The Last Equation of Isaac Severy(42)

“I was afraid you’d left,” he said.

“Did you crack it?” she asked breezily, as if she wasn’t at all surprised to see him standing there.

“Goose eggs, I’m afraid.” Leaning against the wall, he tripped the light switch, flooding the hall in warm light. He made no move to turn it off. She couldn’t help but notice how nice his face was, minus the beard and phony mustache, and she thought it a shame that such a face should go unremarked upon.

As his eyes settled on her for a moment, his hand rose to his neck, to the corresponding place, she realized, where her scar was. The upturned collar of her jacket had concealed it last night, but this morning she had failed to properly cover it.

“What’s this?”

“Oh.” She hesitated. “Childhood accident.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s a burn, actually.” This wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the truth, either.

His eyes went a bit wide.

Knowing that she wasn’t ready to tell the story, not here in the hall, anyway, she said only, “It looks way worse than it felt.”

He let his hand fall from his neck. “That’s what memory does, I guess. Deletes the pain.”

Hazel was suddenly aware of the diminished space between them, as if they had been involuntarily inching toward each other for the past minute. Or was she imagining it? One of us should say something.

Alex seemed aware of their increasing closeness, too, because he very abruptly turned and pitched himself into the living room. She followed.

“Listen,” he said, assuming a casual position on an arm of the couch. “If I knew more about what he told you before he died, it might give me a better idea how to get in.”

“But he didn’t tell me anything.” Again, this was not strictly a lie.

“Then what does he expect you to do with all this?”

How could she tell Alex, who clearly worshipped Isaac’s work, what she had been asked to do with his mathematical legacy? How could she tell him about the command to destroy everything (except some equation)? How could she reveal Isaac’s vague warning—Three will die. I am the first—or details about a man she was supposed to contact? Hadn’t she spilled enough already? Yes, she was using Alex to get inside the computer, but wasn’t he using her?

She moved to the wall. “You haven’t said much about the map.”

“Until I see the math, Hazel, it could be anything.”

On impulse, she took out her phone and snapped four shots of the map, each image a separate quadrant of the city.

“Is that a good idea?”

She didn’t answer because she had just noticed a pair of red dots that had previously escaped her attention. They were positioned directly on Beachwood Canyon. She motioned Alex over. “It’s not easy to tell, but these two dots could be on Isaac’s street. It could be the house.”

“Maybe. The stickers are too big to say for certain.” He moved in closer. “Actually, there are three.”

She squinted.

“One’s partially hidden behind the other, see?”

“You’re right.” She read one of the visible dots aloud: “1-0-1-7-1-5-0-5-5-5-3-1.” She started to read the other “1-1-0-1-1-5 . . .” before turning to him. “Do these mean anything to you? Is it a code, maybe?”

At that moment, a loud and efficient rap came at the door.

“You should get it,” Alex said, his voice oddly urgent.

The rap came again, and she left the room. Through the warped peephole, she spied an Eschered image of Flor, bearing a steeple of towels. She relaxed and opened the door.

“Good morning,” the housekeeper said. “I know it’s early, but I heard you up. Fresh towels?”

Thinking it best to appear normal, Hazel accepted them. “Thank you.”

“I should tidy for you, yes?” Before Hazel could protest, Flor had moved past her down the hall.

“Actually—” Hazel started to say, but the woman was already in the bathroom, unnecessarily wiping up.

Hazel returned to the living room where Alex sat staring at the suspended checkers game.

“We have maid service,” she announced helplessly.

He didn’t appear to hear her. “Did Isaac like checkers?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Because either he was playing a game with himself or . . . he had a visitor.”

Hazel tried to picture her grandfather allowing someone into his hideout, the one he took such pains to conceal.

“Do you really think he’d bring someone up here?”

Before Alex could answer, Flor appeared, a cell phone to her ear. “Excuse me. The front desk is asking if anyone called for an Uber.”

“Oh, right,” Alex said, jumping up and checking his phone. “I have an appointment to get to. Thought we could share a ride.”

Hazel smiled, though she was disappointed their time together had come to an end. “Of course.”

*

When they stepped outside, she was glad to find the cloud cover still lingering, making the early hour more tolerable. As they climbed into the back of an awaiting SUV, she reflected on how quickly Bennet seemed to be receding from her mind. Or was this an illusion brought on by the strange excitement of the past ten hours? She worried that once she was alone again, the double pang of heartbreak and anxiety would return.