Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(77)
She climbs the steps to give me some privacy. As soon as I hear the door close I breathe for a few moments, willing my voice not to tremble. Then I rush to say, “Sorry about that, Dr. Stern, it was—”
“Hello, Alex.”
Whoever is on the line is most definitely not Dr. Stern. His drawl throws me. “Who is this?” I snap, clutching the phone tightly. I put my back to the window above so Missy won’t see my face.
“It hurts that you don’t remember me. I thought we were so close. After all, you did try to kill me.”
In that instant, I recognize it. He isn’t hushed now or shoving me against a wall, so his mountain twang is more prominent. Brazen.
“I think you’ve got that the other way around,” I say unevenly, walking toward the tree line just to fill the need to move. The cool wind surges, stirring every leaf. Mrs. Warren must have been right about a storm coming …
Travis Bardeen makes a sound his throat, part-laugh, part-indignation. I remember what Andrew said about the injections: It changed the subjects, made them violent and unpredictable. “You’re wrong, Alex. I was never trying to kill you. I was just trying to have a little fun.”
“Attacking me and threatening my family is fun?” I counter. The phone crackles and I know I’m going too far from the base. I can’t stop moving, though, can’t stop trying to escape from this.
“Yeah, actually, it is. But our time together has come to an end. You’ve made my employer very unhappy, and it’s time for all of us to have a little chat. A tête-à-tête, if you will. Okay, confession, I’ve always wanted to use that word.” The man giggles.
It sends a shiver down my spine. Hoping to disconcert him with what I know, I ask, “Your employer? You mean Dr. Stern.” Silence. I listen to the sound of Travis’s breathing. “I saw your father, Travis,” I add. “He didn’t look good. You should go home. I think he’d be happy to see you.”
Lies, so many lies. More crackling erupts in my ear and I relent, whirling to head back to the apartment. A twig snaps under my foot.
It elicits a reaction. “Why don’t you mind your own business, you little bitch,” Travis hisses. Hatred drips from his voice now, and as I press my back to a tree Fear flattens his palm on the bark beside my head and leans close. His cheek brushes my temple and his essence rips through me, rendering breathing impossible and coherence implausible. All I can think of now is Nora Masterson’s jagged scars. Travis is still talking. “ … can’t wait to get my hands on you. Just wait. I’m going to take my knife and cut you up and make you beg for me to end it. I’ll—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I manage, shoving at Fear’s hard chest. He smirks but allows the distance between us. The scent of fruit is overwhelming.
“Shame. Your aunt and uncle are all you have left, right?”
I freeze. The apartment. He could be up there right now. I left Missy all alone. Lurching into a run, I do nothing to disguise my approach. “If you touch them, I’ll—”
“Good, so we’re in agreement.” He’s smiling. I can’t see him, but I hear it. “I’ll see you in a little bit. Oh, and I don’t think I need to mention that you should come to our little meeting alone. Call anyone else, and I have permission to tear your limbs off your body the next time we cross paths.”
The threat hardly touches me; I’m in the apartment now and Missy is there, standing in front of the window. Waiting for me. Unbroken and unaware. “Where?” I growl, bending to catch my breath. A rock digs into my heel but I don’t even feel it.
“Sit tight. I’ll bring you a note with the location on it. This’ll be fun, trust me! And I have your belated birthday gift, too. Sorry, I’m horrible at remembering those kinds of things. And before you say I didn’t have to, just know that I wanted to. From the bottom of my heart. I feel like we’ve gotten so close these past few weeks. Am I right?”
I hang up.
Clouds gather over the mountain. It’s nearing sunset now, and still no word from Travis. My stomach is a mass of knots, and Emotions have been pacing with me all day. It’s the anniversary of the night that Nate Foster collided into my family and killed them all, and I had a plan, but now I don’t know who to blame or where to go. Revenge and Forgiveness don’t appear. Maybe there’s no longer a choice to make and I’ll never see them again.
Another knot forms in my gut.
Missy is worried too. Saul was supposed to come back from Ian’s hours ago, for the visit to the cemetery. “I can’t get your uncle on his cell,” she mutters, hitting the buttons harder than necessary as she calls him yet again. “Maybe the storm is messing with the reception.”
“That’s probably it,” I say to the roiling sky. “I’m sure he’ll be home soon.” I don’t tell her not to worry, though, because it would be like telling that sky to rain fire instead of water. Missy leaves a third voicemail for Saul and I don’t move from the window. When Travis arrives with his note, I want to know. The gun, hidden in the waistband of my pants, is hot against my skin.
Suddenly there’s a scratching at the door, loud and unmistakable. Missy pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Is that the dog?” she calls. A dark sense of foreboding stretches into every corner of me, as if the spider outside my window is weaving its webs from within. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Travis must have parked down the road and approached the building from the back, where I wouldn’t spot him. Why didn’t I think of that? Swearing, I hurry to open the door before Missy does. The hinges groan and the wind instantly swoops in, making my eyes water and my hair fly back … and there’s no one outside.