Her first thought was that Mathew was to meet someone there. Russ might have an idea if Mathew had someone coming from out of town. Her next thought was that if Mathew was to meet someone this morning, why had no one shown up looking for him after he went missing? Crap, if someone else was in the picture, so to speak, how did they fit in? She put the paper back in the book, saving it for Russ, and set the book on the nightstand.
Her mind was very clearly and affirmatively made up. As soon as they could drive out of here, she and Roman were leaving. She had come to that realization shortly after finding the photos of the other Romans—or whatever they wanted to call them. Either Mathew was in the county morgue as the ranger had said, or he was on the way to South America, leaving them to handle the fallout of his insane ideas. She wanted nothing more than to take Mathew’s “accident” at face value and believe that he was dead for no other reason than lousy driving. It was a buzzing sensation in her gut that told her otherwise and motivated her out of the bed.
Brina rolled her suitcase from the closet and filled it, leaving just enough room for Roman’s paltry possessions, with a running debate in her head: did she trust Russ as much as she didn’t trust Edward? The last items she took out were a pair of fleece-lined hiking boots she set by the chair, a wool sweater for herself, and a smaller version for Roman. It would cover him up to his knees, but it was the closest thing to a coat that she could offer.
She turned off the lights and crawled under the covers again, her legs pimpled against the cold sheets. When she closed her eyes, the memory of the tiny body in the jar sprang at her again, only it was Roman’s face pressed against the glass. She pushed the image away, instead focusing on the park ranger’s face, replaying the scene in a series of mental snapshots.
He’d worn jeans and a flannel shirt over a thermal undershirt. Embroidered over the park seal on his jacket was the name Cabot. A badge was pinned to his belt, and his hands had been red from the cold, and shaking. What did that mean? She’d been shaking too; it was the dead of winter at five thousand feet.
She switched off the light, balled the pillow under her neck, and settled in with the soft breathing that sounded through the intercom.
Chapter 15
Morning came without the chirping of birds or the smell of coffee. Brina opened her eyes and then closed them again. The painfully bright light streaking through the window was intensified by the snow glare reflecting from below. She pulled the pillow over her face and stretched her legs under the weight of the quilts. Halfway through turning over, she remembered all the nightmarish crap that was about to ruin another day.
She kicked the covers back and sat up. The room looked the same as it had every morning, but the cold from outside seemed to fill it more. Swinging her feet to the floor, she crossed the hand-knotted rug to check on Roman. He sat in the middle of his bed with his coloring book and the jumbo box of crayons.
“Well, aren’t you a picture of bliss this morning?” She smiled. Roman smiled back and held up his picture. The markings were more controlled, and the waxy splashes of color were mostly inside the lines. Brina sat on the bed next to him and crossed her legs, Indian style, like Roman.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Some.”
“Some time, huh?” He nodded.
Brina gave him an exaggerated peck on the cheek, getting a giggle from Roman. It took less time to dress him than herself, but shortly she was clothed and Roman was on the floor of his room puzzling out what to do with his shoelaces.
From her Girl Scout days, Brina recognized the square slipping into place before Roman covered it with a loop to finish it off. Amazing.
Russ cracked the door with a slight knock. “How is he?”
“Peachy. Are you ready to go down?” He nodded.
She looked out the window at the trees below, trying to place where the driveway should be. The storm was gone, but the damage was done. The garage windows peeked out over drifts at least three feet high, and pine trees bowed over the yard in arcs that threatened to pull them out by their roots.
“Have you spoken to Edward yet?” She had lost track of all the questions they had for him, starting with the dead baby and his file and ending with the box of pictures.
“I heard him go down a little while ago.” Russ looked like he hadn’t slept at all. “I need coffee.” He left the door open after himself as he left the room; Roman dashed after him, full of energy.
What I wouldn’t give to be four again, Brina thought, following them down the stairs. When you’re four, you don’t worry about death and bad people.
She pressed her hand to her forehead, where pain pulsed along nerves to her temples. In front of her, Roman held the railing and took the steps one at a time, studying Russ’s gait in front of him. By the time he reached the bottom, he had matched his steps to Russ’s, balancing his weight on each foot and counterbalancing his momentum as he stepped down. He took the last one in a double-footed jump and then ran to the kitchen, the door swinging in his wake.
“Did you see that?” she asked Russ.
“Since when did he begin moving like that?”
“Since now,” she replied, incredulous.
Russ caught the door and pushed through. The coffee maker gurgled, topping off the pot with a few final splashes. Edward stepped out of the pantry with a bag of store-bought muffins.
“Morning. It looks like we have nothing to worry about today. There’s no way anyone is going to surprise us in this weather.” He set the bag on the table and reached into the cabinet for a mug. “We might as well make ourselves comfy.”
Brina looked at Russ, who seemed just as surprised at Edward’s cheeriness.
“We can’t get out, either. We’re back to waiting for someone to show up,” she said. “It’ll take all day to dig out the garage door.”
“Don’t worry with the garage. Mathew has a snowblower. When the roads below are cleared, we can worry about getting out. But that’s not going to happen today; these roads are at the bottom of the list for the DOT.” Edward sat with his coffee, broke open a muffin and offered Roman part of it.
“Sorry, Edward, but Roman can’t eat that stuff for breakfast. He needs real food.” Brina pulled out a pot and a carton of oatmeal. “Roman, do you want raisins this morning?”
Roman looked at the muffin with the chocolate chips and crumb topping and shook his head no.
“Great, we’ll have raisins, then.” She motioned for Russ to sit with him, giving Edward a warning stare. He tipped his head back at her with a smirk.
“Roman, have you seen the snow?” Russ opened the blinds at the back door. Wet footprints marred the mat, and tracks in the snow led to the bird feeder, now full of seed. A generous amount littered the snow underneath, where a cluster of tiny brown birds pecked at their breakfast.
“Edward, you fed the birds?” He looked at his boss, “I didn’t know you were an animal lover.”
Edward looked out the window, “Ah . . . yes, birds. I do like birds.” He crossed his legs under the table. “I thought I’d throw some food out for them.”
“That’s nice of you,” said Brina. It sounded more like a question than a statement. She looked at Russ, who simply raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
Roman tapped on the glass. A cardinal had joined the group at the feeder.
“Roman, breakfast is ready.” She placed a steaming bowl on the table and then scooped some for herself. “Russ, there’s plenty for you too.”
They sat, not talking, with Roman watching the birds and the rest of them watching Roman. Silent communication crossed the table between Russ and Brina. Edward pointedly ignored them, absorbed in his own thoughts, his lips turned up in a small smile.
Roman finished his oatmeal, pushed away his bowl, and pointed at the muffin.
“Good boy,” said Edward, breaking off a piece, seeming pleased at Brina’s frown. “You two might as well relax. We have plenty of time now. I think I’ll work on my notes. Maybe I can salv
age a paper from this.”
Russ pushed his chair back, “I may do the same.” He looked at Brina. “Edward, do you mind if we compare a few items?”
“Compare now? What do you have?”
“I’d rather not talk about it in from of Roman. Let’s talk upstairs.”
“Suit yourself.” Edward took his mug and left the kitchen.
“Don’t forget to ask about the thing in the jar,” whispered Brina. “Someone put it up there, and it was probably him.”
Russ stood stiffly, his finger tapping his mug. “I have to do this in a way that sounds . . . I don’t know, helpful. Edward isn’t pleasant when he feels challenged.”
Brina pushed the muffins away from Roman and gave him his milk. “Be careful.”
“What are you two going to do?” Russ asked.
She looked out the door. “Play in the snow.”
“I certainly got the short end of this deal.”
“Deal,” said Roman.
“He’s a great conversationalist, eh?” said Brina, smiling. “I don’t know why, but now I feel relieved at being stuck. Things were happening too fast yesterday; now we can think through where we’re going and when. Have you noticed that running away in panic never works in horror movies?”
“Where do you think the movies get all their ideas?” Russ refilled his coffee and left her with Roman pressing his nose against the window.
Outside, clouds broke the blue canvas, skidding at an energetic clip across the sky.
“Come on, you can’t go out like that,” Brina said to Roman. She stacked the dishes in the sink and took him upstairs to find snow gear.
Chapter 16
Brina’s sunglasses cut some of the light, but the reflected glare was relentless. Being a kid in the snow, Roman was oblivious to the discomfort of cold, wet, and brightness. She loaded him onto the rubber trashcan lid again and gave it a shove. It spun in wide arcs down the icy drive. Knee deep in the drift, she trudged along behind, wondering how much of this it would take to tire him out. She figured another hour, then lunch and then a nap. They would spend the afternoon with their usual lessons. Routine was important for Roman.
“Don’t go too far,” she called. He did a tumbleweed off the improvised sled, laughing.
“Brin!” he squealed. He rolled up out of the snow and pulled the lid behind him up the hill. When he got to her, he set the lid down and pointed at the house. “Man.”
“Russ and Edward are busy, but I bet we could make our own snowman to play with. Do you know what that is?”
“N-n-no. No,” his eyes concentrated on her hands as he worked out the word.
Brina directed his gaze to her face and then hid her hands behind her back. Now that he was making the verbal connection, she wanted him less dependent on signing. “We are going to make really big snowballs and then stack them up. When we’re done, it’ll look like a person made of snow. Does that sound like fun?”
He looked past her at the house. “Man.”
“Snowman. We’ll build him over there.” She pointed. “That way, you can see it from your room.” When she looked up at the house, Edward was staring out at them from his upstairs window. She wondered if he’d been forthcoming with Russ.
She started each of the snowman sections and then rolled them over to Roman, who then rolled them all over the yard. For someone who had never played in the snow, he was doing an excellent job. He caught onto the idea of snowball fights right away, and she was sure he’d take a liking to the snow cream she planned to make for dessert later.
She lifted the last section onto the fat mid point of their sculpture and wedged it down to keep it from falling off. “Stay here a minute while I get something to make a face. Why don’t you find two long sticks for the arms?” She motioned her hands out from the snowman to indicate what she meant. Roman headed for the tree line.
Brina kicked her boots against the doorjamb, knocking the snow onto the mat in wet clumps. There were unshelled walnuts in the pantry they could use for eyes, and the nose would have to be a tossup between a stick of beef jerky and a wine cork. She opted for the jerky since, along with the walnuts, it would be a nice snack for the squirrels. She pulled Mathew’s scarf off the hook by the door and went outside. Roman had disappeared into the trees. Brina dropped the decorations by the snowman.
“Roman!” She listened, but heard only the squirrels scavenging through the trees. “Roman!” She started walking. His tracks led to the garage door and then off toward the trees. As she got closer she saw him hunched over a snowdrift, patting something, he’d found.
“Roman.”
“Man.”
“Snowman,” she corrected, stopping a few yards away. “I have the eyes and nose, I just need you to tell me where they go.” He left the trees and followed her back to the house.
Chapter 17
“Handsome guy you made there.” Russ was standing at the window staring at Hank the snowman. Brina and Roman had scattered seeds over its shoulders to attract the birds, which so far had been cautious, stopping only long enough to pluck a few grains and then swoop away. Brina sat at the table with a book and a cup of ginger peach tea; her feet were propped in the chair next to her.
“Believe it or not, every bit of that counts as occupational therapy,” she said, turning a page. “He’s really gaining control over his motor skills. You should have seen him putting the face on.” Brina smiled over her book, “I think in about a year, he may actually be just like a normal little boy. In the beginning, I didn’t think that would be possible.”
“Yeah, but what will he be in two years? He’s going to be smarter than any of us.” Russ pulled the chair out from under her feet and sat down. “How long will he sleep?” he asked, referring to Roman’s nap.
“Another hour at least.” She closed her book. It was one she’d read before; non-medical reading material was scarce around the house. “What did Edward have to say?”
“That more or less, it was none of my business.” Russ crossed his arms.
“Did you ask about the jar and the files?”
“Yes.”
“And what was his answer?”
“He said it didn’t concern us.”
“His file? His DNA chart?”
“He wouldn’t budge. He said we should do the job we were hired to do and butt out of the rest . . . and frankly, I’m inclined to agree.”
“But it affects Roman.”
“You forget, I’ve been here since the beginning of Roman’s existence; I have all his information up here,” Russ tapped his head. “I don’t care to know all of Edward’s sordid dealings with Mathew. Besides, it doesn’t matter how the other trials turned out, because I know how Roman will turn out.”
“But is he the only one?”
He nodded, but his expression was somber. “I think so.”
“What about the pictures in the box?”
“He claimed not to know anything.”
“Do you believe him?”
Russ’ frown deepened, and he shook his head no.
Roman shuffled into the kitchen, his hair standing on end where it dried as he slept and his face creased with pillow lines. He crawled into Brina’s lap and buried his face into her sweater.
“What is it, sweetie? You should still be asleep.” She wrapped her arms around him, smoothing his hair. Roman yawned and snuggled closer with his eyes shut.
“So much for schedules,” she said. “I think all the excitement has him out of sorts.”
“The snow melted a little. I’m going to clear the door to the garage.” Russ was staring out the back door.
“Why don’t you let it wait until morning? The highway isn’t clear, and the wind will just undo all your work.”
“I thought you wanted out of here.”
“I want to think through our next move. We don’t know what we’re playing with here.”
“Play,” said Roman through a yawn.
“New word?” asked Russ.
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Brina nodded. “They’ve been popping out of him all morning. Watch this.” She turned Roman around in her lap to face Russ. “Who’s that?”
“Russ,” Roman let the “s” slide sibilant along his tongue.
“Who am I?” she asked.
“Brin-a.”
“And who’s that?” She pointed out the window.
“Hank!” he laughed, and scrambled off her lap. “Play?”
“No more outside for today. Let’s find a game inside.”
Roman paused, looking at the both of them. He tapped his hand on the door and then looked back to see if they were still watching him. Then, with a startled glance at the window, he yelled, “Hide and seek!” and ran out of the room.
“Are we supposed to count or something?” asked Russ.
“No, we’ve never played hide and seek,” said Brina. “Where the heck did this come from?” She followed Roman out into the hallway. Russ was right behind her.
“I guess we’re it,” said Russ. “I’ll look around down here. You look upstairs. Boy, he’s fast.”
Chapter 18
Brina canvassed the second floor, looking in closets and behind furniture, pausing every now and again to listen. She’d never known a kid to hide without a giggle, a rustling of clothes, or a sniffle. Roman could be quiet, but not for long. His drawings were on the nightstand where she’d left them, along with the photos. Bed covers, crumpled from his short nap, were piled on the bed, and his wet play clothes steamed over the metal grated heat vent.
Out in the hallway, it was impossible to tell which way he could have gone. Carpet fibers leaned in every direction, leading to and from almost every door on the hall. Brina crossed and knocked on Edward’s door.
“Edward? It’s me, have you seen Roman?” She leaned her head against the door waiting for a reply. The ticking of the hall clock ticked ten long seconds with no response. “Edward?” she knocked again lightly, turning the doorknob and speaking louder; perhaps Edward was too absorbed in his work to hear her.
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