And Then Everything Unraveled

by Jennifer Sturman

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like secretly drilling in a place that’s off-limits.”

  He shifted in his seat. “That’s pretty complicated. And I’m afraid I have to jump on another call in a moment. But maybe we can discuss it some other time.”

  Kimberly buzzed through to let him know his 5:30 call was holding for him, and before I knew it, Hunter was escorting me out of his office. “It was good to see you again, Delia. I wish Quinn was as interested in what I do as you are. Kimberly, will you see Miss Truesdale out?”

  I barely even had a chance to thank him. He already had his headset back on. “Right,” he was saying. “Right, right. The October puts. Got it, Trip.”

  Kimberly waited with me until a down elevator arrived. “Bye now!” she said, with just as much enthusiasm as she’d used to greet me.

  I pushed L for the lobby, and the elevator began its descent, but this time I wasn’t taking the express. On thirty-nine, a bike messenger got on, still wearing his hat and with his iPod cranked so loud I could identify what was playing (Jay-Z). On thirty-five, we picked up a guy in a pinstripe suit. He smelled like smoke, and he had a cigarette and lighter in his hand, like he didn’t want to waste a second once he got outside. Then, on thirty-three, the doors slid open and a woman in a trench coat walked in.

  I was busy thinking about what I’d learned from Quinn’s dad, and the doors slid shut before the company name on the reception desk could fully register. And fortunately, the woman was occupied with her BlackBerry—her head was down, and her thumbs were busy on the tiny keypad, so I didn’t think she noticed me at all. I slipped behind the guy in the pinstripe suit, just in case, and I made sure to let the woman walk well ahead of me on the way out. This was easy, since my knees were shaking. I actually felt faint, and it wasn’t a delayed reaction to kissing Quinn.

  It’s possible I was overreacting, and that it was all a coincidence, but I didn’t think so.

  Because the company on the thirty-third floor was Navitaco. And the woman in the trench coat was the same woman I’d seen walking past Prescott, and in Central Park, and, I realized belatedly, in the ladies’ room at Romeo and Juliet. Today she was wearing her hair loose again, which was what made me put it together.

  Meanwhile, Quinn had assured me he’d told his dad I was Delia Navare, but Hunter had distinctly referred to me as “Miss Truesdale.” And no matter how I tried to tell myself it wasn’t possible, I just couldn’t shake the conviction that Hunter’s 5:30 call had been with Leslie “Trip” Young, the Navitaco CEO and EAROFO director.

  But the biggest part of the coincidence didn’t even occur to me until the elevator doors opened on the ground floor. When Carolina had been warning me about a Sagittarius, had she actually been warning me about an archer? Because with his bow and arrow, an archer was a type of hunter.

  And the only hunter I knew was Hunter Riley.

  Twenty-seven

  I was still trying to connect the dots when I got back to the loft, but they refused to line up in any recognizable way—or, at least in a way that would make Quinn’s father unconnected to all of the people I suspected of being up to no good. And it didn’t help that there’d still been no word at all from Rafe. So when Charley burst through the door, demanding a complete account, it took me a second to remember she was talking about the scene in drama.

  “And?” she prompted, when I’d told her Mr. Dudley had seemed pleased.

  “And what?” I said.

  “You made it through the entire scene?” she asked.

  “Sure. Didn’t I tell you that?”

  “Then aren’t you leaving out something important?” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “Are you being dense on purpose?” she said.

  “Is that a nice thing to say?” At this point I knew exactly what she was getting at, but it was sort of fun holding out, and I was in desperate need of fun.

  “Did you kiss him?” she said, totally exasperated.

  “Oh. Oh, right. Yes.”

  “And how was it?”

  If she’d asked me right after it had happened, I probably would’ve done a better job of describing it. But now, instead of just wondering whether it counted as a kiss if it happened in a play, I was worrying about what it meant if it came from someone whose father might be trying to destroy your mother.

  After dinner, I told Charley I had homework and settled myself on my bed with a pad of paper and a pen. Of course, homework was pretty much the last thing I intended to do. Mostly what I wanted was to curl up with a gallon of ice cream and a spoon and watch a lot of mindless TV. If Carolina thought my head had been noisy before, she’d be totally awed by how noisy it was now. And there was no escape, at least not unless I was up for a lobotomy or quickly developing a serious substance abuse issue.

  T.K. always says that the best way to “create order out of chaos” is to put things down on paper. For her, this means an elaborate PowerPoint document with headings and subheadings and complicated graphs, but I didn’t know how to use PowerPoint, so I just made a list. Here’s what I came up with:

  Bad guys—EAROFO and maybe Quinn’s dad—are illegally trying to extract oil from the Ross Sea.

  T.K. found out and went to investigate—but she didn’t want Thad to know the details.

  The bad guys found out about T.K. and went after her.

  Somebody—the bad guys or maybe even T.K. herself—orchestrated the Polar Star’s disappearance.

  T.K. escaped to Chile to hide out.

  Thad was trying to take over her company.

  I haven’t heard from Rafe since he left for Chile.

  Nobody responded to my e-mail to Navitaco, but a woman who worked there keeps showing up wherever I do and Quinn’s dad might be doing business with them.

  I have to beware of a Sagittarius—and while Rafe dresses like one, Quinn’s dad is named like one.

  The only people I can talk to about the whole thing are a skeptical teenage genius, a psychic, a private detective who might be dangerous, and Quinn, who may or may not have given me my first kiss and whose father might or might not be one of the bad guys.

  I looked over what I’d written. But even with PowerPoint, I still wouldn’t have been able to make order out of this chaos, let alone figure out what to do next. And when I called Natalie, who was pretty much the only person I could turn to if I wanted to talk it all through, she was so busy with a project for a citywide science fair that her parents wouldn’t let her stay on the phone for long. She had just one thing to say:

  “This is serious stuff. You should be very, very careful.”

  Tuesday started out gray and rainy, which fit right in with my mood. I still hadn’t heard from Rafe, and his phone was going straight to voice mail. I’d come up with and then discarded hundreds of things to say to Quinn, but it was impossible to know how I should act when I didn’t know if the kiss had meant anything, if his father was evil, or if he knew that his father was evil. Meanwhile, enough people had warned me about danger enough times that paranoia had begun to set in.

  On my way to school, I put to use every tactic I’d ever seen in a movie to identify and lose a tail. I paused at store windows, looking for familiar faces reflected in the glass. I sped up and slowed down to see if anyone else was matching my pace. I stopped to tie my shoes, checking to see if other people stopped behind me. I even stepped into a subway car and then jumped out again just before the doors closed.

  I felt a bit silly doing all this, but it wasn’t like anyone was watching. Which was what I proved with the evasion tactics—nobody was following me or lying in wait or anything like that. So that was reassuring, though I still couldn’t help but feel completely on edge.

  The day seemed to pass in a blur. Mostly I kept pulling out my list whenever I had a chance, hoping it would suddenly morph into a clear course of action. I didn’t see Quinn all morning, but that was sort of a relief given my confusion about what I’d say to him. And when Gwyneth
came over to talk to me at lunch, it was just another surreal event in a long chain of surreal events.

  “Hi,” she said, taking a long pull of Tab.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “It was really good yesterday. In drama. The scene you did with Quinn.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “What’s going on with you two anyhow?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, almost too shocked by the fact that she’d initiated a conversation to process what she was saying.

  “I mean, are you together?”

  Even if I’d wanted to, I wouldn’t have known how to answer that. And as far as I could tell, she was going out with the guy I’d seen her with at the party, so I couldn’t figure out why she was asking.

  “Uh, we’re friends, I guess,” I said as Natalie seated herself opposite me. And Gwyneth was either satisfied by my answer or she didn’t want to be seen in such close proximity to an overachiever like Natalie, because she strolled away.

  By the time last period arrived, my edginess had grown into an allover feeling of intense unease, and it didn’t help that there was still no word from Rafe. I’d spotted Quinn on his landing after lunch, hanging out with Grey and Gwyneth and some of the other Alliance members, but that seemed like too much to handle, so I pretended I hadn’t seen him. And when I got to drama, he was already sitting between two other seniors, so I took a seat in another row to watch the scenes that other kids were doing that day.

  But when the bell rang at the end of class, Quinn materialized at my side.

  “Hey, what are you up to now?” he asked. His voice sounded deliberately casual, but it still had its usual effect on me.

  “Um,” I managed to get out.

  “Want to grab coffee or something and talk?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  “Cool. I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes.”

  I went to collect my things from my locker, wondering the entire way what Quinn wanted to talk about. As a general rule, any conversation that started with some form of the statement “we should talk” ended in a breakup—at least that’s how it worked on TV. But Quinn and I weren’t even going out, were we?

  He wasn’t there yet when I got outside, but the seniors had their own lounge, and that’s where their lockers were—I figured he’d probably run into a bunch of people and stopped to talk. I waited on the steps for him to show up.

  The rain had stopped, but it was still gray out. It felt sort of like San Francisco. The air was moist, and there was even fog, though nowhere near as thick as it was at home.

  Five minutes went by, and then ten. When I’d first come out, there’d been a stream of students leaving the building. But at this point, anyone who wasn’t staying for an extracurricular had pretty much left. I was also starting to get chilled, which only added to the unease, so I began pacing back and forth on the sidewalk.

  After fifteen minutes, I was thinking about going inside to track down Quinn—I mean, I might’ve been confused, but I didn’t think he would completely stand me up—when a woman called my name from across the street. “Delia.”

  I turned in the direction of her voice. It was the woman from Navitaco, and the play, and the park.

  “Delia,” she called again, waving me toward her with both hands. “I have a message for you.”

  I moved closer to the curb, keeping an eye on her hands to make sure she wasn’t holding a weapon of any sort and reaching into my bag so I had my phone at the ready. “What kind of message?” I asked. “Who are you?”

  “Come here,” she said. “I’ll tell you.”

  I was a bit offended that she’d think I was that stupid. “No, thank you,” I said. I was much happier where I was, with the street safely between us and the shelter of the school at my back and the occasional pedestrian or car passing by.

  “Delia, it’s important,” she said.

  “Then tell me from over there—” I was starting to say when I heard a car come speeding down the street, way faster than cars are supposed to go in a school zone. Or any other sort of zone, for that matter. I automatically turned my head at the sound.

  The black SUV was ten yards away when it jumped the curb. And instead of braking or swerving, it accelerated and headed straight for me.

  Twenty-eight

  Surfing teaches you balance, but it’s also good for reflexes and agility. I lunged away from the SUV, throwing myself up and onto the steps.

  It barreled past, glancing off a fire hydrant and back into the street without losing speed. Then there were running footsteps from behind me, and Quinn sprinted by in a blur of motion, yelling and chasing after the car. But it had too much of a head start. It disappeared around the corner and merged with the traffic on Fifth Avenue.

  He ran back to where I was sprawled on the steps.

  “You okay?” he asked, kneeling beside me.

  “I think so.” I had a shallow cut from where a piece of the SUV’s fender had grazed my shin, and my hip and torso were sore from where they’d hit the hard stone. And I was terrified, but that didn’t count as physical damage.

  I struggled up into a sitting position and looked across the street. The woman in the trench coat was gone.

  A teacher inside had heard the noise and called the police. They arrived almost instantly, and I told them everything I remembered. I didn’t know what make or model the SUV was, though Quinn thought it might have been a Range Rover, and he’d also caught two numbers off its license plate. Neither of us had gotten a good look at the driver, nor had the entire incident been in range of the school’s security cameras.

  The policeman in charge said it had probably been someone driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs who’d lost control of the car. Of course, he hadn’t been there to see it speeding up as it headed straight at me. Nor did he seem optimistic about tracking down the driver, given the number of black SUVs in Manhattan on any given day and the lack of more information.

  The school nurse was still in the building, and somebody went to get her. She came out and took a look at my shin and then gently poked at the area where I felt bruised. One of her gentle pokes hurt so much, I couldn’t help but give a little yelp, but even if she hadn’t insisted, Quinn would have made me go to the emergency room to get checked out.

  Charley met us there, and it all took forever, but eventually I was X-rayed and diagnosed with a cracked rib. And there was nothing the doctor could do but tape it up, give me a painkiller, and advise me to avoid coughing and hiccups, like anybody had any control over hiccups. I couldn’t even stop the shaking that had started the second the SUV was gone.

  Charley went out to wait with Quinn while the doctor was finishing up, and when I eventually joined them in the reception area, it looked like the cracked rib was going to be the least of my problems. Even facing a moving vehicle intent on mowing me down hadn’t been as scary as the look on Charley’s face.

  “I can take it from here,” she said to Quinn. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Are you sure I can’t help get her home?” he asked, like I wasn’t even there.

  Charley spoke before I could. “That’s sweet of you, but we’ll manage on our own. Thanks again.” And she swept me out of the emergency room and into a cab before I could say anything to Quinn myself.

  “Fifteen Laight Street, please,” she told the driver. Then she turned to me. “How are you doing?” she asked.

  “Okay,” I said, though it came out a little wobbly.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No. The doctor gave me a painkiller.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Really. I’m fine.”

  “Then would you like to hear about my day?” she asked.

  “Uh, sure,” I said.

  “Well, first, I spent many, many tedious hours in the editing room with Dieter and Helga. Then I dragged myself home, where I noticed that there was a message on the answering machine. And when I pressed PLAY, I got to hear Caro
lina Cardenas going on and on about how you’re in danger before she was suddenly cut off.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Whoops.” I’d forgotten that Carolina must have left several minutes’ worth of message before I’d picked up the other morning.

  “Yes, whoops. Now, as I’m sure you can imagine, I found that somewhat worrying, so I picked up the phone to call you. But before I could dial your number, Quinn called to inform me that you’re in the emergency room after a narrow escape from attempted vehicular homicide.”

  “Uh—” I started, but she was on a roll.

  “I arrived in the emergency room to find you bloodied and broken—”

  “There wasn’t that much blood, and it’s only a cracked—”

  “And as I waited for you to be put back together, I got to hear from Quinn all about your recent extracurricular activities, including how you’ve financed them, as well as his own assessment of the danger to which you are exposing yourself. And now I just have one question for you. Do you know what that question is?”

  “Uh—”

  “WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME ANY OF THIS YOURSELF?” she exploded. Even the driver turned around to look.

  “I couldn’t,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you thought I was suffering from an ‘understandable reluctance to meet reality head-on’ and Patience was ready to have me committed.”

  She was silent for what felt like an endless moment. “I should probably give you a lecture on eavesdropping, but God knows I did plenty of it when I was your age. I do wish you’d talked to me about it, though, because you’ve created a lot of drama where there didn’t need to be any. If I’d known you wanted a detective to investigate things more thoroughly, I would have arranged for it.”

  “You wouldn’t have thought I was crazy?”

  “Of course not. Even if I didn’t agree with you, I could understand why you’d want to make sure no stone had been left unturned or whatever the right metaphor is. And from what Quinn told me, it sounds like you’re on to something.”