This Might Hurt(95)

One step at a time. First, I’ll pack. Then I’ll get my phone back. I’ll demand a meeting with Rebecca. I chew on my knuckle.

Then I’ll make one last pitch to get Kit to leave with me.

Either way, Gordon’s driving me back to Rockland within the hour.

A few minutes later, I’ve thrown all my clothes and toiletries in the duffel. I lift the bag to my shoulder and check the cabin. I linger in the doorway, afraid to leave the room. I don’t want to go back out there, where Rebecca’s goons are waiting.

Tugging on my wool hat, I force myself over the threshold and hike through the powder toward Rebecca’s house, keeping an eye out for someone official-looking. I’m halfway there when I spot a stocky older man marching across the grass. He wears a thick raincoat and galoshes.

Gordon.

He’s animated in a way I haven’t seen before. An excited flush has replaced his staid expression.

I block his path. His glasses are rain-spattered, strange since it’s not snowing anymore. He wipes the glasses clean and frowns when he sees who’s standing in his way.

“I’m ready to leave,” I say. “How do I get my phone back?”

“I don’t have time right now, Ms. Collins,” he says, hand clenched.

When I see what he’s gripping, I stop breathing.





44





Kit


DECEMBER 28, 2019


CALMLY I CLOSED my file and put it back in the desk drawer, my gaze never leaving Teacher’s.

“You were right about Jeremiah.” I sat back in her chair. “He’s not who he says he is.”

The fury in her eyes changed to fear. She closed the office door. I rose from her desk, motioned for her to join me on the sofa. We each took a cushion, knees grazing. I squeezed one of her hands.

“I’m sorry for snooping. I was scanning his file to see what you already knew.” Out of habit I reached for Mom’s scarf, but it was wound around Teacher’s neck, not mine. “Gordon’s been keeping tabs on the wrong guy.”

Teacher smoothed her hair behind her ears, then folded her hands in her lap. With forced restraint she asked, “Whom should he have been examining?”

“The guy you know as Jeremiah? That’s not his real name.”

Spots of color bloomed across Teacher’s pale face. Her hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles had turned white. “Shall we sit here all day or are you going to disclose his identity?”

“Your old manager, Gabe Cooper? Jeremiah—whatever his name is—is his younger brother.”

Her jaw fell open.

“He’s here for revenge. He wants to topple Wisewood. And take you down with it.”

I had never seen her speechless. I counted backward from five—still she didn’t speak. Her neck muscles strained, nostrils flared.

She looked like she wanted to kill me.

“I told him the suggestion was absurd,” I hurried to add. “That he was being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” she repeated softly, violently. She lifted the glass bowl of china shards off the coffee table. “Balancing a platter on your head for an hour is ridiculous.”

She whipped the bowl at the wall. I gasped as it shattered. “?‘Treasonous’ is the word you’re looking for,” she roared.

“This man is deranged. I think you might be in real danger. We have to get you off of Wisewood.”

Teacher paced the room, crunching in leather boots over glass and porcelain. “No, we must fight back.”

I shook my head. “Neutralizing a threat doesn’t always mean staying to fight. Sometimes it means running for your life.”

Our eyes met across the room.

She stopped pacing, face pallid. “Then take me away from here. We’ll depart as soon as I pack my bag.”

“There’s no time. We’ll leave out the side door. Grab your parka on the way.” I paused. “Do you trust me?”

Teacher nodded, wide-eyed. After all these months, she finally believed in my devotion.

I made sure the coast was clear in the hallway, then moved carefully down the spiral staircase. The house was a tomb. We snuck outside, directly across from the same Staff Only door I’d entered for initiation. That night in the water—my rebirth—was a million years ago. I hurried Teacher through the hedge entryway. We stuck close to the wall as we made our way around the island to the front gate.

The sky was a patchwork of moldy clouds. I hurried to move faster than nightfall—I had only an hour of sunlight left. When the iron pickets of the gate came into sight, I craned my neck for a view of the water. The Hourglass bobbed dutifully at the pier. A shaky laugh escaped my lips. I nodded once to Teacher. We made a run for it.

“Go ahead and get in,” I said, panting, when we reached the boat. Fingers frozen, I unwound the ropes from the cleats, jumped in behind her, and pushed the Hourglass back from the pier.

We’d made it. No one could stop us now.

I paused for a moment to watch Teacher, huddled there on the L-shaped seat. She pulled Mom’s scarf tighter around her neck, more exhausted senior than revolutionary. This was a big day for her.

“Thank you, Kitten. I knew I could count on you.”

I tipped my chin. “Let’s go for a ride.”