by Jen Blood
To my surprise, Diggs didn’t argue. “Personally, I’d feel a lot better if we weren’t trapped out here during the storm of the century,” he conceded. “Jenny may be running loose on the mainland, but as far as we know she’s not out for our blood. At least back in Littlehope, we have access to cops and roads and hospitals. If J. did decide to come out here, I don’t care how many cameras we’ve got set up I don’t see us having a lot of success fending them off. Especially not in a blizzard.”
“And you don’t think this is a terrible idea?” Jack asked Cameron.
“I don’t have a better one,” Cameron admitted. “We have a limited amount of time to do anything at this point, and the reality is that I think the police have better things to do right now than look for fugitives in Littlehope, Maine, particularly with the storm. Erin and Diggs are still wanted for questioning, but there’s no arrest warrant out for them, to my knowledge. Consequently, the police are the smaller issue here. The larger issue is J.”
“And you don’t think they’ll show up now?” I said.
“Not in the next few days, no,” Cameron said. “If anything, I believe this is your best window to conduct an investigation safely. Despite what Jenny’s done, J. won’t risk coming to Littlehope in this kind of weather—particularly when their mission isn’t scheduled until April.”
“And it’s not like you’ll be alone,” Monty said. “Carl and I’ll be over there, along with Juarez here. I think we can handle it. Like you said, I feel better about our chances over there than I do out here.”
Jamie returned bearing tea. I thought about her and Carl, suddenly, and of Urenna and Bear. They were somewhere in Northern Maine by now, presumably waiting for their parents.
“Maybe it would be a better idea for you guys to stick together,” I said. Diggs looked at me quizzically. “Jamie, Carl, and Monty, I mean. Cameron said there’s not a lot of danger, right? And we’re all armed. You guys have a good thing going here—you’ve got kids and families and lives.”
“No way in hell I’m leaving all the fun to go up to Northern Maine and run around in the snow with a bunch of dogs on New Year’s Eve,” Monty said. “Sorry, princess. You’re not getting rid of me.”
I noticed a look between Jamie and Carl. This time, Carl didn’t jump in to argue with me. “How old is Urenna?” I asked.
“Seventeen.”
“And her mother?”
He looked down for a second. “Her mother passed. It is just the two of us.”
“Urenna,” Diggs said. He seemed to be turning the name over. “That’s Nigerian, isn’t it?”
“It means ‘father’s pride,’” Carl said. “She was our third born—we had two boys already.”
“And where are they?” I asked, my voice low. It was obvious from his expression what the answer would be.
“It’s just us, now.”
I looked at him evenly. The debate was already over, as far as I was concerned. “I’d like it if you left with Jamie tomorrow. Sit this out, please. Right now, we think things are all right—that we’re safe. That can change on a dime with these people.”
He frowned, and looked at Monty. Monty shrugged. “No shame in taking care of your own blood, brother.”
“I’d feel better if you were with me, personally,” Jamie said to him. “In case anything does go wrong and for some reason J. targets us, it would be good to know I’ve got someone with military training. Plus, you can keep me company on that snowy drive.”
I caught just a hint of light when he looked at her, before he lowered his eyes. I wondered whether Jack had seen it, too.
“We’re agreed, then?” I said. “If Monty wants to stay, that’s one thing… But you and Jamie head up north at first light, so you can beat the storm.” I knew I was being pushy about the whole thing, but I was too tired to be subtle. To be fair, though, I’m usually too tired for subtlety.
“We’re agreed,” Carl said.
I thought for another second before I made the decision I’d hoped to avoid since we returned here. I looked at Jamie. “Would you mind taking Einstein with you again?” I said. My voice shook. Jesus—I can handle any number of horrible things, but dog-related catastrophes are way beyond my scope. “Just until things are clear again. I just don’t want him to be in the path of destruction if something happens.”
“Of course,” Jamie said. “I was going to offer, anyway. It’s not a problem.”
“Thanks,” I said. One more second of breathing, and I was back on track. “And in the meantime, the five of us will head for the mainland. Diggs, Cameron, Jack, Monty, and me… Our own private army.”
“What do you think?” Cameron asked Diggs.
Diggs frowned. “I assume catching the first flight to Jamaica still isn’t on the table?” he asked me.
I just looked at him. “This is our shot to figure this out—to figure out what J. has planned, who they’re working with, and maybe find a way to stop it before it happens. You really want to spend the next four months stuck on this island, skulking around the mainland at night trying to find the next nut job about to go postal? I say we just go in and get it done. And the sooner we do it and get the hell out, the less likely it is that J. will find out we’re here.”
“It’s scary how you make a plan like this sound so reasonable,” Jack said.
“It’s a gift,” I said.
I noticed that Diggs didn’t jump in to agree with me.
Miraculously, Diggs and I managed to hit the hay by eleven o’clock that night. I’d been watching him for a while as the hours wore on—the way his eyes closed in the middle of conversations; the way his mind seemed to drift mid-sentence. If I’d gotten less than five hours of sleep in the past forty-eight, Diggs was lucky if he’d gotten two.
When we got through the bedroom door, I went to the bed and turned the lantern on while he shucked his jeans and sweatshirt. Our bed was an antique four poster, the sheets mismatched, the quilt a hideous maroon thing most pay-by-the-hour hotels would look down their noses at. Tonight, I wasn’t about to complain. I pulled off ski pants and jeans until I eventually found a bottom layer under there. I stood shivering in long johns and a long-sleeved t-shirt, the same outfit Diggs wore now.
“I miss sexy sleep gear,” Diggs said. I went to him, and he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close.
“Sexy sleep gear? Did I ever wear that?” I asked.
“There was that thing in Paris—remember that?”
We’d been in Paris in 2004, covering the Tour de France—posing as husband and wife because of some French filly Diggs was trying to give the slip. I smiled at the memory.
“The black thing?” I said.
“The black thing,” he agreed. His voice was low when he said it. Whatever tension there had been earlier between us vanished. Diggs held me for a while, swaying slightly.
“This is nice,” I said into his chest, after a couple of minutes had passed. It was getting hard to breathe in there. “Are you still awake?”
“No,” he said. He leaned down and nuzzled my ear. Behind me, I heard Einstein hop up on the bed and circle, pawing the comforter until he’d gotten it the way he wanted.
I found the hem of Diggs’ shirt and rested my hands on his broad back. He jumped.
“Jesus, woman. Your hands are freezing.”
“Why do you think I put them there? Now come on—get in bed.”
“I think I’m too tired to move.”
“All you have to do is fall sideways. I’ll do the rest.” He still didn’t move. “Diggs?”
“I’m sorry I was a dick earlier—about you remembering. I should have realized the headache thing.”
“You’ve been under a little stress—I understood. “
“There’s still something you’re holding back from me, though.” He let me go then, and sat at the edge of the bed looking up at me. Gauging my reaction. “I know you well enough to know you’re not telling me everything. I don’t doubt there are thin
gs you can’t remember… But there are things you can, too. And you’re not telling me, for some reason.”
Because apparently the Laura Ingalls Wilder childhood I thought I lived was closer to some sci-fi horror flick came to mind, but I kept it to myself. Which, I knew, was the problem.
“Anyway,” Diggs said when I didn’t say anything, “you should have told me about the headaches. I wouldn’t have pushed so hard.”
“You can push,” I said. “It’s not like a little old headache will stop me.” I pulled the covers back. All it took was my index finger on his chest to push Diggs into bed. “We don’t need to talk about this right now. Just sleep.”
I turned off the lantern and went to the other side of the bed. Einstein grudgingly made room, and I gladly curled into Diggs’ chest when he pulled me to him.
“I’d ravage you if I could move,” he said in my ear.
“You can ravage me another time.”
He kissed my head and pulled me in closer. “Maybe you could just get on top and wriggle around a little.”
I laughed. “Oh, that’s sexy.”
“Anything for you, baby.” His voice was drifting, getting heavier. Just before he was fully under, he jerked awake again. “What do you think of Cameron?” he asked.
“Right now? Very little.”
“I don’t trust him.”
I thought about the way Cameron had reacted to my questions; the lies we’d already caught him in. First he didn’t know the team leaders, then he did. And Monty had said Jenny was looking for something on the island—not someone. Cameron had downplayed that, but I was sure it meant something. And the bit about Jack just randomly ending up in Littlehope at fifteen with Matt Perkins was a bullshit story if I’d ever smelled one. What else wasn’t he telling us?
“You’re wondering if he’s giving us the whole story?” I guessed.
“Good to know we’re still on the same page. Yeah. You should check in with Kat, see if she knows anything.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said. As with Cameron, all I needed to do to get in touch with Kat was place a Craigslist ad—something we’d only done three times since running last year.
It was strange to be in a position where I actually wanted to defend Cameron. How long had he been the specter who chased me in my dreams? Diggs was right, though: I’d be an idiot to just blindly believe the guy was suddenly completely trustworthy.
“I think you’re right, though,” I said. “So, we keep an eye on Cameron and his psycho daughter. And the rest of the town. And the weather,” I added. He’d loosened his grip around me, but I could tell he wasn’t asleep—his body tenser now, while he thought about whatever it was we were up against.
“The storm sounds bad tomorrow, you know. Possibly a record breaker.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less. What fun would it be for us to do any of this in nice weather?” I paused, and shifted to look at him. “You’re supposed to be sleeping. Close your eyes.” I swept the back of my hand over his forehead.
He didn’t, though—just kept his eyes wide open, studying me. “They want you gone, Sol. For real. I know there’s a storm tomorrow…but look at what these people have done over the years. You really think a little snow could stop them if they thought they had you in their sights again?” He kept going, gathering steam. “We’re banking on Jenny and Cameron having nothing to do with J. anymore—but what if we’re wrong? They could tip someone off.”
“They’re both running from J.,” I argued. “They’re both invested in taking them down. Cameron’s sacrificed a hell of a lot to keep me safe over the years. Why would either of them tip off the organization now?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was ragged with frustration and fatigue. I took his face in my hands and kissed him firmly, fixing him with my sternest glare.
“No more thinking. No more talking. Close your eyes.”
He didn’t. I arched an eyebrow, which he may or may not have been able to see in the dark. He must have gotten the message, though, because I could just make out his features when he let his lids drift shut.
“Take a breath,” I said. I laid down beside him again. This was something he’d started with me, when I was having trouble sleeping in Australia. He took a breath. “Let it out, nice and slow.” He did.
Einstein shifted by my feet; I braved the cold and snuck one hand out from the blankets to scratch his ears, and tried not to think about the fact that I was sending him away in the morning.
“I love you,” Diggs said, half asleep now. I kissed him one more time, and resettled in his arms.
“I love you, too,” I said.
I closed my eyes.
Diggs slept.
I did not.
An hour passed.
I shifted positions. Einstein shifted positions. Diggs groaned.
“What are you doing?” he asked eventually. Not nicely.
“Nothing—go back to sleep.”
He was snoring again within seconds. I put the pillow over my face. Einstein snuggled in under my arm. The dog generates heat like a freaking furnace—between him and Diggs it was like sleeping without A/C on the sun.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.
Allie made no appearance.
I listened to the house moan. They seemed like your usual old-house moans, but it still freaked me out. Overhead, floorboards creaked.
“Allie?” I whispered.
I waited five seconds. Nothing happened. I teetered between relief and disappointment. A stiff wind could have blown me in either direction.
Something else creaked above me—or rattled more than creaked, I decided after some thought. To the untrained ear, it sounded like a drawer being opened on the floor above.
No one was staying above us, though. The only people who had ever lived there, to my knowledge, were Isaac Payson and his family. My stomach tightened. It was bad enough having Allie rattling around in my subconscious, but if Isaac was going to take up residence there too, I might need to invest in a good shrink. Or some very strong medication.
I closed my eyes again, and listened. Whatever I’d heard above, it seemed to be gone now.
I tried counting sheep.
Then ghosts.
Eventually, I fell asleep.
I remained that way for a few hours before something woke me.
A hand, brushing against my cheek.
I opened my eyes to darkness…
And Allie Tate.
“Make it through the Crack and you live forever,” she said.
My heart shimmied up my throat. I closed my eyes. “Jesus Christ, Allie. It’s bad enough I’m talking to a ghost. Do we have to do the riddles, too?”
“It’s where we kept our secrets. If you want to end this, you need those secrets.”
I opened my eyes again. She still stared at me through broken Coke-bottle lenses, her own eyes wide.
“We kept our secrets at the Crack,” I said, to clarify. She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Well, I’m sorry, Al—I’ve never dealt with a ghost before. Could you be a little less cryptic?”
“Who are you talking to?” Diggs mumbled next to me. Einstein was sleeping between us now, but Diggs reached across him and sort of patted/thumped my head. “Are you dreaming?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”
Allie was gone when I turned back, though. I lay there for a few minutes in the dark, thinking. It’s where we kept our secrets. The Crack. What the hell did that even mean? I thought back to the memory I’d had the day before: Will leading us through the Crack, that narrow crevice up on the mountain. The headache started again, toward the back of my brain this time. If you get stuck in the Crack, you’ll die there. Make it through, and you live forever.
“Shit,” I said aloud.
Diggs mumbled something to me. I stayed still until he’d gone back to sleep, then got up. One of us should get a few hours of REM-time, at least. He didn’t stir when I got out of bed. I hesit
ated all the same—he’d be beyond pissed, I knew, if he found out I’d left in the middle of the night. Would want to know why I hadn’t at least woken him up and brought him along, particularly considering the fact that I knew Jenny had been wandering the island not so long ago.
I thought of Allie. Will.
The closet, where my father had kept me.
Diggs didn’t know any of it—not really. I’d told him all the planted memories, all the things I thought were real before. For eighteen years now, I’d been telling him the same stories.
I didn’t know how to tell him what was really there, now that the fantasy was gone.
“C’mon, Stein,” I whispered. Einstein’s ears perked up. Sweet boy that he is, he didn’t hesitate.
I pulled my clothes on and used a back staircase I remembered from life on Payson Isle way back when, so Cameron didn’t catch me leaving. I closed the door behind me when I reached the ground floor, then waited without breathing for a count of ten.
No Cameron.
No anyone.
There was a half-moon overhead. Still no snow on the ground, but by this time tomorrow I was guessing that wouldn’t be an issue anymore. The smell of pine and salt were on the air. It was cold, too, which of course is to be expected from Maine in December. I pulled my hat down over my ears and plunged my gloved hands deep into my pockets.
I set out, alone.
Chapter Sixteen
Make it through the Crack and you’ll live forever, Will and Allie had said. I pushed past the walls of my own thick skull, trying to remember. Will Colby was handsome—or at least I’d thought he was, back then. Skinny, but pretty brown eyes and a rebellious streak that apparently made an impression, because it’s the same one I love Diggs for.
I’m not allowed to talk to you anymore, I remembered saying to him. I remembered sunshine. An early morning. Will and I on a path. I hadn’t known he would be there.
“What’d they do to you?” he asks. He doesn’t look good—he looks wild. Angry. There’s a purple bruise on his cheek.
“Nothing,” I say. “Nobody did anything. Leave me alone.”
