by Sophie Davis
I didn’t need to see David’s face to know he was surprised that I’d been paying attention. He shouldn’t have been. After all, he knew better than anyone that it was my job to listen to, to learn from, to catalogue events in the real world and make sure only those she could handle reached Lark.
“That is right. Together, Lila. Together we can help Lark, but neither of us can do it on our own.”
I’m not on my own, I thought. I have Raven.
David continued droning on, speaking in those tones meant to coax information from me. But I was over it. I was over him. I reached for Lark. She was there, connected to me in ways I’d never expected. The poor girl needed saving. Though I would never be anyone’s choice for savior, Lark was stuck with me.
I just hoped I was up to the task.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RAVEN
The next morning, it was clear that all three of us hadn’t gotten much sleep. Blake was bleary eyed, and Asher had huge dark circles and very messy hair. As for me, well, I refused to look in the mirror. I’d tied back my short hair and dressed in fresh clothes, but that was as far as my grooming went.
By the time I emerged from my room, both guys were in the living room sipping coffee and, in Blake’s case, picking at the edge of a bagel. Asher held a to-go cup in my direction. “Got you a mocha,” he said.
“Thanks.” I accepted the coffee, taking a long drink that warmed my insides and thinned the fog lingering in my head. Then, I took a deep breath and announced, “I want to talk to Adam Ridell.”
Both guys stared at me blankly, as though I’d just said that I wanted to fly to the moon and they weren’t quite sure what to do with that. Asher was the first to recover. He set down his coffee and stared up at me from the armchair.
“Why? I don’t think he has anything to do with…anything,” Asher said, but his eyes took on a faraway look, like he was searching the database in his mind for Adam’s name.
“Because I need to know why Lark needed me then. I need to understand my purpose.” I let out a shaky breath. “Please, will you guys help me find him?”
“I know where he is,” Blake said, leaning forward on the couch to set his plate on the coffee table.
“You do?” I asked, surprised.
Averting his gaze, he nodded as he cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. I actually see Adam every so often. He goes to GW. We grab lunch or dinner whenever we are both free.”
“So, he’s here?” I couldn’t believe my luck. I could talk to Adam in person, see his reactions and gauge them for myself.
Did Adam mail me that letter?
“I don’t know about this….” Asher hedged.
“Why not?” I demanded, annoyed that he even thought his opinion mattered right now. I didn’t need his permission…did I? I’d gone off on several side trips by myself, and he hadn’t stopped me. They are always watching. Was Lark right? Had Asher been at Union Station? At the library? On the metro? At the soccer stadium? Were there others following me around? Or was I just being paranoid?
“If you go to him as Raven, he might freak out. Or go to his parents. I can’t allow that.” Asher ran a hand through his messy hair and stared at me beseechingly. “It’s too risky, for a lot of reasons.”
“No,” Blake said loudly. Asher and I turned to him. “He won’t freak out and he won’t tell his parents.”
Asher scoffed. “You can’t know that.”
Blake stood, his hand in his pocket reaching for his cell. “I can, and I do.” His eyes found mine. “Adam…Adam suggested the possibility that Lark had…other personalities a long time ago.”
“He did?” Asher and I asked the question in unison.
Blake chose to focus on me when he answered. “You—Lark—spent a lot of time with Adam after your birthday party.” He paused and studied my face, as though hoping his comment might evoke a memory. It didn’t. Blake cleared his throat and continued. “He noticed pretty quickly that you weren’t…you all the time.”
“He met Lila, I’m guessing?” I asked softly.
Did I meet Adam? Would I remember if I had?
“I assume.” Blake averted his gaze, guilt and shame clouding his expression. “When he first tried to talk to me about it, I didn’t want to believe him. I mean, how could he have noticed something I’d missed? Lark and I spent a lot of time together, and we’d been a couple for well over a year by the time the two of them reconnected.” For a brief instant, I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but then he blinked, and they were dry again. “It wasn’t until I read your—Lark’s—medical records that I…I accepted the truth that had been in front of me the whole time.”
Medical records? The package.
“So that was what was in that package?” I asked, though it wasn’t really question.
“I doubt it’s a complete file, but yeah. There were a lot of therapy notes, a list of medications prescribed over the years, some writeups from extended stays at Montauk—that sort of thing.” His gaze shot to Asher, accusation plain. “Nothing about the specific trauma she suffered as a child.”
“We didn’t know the nature of the trauma. The Kingsleys were less than forthcoming about what exactly had happened to their daughter,” Asher said calmly. “But I am curious, where did Lark a copy of her records?”
“Couldn’t say,” Blake replied.
Asher leaned back in his chair and began doing what appeared to be mental calculations of some kind. Ignoring his weird hand gestures and soft mumbling, I turned to Blake. “I guess this is why you are taking this better than anyone expected.”
He laughed uneasily. “Because I read the files? If I’m being honest, had I just received that package and read the contents without Adam’s theory in the back of my mind….”
It didn’t take a genius to fill in the blank space. He would’ve freaked. And I wouldn’t have blamed him. My freak-out had yet to come, but it was definitely on the horizon.
“Has Adam shared this theory with anyone besides you?” Asher demanded.
Startled by the shift in Asher’s tone, Blake took a minute to answer. “I couldn’t say. Maybe his boyfriend? Gabe and Lark got pretty close in those last few months. But otherwise, I sort of doubt it.”
“What about his parents?” Asher pressed.
The squirming was a dead giveaway. Asher narrowed his eyes and repeated the question.
“Yeah, I think he might have,” Blake admitted.
Understanding registered in Asher’s gaze, as though a missing Lego had suddenly materialized, and he was finally able to complete his model.
“Look, Senator Ridell has been looking into Lark’s disappearance. Off the books, so to speak. And Adam thought it might be helpful if his father had all the information.” This was the most uncomfortable I’d seen Blake yet. It was suddenly as though a spring had poked through the seat cushion he was sitting on.
“I thought the FBI was looking into Lark’s disappearance?” I asked.
Or is that a lie, too?
Then I remembered the interview with Annie Stanley. That was real. So was the article I read in the Washington Post.
David has unlimited resources. The Kingsleys have unlimited funds, I reminded myself.
“They are,” Blake agreed quickly, putting at least one of my fears to rest. “Or, they were, at least. Initially. But when Adam approached his father with his theory about multiple personalities….” He cringed at the words but shook it off and continued, “Well, let’s just say when Senator Ridell passed along his sons concerns, the agent in charge of the case told him to back off. Then he received a call from the Kingsleys, and they were pretty upset over the insinuation that their daughter had a mental illness.”
“Which made the senator suspicious?” I guessed.
“Exactly,” Blake confirmed.
And suddenly I had a second reason to speak with Adam Ridell.
Blake reached for my hand, and I let him take it. His expression was so sad, so lost. I wanted to comfort him.
I wanted him to know it was all going to be okay.
Easy, Raven, he’s not yours. The thought was mine, but I couldn’t help wondering if Lark was there, listening to my mental commentary. And if so, was she influencing my thoughts?
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was so blind. I’m sorry I didn’t believe Adam. Maybe if I’d realized sooner… Will you tell her? Please, let Lark know how sorry I am.”
This time, he didn’t fight the tears. I wanted to cry, too. His heart was breaking in front of me, and I didn’t know what to do. But before too long, Blake composed himself. He is strong, confident, I thought. He must have been to handle all the curve balls flying at him.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything, Blake,” Asher said quietly. And for the first time since learning he was a lying dog, I actually appreciated Asher’s presence. Blake didn’t deserve the shame and guilt he was experiencing, and hopefully Asher’s assurances would alleviate some of those feelings.
“Anyway,” Blake cleared his throat, “if you want to see Adam, I can arrange it,” he told me, holding up the phone in his free hand.
“Guys…I really don’t…I’d need to get permission from David to authorize this,” Asher interjected.
I rounded on him. “You do whatever you need to do, but either way, I’m going to meet with Adam. You can’t stop me.”
Asher donned his most serious expression, and he no longer looked like my neighbor—the guy I’d met on the street. It was as though his mask had truly and completely slipped, and I was seeing his true self. He worked for an institution, the institution where I was a patient.
“Technically, Raven, I can stop you.” He held my gaze, and I matched his hard stare. Asher cracked first, sighing as though he needed to let a lot of air out of his lungs. He turned to Blake. “Can you ask him to keep this meeting to himself? He can’t tell his father.”
“Why not?” I demanded. “Doesn’t it seem sort of dick to keep Senator Ridell in the dark when he’s been concerned enough about Lark to go behind her parents’ backs?”
Asher ignored me, continuing to focus on Blake instead.
“He won’t. Adam would do anything for Lark,” Blake said coolly. But when his gaze fell on me, his smile was warm though tentative. “I know Lark would want Adam to help you. For right now, if helping you means staying quiet about—he’ll do whatever you want.”
“It doesn’t matter what Raven wants in this case,” Asher insisted. “The only way David will even consider authorizing this meeting is if I have your assurance that Adam will not tell his father.”
“Why are you so worried about him telling his parents?” I repeated, snapping each word to drive home my point.
Both guys ignored me. But in their defense—Blake’s defense anyway—my words were probably swallowed by the testosterone haze clouding the living room.
“You have my word,” Blake said evenly.
The way he said it, I half expected him to add: “On my honor.” He didn’t, of course. And, much to my relief, neither guy suggested a duel either; although, a good, old-fashioned sword fight would have been both amusing and distracting.
“I’ll call David,” Asher said. He reached into his back pocket for his phone and started for the hallway, clearly wanting privacy for the conversation.
“Asher!” I called after him, but he just kept going.
I stomped my foot. Childish as it was, the small act did make me feel better.
“Your parents—the Kingsleys, Eleanor and Phillip….” Blake started, tripping over the right way to address the people who made up my DNA. “They don’t know about this, Raven.”
“Excuse me?”
What did he mean “they don’t know about this”? How is that possible?
“They don’t know about the Institution’s experimental treatment. The Kingsleys think you—Lark—are still at Montauk.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
LARK
“Was that the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said? I think it might be.” Blake grinned sheepishly and held his hands up in the air. “What can I say? You do that to me, Lark.”
I forced a laugh to cover the fact that I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Before I met you, couples’ weekends were not my idea of a good time,” Blake continued, and then took a sip of his frozen chai.
“Before you met me, you weren’t part of a couple,” I reminded him.
What am I doing here, Lark?
No answer.
There had been no early warning signs, nothing to indicate Lark was in distress. One second, she was perfectly content—blissfully happy, even—and the next…. Bam! Her instant and all-consuming panicked had pulled me from the darkness like Excalibur from that stupid stone.
Glancing at my surrounding, I couldn’t help but wonder what was so dire. Sitting at Downtown Downs with Blake, drinking coffee and talking about couples’ weekends wasn’t the type of situation she normally needed rescuing from.
Lark? What gives?
No response.
Blake was still rambling about their weekend getaway to Cape May.
If I have to stay present for the car ride to New Jersey, I’m going to lose it, I thought. Not only was the ride boring, but I would be forced to entertain the boyfriend the entire way. That was Lark’s idea of fun, not mine. Blake was sweet and funny and gorgeous—all the qualities that women’s magazines from back in the day tell you are important in a guy—but I still couldn’t understand the attraction.
You aren’t programmed that way, I remind myself.
“So, are you upset? Believe me, I will understand if you are. I should have asked you first, but I really wanted it to be a surprise. I was going to wait until they showed up to tell you—did I screw up doubly?”
Raising Lark’s coffee mug—who drinks hot coffee in July?—to my lips, I sipped the liquid to stall for time. And nearly choked on the rich, buttery hot chocolate that poured over my taste buds. Whole milk? It’s like drinking whipping cream, Lark.
I set the mug back on the table and reached over to thread my fingers with Blake’s. It was a very Lark-thing to do. My smile, however, wasn’t as Lark-like as it could have been. Good thing the boy has blinders when it comes to our girl.
Normally, I had no trouble impersonating Lark. One might say it was the role I was born for. But her feelings for Blake baffled me. That sort of deep interpersonal connection was beyond my comprehension, and I never quite knew what to say or how to react. Either as myself or as Lark. Her physical and emotional reaction to Blake was…unnatural to me.
“I’m not upset,” I told Blake, in what I hoped was a decent imitation of Lark’s lovesick voice. “A couples’ weekend will be fun. I bet they’re excited about it too.”
Lark? Answer me. Who is going on this couples’ weekend with us?
“Adam and Gabe are—speak of the devils.”
So that’s why you needed me. Gabe.
Grinning like a fool, Blake waved at someone behind me. I turned to see the senator’s son and his boyfriend strolling toward us, small duffels in their hands. When they reached our table, Adam bent down and kissed my cheek. “Are you pissed?” Wrinkling his nose, he turned to Blake. “Is she pissed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied. “Of course I’m not. I’m so super pleased we’ll all be spending the Fourth together. Fireworks, booze, and the beach—what could be more romantic?”
The slight narrowing of Adam’s eyes told me that my Lark-in-Love act needed work.
“Agreed,” Gabe chimed in. Then he too came in for a cheek kiss. Only, his wasn’t a friendly greeting. “We need to talk. In private. Lila.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RAVEN
Within the hour, David had approved the visit with Adam and Blake had set up dinner for the following night. I was impatient, though, and tomorrow felt like a decade away. Reluctantly, Blake left to attend his afternoon classes and soccer practice. He offered to skip them, but I insisted that at least one of u
s should go about our daily business.
Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on one’s point of view—I was Asher’s daily business, so he stayed at The Pines, watching me like he was my babysitter. And, in a way, I guessed he was, which put a real damper on my mood.
I wasn’t ready to share the letter, even the riddles Lark had included at the end. Though I had learned one important thing about that letter: Blake wasn’t the one who mailed it. I’d asked him while Asher was in the hallway speaking to David.
Over paninis and homemade potato chips from a nearby deli, I played twenty questions with Asher to pass the time.
“Is your real name Asher?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Of course it is.”
I glared at him. “Okay, where did you grow up?”
“Upstate New York,” he replied around a mouthful of avocado.
“What do your parents do?”
Asher took a sip of his soda, and he got that same look in his eye that he always did when the subject of his parents came up.
“My mother passed away when I was little,” he admitted.
Some of my agitation with him dissipated. “I’m so sorry,” I said softly.
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.” But he didn’t sound as though he was over the loss.
“Um, can I ask—what happened?” The question was super intrusive, and totally none of my business, but Asher did know everything about me.
“She was…troubled.” He swallowed hard, and then cleared his throat. “She took her own life.”
“Oh, wow…Asher, I…I’m sorry.” I wanted to add that I was sorry I asked but thought maybe changing the subject was a better way to go. “What about your father? Is he really a lawyer?”
“No, he’s not,” Asher admitted. A slight blush crept into his cheeks. “My father actually works at the Montauk Institute, he’s one of the lead therapists and researchers. That’s how I became involved. I majored in behavioral psychology, and then went on to get my master’s degree. I’m actually working on my doctoral thesis right now.”