“Colleen has never liked me,” Ophelia said. “I suspect she regrets marrying into this family. But she does not regret you children, and for that, I can stomach her bullishness. It goes without saying that she will not support you in performing this experiment, then.”
“No,” Elizabeth agreed. She almost laughed at the idea of her mother helping her with anything of the sort.
“You’re not yet old enough to drive yourself,” Ophelia noted, thinking to herself. “You’ll need an accomplice, though not a very well informed one, I should think.”
“An accomplice?”
“Your experiment will be here, in town. In New Orleans. Two days from now, in fact. You’ll require a ride into town, one that will not be so discerning on your whereabouts.”
“I’ll figure that out,” Elizabeth said. “What’s the experiment?”
“Two days from now, a paddlewheel boat will collide with a tanker on the Mississippi, as they pass the crescent in the river. The tanker will fare well in the crash, but over a hundred of the twelve hundred passengers aboard the Cajun Queen will perish.”
“Jesus.”
“Not on the manifest.”
Elizabeth’s mouth twitched at the odd joke. “Okay. And what do I do?”
Ophelia held out her bony hands. “Whatever you think you can do to stop the Cajun Queen from launching on time. Her departure time is set for 12:15, and the tanker will collide at 12:37. You don’t need to stop the ship altogether, just delay it long enough for the tanker to pass without incident. A single minute should be enough.”
Elizabeth pressed her sweaty palms down the length of her corduroys. This was it… the idea was brilliant. She didn’t need to do much at all, just give the captain or the passengers enough of a distraction to delay their terrible fate. A minute or two. Five to be safe. Maybe she’d feign an illness. Hell, she could sing and dance for five minutes if she had to.
“I can do this,” Elizabeth said. “It doesn’t sound so hard.”
Ophelia’s thin lips stretched into a knowing grin. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”
* * *
“Elizabeth.” Connor stood in the door to her room, wearing a look meant to be serious. “Maybe there’s another way.”
“You don’t have to come.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Like you’re being? You know why this is important. You, more than anyone.”
“I’m just thinking of all the ways this could go wrong.”
“Like me saving the lives of a hundred people? How horrible!”
He groaned. “No, like it not working, and the police getting called on the teenage meddler trying to stop a ship from leaving port. How will you explain that to Irish Colleen?”
“I’ll say I was drunk.”
Connor laughed. “You need a better imagination.”
Elizabeth glared. “You coming or not?”
He stepped out of the way. “After you, I guess.”
* * *
Maureen checked on the kids through the rearview mirror. Elizabeth and her little friend weren’t really kids anymore, but she fancied herself the older, more mature sister, swooping in to save the day.
Though she’d had her driver’s license now a few months, Irish Colleen never let her go anywhere, except into Vacherie for groceries. But Irish Colleen was in New Orleans for the day visiting her family, a twice annual tradition that never involved her children, and wouldn’t be back until late into the evening. Maureen would be back at Ophélie long before the woman ever realized one of the cars was missing.
Maureen didn’t really believe Elizabeth and Connor were attending a birthday party in Mid-City. Connor, maybe, but Elizabeth had no friends except the shy boy fidgeting nervously beside her in the backseat. And besides, Maureen knew her sister. The city was the last place she wanted to be. She clammed up and looked green in the face anytime they went into town for anything.
But Elizabeth had been plucked from the school system at a delicate point in her young life. She’d never had the chance to live the way Maureen did, and that was very unfair, as she saw it. So if Elizabeth wanted to get into a bit of mayhem, Maureen was happy to help facilitate.
Elizabeth promised Connor’s mother would have them back to Vacherie by eight. Maureen didn’t doubt this; the only thing Elizabeth feared more than her crazy visions was Irish Colleen’s wrath.
Maureen dropped them off in front of a house on Bienville. The backseat arguing over which house it was didn’t increase her confidence that they were up to any good, but she enjoyed the idea of Elizabeth misbehaving. And there was no harm in it… Elizabeth, of all of them, was the most cautious, because she saw clearest what the horrible outcomes could be for those who didn’t tread through the world carefully.
“All right. Don’t have too much fun,” Maureen said as they stepped onto the sidewalk and looked confused and surprised at the neighborhood they’d landed in, which was unlikely to house any friends of theirs. Next time, research better, kiddos.
She sped off, satisfied that she’d both checked off the box marked Good Sister and had a little rebellious car-stealing adventure of her own.
* * *
Elizabeth mopped at her brow with the back of her arm. The day was a scorcher, just one of many details she hadn’t thought of when she tried to misdirect Maureen with a fake address on Bienville.
She should have known: Maureen didn’t care. Maureen would have taken her right down to the pier and still not asked any questions.
The three mile walk to the French Market was grueling. Connor whined about all the great injustices of the act for the first mile and then stopped, seeming to appreciate the merits of conserving energy. By the time they climbed the levee behind Jackson Square and ascended the riverfront, she’d lost almost all desire to do what she’d worked so hard to do.
“Where is it?” Connor asked.
“There’s a map over here,” she said. She ran her finger down the glass. “Cajun Queen should be just down there.”
Elizabeth glanced at the Timex she’d gotten for Christmas. It read12:10. Guests would be finishing boarding, and they’d be pulling away in only a few minutes.
She broke into a jog, and Connor, after a hesitated grunt, followed. She wove through the crowds gathered along the riverfront as they drew closer to where the old paddlewheel held court.
They came to a stop right outside the ticket booth. “We only have to delay them. That’s it. Remember Plan A and Plan B, or do we need to go over them again?”
“I remember.” Connor looked like he might lose what was left of his lunch.
“I don’t think we’ll have a lot of time to make this work, so I’m going to start as soon as I see the captain head back up the boat ramp.” She pointed at the old man whose uniform made him clearly identifiable. He spoke with someone from the port authority, sharing a glance at paperwork. “It’s him we need to distract. If we end up getting someone else’s attention, he’ll just go about his business, and then all those people die. Got it?”
“I don’t feel good about this.”
“I can tell.”
“Plan C is me running to call for help if something goes wrong.”
“No,” Elizabeth said firmly. “There is no Plan C, Connor. Plan C is we fail, and I can’t fail at this! Do you understand?”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I understand.”
Before he could express any further hesitation, Elizabeth announced she was going, and she ran toward the captain, arms flailing.
“Help! Help me! This man is trying to kidnap me!” She gesticulated wildly toward the crowd gathered by the nearby brewery, careful not to point at any one person. She tugged at the captain’s arm. “Please, you have to help me!”
The captain’s eyes traveled between his ship and the desperate girl hanging off him. “Well, now, it’s okay, miss. That’s not going to happen.” He patted her head and looked past her. “George! Can you take care of this?
Don’t let her out of your sight.”
The man in the ticket booth rushed from his post and over to them. “What’s happening? Did she say someone tried to kidnap her?”
The clock read 12:13.
Shit. “Please,” she pleaded with the captain. He patted her on the head once more and then gently peeled her away.
“George, call her parents and get the police involved if need be. We’re fixing to be late here.” He made his way up the ramp.
Elizabeth didn’t look at Connor. He didn’t like this next part, Plan B, and if she caught his eye she might lose her courage.
As a young girl, she had a transient heart problem that caused her to frequently faint. Once they identified the issue, Colleen and Evangeline healed her, and the fainting spells stopped. But Elizabeth never forgot the physical circumstances leading to the spells, and long after her body no longer needed to, she continued to employ this now-learned skill to extricate herself from stressful situations. Problems in school, namely.
When her sisters found out, they made her promise never to do it again. Colleen, especially, who told her any loss of oxygen to the brain could cause irreversible damage. You’re playing with fire, Lizzy. Some things can’t be healed.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and built up the panic within her. Familiar spots appeared before her eyes. That terrible lump in her chest. She managed to grab the captain’s sleeve on her way to the ground, but the fabric slipped through her fingers, and she remembered nothing after that.
The next thing she saw were Connor’s teary eyes hovering over her.
“You were out for two minutes,” he moaned. “Two! I didn’t know what to do… I was so scared.”
She rolled her head to the side. George was back in his booth, with a phone to his ear, eyes trained on her. Some tourists had flocked to their side as well and formed a protective circle around her and Connor.
But nowhere did she see the captain.
She tried to turn toward the river and the ship, but the crowd blocked her view. She groaned and tried to roll herself forward, but there were hands all over her, trying to keep her still.
“Connor… where is he? Where’s the captain?”
“Lizzy, you were out two minutes!”
“Connor!”
Connor bowed his head. “He went with the ship. It just left port.”
“Late?”
“No. My watch read 12:15:02. Not late.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth as wide as she could and screamed into the humid air.
* * *
She didn’t know what Connor had said to get the gathered Samaritans to let them walk away. She didn’t care.
Mercifully, they were long gone before the fateful 12:37 collision.
Elizabeth walked several paces ahead of her best friend. He didn’t ask her where they were going. He seemed to understand she had nothing to say, about that, about anything. Her heart was a mess.
She didn’t think of Ophelia, and having to face her with her disappointment. It was worse, knowing her great aunt already knew she’d failed; had known she would fail before she even tried. Ophelia had surely seen that the captain intent on sailing on time could not be swayed. His ship was always destined to be on time, and that punctuality, on this day, was always meant to be the end of a hundred lives.
But she had to try. She had no choice. To not try would be to surrender the piece of her humanity that no normal person possessed; the one unique to seers that allowed them to survive the things they were forced to witness.
Elizabeth hadn’t known where she was going until she got there.
She stepped through the back gate of Oak Haven and went around to the porch, which was empty now, but still home until the Deschanel trust granted it out to some other family member. She still felt a pull to the old gray paint and the plaster columns. Here, she’d invented the games that kept toddler Elizabeth from losing her mind. The games that blurred fantasy, reality, and an unchangeable future.
Elizabeth curled into a ball and closed her eyes.
Moments later, she felt Connor settle in beside her. He placed one hand on her back, leaned his head against the side of the house, and they stayed like this, in silence.
* * *
Maureen thought she’d seen Irish Colleen mad, but her mother was bringing furious to new heights.
“She said she had a ride home,” Maureen whined and wished she’d just said nothing at all, because this was so much worse. She’d severely miscalculated Elizabeth’s intentions, whatever they might be. No one knew, because no one could find her, and now she was missing.
This was what Maureen got for trying to be a helpful big sister.
What she got for letting her guard down at the first sign of her own happiness.
“Get in the car. Now.”
“But Charles and Augustus are already out looking for her.” It wasn’t that Maureen didn’t want to help; it was that she was afraid. She’d begun to wonder if Elizabeth had fallen victim to something horrible. There had been news of a serial killer in Baton Rouge, and now they were saying he’d struck in New Orleans, too. The victims were all young girls, between the ages of ten and twenty. It was too terrible a thought, but if she buried her head in the sand, it couldn’t be true.
Then again, if something had happened to Elizabeth, Maureen would probably be the last to know.
Connor’s parents, Savannah and Jamie, had been calling nonstop for hours. That’s when Maureen knew for sure things were not all right. Savannah was supposed to be their ride home, but knew absolutely nothing about it. She thought Connor was with Elizabeth, safe in Vacherie.
“And Colleen, and Evangeline,” Irish Colleen answered. Her face was a mosaic of rage and disappointment. “What the devil were you thinking, Maureen?” She whipped her head. “Don’t answer that. We both know you weren’t thinking a damn lick.”
“Mama, I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.”
“We need to have a firm lesson when Elizabeth is home and safe about the difference between helpful and foolish. Now, come on.”
* * *
Elizabeth awoke to the sound of footsteps in the grass. She shook Connor as a shadow fell over them.
Augustus sighed in heavy relief. “Lizzy. Thank God.”
He ascended the stairs and knelt down before the two of them. “And you, Connor. Your mother is a mess.”
“My mother couldn’t care less.”
“That’s not true,” Augustus said. He reached his arms forward and slid them under Elizabeth, lifting her like a rag doll. She didn’t resist; her face instinctively curled into his chest like an infant seeking succor. Her body rolled inward as he held her.
“Where are we going?” Connor asked. He followed behind them, back to the street, where Augustus’ car sat idling.
“I’ll drop you by your house before your mother has a heart attack.”
“And me?” Elizabeth asked.
“We’ll go to Magnolia Grace and wait for Mama and the others to come by. They’ve been out searching for hours, Lizzy. Where were you?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“I might,” he said, settling her into the back seat. The dome light illuminated his worried face and she saw just how scared he was; how scared they all must have been. In trying to help, she’d made things even worse.
“You don’t have to tell me.” He pulled back. “But you do need to think of a story that Mama will believe. I’m guessing the truth is out of the question here.”
“It is.”
He checked his watch. “We all agreed to meet at my house at midnight to check in on how the search was going. That gives you thirty minutes to think of something compelling.”
“Thanks, Aggie.” Of all her siblings, she expected his silent collaboration the least.
“We do what we have to do in this family, Elizabeth,” he said and slid into the driver’s seat.
He said nothing else as they drove quietly through the sl
eeping Garden District.
SUMMER 1973
* * *
VACHERIE, LOUISIANA
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
Six
Made in the USSR
Augustus locked his office door. He never did this, not during business hours, but the staff had become familiar over the past months and had forgotten the need for knocking. Right now, he needed guaranteed solitude.
He wasn’t technically doing anything wrong, and he’d told himself this very thing, first as he hired Jamie Sullivan to help with the background check, and later, as he tried to come about the information more directly, through Ekatherina herself, with no success.
There wasn’t as much information in the manila envelope as he’d hoped for. It wasn’t much of a packet at all, just a few pages collated with a small-sized paperclip.
She was born Ekatherina Aleksandrovna Vasilyeva, in 1950, in an unnamed village outside Leningrad. Ekatherina’s father, Aleksandr Vasilyev, born 1930, was a ranking member of the Communist Party and a loud voice for Marxism, until 1970, when he spent a year in the gulag and then, miraculously, released but out of favor. Augustus flipped through the handful of sheets, looking for more information on Vasilyev’s fall from grace, but there was nothing more written about it.
Ekatherina’s mother, Elena, maiden name Kozlova, born 1932, labored in a factory for years before landing a job as an interpreter for the Kremlin in 1965, but lost that coveted job when her husband was arrested in 1970. She returned to the factory for a short time until her husband was released in 1971. There was no record of her employment beyond that point, and the investigator presumed she continued from that point as a housewife.
Ekatherina was the oldest of three siblings. Her brother, Aleksandr, was born in 1955, and a younger sister, Anasofiya, in 1960.
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