Behind me, Megan sniffled. Mickey blushed when I told him what his grandmother had said. He shifted closer to her and started to whisper words I couldn’t hear.
Ex–Nana Keeley leaned in, her eyes growing distant. Finally she nodded slowly. “I guarantee it.”
Then she sat back in the chair and looked straight ahead, as if settling in to watch TV. A golden light began to glow in her stomach.
Megan slipped her arm through mine. “Mickey, it’s starting.”
As the glow expanded outward into her limbs, their grandmother’s smile widened. The only sound was Siobhan’s soft sniffles.
With a burst of light that made me shade my eyes, the ghost of Nana Keeley vanished.
“Wow.” Dylan’s feet slid from the edge of the couch, thumping the floor. “I wish there was a way to let Logan know.”
Siobhan reached for the floral tissue box on the end table. “Maybe she can tell him herself.”
We sat in silence, thinking of departed Keeleys, then Dylan said, “The DMP was following Nana.”
Mickey lifted his head. “They were what?” he snarled. “Why?”
“Because of Logan?” I said. “Maybe they wanted to figure stuff out about him by studying her.”
Dylan gave his brother a level look. “They would’ve stuck our grandmother in a little box. Forever.”
Mickey drew in a deep shaky breath through his nose, then blew it out. “Let’s go destroy them.”
We parked the SUV half a mile from the DMP entrance and far enough from the road that it couldn’t be seen.
Dressed head-to-toe in black, including ski masks—in case of security cameras—the six of us trudged through the woods. Luckily, this terrain had a gentler slope than the mountains Zachary and I had fled down a couple of weeks before. The night was new-moon dark, so we used flashlights to keep from breaking our ankles.
Thinking of the black Escalade we’d left behind reminded me of my last day with Zachary.
“Those movies get it all wrong.” He frowns at the tricked-out Aston Martin on exhibit at the International Spy Museum. “This car’s too flashy. The whole idea of spying is not to be noticed.”
I raise my voice over the music and gunfire. “What do real spies drive?”
“In my country, mostly black Range Rovers.” He checks out the line of James Bond posters. “None of these lads would blend in. Too good-looking.”
“That disqualifies you, then.”
Zachary laughs, then under his breath does a spot-on Austin Powers impression, telling me to “behave.” Spots of red appear on his cheeks in perfect symmetry. Wow, he even blushes gorgeous.
We enter the next corridor, a replica of the hidden tunnel the CIA built under Berlin during the Cold War. I wait patiently while Zachary reads every informational plaque, as he did at the Air and Space Museum earlier.
“Incredible.” Zachary gestures to the walls. “The Soviets knew about this tunnel for years, and they didn’t do anything. They let their East German allies be spied on.”
“Why?”
“Because they found out through a British agent of theirs, and they didn’t want to blow his cover. He was too valuable an asset.” His face turns pensive. “Pays to be a traitor. You never get left out in the cold.”
A metallic clamor comes from overhead, the thump of feet and taunting laughter of what sounds like middle-school boys.
“What’s that?” Zachary asks.
“There’s a tour that’ll let you explore secret corridors and stuff on your own. So you can play spy.”
“Secret corridors?” He sidles closer, near enough so I can inhale him. “Away from the crowds?”
“It costs extra.”
“I don’t care.” He nuzzles the corner of my jaw, making me shiver. “I’d pay anything to get you alone.”
I shook myself back to the present. Now was not the time to get caught up in memories of Zachary’s hotness.
I thought about what he’d said in the museum, before the boys had distracted us: that spies took care of their agents, the people they’d paid to betray their own countries. Would MI-X have my back if I got caught? Probably not, since I wasn’t officially working for them, which made me feel both less guilty and less protected.
I felt in the pocket of my hoodie, where I’d sewn a secure pouch for the red phone Simon had given me. Its presence was a comfort, and if anyone found it, it held no evidence, since I’d already memorized his phone number, as well as the Moores’. In my other pocket I carried my bottle cap with the spiral, for luck and strength.
Ahead, the undergrowth thinned and the land between the trees flattened and cleared. Gone were the rocks and vines and clumps of brush we’d been battling.
“Thank God,” Megan muttered. “If I trip over one more rock, I’ll—aaugh!”
Her shriek echoed in the breezeless woods. She flailed at the ground in front of her, where a thick black snake slithered away through the fallen leaves.
“Jesus, Megan!” Dylan hissed. “Why don’t you wake up the whole—”
There was a flash as bright as lightning, then a sickening zap! My heartbeat spiked like I’d taken an electric surge myself.
I shielded my eyes and tried to blink away the blindness. Had someone attacked us? I couldn’t run or fight if I couldn’t see.
“Holy shit,” Connor said. “What was that?”
Slowly my vision returned. The black snake was writhing on the ground, shifting leaves and soil in its agony. Then it lay still.
At the smell of burnt flesh, I covered my nose and mouth with my sleeve.
“Electric fence,” Mickey said. “But where?” He waved his flashlight beam over the terrain. Nothing appeared except two thin poles about twenty feet apart.
No wires, no bars. No warning.
“An invisible electric fence?” Siobhan asked. “Like what people use for dogs?”
“Invisible dog fences don’t work that way,” Connor said. “They only give a shock to whatever’s wearing the collar.”
“Uh-oh, check this out.” Dylan’s flashlight beam swept an arc across the ground. What it illuminated made my blood run cold.
An array of dead animals—mice, squirrels, rabbits—marked where the invisible fence ran to our left and right.
“Poor babies,” Megan said. “Except for the snake. I’m glad it’s dead.”
I snorted. “Yeah, because if it weren’t, we’d all be zapped.”
Everyone fell silent, contemplating the fate the snake had saved us from. Then Dylan spoke.
“The fence might not have killed us. All these crispy critters are little. No deer or coyotes or bears.”
“Bears?” Megan took a step back. “There are bears in these woods?”
“They’re probably not the kind that eat people,” Mickey said. “Those are out west, right?”
“Actually, I read an article—” Connor cut himself off at a look from Mickey. “Um, an article that said, yeah, bears around here are safe. Totally afraid of people.”
“You guys!” I whisper-shouted. “We have bigger problems than bears. We can’t go any farther, which means we can’t help Zachary.” I shoved my hands in my pockets before I threw my flashlight in frustration.
My fingers hit the red phone. Maybe there is a way to help Zachary.
“I think we should leave,” Siobhan stated firmly. “Like, yesterday.” Everyone agreed, some more eagerly than others. I pulled out my red phone and activated the camera feature.
“Good idea,” Dylan said. “Evidence. But who can you give it to who won’t rip you a new one for being here?”
“I’ll worry about that later.” I took three zoomed-in photos of the sad display of animal carcasses, then three wide shots of the poles where I assumed the fence’s electrical current originated.
We trekked back toward the car as rapidly as we could without tripping. I lingered behind so I could text the pictures to Simon.
PLS REPLY WHEN U GET THES. I’M @3A.
&nbs
p; As I trotted to catch up to the others, Simon texted back:
RECEIVED 6 PHOTOS, ALL CLEAR. PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING.
I deleted the photos and repocketed my phone without answering.
Suddenly Connor stopped. He was the only one not breathing hard, probably because he was half a foot taller and therefore had to take fewer steps to cover the same distance. “Do you guys hear that?” he asked.
I held my breath and tilted my head. An engine whined far behind us. Then another, and another. It sounded like the DMP was having a motorcycle rally.
“ATVs,” Dylan said. “Run!”
We ran. My legs screamed, and I could barely pull air into my lungs through the woolen ski mask, but fear propelled me forward.
The engines grew louder. Closer. No way we could outrun them. I grabbed Dylan’s arm and pulled him to a stop.
“You guys—go on”—I panted—“without me.”
“No way!” He tugged me forward, but I dug in my heels.
“I’m the one they want. I’ll tell them”—I gulped air, my thoughts frantic—“I went with you to Deep Creek then hitchhiked. I’m the only person with a reason to be here. Better one of us gets in trouble than all.”
Dylan nodded solemnly. “Very logical, Mr. Spock.” He bent to scoop me up. “But you’re coming with us.”
I held back a yelp as he swept my legs out from under me. Dylan took one step, then collapsed.
Suddenly Megan was beside us. “Connor’s running for the car alone. We’ll meet him on the road ’cause it’s more direct, and he’s faster, so—oh, screw the explanation.” She jerked us to our feet. “Come on!”
We headed straight up the hill until we reached the road. Then we ran along the shoulder toward the pull-off spot, which was almost half a mile away.
No sign of Connor. Had he gotten lost? Hurt? Had he taken off without us?
The ATVs hummed ever closer.
“Come on,” Siobhan huffed as we sprinted. “Connor, baby, don’t leave us.”
A flood of light burst through the trees behind us. “Freeze!” said a rattling voice from a megaphone.
An ATV’s engine whined with effort as it tried to climb the steep hill near the road.
“Keep running!” I shouted.
“This is your last warning,” the voice came again. “Stop immediately, lie on your stomachs, and put your hands behind your heads. Or we will be forced to—”
Another engine roared, cutting him off. The Keeleys’ Escalade careened toward us, fishtailing around the bend in the road.
The brakes screeched as the SUV came to a stop. We piled in, clambering over the seats and each other to reach safety. Connor gunned it before the doors were even shut.
Keeping my ski mask on, I looked out the window as we drove away. Several men in dark blue uniforms stood on the side of the road. Another ten seconds and Connor would’ve been too late.
“They might’ve seen our plates!” Mickey said.
“Nope.” Connor tossed two flat white pieces of metal into the seat behind him. The license plates were bent nearly in half where they’d been pried off, probably with the crowbar lying at my feet. “We might wanna stop by the DMV on the way home.”
We spent the rest of the weekend at the lake house, jumping at the sound of every car driving past. After several urgent texts from Simon, I found a moment alone to let him know that yes, I was okay, and no, I wasn’t coming back that instant so he could ream me out.
Mickey and Megan’s tensions rose over the next two days, until finally, on the drive home . . .
“I love this song!” Megan cranked up the satellite radio station. “We should put it on our road trip mix for next weekend.”
Mickey said nothing, but his shoulders rose an inch or two. Normally when Megan had her mind set on something, he eventually gave in out of exhaustion. I wished Megan could sense that this time was different.
“It’s a great song,” I said, before they started another argument. “But I heard it’s the only track worth getting off the new release. The rest supposedly suck.” I’d actually heard the opposite, but I wanted to distract her.
“Hmm.” Her tone, and the way she stared at Mickey’s clenched jaw, told me my tactic hadn’t worked.
I looked over at Dylan, who was mesmerized by a handheld video game. Behind me, Siobhan and Connor appeared to be napping.
“So I can come with you next weekend, then?” Megan asked Mickey. “You’ve changed your mind?”
He remained silent for a full ten seconds, then slapped on his turn signal. “Guys, we’re making a pit stop. Siobhan, can you fill the tank?”
“What?” His sister yawned. “Where are we? Didn’t we just stop?” I shook my head at her in warning.
Mickey pulled off at the exit, then into a gas station across from the on-ramp. We were in the mountains west of Hagerstown, more than an hour from home.
While Siobhan was filling the tank, Mickey stalked around the back of the station, Megan on his heels. I got out of the SUV and considered going to the bathroom, but it was one of those gas stations with the restrooms on the outside of the building. Those were always gross, and you usually had to ask some skeevy dude for the key, which always had something huge like a carburetor attached so you wouldn’t walk off with it in your pocket.
Dylan and Connor and I went to the rust-rimmed vending machines for chips and sodas. The clank of our change and the thunk of the cans couldn’t cover the shouting behind the station.
“This has nothing to do with you,” Mickey said. “I want two days to set up my apartment on my own. With no one’s help or advice or interference. Can’t you understand that?”
“I can’t understand why you’d turn down a chance for us to get away together alone. Why does spending time with me not sound like more fun than buying a toaster?”
“It’s not about fun. It’s about getting the fuck away.”
“From me? You want to get away from me?”
Mickey groaned. “Could you try just once speaking a sentence that doesn’t use the word ‘me’? Just once, Logan?”
My stomach flipped. I raised my gaze to meet Dylan’s, then Connor’s. They shook their heads sadly and walked back toward the SUV. Dylan kicked an empty soda can, bouncing it off the station’s dingy concrete base.
Megan whimpered. “Did you—Mickey, what did you call me? Am I really that much like him? Is that why you—” Her next words were muffled, like she was covering her mouth. “You do need to get away from me, don’t you?”
“No.” His soft protest sounded halfhearted. “Megan, no.” Shoes scraped loose gravel. “Come here.”
“Uh-uh.” Megan sniffled hard. “I get it now. I finally get it.” Her voice turned calm and hollow. “I have to let you go.”
I stepped away quietly, but instead of returning to the car, I waited by the front of the gas station. Connor started wiping the Escalade’s windshield with the station’s squeegee.
The salt-and-vinegar chips had no taste. My tongue felt numb and my fingers cold as I contemplated our collective future. No more me & Logan, no more Siobhan & Connor, and now no more Megan & Mickey.
After paying for the gas, Siobhan came over to me. “What’s happening now?”
“I think she’s breaking up with him.”
“Whoa. I always thought it’d be the other way around.”
“Me too.” I offered her my chips.
“Thanks.” She took the bag and leaned against the building next to me. “This is gonna sound weird, but it makes me hopeful.”
“You want them to be miserable?”
“We’ve all been miserable since Logan died. We thought we had to be, to honor him. But that’s the last thing he’d want.”
She was right. Logan always wanted everyone he loved to be happy, and thought it was his own personal failure if they weren’t.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t help Zachary,” Siobhan said. “Don’t give up fighting for him. Let me know if there’s any
thing else I can do for you, like bitch-slap some dumpers.” She spat out the last word, our favorite term for DMP agents.
Mickey and Megan appeared then, shuffling like zombies toward the car. Their eyes were red and their faces, pink.
Siobhan pushed away from the wall. “I’ll drive.”
Mickey gave a shaky nod and kept moving. The rest of the way home, he sat with Dylan in the middle seat while I sat in back with Megan.
No one said anything. Mickey and Megan stared straight ahead, frozen, as if one movement would shatter them. I reached for her hand to comfort her, but she moved it, patted mine quickly, then crossed her arms so I couldn’t try again.
When we dropped her off at home, I climbed out to help get her bags. “I’ll call you,” I said.
“No. Let me call you.” She picked up her bag and gave me a limp half hug.
“Okay,” I said, but didn’t mean it. I’d let her have half an hour, tops, before I showed up at her door.
But I doubted a tub of rocky road ice cream and a stack of cheesy-movie DVDs would be enough to comfort her. Maybe that old cliché was right, and time could one day heal all the wounds Logan’s death had dealt.
Now that he’d found his peace, we each had to search for our own.
Chapter Seventeen
What were you thinking?” Simon stalked past the Poe House’s antique dining room table. His usual calm demeanor had dissolved into full-fledged twitchiness.
“I was thinking that Zachary was in a horrible place while you guys were doing nothing. Turns out I was right. Have you shown your boss the pictures I sent?”
“You think we didn’t already know about 3A’s security features? You really believe that you lot were able to accomplish what trained agents of Her Majesty’s Secret Service were not?”
“Were we?”
Simon didn’t answer.
I sat with my back to the narrow staircase, which I’d climbed with Zachary on our last birthday, up to the attic bedroom, where he’d held my hand and told me he was determined to possess my heart. The memory both saddened and comforted me.
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