Abby woke with a headache to the snare-drum sound of rain on the roof and the stickiness of humidity-dampened sheets. She groaned. Lisa would drive to Philadelphia today for her seminar, leaving Mrs. Blank—and her need to be in control of everything—in charge.
It took a full minute, but Abby sat straight up in bed. Silas had haunted her dreams, but she didn’t remember if he had been with her or if she’d conjured his presence out of desire and need. She dressed and went downstairs.
“Abby, honey, I’m going soon.” Lisa fluttered around the kitchen and put yet another note up on the refrigerator door. “All the numbers where you can reach me are here, including the hotel. My cell phone will be off during the break-out sessions, but the front desk can reach me.”
The phone rang. She began running her hands through her hair when she hung up. “Mrs. Blank called. Her six-year-old grandson got sick, and she has to watch him until her daughter gets off work. He’s got a fever, so she doesn’t want to bring him out in the rain. Will you be okay until dinnertime? I hate to leave you here, but …”
“Lisa, chill.” Abby rolled her eyes. “I used to babysit for other kids before, well, at the old house. And I stayed alone a lot when Dad worked. I can call Mrs. Blank if I need something. And Jack is close by.”
“Yes, of course. I better leave before traffic gets too bad on the Turnpike.” Lisa tucked a lock of hair behind Abby’s ear. “Sometimes it’s like I’m in a time warp; in my mind you’re still a toddler. I so regret all those lost years. You have to know that.” She hugged Abby then held her at arms’ length. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
The right answer, “I love you, too,” stuck in Abby’s throat. She focused on getting the information she needed. “Could we talk, just for a minute?”
Lisa snuck a glance at the clock over the stove, but smiled and sat at the kitchen table.
Abby didn’t know where to start. She also had no one else to ask. “Do you think there’s one special person for everyone? Like, two people who have always been meant to be together since the beginning of time? Even beyond the grave?”
“I don’t exactly understand your questions. But of course we continue to love people, even after they’ve passed.”
“But what about … ghosts? Do they, I mean, can they love someone who isn’t dead? And can a live person have a relationship with someone who died a long time ago?” Even to Abby, this sounded bizarre.
“Ghosts?” Lisa stared. “I never thought you were someone who believed in the supernatural.”
“It’s an academic question. Something I read on a blog.”
Lisa chuckled. “Oh, well, you know the internet. Sounds like a blogger who had a few too many drinks.” She snuck a look at her watch. “I love talking to you, but can we pick this up when I get back? I should be on the road. And don’t forget to keep your phone charged.”
“Sure. And thanks for listening; I appreciate it.” Abby didn’t shrink when Lisa grasped her hand. When she returned the squeeze, the chill poison of bitterness drained from her heart. Maybe they would end up having a real mother-daughter relationship after all.
As Lisa drove away in the bleak morning light Abby waved, following the tail lights on the truck until it rounded the bend and disappeared in the gloom. She had no idea what to do next. Silas had become her entire world. He had to be vindicated of any wrongdoing. But how?
After searching through the Bible and the attic again, Abby had no idea where else to look for answers. The rain made it impossible to go out, so she resigned herself to taking the day off and letting her subconscious work on the problem. After a restless morning of TV talk shows, a boring book, and a homemade chocolate milkshake for lunch, Abby didn’t know what to do. She called Morton and got no answer, then opened the refrigerator to forage for a snack.
The back door opened. “Abby? Can I come in?” Jack stood in the kitchen doorway.
“You seem to be in already.”
“Don’t be that way.” Jack produced his killer smile. “You know I’m leaving soon, probably tomorrow or the day after. I don’t want it to be like this between us. You’ve been an only child all your life, but I did have a brother. Siblings don’t always get along, but they do get over it, and they always stick together. Even though I have to go, I hope we can see each other again, get to be closer. I know it’s possible.”
His sincerity sounded so believable. Abby suspected she had begun to love her brother, in spite of his lies. She didn’t know if the shared DNA made any difference. But her unconditional acceptance of him, despite his moods and bad behavior, went beyond superficial ties. Maybe it qualified as family. And she longed for that kind of relationship.
“Apology, if that’s what it is, accepted. Now if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”
“Of course, Cherie. I just brought a little going away gift, for Morton and for you.”
Abby raised one eyebrow and peeked in the paper bag he handed her. “This is really nice. It’s the biggest bag of M&M’s I’ve ever seen. He’ll like it.”
Jack handed her a wrapped box. The colorful paper, covered with red roses and tied with red satin ribbons, looked beautiful. “I recall your dad liked roses, and you do, too.”
Abby took it. “You remember me telling you that? I can’t believe it.”
“Open it. I had it made especially for you.”
Abby undid the ribbons and removed the paper. “Ahh—it’s my favorite picture of my dad and me.”
“I had it enlarged and framed,” Jack said. “You showed it to me one day, and it seemed so sweet in black-and-white, with the little ‘Daddy loves Abby’ on the bottom. I thought you might hang it in your room, so he could be part of the household again.”
“Oh, Jack.” Abby reached out and, without even thinking about it, snuggled into Jack’s arms, crying on his shoulder. The pain from her father, from moving, from Silas, even from Jack, came pouring out in wrenching sobs, followed by quiet gulps, and then hiccups. She moved away from him, wiping her drippy nose on the back of her hand. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You already did thank me.” Jack handed her a tissue from his pocket. “No matter what, we’re connected.” He ran his thumb down her wet cheek, smoothing away the tears. “Your father can’t come back, and neither can my brother, but at least we’ve found each other. And maybe this little gift will make up for my bad moods and even for selling your father’s rifle.”
Abby stiffened at hearing his continued lie, especially after sharing her deepest feelings with him. “Yes, well, thanks.”
Jack’s eyebrows went up, but he nodded. “I’m taking the bike out to see how it goes in the rain. I’ll see you later. Okay, sis?”
Abby nodded and hugged the photograph to her chest, as if it could shield her from getting hurt again … as if it was a talisman that could protect her dad, Silas, and maybe even her brother.
She watched Jack duck off the porch into the rain, and then she set the picture on the counter. Waiting until he rode down the path onto the bike trail, she pulled on a yellow slicker.
“Time to read that journal. I will figure you out, I promise. And I always keep my promises. I’m going to find out if you’re the good guy you want me to think you are, or someone else entirely.”
She ran through puddles to the background of geese honking as they flew over the river. The rain poured out of the sky, heavier than she expected. The slicker offered limited protection. She slid open the barn door, ducking inside. Kitty appeared from behind her dad’s bike, mewed, and wrapped around Abby’s ankles.
“Yes, you’re a good kitty. But now is not the time.”
The pungent odor of dirt permeated the gloomy barn, made muddy at the entrance from rain leeching in. She plucked a hammer and screwdriver from the toolbox. Going directly to the rear stall, she removed the floorboard and dragged the lockbox from its hiding place.
Kitty sniffed at the hole and curled up on Jack’s blanket.
Inserting the screwdriver under the lock, Abby gave it one sharp hit with the hammer. It popped open. She removed Jack’s journal, replaced the lockbox in the floor, re-sealed the board, scattered hay on the floor, and moved to the open end of the stall. She could hide the journal in her rain gear if he returned early. Or put it back, and he would never know she’d been there.
Abby remained standing in case she had to move fast. She squinted in the gloom but was afraid to use a light. Opening Jack’s black leather binder, she scanned pages about college life, the trip, supplies needed, and finally her. “So he thinks I’m a ‘cute kid.’ That’s what I went through all this trouble to find out?”
Crammed into the back pocket of the notebook she found a stack of envelopes, all addressed to Jack in care of Bikers’ Rest. The return address, from Erie, listed Basile Charpentier—likely his father—as the sender. It would be wrong to read his personal mail. But maybe it would offer some explanation for his erratic behavior.
Abby checked the postmarks on the letters; they were rubber-banded together in order, first to last. She chose the one on top, the first letter Jack had received. After reading a few initial remarks, she closed her eyes. Her hands shook, her body became cold and weak, and she let out a ragged breath. She re-read the page in front of her, then tore open each envelope and leafed through the sheets, picking out random paragraphs.
You are going to kill President Keller. He deserves to die, and you will most certainly give him what he deserves. I know how hard this is for you, Jacques, but we’ve been over and over it, and this is the only way.
Your brother did not deserve to die, like some rabid dog, in a miserable, God-forsaken desert. Keller sent Etienne there, now I’m sending you to avenge your brother’s death. You must be a machine of revenge, not just for Steve, but for all the soldiers who have been slaughtered. I know you don’t want to do this, but I also know you will not disappoint me.
The American Secret Service agents think they can protect the commander-in-chief. What a joke. They watch the airports. They patrol the subways and the cars and the trains. They surround him with guards and give him bulletproof vests to wear. Then they let him loose at a crowded bike rally, a photo-op to boost his popularity. Who will look for an assassin on a bicycle? Especially when it’s the grieving brother of a fallen soldier.
I will be on the dais waiting for you to arrive. When you do, the honor guard will escort both of us to shake the president’s filthy hand, in Etienne’s honor. If you are able to pass me the gun, I will do the work myself. But since that is unlikely, I put all my hopes on you, my son. Be a man, look Keller in the eye, and tell him it is for your brother’s honor. Then pull the trigger and run. I will do my best to protect you, but in the end we both must do what we must do. And Etienne will find peace at last.
Abby shuddered, nightmare and normal colliding with a roar inside her head. “No, no, no, this can’t be true. What am I going to do?” She looked up as Kitty growled, her back arched and her fur on end.
“Do, Cherie? I’ll tell you what you are going to do.” Jack’s voice, a sibilant whisper of menace and loathing, breathed in Abby’s ear. “You should have left it alone. You should have stayed out of it. I thought you knew the pain of losing someone you love. I thought we understood each other. I wanted to protect you, but you had to interfere.”
As Abby turned, Jack pressed the cold, hard barrel of a pistol against her temple.
“Please, don’t shoot me or the president. You’re my brother, I love you. Please.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. But Steve and my father were my entire life until now. You’re too late to fit into my heart like they do.” Jack paused and tucked the hair behind Abby’s ear, rough, not the gentle touch of Silas. “Believe me, I never wanted to hurt anyone. It’s justice, pure and simple. You understand; I know you do. If someone sent your father to his death, you would do the same.”
“No, Jack, you have to stop. Your father must be out of his mind with grief to ask you to do something like this. It’s not justice, it’s murder. You know better. We can burn the letters, and no one will ever see them. You can stay here with Lisa and me, we’ll be a family; this will all be over. We’ll get help for your father. Please, please, please …” Abby’s throat constricted, capturing her breath even as Jack had captured her body. “Please” seemed to be the only word she had left that made sense.
Jack cocked his head and pursed his lips, as if considering her plea. He lowered the gun and stuck it in the waistband of his bike shorts.
Abby bowed her head and released a deep, shuddering sigh. He had listened to reason. Everything would be okay.
But instead of walking away, Jack grabbed her by the wrists and wound duct tape around them.
“What are you doing? That hurts. Jack, no.”
Pulling a red bandana from his pocket, Jack gagged Abby. Her words changed to whimpers, and she shook her head back and forth repeatedly.
Kitty launched herself at Jack, claws extended, but he swatted her away with ease.
He picked up the pry bar Abby had dropped on the floor and brandished it. “This is over for you, Cherie. Au revoir—good-bye.”
An intense, sharp pain exploded on the back of Abby’s head. Bright stars danced behind her eyelids as she slid into unconsciousness.