by Grant, Ann
No word from Mike and Karin. They were probably asleep by now.
For the next hour, I sat cross-legged on the couch with my laptop and waded through exotic botanical photos. The blood-red flowers had almost looked like bougainvillea, only larger and heavier. Tropical, but where? If I could identify them, maybe I could pinpoint the island, or at least the region.
Nikki nuzzled my feet and lay down beside Luna.
I rubbed the red line on my wrist. My hand ached, one more thing to worry about. Maybe I’d banged it against something when I was stumbling around in the dark.
At one in the morning, I struck out with the flowers and turned my attention to the islands. I was right about Hawaii. Kilauea and other volcanoes in the Hawaiian chain had been erupting for decades. Some of the volcanoes were tourist attractions, but the place I’d seen was too remote to stay hidden near a popular location.
I skimmed dozens of websites about obscure islands with beautiful names. One website said the Pacific had 789 habitable islands out of 25,000. Indonesia included thousands of islands and dozens of active volcanoes along three tectonic plates.
The two men who’d forced the prisoner across the lava field had spoken English, but the crowd on the beach had chattered in an unrecognizable language. If I’d glimpsed a street sign or a hotel marquee, even a license plate, maybe I could get somewhere.
The wind rattled the tree branches against the house. Frustrated with everything, I turned off the laptop, pulled up an afghan, and said goodnight to Ben’s photo on the coffee table. When I finally fell asleep, though, I dreamed about the prisoner heading under those strange flowers.
In the morning everything looked different, safe and sound, but the memory of the sinister island still lingered. I took the dogs out for a walk in the woods and caught myself staring along Meade Road, half-expecting to see John Savenue striding over the hill toward the house. Heavy gray clouds hung over the empty road.
“Come on, Nikki, let’s go home,” I told her.
Her face lit up. She jumped in the Jeep (blue, my favorite color) and settled her lean body on the back seat. As we pulled away, I reminded myself to pick up another pair of jeans and my good boots. We left the long driveway and began to pass miles of isolated countryside.
I turned my right hand on the steering wheel. The thin red mark on my wrist should have disappeared by now. In the daylight it almost looked like a rash.
A hawk sailed out of nowhere across the road in front of us. When the huge bird turned toward a line of juniper trees, I felt a sudden urge to turn around myself, just to make sure the device was still safe in the closet, but I shook off the impulse.
The technology was incredible, the ability to track somebody thousands of miles away without detection, but how could my mind travel to another location while my body stayed here? Had the experience even been real? Maybe it had been some gruesome form of entertainment. I shot that last thought down. The prisoner’s ordeal, the lava field, and the blood red flowers had been too vivid to be a simulation.
Nikki sat up to look out the window. Farms appeared, followed by Civil War tee-shirt and souvenir stores that had closed for the season. We drove into Gettysburg, passed the tree-lined historic part of town, and swung up our street. My roommates and I had been lucky to find our house, even though it looked like Dracula’s castle with a turret and overgrown yew bushes. We were a five minute walk to the college.
Karin’s Suzuki was gone, but Mike’s Toyota pickup sat by the curb with the seats jam-packed with canned food.
Mike Miller was into saving the world. The cans were a sign that he was collecting for something again. He volunteered for the soup kitchen, swung a hammer for Habitat for Humanity, and did countless other things he never talked about. He was the kind of guy you wanted to fall in love with… except he was just so damned nice.
I didn’t see anybody when I opened the front door, but Nikki sniffed at a jumble of shopping bags by the couch. Incredulous, I wondered if Karin had pleaded poverty about the watch because she’d blown all her money on clothes, but the bags turned out to be full of dog food. Her rescue group. So she was planning to foster another dog. I hoped Nikki would tolerate this one. She’d nipped the last dog in the face, but had loved the one before that.
Upstairs, my bedroom had a closed up feel after a week away. Everything looked the same, the white silk shirt I’d tossed on my bed, the pile of books on the floor. I had just started to throw socks and bras in a suitcase when somebody cleared his throat behind me. Heart pounding, I dropped everything and spun around.
Mike was smiling in the doorway.
“Sneaky.” I punched him on the arm.
He ruffled Nikki’s fur, sat his wide receiver frame down in my chair, and crossed his legs. He was wearing the clothes he lived in: faded jeans and a navy blue Gettysburg College sweatshirt that barely fit his oversized neck. He’d buzzed his hair since the last time I saw him and looked like a cop.
“You sure are jumpy,” he said. “Long time no see.”
“You know you can come out anytime.”
“I called you a couple of times yesterday.”
“I’ve been leaving my phone off. I texted you last night.” I stuffed a black sweater in the suitcase and avoided his gaze. I wasn’t going to get him involved.
“You’re doing okay, though?”
“I have good days and bad days.” I’d heard that somewhere. It was a convenient thing to say when people brought up Ben’s death. I didn’t have to go into the raw details about how I really felt.
He nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. You had breakfast yet?”
“No, I didn’t have time.”
“Want to eat out? July Thunder and I’m buying. Come on, get your coat. Let’s go.”
“What’s all that stuff in your truck?” I asked him on the way downstairs.
“Thanksgiving drive for the shelter. I’ve been all over this morning.”
I took Washington Street, passed the college, and headed to the town square. We lucked out and found a parking place in front of July Thunder (named after the month the Yankees and the Rebs blew each other’s brains out down the road).
The place was already starting to get crowded, but Mike snagged a table with a couple of plush red armchairs by the fireplace. He held my chair out, which he’d never done before, but he was probably feeling sorry for me. I sat down, soaking up the fabulous warmth from the fire, and ordered yogurt while Mike went for the blueberry waffles with whipped cream.
“Decadence,” he said when the food arrived. “What’s up with your wrist?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your wrist is red.”
“Oh, I think I’m allergic to a bracelet.” The red line really stood out in the firelight. Maybe it was getting darker. Worried and self-conscious, I tugged at my sleeve to hide it. “I want to talk to you about something.”
“About what?” Mike cut into his waffles.
“About transferring. I might finish my last year someplace else. I’ve been thinking about it for a while and it might be a good idea.” I watched his face, expecting a nod of sympathy, figuring he would get it right away.
But he didn’t. He just stared at me and put his fork down. The light in his eyes changed. Shock, maybe, and something else I couldn’t put my finger on.
“A good idea because of what?” he asked.
I picked at my silverware. “Because of the accident. Because every single day I see Ben in all these places we were together. It’s hard for me to even go into the grocery store.”
“You just lost him a few weeks ago. And you have friends here. You’re not transferring and that’s it.”
“I haven’t made up my mind. I’m just thinking about it.”
“Well, don’t think about it anymore. I’m going to look at phones today. Why don’t you come with me, get out for a while.”
“I’ve got too much going on today,” I said, giving up on the conversation. My thoughts had tu
rned to the device in the closet. In my mind’s eye I could see it in the coat in the dark. What if it somehow turned itself on when I wasn’t there? It almost seemed crazy to be drinking coffee with Mike and talking about anything when a thing like that was in the professor’s house.
After he paid the bill, we took off through the town square, dodging pickup trucks and cars. Threatening clouds were still moving across the sky. I wanted to pick up the watch and take the dogs for a long walk before the rain hit.
Just as we swung around the square, a blond man in a long black coat stepped out of a sleek black BMW. I caught my breath. It was John Savenue. Our eyes met as I gunned the Jeep through the crosswalk.
Chapter 4
I could see him in the rearview mirror standing in the cold with his eyes on me. He was still watching when I white-knuckled the steering wheel and took the first left into the narrow streets around the college. I sped through blocks of two hundred year old houses and massive oaks, blew through a stop sign at the college, and jammed on the brakes in front of our house.
He’d recognized me. He couldn’t know I had the device. There was no way he could know I’d picked it up. His figure had dwindled near the wood line a quarter mile away by the time I began searching through the grass.
Mike stared at me. “You ran a stop sign.”
“I know. I didn’t see it. I’m bad. Look, I’ve really got to go.” I took the front steps two at a time, collected my dog and the ticket for the watch, and almost flattened Mike on the way out. He followed me with his shoulders hunched up and his hands jammed in his pockets.
“Come on, Amy, what’s going on? You’re acting crazy.”
“Nothing, everything’s fine.” I coaxed Nikki into the back seat and slammed the door.
He put his hand on the Jeep as though he were trying to slow me down. “You sure you don’t want to look at phones? I’m going to Hanover.”
“Not today. I can’t.”
“What about dinner? I could make some chili and get a movie.”
“Sounds good. I’ve really got to go, though.”
His eyes lit up. “See you about six then.”
I pulled the Jeep away from the curb. “Would you do me a favor?”
“Sure, anything.”
“Would you keep it to yourself where I’m house sitting? I mean, in case it comes up?”
He stared at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I’d just feel safer. You know, because I’m in the woods.”
* * *
“And here’s the watch,” the jeweler said, holding it with pale fingers over the glass counter. He turned on a porcelain lamp with a sword design on the side. The jewelry store was in a dark historic building like most of the stores downtown. “You can see the engraving on the back, Mother here and Love, Karin & Amy below. It’s a classic script.”
I took out my Visa. “It’s beautiful. She’ll be really happy with it. Thank you so much for doing this for us, especially with the short notice and everything. You have gift wrap?”
“Just a box.” He gave me an apologetic smile.
“That’s fine. I’ll wrap it later.”
The jeweler pushed his glasses up on his nose and boxed the watch. After I paid the bill and thanked him again, I maneuvered the Jeep into Baltimore Street and passed Middle Street and the sign for the truck detour down West 116. The traffic had picked up. I knew my mother would love the watch, plus she could wear it for years and—
A black BMW was behind me. Was it a coincidence or was it John Savenue?
I could see his blond hair.
“Shit,” I said. He had come out of nowhere. He must have pulled out of an alley.
Heart racing, I headed toward the center of town, whipped into the traffic circle, swung past the hotel and the theater, peeled off into a narrow parking lot, and had to make a fast decision. Railroad Avenue or the alley? I shot up the twisting alley and bounced over the rough pavement.
The black BMW followed.
He stuck right on my bumper. I careened by the tourist shops, fire escapes and garbage bins, came out by the bank, gunned through the cars backed up for the light on Washington Street, and realized I’d made a mistake.
A warehouse loomed ahead. I had to go that way. I had no choice. The bleak building and empty dock gave way to a field overgrown with ragged pokeweed and trash trees. A dog gave a lonely bark. When I shot off to the right, looking for a way out, I found myself in a dead end by the railroad tracks that ran along an impossible embankment. The BMW swung after me, and just as I wheeled around, we ended up face to face.
John Savenue stared at me with the coldest eyes I’d ever seen, two black holes into nowhere. He took his six-fingered hands off the steering wheel and motioned for me to pull over into the weeds.
“In your dreams,” I said and gunned the Jeep past him.
He knew I had the device. I tore up another alley with the BMW breathing down my neck. Just as we reached Chambersburg Street, a Fed Ex truck blocked the way. I flew over the curb, over the sidewalk and over the grass, shot through the traffic, and threaded the alleys behind the grand old houses below the Seminary.
No sign of my pursuer. He wouldn’t jump the sidewalk with a BMW. Maybe I’d lost him. I was driving toward the battlefield and the Fairfield Road, though. The way to Fairfield passed through miles of isolated countryside. I could see him running me off the road into a field and swung toward town again. He was involved with people who’d tortured a man on an island. What if he had a gun?
The Jeep was the only metallic blue set of wheels on the road. I had to find a place to lay low, but I couldn’t think straight. Heading into town again, I raced through the traffic signals toward the square, got stuck in a caravan of motorcycles… and there was the BMW in the opposite lane.
I pulled into Racehorse Alley and tore into the Parking Plaza under the horribly low concrete ceiling. Up or down? I drove up. The garage’s upper levels would have more places to hide. Nikki furrowed her brow. When we reached the top, I slipped in beside a pickup truck, killed the engine, and let a full two minutes pass before I chanced it and climbed out for a look.
“You wait here,” I told Nikki and locked the Jeep.
There was nobody else on my level. I crept over the open deck to the rail. Racehorse Alley was empty. The pavement ran uphill behind the hotel where a lone worker lingered with a cigarette at a back door. Quiet, except for the bitter wind as it whipped around the deck’s concrete pillars. Then, there it was. The black BMW stole up the street, bypassed the alley, and disappeared, headed toward the square.
My skin prickled. I drew my coat in and waited by the rail for ten freezing minutes, watching the entrance to the garage.
Then I ran to the Jeep and got the hell out of there.
Chapter 5
Somehow I made it through the isolated roads to Professor Wu’s house. I couldn’t leave the Jeep in the driveway, though. It was a big blue sign screaming that I was staying there. I backed their classic Camaro out of the garage and hid the Jeep beside their Prius. The Jeep would have to stay inside for now. I stared at the showy white Camaro and wondered if I was making a mistake. It wasn’t exactly going to disappear in traffic.
A few minutes later, I let Nikki and Luna out to run along the woods, but I found myself looking back at the window near the closet where I’d hidden the device. The white shade was undisturbed, the glass unbroken.
The dogs snuffled around, swallowing snow and rolling in it, and wandered toward the trees at the end of the driveway where a row of pines blocked the view of the road. My stomach knotted. We finally turned toward the house with no sign of any cars. Nikki bounded into the kitchen, scattering snow over the tiles, while Luna trailed in after her.
Deep quiet filled the rooms. The dogs followed me with their eyes, probably hoping for food. I went to the window again, didn’t see anything outside, and was about to make coffee when I found myself in the hall instead.
I had t
o make sure the device was safe.
Feeling paranoid, I opened the closet, which had the stuffy smell of coats and boots. The coat with the device hung in the same place against the wall. I slipped my hand into the pocket with creeping anticipation. The device was still there. Relief flooded over me. John Savenue never would have chased me if he’d broken into the place. He wouldn’t have bothered.
I closed my fingers over the smooth metal.
It couldn’t hurt to use it one more time.
Not for hours, though, just long enough to find out what happened to the prisoner. I had a fledgling plan. If I could see something that would give away the location of the island, an airport sign or a license plate, I was going to contact the authorities and start a rescue operation. And if that failed, maybe there was some way to communicate with the prisoner. His dignified refusal to give up a name had touched me to the core. But to be realistic, he was probably dead by now, sprawled out under those terrible green vines.
One thing, though, I wasn’t returning to a dark house. I drew the drapes and turned on the lamps. By the time I remembered where I’d left the flashlight, I had another plan.
The probe couldn’t grab my wrist if I could press the symbols from a distance. Then I could go through the controls, set a time limit on the trip, and maybe even find out how to talk to the prisoner. Congratulating myself on my cleverness, I rummaged through the kitchen and came up with a long screwdriver that seemed perfect.
One more look at the dogs and I placed the device on the dining room table and shut the door. The room fell into darkness. The Greek alphabet-like symbols appeared under the flashlight beam. This time I used the screwdriver to touch the backwards E with the snaking tail.
The silver probe shot out, wormed around the screwdriver, and seized my wrist. Tingling pain ran through my hand. I was about to scream when the dining room walls disappeared.