by Jill Cooper
That’s something I’m just not sure about. “But what if the problems stem from you? What if you inadvertently caused the problem was caused? Even if your heart didn’t mean for things to go so bad. What do you do?”
“You, you? Or someone else you?”
“Someone else.” I bite my lip and gaze at the darkened window.
“Someone, you care about?” Dad’s voice is suspicious.
“Yeah,” I lick my lip, “someone I care about.”
Dad sighs and runs his hand over my head. “If this has to do with Delilah’s murder, you have to tell someone, Lara. The police. You can’t solve it yourself and you can’t protect someone. That will only come back to bite you later on.”
And if I think time travel is involved? I think of the letter I found on Delilah’s body. It’s as if the killer is daring me to fix this. To try. I don’t know if I can. I’m not sure what I should do. If I go to the police and tell them Donovan received information willingly from the future and used it for his benefit, he’ll go to jail.
That’s a violation of time travel law.
“Whatever happens, you always have a place here. Short term or not.”
His word choice jars me. Is he asking me not to marry Donovan? “You like Don, don’t you, Dad?”
“I did,” Dad’s eyebrows rise, “But if he’s the one who is breaking your heart, I might change my opinion. You want me to change my mind?”
“No,” I mouth because no sound comes out. My emotions threaten to overcome me. I fall against Dad’s chest and he holds me tightly. Everything slip away even as the teakettle chirps in the distance.
“Was she nice?” I gaze up at him. He’s my great big teddy bear, no matter how old I get. “Your date?”
“She was nice,” Dad sniffs the top of my head, “but not as nice as you.”
A charmer. A real charmer. He always knows the right thing to say, and in this moment, it’s what I need more than anything.
****
In the morning, something tugs at my consciousness as I snuggle down deep into my pillow. “Have a good day, sunshine.” It's Dad’s voice that stirs me. His hand tousles my hair just like he used to, before I traveled through time. It leaves me with a good, happy feeling.
I snort and stretch awake. Dad’s dressed and freshly shaven. With his slacks and button-up shirt, I’m struck by how handsome he is. “Off to work already?” I gaze at the clock as the hour arm ticks by.
Always checking to see which way the second-hand ticks. I can relax, because this time the tick is in the right direction.
“’Fraid so. Coffee’s in the kitchen. Good luck today.” He kisses my nose and he’s off to the races. Before he goes, his fingers play a beat against the door. “If you need to stay here tonight, I’ll pick us up some dinner, but try to work out whatever it is with Don.”
Sage advise. Even if it’s advice I don’t want to hear yet. I nod and slide up in the bed. Hugging my knees to my chest, I take in the sight of the city from my window. The sun has just breached the horizon and cast an orange glow against the city.
It’s time to face the music, and face off with Cameron Kincaid again. Whatever I’m going to do, my first step is to get dressed and have some coffee.
As I force myself into motion, at least I know whatever happens, Dad will always be here for me. That’s something I can count on.
Chapter Ten
I’m late. Nothing worse for a time traveler than that.
Nervous, I blow out a breath of air as I rush through TTPA security. I am dressed comfortably in jeans, a blue and white top with a high collar, and blue slip-on shoes. I hope my fancy earrings dress up my outfit a notch because I wasn’t thinking about having a business meeting when I left Donovan the night before.
Left him. I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to think about what that all entails. What I’ve done. What he’s done. Hopefully, we can fix it. If I give him a chance. I want to give him that chance but trust, for me, has never come easy.
I step off the elevator on the top floor of the TTPA and head into the sprawling restaurant that overlooks the city. Colleagues and business people of all kinds sit and eat brunch over meetings, but what I’m doing here is dangerous.
Time for me to dance with the devil.
Over at a table by the window, Cameron stands. He gestures his hand at the table but doesn’t exactly wave. It’s more as if he’s ordering me over. His lips twist in a playful smirk as I approach. Slinging my bag off my shoulder, I accept his outstretched hand. “Mr. Kincaid, sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Lara, it’s a pleasure. Please, call me Cameron.” He gestures to the seat in front of me and I take it.
Sliding into the chair, I grab the blue cloth napkin and unfold it in my lap. Orange juice and coffee wait on the table. My eyebrow arches when I notice that my coffee already has cream in it. The perfect color and when I sip it…it has sugar, too.
Cameron follows suit. “I hope you’ll forgive me for my presumptuousness, but I took the liberty of ordering for you. Since you were running late. Imagine that, a time traveler….”
“Former time traveler,” I try not to let the anger growing in my chest show on my face, “And please, it’s fine. I’m curious to see what you’ve ordered for me. I guess you think you have me pegged already.”
Cameron swallows his juice. “It could be fun, couldn’t it? I feel I must apologize for yesterday. I know Delilah was a close friend of yours. And, well, I’ve surmised she never mentioned me. I’m sorry if it came as a shock. I never meant to step on anyone’s toes.”
“I’m sure you didn’t, but now we can get acquainted, right? Before I give you the tour of the facility.” I study his face as someone comes by.
“Breakfast already.” Cameron unfolds his napkin with a quick flip of his wrist. A waiter approaches and slips a bowl in front of me.
Oatmeal and a side of red gelatin.
I grip my armrest as a wave of memories wash over me. All of them are from my life back in the cage. Two years of my life wasted, and when they’d pulled me out of the virtual reality prison created just for me, breakfast was always served.
Oatmeal. Strawberry gelatin. Every time.
“Did I do that bad?” Cameron’s tone is playful, but I’m feeling anything but.
“It’s fine.” I glance up at the waiter and refuse to let Cameron see how spooked he has me. If he thinks I’m going to play into his hands, then he has another thing coming. “You forgot the raisins, though. Brown sugar, please.”
The waiter nods. “Of course, Ms. Montgomery.”
When he leaves, Cameron slides his fork through his sunny side up eggs. He doesn’t bring the oatmeal up, so what is his next move? “Soon to be Mrs. James, isn’t it? I caught a picture of you two on the society page.”
“Yes, in just a few weeks.”
Cameron chews thoughtfully before wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I read he’s made quite a few dollars for himself in the stock market. Fascinating.”
“You should know,” I picked up my coffee and balanced my elbows on the table as I leaned forward, “Since you helped him do it.”
Cameron chokes on his eggs and I take on the full brunt of his eyes. “Pardon me?”
“I know you wanted an introduction to Delilah Chase and I know what you gave Don. You want control of the TTPA. I just don’t know why.”
“Well,” Cameron put his fork down and leaned back in his chair, breaking the gaze between us, “I can see that with you, games aren’t going to be necessary.”
“If you think you can control me through Don, you can’t. I’m my own woman.”
“Perhaps, but we both know if you were going to go to the cops, you would’ve by now. If you did, Donovan would go down with me.”
True. But can I really let that stop me?
“And if he goes, you’ll go down too. No one is going to believe you had nothing to do with getting stock information through time travel. I’m sure, after everything y
ou’ve been through, you value freedom above all else.”
He’d threaten me so openly inside the very agency I’d helped build? “You don’t know anything about me. I value the truth over all else.”
Cameron laughs through his nose. “Funny.”
I don’t see what’s so funny about it. “How’d you get your hands on the stock market information without triggering the time travel alarms? Without the TTPA stopping you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Cameron growls as if he’s going to lash out. His cheeks flush. It’s clear that whatever he had thought was going to happen today, this wasn’t part of his plan. He hadn’t expected me to be so forward, or to have pieced everything together. “If you want to know, I guess you’ll have to stick close to me, won’t you, Lara?”
“Did you kill Delilah?”
Cameron’s eyes widen. “Well, now I’m insulted. I would never…never hurt someone like that. And to kill? I’m afraid you give me too much credit,” he laughs, “Or too little…aren’t you going to add in your raisins?”
“He hasn’t brought…” My voice trails off as I gaze down at the table. My breath stutters. On the table is a bowl of raisins and one of brown sugar, neither of which had been there before. I touch the small white bowls and gaze back at the kitchen. Cameron and I had been engaged in an intense conversation. It’s possible that the waiter had come and put them down when I hadn’t been looking. That I had been so angry with Cameron that I hadn’t noticed…
I get a full-on headache in a split second. Groaning, I grip my temple and flex my legs under the assault. A new image flashes in my mind. The waiter had just left. As he did, a waitress with a blond bun slipped brown sugar and raisins on the table beside me.
“Thank you,” I spoke the words; I recognize my voice but have no memory of saying them.
She nodded her thanks and was off again.
But that hadn’t happened. It hadn’t.
So how was I holding the white bowls in my hand?
“There are many possible outcomes in the universe, Lara,” Cameron stands and buttons his suit jacket, “Go right, go left, stay exactly where you are. For years, that’s been your…decision. Those choices are infinite and only one brain in the entire world has the power to comprehend them all. Someone just had to remind you of that.”
Cameron touches my chin. A gentle touch, but one that causes me to recoil. I jerk my head away.
“It’s a pity you stopped time traveling. Pushing your potential, instead of locking it in a cage. Now, it might be gone forever, but before…you could’ve become so strong.”
Was he right? Should I have kept pushing myself for more abilities? Time travel, alternate time lines, past present and future. Who was I to play with those around me?
“You’re wrong. Time travel is dangerous. What you’re talking about….”
“Is brown sugar and raisins,” Cameron offers me his hand, “Why don’t we start that tour? I’d love to see how the monitoring systems actually work.”
I stand without taking Cameron’s hand and follow him to the elevator. Part of what Cameron said made sense. If he knows I had a flashback about an alternate timeline, he doesn’t say anything about it.
He might have suspected, but does he know? I doubt it. How could he? Could even Rex Montgomery control so much?
But if my mind could see something that an alternate Lara Montgomery also sees, maybe my powers aren’t so dormant after all. Maybe my powers, like a muscle, are just waiting to be flexed.
****
“And here is the security office.” I use my badge to swipe the door open. Inside, the overhead lights are dim, but the glow of computer screens and a giant world map light up the place. The room is sprawling with rows of terminals and workers.
I grip the railing as Cameron steps up beside me. “Fascinating. And that map? Is it in real time?”
“As real as it gets, so I’ve been told.” In the center of the map a small blip blinks off and on. “That’s us. The TTPA. Its frequency pulses out every few seconds and can detect any subtle changes in the timeline.”
“Based on what they gathered from your brain? When you time traveled?” Cameron asks.
“That’s right.” I don’t get what he’s getting at, but I figure he must be leading me somewhere. This man, whether he’s my Uncle Rex or not, has an agenda behind everything he does.
Cameron edges closer. I’m flustered as he puts his hands on the railing on either side of mine. “I’m just saying, Lara,” his voice tickles my hair in a way that revolts me, “what if the frequency of time travel isn’t always the same as yours.”
The implications… That’s the answer, isn’t it? Someone is traveling in time and the system can’t detect them. If it’s true, the TTPA is worthless. If it’s true, I might as well consider my life fair game, because whoever this traveler is, she can get to me anytime she wants.
“Do you mind backing up?” my voice wrestles with fear, “I need more personal space than this.”
“A thousand pardons.” Cameron straightens beside me, leaning against the railing. “Hypothetically speaking, I’m surprised no one has thought of this before. I know the original Rewind was invented around your mother’s brain waves and then later, your own were used to expand monitoring services. But it’s possible, isn’t it? That someone invented a machine that uses a different frequency?”
Anything is possible and that’s the scary part.
My phone rings and it jars me back to reality. “Excuse me a second.” With a relieved breath, I step out into the hall. The less time I have to spend with Cameron, the better. My first step; proving he’s Rex. But how? If I accuse him now, I’ll just sound like a raving lunatic.
I put my phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Lara?” It’s Dad. “Don’t….careful.”
My brow furrows. “Dad, you’re breaking up.” I plug my other ear with my finger as if that will help me hear. The background noise is loud, clinking, with loud voices as if he’s close to a construction zone in the city. Wouldn’t exactly be a surprise considering we live in Boston. “Dad, is everything okay?”
“Lara…don’t! Trust…”
The fear in his voice sets me on edge; it’s like a thousand pinpricks. “Don’t trust who, Dad? Dad!”
Click.
The line’s gone silent. I redial his number, but all I get is a series of fast beeps. He could’ve been in an area with low signal strength, but the way my stomach sours, I doubt that’s the case. I redial his phone again and wait impatiently for him to answer. “Come on, Dad. C’mon.”
Someone picks up. I can hear breathing on the other end. “Dad? Are you okay?”
Heavy breathing continues and it’s all I can hear. I suspect it’s a woman. “Hello?” I turn and rush for the elevator. “Dad?”
The line goes dead. Dad’s in trouble. Big trouble. I need to find him. I need to get to him. Maybe he’s fine and at work, but I must find out for myself.
When the elevator door opens, Marcus steps off and I’m relieved. I rush on as he leaves.
“Lara, what a pleasure—.”
“Marcus,” I don’t have time to chit chat, “I need to go. Personal issue. Can you keep an eye on Cameron? He’s observing right now. Nothing more.”
“Of course,” Marcus nods with a pensive look, “I haven’t seen you this rattled in a long while. Everything all right?”
I sure hope so, but I fear it’s not.
Chapter Eleven
Dad had put his life back together after his time in prison. He has a nice apartment and a good job. Maybe it wasn’t anything fancy, but he likes doing tech support at a local prep school. The dad I remembered made extra money doing odd jobs, repairing toasters, and working on electronics in our rundown apartment building.
It turns out his abilities never left him. Not even after prison.
By the time I arrive at Charlestown Prep, I’m at a full-on run. I slam through the double glass doors, and I can
barely draw a breath. I can’t remember the last time I’ve run so hard. Trying to recover, I nod at the receptionist, whose hand hovered over her phone.
“Ms. Montgomery?” Good ol’ Betsy remembers me from my visits, and that’s good because I can barely talk.
I nod and push my hair off my shoulders. There was a day when I could’ve sprinted those two miles without breaking a sweat. I’m going soft. “My…Dad?”
“He was called away.” She points a well-manicured finger toward the door. “Science lab, third floor. Something about a printer network problem. Printers, right?”
Printers. I nod again and push off for the doors. Betsy follows me until I pass over the threshold. “I do hope everything’s all right, Ms. Crane!”
A shiver runs up my spine when she says it, but I take it for a slip of the tongue. A mistake. I don’t have time to believe it’s anything else as I rush into the well-oiled stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time until I’m on the third floor, I push my shoulder into the door until it squeaks open.
I spit out into a hallway. Through the row of glass-lined classrooms are more rows of students in uniforms and teachers in fine-pressed suits. It was so different from what Dad was accustomed to, I had to wonder why he picked this school. Had theirs been the only offer to come in? Had he been trying to impress me?
The printer lab is empty except for one faculty member and a few students loitering around the desks. In the background, the hum of printers going through reams of paper greets me.
But no Dad. Nothing seems broken, unless he had already fixed it and left.
Disappointed, I click my tongue inside my mouth. What now?
Just as I’m about to leave, a teacher in a white lab coat and bow-tie greets me. “Can I help you with something, Miss?”
“Looking for my father. John Crane. Was he here?” My questions come fast and are clipped.
“To fix the printer,” the teacher nods. “He came and fixed some Bluetooth connection problem we were having. A real wizard, but when his phone rang, he left again, I’m afraid to say.” The teacher sighs as I take a deep breath.
