All Our Yesterdays

by Cristin Terrill

  “He went to Princeton with my dad.”

  “James.” I catch his wrist and pull him to a stop outside the waiting room. “I know this is a terrible time, but I think we should go to Connecticut and find out what Nate was working on. Today.”

  “What?” Finn says.

  “I know it’s seems crazy,” I say, “but we can’t trust anyone else to do it. Not even Bob Nolan. What if you’re right and Richter is involved in some cover-up? If he searches the house first, he could destroy evidence that points to the person responsible.”

  James looks back toward Nate’s room. “But what Viv said . . . I can’t leave here now.”

  “How far is the drive?” I say. “New York’s only four or five hours, and Greenwich can’t be much farther. Vivianne would barely even be awake by the time we got back.”

  “Marina,” Finn says, reproach in his voice. “He wants to be with his brother.”

  “I know, and I wouldn’t normally ask you to leave, but . . .” I pause. “James, I’m afraid the people who shot Nate might want to hurt you, too. I don’t believe for a second that what happened in the parking lot last night was a gang shooting. We have to find out who they are and stop them.”

  “If that’s true, you should just tell the police,” Finn says.

  “They wouldn’t believe me!” I say. “And I don’t trust them to keep James safe anyway.”

  “What makes you think someone’s after me?” James asks.

  “You were shot at! And Richter’s lying about who did it, I know he is.”

  Finn groans. “Not this again, M.”

  “Shut up, Finn! I know what I saw!” I snap. “James, please. Nate asked me to look out for you. He told me his investigation has something to do with you.”

  “He said that?” The worry lines on James’s forehead deepen.

  Basically. “Yes.”

  James looks back at Nate’s room and then into the waiting room, where Alice and Aaron and Julia and Uncle Perry are sitting in silence.

  “Okay, let’s do it,” he says. “It’s what Nate wants, and that’s enough for me. I can’t go with Morris and Spitzer on my ass, though, so we’ll have to lose them.”

  “You know this is nuts, right?” Finn says.

  “Maybe, but I can’t do anything for Nate here,” James says. “Maybe I can help him there.”

  “What if someone really is trying to kill you?” Finn says. “You really think now’s the time to ditch your protection?”

  “What if they can’t be trusted?” I say. “We’re driving straight up and back, and we’ll only get out at the house in Connecticut, which is safer than almost anywhere.”

  Finn sighs. “Fine, but I’m coming. You’re both acting like lunatics, and I don’t trust you out in the world alone.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Fine.”

  “Okay,” James says, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “Here’s what we do.”

  Sixteen

  Em

  Finn and I park across the street from the hospital and wait. My gut is churning. Finn rifles through our backpack and comes up with a Snickers. He offers me half, and I have to pretend I’m not hungry, even though I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I can’t tell him what’s really wrong: the acute flash of memory that threw me back into my prison cell, how I had the perfect opportunity to end all of this by putting a bullet into James through that window, or how I hesitated because Marina was beside him. I should tell him, but I can’t.

  I hate myself.

  I must look as sick as I feel, because he puts a hand on my knee. “It’s going to be okay.”

  I look at him. Really look at him. For so long, he was only a voice to me, and now he has a body and a face once more. I want to memorize every expression so that no one can ever take them away from me again.

  I try to smile. “When did you become so trusting?”

  “Around the same time you became so cynical, I guess. Now try to inhale. It’s good for you.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” The front door to the hospital slides open, and Marina steps out. I hit Finn in the shoulder. “Look!”

  Marina runs to the street and flags down a cab, the younger Finn on her heels. The photographers and news crews still camped outside the hospital don’t even look up, and the two of them climb in and drive away.

  “Where are they going?” Finn asks. “Just the two of them?”

  “I don’t know.” I’m glad I didn’t take that Snickers, because my stomach is turning flips. “But it means James is alone inside.”

  Before, Finn and I had to wait for James to come out of the hospital on his own because we can’t make a move on him while the three of them are together. We can’t risk coming face-to-face with our younger selves; the fabric of time might not be strong enough to survive it.

  But if James is alone again, it’s our best chance to do things right this time.

  “He’ll be protected in there,” Finn says. “He’ll be with Nate, surrounded by armed guards.”

  “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But I think we have to try, don’t we?”

  “You’re crazy, but let’s do it.”

  We wade through the mobs of press and supporters, who pay no more attention to us than they did our younger selves, and approach the entrance of the emergency room. I stop short near the front of the crowd. I’m close enough to see through the sliding glass doors. Beyond them, there’s now a portable metal detector manned by two officers.

  “Okay,” Finn says. “Change of plan.”

  “What’s the new plan?” I say.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  We both stand there, thinking. A girl from the crowd hands me a candle, and I stare into the flickering flame.

  “The ambulance bay?” I whisper.

  Finn shakes his head. “Too conspicuous. Plus, it’ll be guarded, too.”

  “Maybe you could distract the guards, and I’ll slip around the outside of the metal detector?”

  “Too risky. It might work with one, but not two.”

  I sigh. “Then we have to leave the gun. Find something inside to use instead.”

  The crowd shifts and presses against us, and Finn wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder. I’m not sure if he’s doing it to comfort me or so that he can lower his voice even further from the whisper we’ve been speaking in. “You realize that a best-case scenario for that is a scalpel or a hypodermic needle, right? We’ll have to kill him up close, if not with our bare hands.”

  I drop my eyes to the sidewalk. Looking at someone down the barrel of a gun and actually spilling their blood with your own hands are two very different things. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Okay then,” he says softly.

  We go back to the car and stash the gun in the glove compartment. As we weave our way back through the crowds to the hospital entrance, I pass off my candle to an empty-handed mourner. Finn and I pause to look at each other before we enter the hospital, and he gives me a tight little smile. I nod, and we step forward together. When the glass doors slide apart, we’re hit with a blast of warm air that makes me realize just how cold I’ve been. One officer offers me a bowl for keys or change without looking at me, but the other has a faint frown line across his forehead as he looks between Finn and me.

  “Yep, we’re back,” I say, dropping my cell phone into the bowl.

  “We basically live here now,” Finn says. “So if you ever want us to take over for a little while . . . ?”

  The officer laughs. “That’s tempting. I’ll let you know.”

  He waves us through the metal detector one at a time and hands me back my phone.

  “Take it easy,” Finn says.

  The officer nods at us. “You too.”

  “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” I say as we walk toward the elevator. “If only Vivianne and James paid as little attention to Marina and Finn as the officer at the door did.”

  “We’ll move fast,” Finn says, “before they realiz
e something’s wrong. Besides, what are they going to do? See our different clothes and slightly aged faces and say ‘It must be Marina and Finn from the future! Stop them!’”

  “Good point.”

  “All we have to do is get close to James for a second,” he says. “We’re still enough of Marina and Finn that it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  We walk along the hallway, glancing at the doors of each trauma room as we pass. They’re all occupied. At the end of the hall there’s a water fountain, and I pretend to drink from it while Finn leans against the wall next to me.

  “You’re awfully fake thirsty,” he says.

  “I’m waiting for one of the rooms to clear,” I say. “Here, you drink for a while.”

  We switch spots, and Finn takes a drink while I keep my eye on the trauma room doors. We can’t just stroll in there and ask to borrow a blade or needle, so we’ll have to sneak in when one’s empty.

  The bay doors two rooms down from us suddenly swing open, and a doctor and nurse wheel out an ashen-faced man with a leg that’s so badly broken, I feel myself pale a little. They take him to the elevator, which will no doubt take them up to the surgical floor for his leg to be set. Finn looks at me and nods, then heads for the room they just vacated. He stops short at the doors and then backs away, waving me over.

  I join him and see there’s a nurse still inside, tidying up the room. I step forward while Finn stands flat against the wall beside the swinging doors.

  “Excuse me, nurse?” I say.

  She looks up. “Yes?”

  “Can you help me?” I put a wobble into my voice.

  She comes closer. “What is it?”

  “My dad.” I rub a fake tear from my eye. “My dad just had a heart attack, and I think they brought him here, but I don’t know where he is. . . .”

  The nurse steps toward me, into the hall, leaving the trauma room empty. Behind her back, Finn silently slips in.

  “Just go ask there at the desk,” she says, nodding to her right. “They’ll be able to help you.”

  “Where?” I say.

  “Right there.” She points. “See that desk with the computers and the nurses?”

  Behind her, Finn has found a tray of surgical tools next to the bed, and he plucks up a scalpel. It flashes with a reflection of the overheard lights as he hides it up his sleeve.

  “Oh, right,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

  “That’s okay, dear.”

  Finn moves toward the door, and I pull the nurse into a hug. She stiffens in surprise, but doesn’t push me away.

  “Thank you so much,” I say tearfully as Finn sneaks out of the room and begins walking in the opposite direction down the hall. “I really appreciate your help.”

  The nurse pats my back and pulls away. “You’re welcome, dear. Take care, now.”

  She goes back to the trauma room, totally oblivious, and I check to make sure that no one’s watching us before catching up with Finn at the stairwell.

  “Nice work,” he says.

  “You weren’t too bad yourself.”

  We take the stairs instead of the elevator. That way, we can slip into the crowd on the third floor instead of having the doors open on us, exposing us for everyone to see. The less time they have to look at us, the less they’ll be able to pick out the details that just aren’t right.

  I think about the scalpel concealed in Finn’s sleeve with every step. Will he be able to do enough damage to James in whatever time we have that they won’t be able to save him here in a hospital? Finn gets queasy about fast food because of something he once read about how they slaughter the chickens. How will he slice his former best friend’s throat?

  My chest is heaving by the time we reach the landing, and it’s not entirely from how out of shape I am. I put my hand on Finn’s arm when he goes to open the door between the stairwell and the corridor.

  “Wait,” I say. “Let me catch my breath.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Just need a second.”

  I put a hand on the wall to steady myself. It’s not true; I’m not okay. I’m caught in James Shaw’s gravity again, my world always revolving around his, and this time the closer I get to him, the sicker I feel. There should be relief or even a vengeful kind of joy to ending his life and snuffing out Cassandra forever, but I can’t stop picturing him lying beside Marina, holding her hand in his own, and it scares me. What if I blow this again? How many people will suffer because of my weakness?

  Finn brushes the hair away from my face, his cool fingers lingering at my cheeks and temples, calming me.

  “Put your hair up,” he says. “They’ll definitely notice that.”

  “Good call.” I sweep my shoulder-length hair back into a ponytail. It’s at least six inches shorter than Marina’s.

  “Ready?” he says.

  I take one last deep breath and nod. I can do this; I have no choice. Finn pushes open the stairwell door, and I try to summon Marina’s attitude: insecure but territorial, well-meaning but oblivious. My heart is racing, and for a moment I can appreciate the irony of worrying that I’ll be caught impersonating myself. But then we’re walking toward the waiting room, where I recognize Cousin Alice and Uncle Perry, and there’s no room left in my head for anything but the plan.

  Finn sticks his head in the room. “Is James with Nate?”

  “I thought you two left,” Uncle Perry says.

  “No, just went to get some new clothes.” Finn gestures down at himself.

  “James?” a voice calls. All these years later, I still recognize the sound of Vivianne’s voice. A shudder goes through me as I remember what happened to her. What will happen to her if we’re not successful.

  I wait, every muscle tensed, for James to respond, to step out of whatever room he’s in. But nothing happens.

  “James?” Vivianne calls again. She’s headed down the hallway and spots me at the waiting room. She comes straight for me, and I force myself to stand rigidly still and not bite my lip or back away.

  “I didn’t realize you two were back,” she says, and her eyes, which keep darting around the area, barely take me in. “Do you know where James is?”

  I shake my head, and she pushes past Finn into the waiting room. “Has anyone seen James?”

  No one has.

  “Oh God,” Vivianne whispers. She turns and runs in the direction from which she’d come. “Agent Morris!”

  “He probably went for some coffee, Viv!” one of the Shaws—I vaguely recognize him as Aaron—calls after her. “I’ll go check the vending machines.”

  “I’ll check the bathroom,” Finn says. He grabs my wrist as he passes me, and I let him pull me to the little side hallway where the restrooms are.

  “He’s not here,” Finn says. “He must have snuck away the same time Marina and Finn did.”

  “He’ll be meeting them somewhere. I should have realized there was no way she would leave him here,” I say. Down the hall, doors slam and people shout. An agent runs past us. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We head for the stairwell. As we pass the waiting room, Finn says, “Not in the restroom. We’re going to check the cafeteria.”

  “You two stay right here!” Alice Shaw barks. “Let the officers handle this. I won’t have any more teens go missing from under my nose. Come, sit.”

  Finn and I exchange looks. We can’t stay here. The Capitol Police will be shutting down the building any moment. There’s really only one choice, though our younger selves won’t thank us for it.

  When Alice turns her attention to questioning the woman beside her, we turn and make for the staircase.

  “Stop!” Alice yells after us, but we don’t even pause.

  We thunder down the stairs and dodge through the crowds in the emergency room. At the opposite end of the room, an officer gets a radio call. I push Finn forward. We can’t afford to be locked up in this building while they search for James. Somewhere behind us, I h
ear someone running, but there’s no time to look back. Finn and I squeeze through the crowd and make it to the front door.

  “We’re really leaving this time,” Finn says to the officer from before. “I promise!”

  He takes my hand and pulls me out with him, and we disappear into the sidewalk vigil.

  Once we’re back in the car, I say, “Marina’s house?”

  “He knows that’s the first place they’d look for him.”

  “You’re right.” Time is ticking away from us, each second separating us from ourselves more and more. “Where would he go?”

  I stare ahead, trying to think, and a figure in a black coat steps out of a Starbucks and into my field of vision. It could be anyone, but I recognize him even before a familiar BMW pulls up to the curb and Marina climbs out of the driver’s seat to let James take over the getaway car.

  Marina

  I take the steps up to my front door two at a time. I need to grab some clothes and food, tell Luz where I’m going, and then Finn and I will take James’s car back to the hospital to pick him up. If everything’s gone according to plan, he’ll have lost his protective detail.

  The lights upstairs are on, which is unlike Luz, but I have too many other things on my mind to think much about it.

  “There are bags in the pantry,” I say to Finn as we walk inside. “Grab whatever you want from the kitchen. I’m going to run down to the laundry and get some—”

  “Marina? You home?”

  I freeze.

  She can’t be.

  “Is that . . . ?” Finn says.

  My mom turns the corner into the kitchen, looking perfectly fresh, beautiful, and here. I can’t do anything but stare. She hugs me, and the familiar smell of her perfume turns me for a moment into the little girl who hovered over her shoulder while she sat at her vanity and got ready to go out.

  “Mama?” I say in a small voice. “Why are you home?”

  “We came as soon as we heard.” She lets me go and seems to notice Finn for the first time. “Who is this?”

  “It’s Finn, Mom. You know, James’s friend?”

  “Oh,” she says, looking him up and down. “You go to Johns Hopkins, too?”

  “He goes to Sidwell with me.”