by Sarra Cannon
Now she kissed him—roughly, thoroughly, the flutter of fear in her stomach urging her on. His hands were warm and firm where they slipped beneath the hem of her sweater, and she leaned into his embrace, curling her fingers into his chest.
Maybe skipping town with an immortal man to find Louisa and escape cold-blooded killers didn’t make any sense, but not much in her life made sense, anymore—except this, she thought, as he deepened the kiss. Except him… Except us.
Chapter 17
Hallie had packed. A bag full of clothes and another full of her photographs and favorite books, and she was ready to go. As Matthew loaded them into the Westie, she looked around her little apartment and realized that she hadn’t really settled down the way she thought she had. She’d miss her kitschy, secondhand furniture and staticky old TV. She’d miss their bedroom, with its thin dorm mattresses and the posters on the wall that had made it feel like their own, like home.
She’d have fond memories of these things, of this place, sure—but she’d also remember that it was a sham, a farce. The financial struggles they’d had? Nonexistent, because Dani’d had the money all along. The fears they’d confessed, of inadequacy and loneliness and loss? Foolish, too, because what did Dani know of loss? She’d had her mother all along, while Hallie had raised herself—and Dani, too, in some ways. Their whole friendship had been built on the Hallie’s belief that she and Dani shared a common wound, a common loss. That they understood each other. That they shared truth… and trust.
When in reality, they shared nothing.
“Ready? We need to stop at the my house just for second, and then Dr. Signer’s office. I want to give her the letters we found.” Matthew filled her doorway and Hallie’s stomach clenched with a fleeting flicker of fear. Was Matthew as full of lies as Dani had been? Was she stupid for putting her trust in him? Would she ever be able to know?
No. Matthew had told her the truth—so many difficult, terrible truths about himself. He knew how Dani and Louisa had hurt her. And he wanted her safe, happy.
She smiled at him, and he smiled back, rubbing his neck as the wind behind him ruffled his hair.
“Just a minute,” she said. “Gotta grab one more thing.”
Hallie rounded the breakfast bar and groped underneath the kitchen sink for their emergency fund: a mason jar stuffed with the cash they’d saved over the years.
Matthew raised his eyebrows. “You weren’t kidding about those survival skills, huh?”
Hallie stuffed the jar into her purse and shrugged. “If you go without for long enough, the minute you get something you want to hold onto it.”
He nodded. “I know the feeling.”
“Scarcity mentality, I think it’s called.”
She gave her apartment another once-over, and then ushered Matthew back to the Westie—which, she was beginning to realize, was more like home to her than any apartment ever could be.
— —
Hallie pulled to a stop behind a red Honda parked in front of Matthew's house. She glanced at him, eyebrows raised, and he shrugged. But as they got out of the Westie, the Honda’s door swung open—and Dr. Signer emerged.
“Hi, Dr. Signer, we were actually going—“ Hallie began, but Dr. Signer held up her hand as she marched across the lawn toward them.
“Where on earth have you been?”
She was looking at Matthew, who hesitated. Hallie opened her mouth to interject.
“We’ve actually had a really hectic—“
“I’ll speak with you separately, Miss Medina. Right now, I’d like an explanation from Matthew about why the police just came to my office to question me about two of my students who were apparently at the Belleyre house the day it burned down. And why Mr. Roanoke has persistently ignored my emails to discuss the fire.”
“We didn’t have anything to do with the fire,” Matthew said. “We were lucky to make it out alive.”
“Make it out? You were inside?”
They nodded.
“Christ,” Dr. Signer said, leaning back against the Westie’s door and looking faint. “Oh, this is all my fault.”
“It wasn’t, Dr. Signer. We went there on our own, and we—“
“You went there because I asked you to, and because I told you to break in. If anything had happened, I could never have forgiven myself.”
Matthew dug in his camera bag.
“Nothing happened, Professor. The fire wasn't our fault. And we got these.”
He handed her the manila envelope where he’d stowed the letters; she peered inside and gasped.
“Is this—are these—?”
“Letters,” Hallie said. “From her attic. Some written to her, some from her… Matthew went through a lot to save them from that fire, Professor.”
“He - he went through…” She trailed off, her mouth hanging open as she unfolded one of the letters. “You two… you…” She looked up at them, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this. This is incredible. These were written later than any of the materials we have on her. These could have the answer, they— have you read them? Do they explain what happened to her?”
Matthew nodded. “In a way,” he said slowly. “They definitively answer the question of whether her disappearance was of her own volition. Christine was definitely making plans to leave town. I didn’t get a chance to study the letters thoroughly, but I’m sure you can make sense of what’s there.”
“Thank you,” Dr. Signer managed, finally. “Thank you for risking yourselves for this. It’s more than I could ever ask, but I am so grateful.” She clasped each of their hands in turn. “And Hallie, please consider your extra credit requirement more than fulfilled. I only hope that you’ll stay on and work with us on this project in the coming months.”
“I’d like to, Dr. Signer, but I think that’s going to be hard, since I won’t be a student at Abingford anymore.”
Dr. Signer frowned. “What do you mean? You aren’t graduating, already?”
“No. I lost my funding… and I can’t afford to stay. We’re leaving town today, actually.”
“We?”
“Matthew and I.”
Dr. Signer looked from Hallie to Matthew and back, frowning. She opened her mouth uncertainly, then closed it again.
“Matthew, would you mind giving Miss Medina and me a minute alone?”
Matthew nodded, but not without glancing at Hallie uncertainly. “I’ll be inside, packing,” he told her, and she gave him a smile that she meant to be reassuring, and that probably came out as more of a grimace.
Dr. Signer shifted her stance, tilting her head slightly as she examined Hallie. Behind her glasses, her brown eyes were piercing and intelligent.
“Miss Medina, have you given thought to all of your options, here?”
Hallie considered playing dumb but didn’t want to waste time.
“Yes, I have.”
“Surely the financial aid office can work with you, and can find you some way to fund your education.”
“They’ll offer loans, which I won’t take. Abingford is a private university—and unlike most people around here, I can’t afford $120,000 in debt. And all the grants in the world aren’t enough to cover tuition.”
“Have you spoken to your parents about your decision?”
“My parents are dead.”
Dr. Signer winced. “I’m sorry, Hallie, for your loss.”
Hallie let the awkward silence ring between them.
“I know it’s not my place. But you are a bright student. And Matthew, I know that he’s bright, too—and very handsome, to boot, but—“
“I’m not doing this because he’s handsome,” Hallie said, willing her voice to remain steady and strong. “I’m not some wilting flower who’s going to throw away her future because a hot guy pays her some attention, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“That’s not what I was thinking,” she said, and Hallie raised one eyebrow. “All I was thinking,” she continued, “was that you’r
e a smart girl who deserves an education. I won’t presume to know what exists between you and Matthew, but he is on a different path. And that’s fine… but if he’s asking you to follow that path too, then maybe it’s worth questioning why. And asking yourself what your reasons for following him really are. There are worse things, Hallie, than being alone—if you do it on your own terms.”
Hallie crossed her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly cold and exposed.
“You talk like it’s a choice,” she whispered hoarsely, feeling the tears pricking her throat and eyes. “But I have to do this… I have to go.” She glanced back at the house, where she could make out Matthew’s silhouette in the bay windows as he walked around. She turned back to Dr. Signer. “He’s a good man... And I trust him. He’s good for me like I’m good for him.” She paused, and her heartbeat seemed to slow as the answer came to her.
“I’m not giving up… I’m taking a chance.”
At that, Dr. Signer’s worried expression softened, and she reached for Hallie, pulling her into an awkward embrace. She sighed deeply.
“Be safe, Hallie, and keep in touch. Call if you need anything. Including a letter of recommendation for your next school.” She winked.
“Thank you, Professor.”
Hallie watched Dr. Signer fold herself back into her Honda and waved as she drove away. After a few minutes, she heard Matthew calling from the doorway.
“I’m finishing up in here,” he said. “Everything all right?”
“Golden,” she called back. He grinned, giving her a thumbs up, which she returned, laughing.
Chapter 18
“I’m telling you, it’s the next exit.” Hallie swiped at the map on her phone and held it out for Matthew to see. He waved it away.
“Hal, I’ve been out this way and I’m telling you there is nothing out here. Just a bunch of woods.”
The address Brockhurst had given Hallie was about six hours south of Abingford, in a small town on the outskirts of Atlanta. And in Hallie’s experience, the sixth hour of any road trip was right around where things got touchy. For one, it almost always occurred somewhere in the middle of nowhere, right between the repetitive road trip games and twitching leg cramps, when all of the good conversation had run out and the air in the car started smelling sort of stale.
Hallie had handed over the wheel an hour or so earlier to stretch her legs on the checkered bench that backed up to the driver’s seat, but now she was on her knees and leaning into the front.
“Well, then where do you propose we go, Magellan? It’s what the map says, and this address is all I’ve got.”
“I don’t trust that map,” Matthew said, glaring at her phone as if it might leap out of her hands and grab the wheel. “And that British lady is annoying the hell out of me.”
“She’s not British, she’s a computer with a nice voice.”
“I don’t need a computer to drive me into some empty woods.”
Hallie threw up her hands. “They’re not empty!”
Trees streamed by on either side of the empty freeway, and the marker for the next exit was approaching fast.
“It’s here - get off here!”
“I’m serious,” he said, angling the Westie onto the exit ramp, and shaking his head, “we’re not going to find anything out here.”
Hallie was itching to get out of the car; she figured that even if they didn’t find Louisa out here, it’d be good to get some fresh air. “Just keep driving,” she said.
She directed him down a winding, cresting road that seemed to drag on for miles, lined with farmland as far as she could see. Her cell phone reception started to flag; the little blue dot on the map stopped tracking their movements. Then, just as Hallie was about to tell Matthew to turn around, the road widened, flattened, and ended at an T-shaped intersection with a small Methodist church and a Qwik-E-Stop gas station on either side. Matthew looked over at her phone.
“She’s awfully quiet.”
Hallie elbowed him lightly. “This is the street, though. So turn left.”
A moment later and they saw where Hallie’s phone had led them. The first turnoff from the road was into an enormous, idyllic clearing, with a driveway that led to a sprawling colonial estate. As they turned into the driveway, Hallie glanced around to confirm the street address, and her eyes found the stone sign marking the entrance: Maplewood Hospice Care.
She glanced quickly back at the beautiful old home, with its vibrant brick and pristine white trim, and felt her stomach sinking.
“Do you think she’s inside?” Matthew asked, and his gentle inquiry, combined with the fact that he wasn’t gloating about not finding a regular neighborhood, echoed the worry that had also suddenly gripped Hallie: that Louisa’s strange actions and sudden silence were actually because she’d been dying, and was now possibly dead.
“No,” Hallie said, her voice as subdued as his. She shook her head. “No. There’s just no way—she’d never be happy in a place like this, even if she were sick or dying. She’d never come off the road for this.”
“Do - d’you want to go inside and check, just in case?”
Hallie met Matthew’s eyes and took comfort in the way he looked at her, even now - with warmth, compassion, concern. She took a breath and nodded.
The waiting area of the facility was cozy and warm; the sickly, sugary scent of a pumpkin candle making her stomach growl—though she wasn’t sure if that was in hunger or nausea.
Behind the desk, a middle-aged woman with fleshy cheeks, zebra-print scrubs, and a deep crease between her brow looked up from her computer. Behind her, a younger woman was filing paperwork in a large grey drawer.
“Can I help you?”
“Um, yes,” Hallie began, “we’re looking for a patient, Louisa Fawcett?”
The younger woman glanced up, bright eyes meeting Hallie’s with interest, before looking away as the older woman stood.
“And you are…?”
“I’m - well, her daughter, actually.”
Matthew’s fingers found hers and he linked their hands, loosely.
The woman’s frown softened slightly, and the corners of her mouth folded down. “Well, I’m sorry to tell you that Ms. Fawcett is no longer a patient here.”
Fear clawed up Hallie’s spine. “Is—is she—dead?”
“Goodness, no,” the woman said, looking aghast. “She checked herself out a few weeks ago. Beg your pardon, but she’s a foolish woman, if you ask me.”
“So she’s sick?”
Now her mouth tightened. “I’m sorry, dear,” she said blandly, as though she were ordering a salad. “I can’t disclose personal medical information without express written permission from Ms. Fawcett herself. All I can tell you, as her daughter, is that you won’t find her here.”
Hallie let out a shaky breath.
“Did she leave a forwarding address, or something like that?” But she knew the answer before the question had left her mouth.
“No. She left rather abruptly, actually. Against our advice.”
“Is there anything you can tell me, to help me find her?”
“I’m afraid not.” The woman gave her a terse smile. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be of more help.”
Behind her, the young woman filing cabinets caught Hallie’s eye again, and gave her a meaningful look. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke it was with a plucky southern twang. “Mayella, I’m gonna take my break now, I’ve got to pee like a banshee.”
The older woman grunted.
As the young woman hurried off down the hall, Hallie cleared her throat. “Actually, would it be all right if we used your restrooms, too? We’ve had a long drive.”
She nodded, gesturing down the hall. “Just follow Jana; it’s the third hallway on the left.”
Hallie set off, Matthew trailing close behind.
“Do you think that girl knows something?” he asked.
“One way to find out.” She pushed the door to the women’s restro
om open and pulled him inside. It was empty.
“Um,” Matthew said, glancing around uncomfortably, “I don’t think she’s—”
But just then, the door swung open again and Jana entered, carrying a small paper sack.
“Hi,” Hallie said. “I’m sorry, I might’ve misinterpreted, but do you know something about Louisa that you could tell us?”
Jana's eyes were round and earnest when she looked up at Hallie. “I’m glad you came. We were so worried when she left. She wouldn’t let us contact anyone, and it was hard to imagine she didn’t have any family who would want to help her.”
Hallie thought she detected a hint of reproachfulness in the young orderly’s words, but she ignored it. “Louisa is very independent,” she said, and Jana nodded.
“Now, Mayella’s a stickler,” she continued, “which is probably why she didn’t tell you we had this stuff.” She held out the paper bag. “But there’s some of Louisa’s belongings. Her memory was just awful, sometimes… so she left this behind.”
“Can you tell me what’s wrong with her?”
“Late-stage kidney cancer that’s spread all over. To her brain and organs. When she came here, she was so weak from her treatments—but she never planned to stay here long. She said she came here because Maplewood lets the patients have plenty of outdoor recreation, being so close to the woods and all. But she left once she was strong enough to drive. The doctors told her to stay… but if you know Louisa then you know that was never gonna happen.”
“How long does she have?”
“Not very. Weeks, maybe a few months. But she was wonderful to all of us, and I don’t want her to be out on her own like this. I hope you find her, and maybe this stuff will help.”
Hallie opened the paper bag and peered inside. What she found wrenched a laugh from her chest.
“What?” Matthew said.
She reached in and pulled out a tangled mess of keychains attached to a flimsy carabiner clip.
The collection was a mix of furry, flashing, and spinning souvenir keychains from the many states, cities, museums, and kitschy landmarks Louisa had visited. Hallie remembered playing with it as a girl, admiring it—she’d even started one of her own during the few years they’d traveled together. Some people collected souvenir magnets for their refrigerators, or novelty shot glasses from their travels, but those were people with homes, cabinets, and appliances.