by Jill Cooper
They take me down the stairs. “We’ve got her. We’ve got Montgomery. Finally.”
The mustache snarls at me. “This kid is way too much trouble. I say we tell James there was an accident and push her in front of a train.”
My heart quickens and I stare up at the ceiling tiles. This is it, the moment of truth. I couldn’t do it in the shower stalls at the YMCA, but my breath slows down. Everything around me begins to pixilate. I reach a state of calm I’ve only ever felt when entranced watching television or getting lost in a good book.
I take a deep breath and everything around me shimmers. My limbs are abruptly free, my posture straightening as I close my eyes. I think of Donovan and suddenly I can feel his lips on mine. I gaze up at him with a shy smile, but my head is pounding and it seems to drown out all sound, as if I’m living at the bottom of the ocean. “We have to go.” I grab his wrist.
“But you haven’t left yet.” A smile cracks the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I get it.”
Hand in hand, we exit our room and race down the fire escape. When the old, rickety stars rattle, Donovan takes me by the waist to make sure I’m okay. The way he takes care of me is endearing, even if I don’t need the extra attention. What I’ve been through he can’t grasp and I look forward to the day when everything slows down and I’m finally able to tell him.
Maybe I’ll cry. Maybe I won’t. I might be strong. I might be weak, but at least I’ll get to choose for myself.
We hit the pavement running and I peer around the corner. The coast is still clear and we make our way across the street toward the subway platform. We slow down long enough to buy a Charlie card and we gain access the legal way.
When we are in our seats and the train lurches forward, I glance at my watch. “An hour to go.”
“I guess, then, it’s time to get ready. You sure about this?”
I nod, but the truth is I haven’t figured out how we’re going to get into the event to begin with. Donovan is running from his mom, the same as I am. I don’t know if she’s thought to take him off the guest list, but even if she has, maybe we can force ourselves in.
I just hope that all the pieces I set in motion are in play. If Senator Marcus O’Reily doesn’t show up to help me out of this jam, all of my careful planning might be for nothing.
Chapter Nineteen
We rent Donovan a tux. By the time I am wearing my slinky black and gold dress, my stomach aches from nerves. I dress at the rental shop, ‘Mr. Tux’, though the workers think it’s bizarre. I find a few stray bobby pins in the women’s changing area and pin my hair up in a sexy up-do with a few stray curls framing my face.
It’d be better if I had some lipstick, but I’m not going to the fundraiser to get on the front page of the Boston Globe. Still, I let out a deep breath and run my hands down the front of the dress. I turn and see Donovan staring at me over by the mirrors. If anyone ever looked more dashing than he does right now, I’d be surprised.
“How do I look?”
Donovan starts toward me and takes my hands. “Stunning. I wish we were doing this for a reason other than this. Any reason.”
“I know.” I go up on tiptoe to kiss him, more to calm my nerves than anything and it does settle me. I’m centered. And about as ready as I’m going to get.
“No matter what happens tonight, I love you.” Donovan nuzzles my cheek.
I close my eyes and wish I could freeze time to enjoy the warmth of his love just a while longer, but the sooner we get the show started, the faster this all can be over.
On the way out, we tip the manager at the counter. Donovan flags down a Boston Cab taxi with its white and brown doors. For a moment my mind flashes to the virtual world. The last time I was in a taxi like this, Rex had been driving. It caused early labor and I lost Donovan—my baby was born prematurely.
The pain of all that loss cripples me. I can’t move. I know none of it was real. It never happened, but the pain was as real as any had ever been. It’s hard to tell the heart something the brain knows. How do you start to heal from something that never really happened?
“Lara?” Donovan wraps his fingers around my hand. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” I take a shaking breath and peer at the cab. “Yeah,” I say it stronger and with more conviction. “Let’s do this.”
****
When we get to the old Ritz hotel, there’s already a crowd. There’s a red carpet stretching from the Boston Public Library, across the street to the hotel. Red velvet banners are set up and police are keeping careful watch as senators and officers gather toward the front door. Bright lights flash from the press cameras and I realize this is it.
This is the moment I’ve been anticipating for two long years. I didn’t know it until right now, but everything is finally coming together. If I can just get to that carpet, I’ll be free.
Patricia and her goons could be anywhere, but if I can get in front of the cameras, surrounded by people, then I’m sure that I’ll be safe, at least temporarily.
It’s time to get inside.
With the drive safe in my pocket, along with the microchip on my locket, I’m ready to crash the fundraiser. Donovan slides the financial documents and all the other paper trail information into a black laptop case and we head across the street. There’s a big bruiser of a man standing at a podium. He wears an ear piece and he is cross checking a list as people hand over their invitations.
Donovan yanks on his collar, a sure sign he’s nervous, as we hand over our invitations. My arm hooks through his and I do my best to appear bored.
“I’m going to have to check that bag,” the man says.
I place my hand on his arm. “Do you have any idea who this is? This is Patricia James’s son. I wouldn’t want to be the one who goes through his things.” I shrug. “Just saying.”
His gaze flicks from me to Donovan and when Don nods the security guard sighs. “Move along, Mr. James. Sorry for the trouble.”
“I won’t tell her if you don’t.” He cracks one of his winning smiles, he’s destined to be a politician or a car salesman, and I’m not sure which I fear the most. But I’m his—until the end, that much I know is true.
We step onto the red carpet and we travel slowly. Flanked on either side by senators and celebrities, we approach the main hotel door at the pace of a snail. As the entrance gets closer, the more nervous I become and when a reporter shoves a microphone in our faces to get a quick sound bite, it can’t happen a moment too soon.
Patricia is up ahead and her eyes meet with ours. The façade of her smile drops as her eyes flick to Donovan. His face falls and the color drains out. I squeeze his arm to force him back into the present.
“Time travel can save the world, right?” I smile at the camera and Donovan laughs. He rubs his neck and it’s clear he’s nervous as we make our way down.
But Patricia isn’t moving. She’s staring straight at us and she whispers something to one of her handlers. As we get closer I wonder what’s going to happen. She can’t just shoot her son and his girlfriend in the middle of a crowded fundraiser, can she?
“Mrs. James, isn’t that your son? We need a photo op. Get everyone together.” The hyper woman must be Patricia’s assistant. Patricia tries to say no, as she turns to look for a way out, but, before you know it, there we are. We’re all standing together for a photo.
Donovan has his arm around me and I gaze at Patricia. It feels as if there is the breadth of an ocean between us and there’s no denying the venom in her eyes even as she attempts to cover it with a friendly smile. There’s nothing friendly about a snake. She puts her arm around Donovan and beside me he tenses. She speaks through a slotted smile.
“Why don’t you stop this, the both of you, and come inside to talk? Let’s try to keep things civil.”
Patricia offers me her hand. I shake it and give her one of my own chilling expressions. “There’s nothing left to talk about.” I let her hand go and Donovan and I start our way up the
stairs into the hotel. The double doors open thanks to two security guards in tuxes. Inside, everything is decorated with red tablecloths and a giant clock hangs from the vaulted window ceiling.
The hands on the clock spin backward and for a moment my breath catches in my throat, but then I realize it’s not a real clock. It’s nothing but a prop.
Donovan squeezes my hand as if he senses my distress. When a server comes by with champagne I wave him off. I want to keep clear headed. Now isn’t the time for celebrating.
At least not yet.
Going further into the room, I see a stage where Patricia will probably make a big speech. That’s where I need to be. That’s where I need to address the crowd.
To my left, I see the chief of police in his dress uniform. We’re surrounded by as many police officers as we are politicians and that has to serve me well. My eyes sweep across, looking for more familiar faces. I make out Dad’s lawyer in the crowd, but I can’t find Marcus O’Reily. I really hoped he would be here.
But what if he thought I was crazy? What if he didn’t realize how serious I had been?
“Lara,” Donovan says and points.
I follow his finger and I see them. Patricia’s goons are there and if they catch us alone, I’m sure we’ll be forced out of the party—or worse. Edging Don with my hips, we join the Boston chief of police’s party. He’s speaking and he watches us as he finishes his story. When he’s done everyone laughs, and I crack a smile.
“And who would you be, young lady?”
I extend my hand. “Lara Montgomery. My mother—”
“—Works with Rewind. Pleasure.” He shakes my hand. “I’m sorry she fell ill and couldn’t be here tonight, but it’s nice to see that she sent you to represent her.”
“Time travel is very important to us.” I make sure my smile is brilliant. “I actually have a very important speech to make on her behalf, so if you wouldn’t mind escorting me to the stage—”
“Escorting?” the police chief asks as Donovan hands the laptop bag over to me.
I sling it over my shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe the type of people I have bothering me all the time. I don’t know if it’s because I date a senator’s son, but I would feel so much safer if you would bring me to the stage.”
“Of course, Miss Montgomery.” The chief of police offers me his arm and I take it. I gaze back at Donovan and the worry in his eyes multiplies. My eyes tell him everything will be okay, but I can’t say that it will be.
I can’t say any of this is going to work out the way I want.
But at least now I have a police escort as we make our way through the banquet room. I keep my eye on Patricia’s goons as the chief of police helps me up the stairs. I slip backstage and slip the flash drive into the computer that is hooked up to the video system. I figure out how to queue up the video I want when behind me I hear a familiar voice.
“I thought it was you. Those shoes, that dress, but how is it possible you haven’t aged a day?”
I spin and smile at thirty-two-year-old Marcus O’Reily. “Marcus.” I go to him to say hello and he grips my arms.
“Time travel.” Marcus’ face is grim. “It’s the only answer for you and this invitation.” He holds it up and I see it’s crinkled around the edges from age. “I can’t believe you kept it all these years.”
“I threw it in a box,” Marcus admits. “I forgot about it until I was on the senate floor one day. When I heard her name, Patricia James, I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. And now here I am, but I don’t know what for.”
“Illegal experiments in the name of controlling time travel,” I answer quickly and bluntly. We don’t have a lot of time. “She wants to unlock the power of time travel in the mind. And she’s willing to hurt and kill anyone who gets in her way. My mother, reporters. And now, she wants nothing more than to make me her lab rat, or barring that, kill me.”
“You are no one’s rat.” Marcus leans forward. “But do you have any proof of this?”
I pat the laptop bag. “I wouldn’t have asked you here if I didn’t. And this might be my last hope. You have to help me. Please.”
“I will do whatever is necessary,” Marcus says and I hand the bag over to him. “For what happened in the past, I do apologize for my inappropriate behavior. I’ve thought of you often these last few years. I always wanted to find you.”
“I know. We’ve had this conversation before. And I’m sorry too. I think at least we could have been good friends.”
“So, you felt it too,” he murmurs with his lips drawn together in a thin line, his eyes drawn down as he studies the floor. I gaze down and notice he’s not wearing a wedding ring.
A scary realization hits me. “You never married.”
“It’s hard to marry when you’re chasing a ghost, Ms. Crane.”
So those children I saw once, that beautiful wife he once had, were all gone because of me, what I had done? The realization hits me hard and fast. Goosebumps rise up my flesh. Time travel is dangerous. It shouldn’t be done.
I have to stop it. Once and for all. It shouldn’t be allowed even for leisure activity. I think I won’t rest until Rewind is dismantled, no matter who is running it.
“I hope when this is over we can part as friends.” I push the curtain back and I see Patricia is at the podium.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming. I can’t tell you how important this matter is to me and the organization I helped fund—Rewind.”
Patricia triggers the video system with her remote and, instead of her video playing, mine does. Mom lights up the screen. Panic fills Patricia’s face and she fumbles the remote to stop the video, but Mom’s voice echoes across the room from the overhead speakers.
“If I’m killed I know that the one responsible will be Patricia James. I’m Miranda Montgomery.”
I glance back at Marcus. “See you soon, Marcus.” I close my eyes and think of ten seconds ago. When I open them, I’m staring out at the crowd and in front of me is Patricia James. She triggers the video as she grips the podium and this time when my mother’s voice travels through the speakers, I take the remote from her.
Her face is wide with shock. “Where did you…”
The crowd is staring up at us. I let Mom’s words finish the video before I say in a loud voice so the microphone can pick me up, “I’m Lara Crane Montgomery. And thanks to Patricia James’ authorization of illegal experiments, I’m a time traveler.”
There are a few gasps from the crowd. I search out the police chief’s face and Donovan, to make sure he’s okay. Behind me, Patricia seethes with anger. She points to her security forces, but before they can get to me, I think back to five seconds ago.
Now I’m standing in the middle of the crowd instead of on stage. My head belts with pain, but I ward it off by ignoring it. I push the button on the remote to trigger the stolen schematics from my mom’s personal computer.
Everyone does a double take of me and the Lara who’s on stage for five seconds longer before she vanishes.
“Illegal experiments to unlock time travel abilities, that’s Patricia’s real goal. She wants to loosen time travel laws to change the world. Arrest people before they commit their crimes. Change people by removing their memories. It might sound like a noble cause, but she’s been using intimidation, murder, and kidnapping to achieve her goals.”
I press the button on the remote and more evidence triggers up. Financial forms, memos and stolen letters from the Rewind Agency. As the police watch, I can see Patricia’s goons closing in. I don’t know if they’ll kill me to shut me up in front of a room full of people, but I can’t take that chance.
I time travel one final time to beside the chief of police and my dad’s lawyer. When I do it I teeter and a trail of blood leaves my nose.
“All today, she’s had her hired mafia goons trying to kill me. They’ve chased me and her son to try to keep this information out of your hands. I have a paper trail from Patricia James t
o Rex Montgomery. It shows that he, not John Crane, tried to murder my mother. Patricia James also murdered a reporter who was helping me months ago. Her death was ruled an accident, but I know differently because I was there.”
I glance up into the police chief’s face. “And I’m ready to testify. Senator O’Reily has to be protected. He has the paper evidence.”
Solemn, he nods. He turns toward the stage. “Let’s get to the bottom of this, shall we, Senator James?”
For a moment she looks uncertain, but then Patricia bolts. She runs backstage.
I can’t let her get away.
No matter how much it hurts, I have to use my ability one more time. I grip my hair and think of the backstage area. I think of the emergency exit door and a second later I’m standing at it. And Patricia is charging right toward me.
She stops in her tracks and gazes behind herself, backing up. She doesn’t know which way to run, which way to go because every way leads exactly to the same place. Apprehension.
I take a step forward and my head pulses with pain that threatens to knock me unconscious. I haven’t time traveled so often, so close together, other than in a simulation. Blood oozes from my nose but, instead of wiping it, I slam my fist into Patricia’s face. My vision splits and I drop down to my knees as she is leveled to the ground.
Patricia moans and I hear someone running toward us. I think it’s the police, but instead, I see it’s the head goon and he has his gun aimed right at me. “You really think you’re going to get away with this?”
I don’t know, but now I can’t find the will to speak, snark, or say anything to him.
But out of nowhere Marcus O’Reily tackles my would-be-assassin and they struggle for the gun. As I stand up, my fists clench, and I want to stop what is happening. I need to save Marcus just as much as I’ve ever needed to save anyone.
The police rush on to the scene. One apprehends Patricia as others train their guns on the goon.
“Let the senator go!” one of them screams.
