Until We Meet Again(76)

Mom frowns. “Then what were you doing?”

“Does it matter? I didn’t leave my room.” I swallow any more

snarky comments. I have to be smart. I have to play my cards

perfectly right now.

“Mom,” I begin, keeping my tone calm and even. “I’ve been

doing a lot of thinking, and I’m hoping you will be willing to make a compromise with me. If you let me stay home today, I’ll—”

“No way,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re coming sailing. That much is decided. We can discuss the terms of your grounding later, but as far as today is concerned, there’s no

getting out of it.”

“But

Mom—”

“I’m sorry, Cassandra. You can’t change my mind on this.

Frank and I talked a lot about it last night, and we think some

family time is exactly what you need.”

“I’ll have all the family time you want. Just not today. Please

trust me when I say that today, of all days, it’s extremely important for me to be able to stay home.”

She smiles a little. “Everything feels extremely important

when you’re a teenager. You trust me. It’s not as earth-shattering as it may seem.”

Her condescending tone makes my toes curl. “It’s not fair.”

“This is what happens when you lie to me.”

“I never—”

“Stop.” Mom gives me the I-mean-business point with her

finger. “We’re done talking about this.” She starts to close my

door, and I jump to my feet.

“Mom, please!”

She sighs. “Cassandra, will you relax? It’s not like he’s going

to disappear if you don’t see him for one day.”

The cruel irony of her words takes my breath away.

“Get dressed,” she says firmly. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”





Chapter 31





Lawrence


T he first hours of my final day pass like years. After walking the silent house, I finally settle again in my room.

I know it’s not inherently any safer in there, but where else can I go?

Words won’t come to me so I don’t write. Sleep abandoned me long ago so I don’t lie on my bed. All I can do is sit on the cold floor and listen. Listen for Ned to return home, for raised voices—anything. But the house remains

unbearably still.

Dawn finds me on my balcony. I’m wrapped in a blanket, but even that doesn’t keep out the chill. The sight of the rising sun has never looked so bleak or filled me with such untenable dread. I fall to my knees, pressing my forehead to the marble balcony, unable to stand it all.



Cassandra, I need you. I need you with me.



I stay like that, drifting in and out of restless sleep, until the sun has climbed and brushes the tops of the trees in

the garden. I awake with a start. A feeling of urgency grips

me. I should be doing something. Anything to stop the

impending doom.

But as the morning unfolds before me, I’m struck by how normal everything seems. As if the rest of the world has failed to realize that I will die today. And why should they? I suppose I expected dark rain clouds. Ominous ravens swooping overhead, letting out mournful cries.

But today is bright and sunny and beautiful. Gulls swoop high above, and a lark sings cheerfully. The house is no different. When I finally venture cautiously into the downstairs, every corner is abuzz with anticipation of the party tonight.

Servants trim the lawn and wash Ned’s Rolls Royce. Caterers

and decorators bustle back and forth with bright, glittering

armloads of food, champagne glasses and decor for the party.

Only one thing remains out of place. There’s no sign of Ned.

I long to see Cassandra. I wish we could talk about what I

should do. After not seeing her last night, I have to wait for her now. She must be beside herself with worry. I want to comfort her. I need her to comfort me.

After watching the steady flow of party preparations for a good ten minutes and deeming it safe, I head outside. The

sun beams down on me like a spotlight, illuminating me for

any dangerous entity to see. My skin tingles as if I’m being

watched. I have to be brave for Cassandra. Everything will be better once we are together. As I cross the lawn, however, my eyes fall on a man. He leans against a marble pillar on the back patio, watching the hustle and bustle as he smokes a cigarette.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I recognize

him. But from where?

All at once it hits me. Hank.

I see him now as I saw him last, casually ordering the execution of a bound, unarmed man. My knees lock. And then, as if summoned by my silent terror, Hank’s face slowly turns in



my direction.



The instinctive need to survive takes over. I know it draws more attention to me to run, but I can’t help it. In that moment, all that matters is getting back into the seclusion of my room.

I race through the house, slamming my door behind me and

locking it. My heart beats furiously in my chest.

That was too close. He still might have seen me. He might be on his way after me right now. I tear open the button of my shirt collar. Even so, breath comes in short, tight gasps. I press my forehead to the cool wood of the door.