling to record some data about the mysterious feeling. Make even the slightest link to something I could recognize. Once more, I failed.
Wrapped in such thoughts, I nearly missed the BMW idling across the street.
Tinted windows blocked any view inside the vehicle. Its jet-black hood gleamed in the early morning sunshine.
Something about it felt . . . off.
The car was blocking a fire lane, close to nothing in particular. No stores. No restaurants. No businesses of any kind. There was no reason for anyone to park there.
Unless you’re watching the school.
Two dots connected in my mind. I’d seen that car before.
Yes. Switching buses by the library.
An identical BMW had circled the bus stop, then pulled into a McDonald’s across the highway. The shiny ride had caught my eye. I’d wondered, in passing, why no one had gotten out to make an order.
I halted with a sudden disturbing thought.
Was I being followed?
Before I could consider more, the BMW swerved into traffic and sped away.
I shoved my lunch away.
No appetite. The visit to Wando High had been a disaster.
Hi glanced at my sandwich, one eyebrow raised.
I waved permission. He slid my tray before him with a grin.
“I told you it was a bad idea,” Shelton said between bites. “You can’t push Blue like that. He just doubles down on whatever he’s being stubborn about.”
Hi made a gagging noise. “Aw, what is this? Alfalfa sprouts. Blech. Pass.”
The tray came back my way. “Keep your horse food.”
“It was worse than that,” I admitted. “I hurt Ben’s feelings, too. He thinks I don’t trust him because of the Gamemaster.”
Hi swished his mouth with Diet Coke. “Well, do you?”
“Do what?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the cafeteria din.
“Trust him. Because last I checked, he was headlining your no-fly list.”
“I don’t know.” Rubbing my forehead “I mean, yes, I trust Ben. It’s not like I think he’d betray us again. Or that he’d known what his lies would lead to.”
I paused, trying to sort out my feelings. “It’s not a trust thing. It’s more about . . . forgiveness. I want to let it go, believe me. I just can’t seem to.” I blew out a breath. “Every time I think about what Ben did, the anger bubbles back up.”
Shelton nodded, but didn’t speak.
I leaned back in my chair. “How’d you guys get over it so fast?”
Hi shrugged. “It’s Ben. I’ve only got three real friends. I can’t afford to lose one over some Greek tragedy.”
My eyes narrowed. “Greek what?”
Hi slapped both hands on the table, fixed me with an intense stare. “Ben did it for love of a woman, Victoria. One he can never possess.”
My face burned. This topic we never discussed.
Shelton chuckled. “You’re such a dope, Stolowitski.”
Hi balled up his lunch bag and took aim at a nearby trash can. “It’s true, though.”
Throw. He missed by a good six feet.
“Foul!” Hi turned back to me, his face serious. “You wanna know why I forgave Ben so quickly? Because I felt sorry for him. Can you imagine being in his shoes?” Hi held up an index finger. “He took one little shortcut, to impress a girl he liked, and it almost got his friends killed. Almost got the girl killed. That’s you, by the way.”
Hi sat back in his chair. “I can’t imagine the guilt he must carry around.”
“It eats at him,” Shelton agreed. “All the time. Though he’d never let you see.”
I didn’t respond.
To be honest, I hadn’t thought about how Ben’s betrayal affected Ben.
Something new to consider.
Hi leaned forward. “Our pack is only five strong. We have to forgive one another, even when it’s bad. How else are we gonna survive whatever comes next?”
Shelton nodded like a bobblehead. “Ben’s not just some guy, he’s family. Pack. You don’t throw that away.”
“I know!” My hands rose ineffectually. “I wish it were that easy. There’s more to—”
I cut my words short as Hiram’s gaze flicked to something over my shoulder.
“Hey, guys.” Jason’s voice was right behind me. “Hi, I rebounded your miss. Give it more arc next time. Follow through with the wrist.”
He set his tray down beside mine.
My fingers found the bridge of my nose. I didn’t have time for our usual dance.
“Jason!” I snapped. “Private conversation! Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” he said smoothly, smiling, but unable to hide the hurt in his eyes. “I was on my way out anyway. Later.” Jason strode toward the exit, a pace too quickly.
Shelton and Hi both gave me a look.
“What?” Then I covered my face with both hands. “Argh! I can’t stop screwing up today.”
“He’ll be fine,” Shelton offered. “I think.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Hi said. “Jason always bounces back. That guy’s like a puppy dog, he can’t stay mad at you. Let’s get back to that beemer. You really think it was following you?”
“I don’t know anymore.” I slumped in my seat. “You shouldn’t trust anything I say this morning. I’m cursed.”
“The Fairy Dust witch!” Hi whispered, waggling his eyebrows. “She got you.”
“Blargh.”
“I’m keeping an eye out anyway,” Shelton stuffed his lunch bag into his backpack. “If I see a black BMW on my six, I’m running first, asking questions later.”
“We’re still going to Loggerhead this afternoon, right?” Hi glanced around, then dropped his voice. “For the . . . home movie thing?”
I nodded. “We might as well deal with what we can. Let’s take the afternoon shuttle. I’ll think of an excuse for Kit, though I’m open to suggestions.”
“Ben?” Shelton asked.
“Not today. I think the two of us need a little distance.”
The bell rang. We gathered our things and headed for the door.
“Tell Kit we’re cutting a music video,” Hi suggested as we walked. “Something real gangster, so we need to smash-cut our dance routines. Lay down some visuals. We could offer to let him freestyle rap over the second verse.”
I gave him a thumbs-up. “Foolproof. Anyone need a locker stop?”
Two head shakes, so we proceeded directly to class.
Fourth period. AP English Language and Composition. We had Mr. Edde again for second semester, which wasn’t bad. He knew his stuff, and wasn’t nearly as uptight as some of the other faculty. He’d shaved hi
s Afro, however, which was a crime.
Ella was in this class, too. There were no assigned seats, so we’d taken to sharing a table by a large bay window looking out over the soccer field. Hi and Shelton manned the one directly behind us.
Jason was also on the roster. Spotting him enter, I waved enthusiastically, beaming from ear to ear. He stopped and raised a hand—a confused smile on his face—before taking his seat by the door.
Hi’s right. Jason never stews on anything. So different from Ben.
The next group to enter was less pleasant.
The Tripod, in formation.
Ashley, Courtney, and Madison glided to the very back of the room, which they considered theirs. All three sat together, though the tables were designed for two. Mr. Edde had given up trying to separate them.
At first, the Tripod’s appearance in an AP class had stunned me.
Not so much Ashley—I knew she was whip smart, as all deadly predators must be. But Madison seemed indifferent to education, even before her . . . funk. And Courtney was downright idiotic.
Not for the first time, I wondered at their marks. Mr. Edde was not an easy grader.
“Scouting the enemy?”
I jumped as Ella’s bag thumped onto our table. How did she always sneak up on me?
“Just wondering what they’re doing here.”
“Their parents must be humored, I’m sure.” Ella dropped into her chair, her stormy gray eyes twinkling with amusement. “At least until they rope a husband who’ll let them lounge by the pool all day.”
I snorted. “If that’s the case, they’d love my Annoyance-in-House.”
“Why?” Ella tossed her braid over her shoulder. “What’d Whitney do now?”
I ducked too late, took Ella’s glossy black rope right across the nose.
“Be careful with that!” But I giggled at her favorite trick. I’d toyed with the idea of growing my hair out just as long, then repaying the favor.
I’d look like a carrot-colored homeless person. Not gorgeous like she does.
I shoved hair envy aside. “Whitney signed me up for the Mag League. I’ve been reading about the organization, and it sounds like a never-ending cotillion. Not pleased.”
“You’re not alone.” Ella’s eyes rolled. “Mommy dearest thought it best as well.”
“Really?” I perked up immediately. “Oh thank God!”
Ella smiled sarcastically. “I’m glad our mutual imprisonment cheers you so.”
“Oh, it does.”
I couldn’t chase the smile away. At least Ella would be there with me.
Who knows? Maybe it’d be fun. We could turn this thing into an all-out snark fest.
Once again, I thanked my lucky stars for having met her.
It was so nice having a girl to talk to.
Grinning like a fool, I accidentally let my gaze meet Ashley’s. She smiled sweetly. Without another option, I nodded as though I’d sought her out. Then I quickly glanced down, pretending to search for a page in my book.
“Do not be afraid of that girl,” Ella whispered, without looking up.
“Can’t help it.” Eyes on my text. “She’s terrifying.”
“She’s nothing. A spoiled little princess who thinks terrorizing a high school actually means something. I wish she’d pull that crap on me.”
“Not likely.”
I risked another peek at the Tripod. Ashley was scolding Madison, who nodded meekly. Courtney was staring out the window, toying with her long blond hair.
“They do give you a wide berth,” I said. “Why is that?”
Ella scowled as she dug in her bag for a pen. “It wasn’t always like this. Freshman year, I dodged them every time I walked the halls.”
She slapped a Uniball on the table, then squeezed my hand. “Soccer did the trick. It gave me confidence. I realized I was letting those bitches get inside my head. The whole thing was stupid. So I stopped avoiding them. Quit ducking every time they snapped their fingers. Pretty soon, they stopped testing me. Sound familiar?”
It did. The Tripod had quit harassing me only after I’d shown some backbone.
Well, a bit more than that.
Not for the first time, I wished I’d met Ella sooner.
Chance told me. He gave the same advice.
Suddenly, I wanted to tell Ella about the Gable twins. Ophiuchus. The ransom video. The black BMW. For a single deranged instant, I wanted to tell her about my powers.
But I didn’t. Couldn’t. Ella was a true friend. Maybe even a “best” one.
The last thing I wanted was for her to see the crazy part of my life. To drive her away.
“Something wrong?” she asked. “You’ve gone totally pale.”
“Blame my Irish roots.” Trying to play it off. “I’m just tired.”
The second bell rang. Mr. Edde rose and walked to his whiteboard.
Wiping the troubling thoughts from my head, I tried to concentrate on Paradise Lost.
At least it was something I could control.
We marched single file through LIRI’s front gate.
A blazing sun hung in the western sky, without a single cloud to keep it company. Temperatures in the mid-eighties kept the tropical air muggy and hot. Forest sounds surrounded us as we headed for Building One.
Hugo had taken us directly to Loggerhead Island, so we hadn’t changed from our school uniforms. Trooping through the woods, my sweat glands began a formal protest under my heavy wool blazer. I wasn’t the only casualty—Hi lumbered beside me, red-faced, panting like a dog. The hike from the dock had him close to combusting.
Outside the perimeter fence, a troop of rhesus monkeys prowled the treetops, hooting challenges from the heights. The isle itself is a wildlife preserve, home to dozens of animal species, including a large population of our simian observers.
Inside the chain-link barrier, white-coated scientists filled the courtyard, moving purposefully between buildings, or relaxing on stone benches. On a weekday in spring, the institute bustled like a beehive. Guest researchers arrived daily from around the globe.
The LIRI compound consists of a dozen glass-and-steel buildings, arranged in two rows facing each other across a manicured central common. The larger edifices contain offices, conference rooms, administrative centers, and, most importantly, six state-of-the-art veterinary research labs. The smaller ones are storage facilities, vehicle depots, and equipment sheds.
My father, Kit, managed the whole thing. Still getting used to that.
We passed through sliding glass doors into Building One. Four floors high, it was easily the largest structure on Loggerhead. The Flagship, as Kit called it, contained the most offices and workspace, including the director’s suite, security headquarters, and three of the labs.
Upon assuming the directorship, Kit had massively increased security. Along with expensive equipment and systems upgrades—state-of-the-art video cameras now covered every inch of the grounds—LIRI also employed three full-time guards. At least one was on duty 24/7, manning a kiosk in the lobby.
I crossed my fingers as we entered, hoping we could avoid one in particular.
Thank God for small favors—Sam was on duty. Blessedly, Hudson was somewhere else.
Security Chief David Hudson ran his department like a Shogun warlord. An ex-military, by-the-book ball-breaker, the prickly man wasn’t a fan of unsupervised teenagers on Loggerhead.
Kit had overruled him on that point, granting us permission to visit the island.
So long as we respected Hudson’s rules. Of which there were hundreds.
And we did. Grudgingly. Usually.
Hudson’s two underlings couldn’t have been more different.
Carl Szuberla was a short, enormously fat bowling ball of a man. Though a bit moody—and definitely not the sharpest kni
fe in the drawer—overall he wasn’t so bad.
Sam Schneider was older than Carl, somewhere in his sixties. Rail thin, and bald as a cue ball, he was much sharper than his portly coworker. Sam had a sarcastic tongue that rivaled even Hi’s. I rarely saw him without a hunting magazine in his claw-like fingers.
As we approached the desk, I kept an eye out for Hudson. The man could materialize out of thin air, and I was hoping to avoid him altogether.
Sam, I could usually handle. While not as easy to fool as Carl, he preferred doing as little as possible. A clever mind can exploit that fact.
Sam spied us approaching.
“Hello, Tory.” Setting down his copy of Field & Stream. “Come to complicate my day, maybe get me fired?”
“Hi, Sam.” I flashed my cheeriest smile. “Don’t be silly. I’m here to see Kit.”
“Director Howard won’t be expecting you, of course.” Sam sat back and crossed his arms. “Because that’d be too easy.”
I shrugged. “Everyone likes surprises, right?”
Sam snorted. “It’s been my experience that absolutely no one likes surprises. I’ll call up.”
He lifted the receiver and dialed an extension. Spoke to someone on the other end. Hung up. “Your father isn’t free at the moment, he’s with the accountants. They’re probably cutting my salary.”
I’d known that. Kit had complained about the meeting over breakfast.
“Okay. We’ll just head up to his office and wait.”
Sam’s expression soured. “I’m not supposed to permit that. Which you know.”
“Come on, Sambo!” Hi winked. “Live a little. What are we going to do, rob the place?”
The guard crossed his arms. “Wink at me again, Hiram, and I’ll throw you to the wolfpack.” But he was already reaching for a clipboard. “Sign in. And let’s not get lost, hey?”
I scribbled my name. “Thanks, Sam. You’re the best.”
“Clearly not, since I’m letting you in anyway. Now scram before Hudson gets back.”
Needing no more prompting, we hurried to the elevator. Once inside I pressed two, thankful that the car’s location wasn’t displayed in the lobby.
