Chương 5
“Don’t.”
The figure crossed behind the bare maple at the edge of the yard and disappeared beyond the fence.
Evan tore free.
“That could be Caleb.”
“It isn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
Rebecca pointed at his phone.
“Your nephew is still listening.”
Evan looked down as if he had forgotten the call existed.
Noah’s voice came softly through the speaker.
“Uncle Evan?”
“Yeah.”
“Is something wrong?”
Evan pressed his lips together.
Mara watched him manufacture calm from whatever pieces he had left.
“No, buddy.”
“That sounded like something wrong.”
“It was a raccoon.”
Rebecca stared at him.
Mara almost laughed, and the fact that laughter was possible made the kitchen feel briefly obscene.
Noah said, “Raccoons don’t wear shoes.”
Evan closed his eyes.
“Grandma says you lie badly.”
“Grandma has a lot of opinions.”
“Did Dad send you the message too?”
Evan’s face changed.
“What do you mean, too?”
“He sent another one.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
Evan gripped the phone with both hands.
“Read it.”
Noah was quiet.
“Noah?”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to.”
“If Dad sent it, I need to know.”
“He said not to tell you until you found Mara.”
Mara felt Rebecca turn toward her.
Evan said, “I found her.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“Is she there?”
Evan looked at Mara before answering.
“She’s here.”
There was a long pause.
Then Noah asked, “Can she hear me?”
Mara stepped closer to the phone.
“Yes.”
Noah breathed in.
“My dad said you have to remember the blue room.”
Something inside Mara seemed to miss a beat.
She waited for recognition.
Nothing came.
“What blue room?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“He said you would know.”
“I don’t.”
Rebecca had gone pale.
Mara turned to her.
“You do.”
Rebecca backed toward the island.
“No.”
“That face says you do.”
“I know what Caleb believed it meant.”
Evan muted the call.
“What?”
Rebecca looked at the covered windows.
“Not here.”
Mara’s patience snapped.
“You’ve spent four months deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
The words stopped all three of them.
Rebecca seemed to regret them immediately.
Evan unmuted the phone.
“Noah, put Grandma on.”
“She’s brushing her teeth.”
“Then go get her.”
“She said she’s brushing her teeth because you make her grind them.”
“Please, Noah.”
The boy went away, carrying the phone with him.
A television murmured in the distance.
Mara crossed to the back door and checked the deadbolt.
The motion light outside had come on, illuminating an empty patch of grass, a trash bin, and the cheap plastic chair Daniel had promised to throw away for two summers.
Her own life looked ridiculous under that white light.
A half-dead herb planter sat beside the steps.
One of her socks was caught beneath the dryer vent where it had apparently lived for months.
Someone had been standing ten feet from those stupid ordinary things, photographing her through the glass.
Evan came beside her.
“Did you recognize them?”
“No.”
“Height?”
“Average.”
“Man or woman?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Clothes?”
“Dark.”
He gave her a tired look.
“That narrows it down to Maryland.”
Rebecca said, “We need to leave.”
Mara turned.
“You can.”
“All of us.”
“No.”
“Mara, whoever sent that picture wanted you to know they could reach this house.”
“Then leaving tells them it worked.”
“This is not the time to become stubborn for sport.”
“You’ve known me long enough to know I don’t need a special occasion.”
Evan’s phone crackled.
An older woman came on the line already angry.
“Evan, what is happening?”
“Mom, lock the doors.”
“I locked them when Nixon was president.”
“Mom.”
“I heard you.”
“Don’t open them for anyone.”
Rebecca stepped toward him.
“Tell her to turn off location sharing on Noah’s phone.”
Evan covered the microphone.
“Why?”
“Because if Caleb’s account or devices are compromised, whoever has access may be able to see family locations.”
Mara said, “Can they?”
“I said may.”
“That word is doing heroic work tonight.”
Evan relayed the instruction.
His mother began asking questions faster than he could answer them.
He finally interrupted her.
“I don’t know where Caleb is.”
Silence came from the phone.
When his mother spoke again, the anger had gone.
“You said you were finding him.”
“I am.”
“That is not the same sentence.”
Evan looked at the floor.
“No.”
Mara turned away.
There was something indecent about witnessing the exact moment someone’s reassurance failed.
Evan told his mother to call a neighbor he trusted and keep Noah away from the windows.
She agreed only after making him promise to call within thirty minutes.
When the call ended, Evan placed the phone on the counter with exaggerated care.
“Blue room.”
Rebecca did not answer.
He slapped his palm against the counter.
“Blue room.”
“It was a treatment suite.”
Mara’s mouth went dry.
“Where?”
“A clinic outside Annapolis.”
“What clinic?”
“It doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Convenient.”
“It closed six years ago.”
“Name.”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Bellweather Pediatric Recovery Center.”
The words meant nothing to Mara.
Then the smell came.
Not a memory exactly.
Something sharper and less cooperative.
Orange soap.
Plastic warmed by sunlight.
A sweet medicinal odor beneath both.
Mara gripped the back of a chair.
Evan noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mara.”
“I said nothing.”
Rebecca watched her too closely.
Mara hated her for it.
She walked to the sink and filled a glass with water, though her hand shook enough that some spilled over her fingers.
The cold helped.
“Why would Caleb think I knew that place?”
Rebecca opened her portfolio again.
This time she removed no settlement papers.
She pulled out a folded photocopy and laid it on the island.
“I wasn’t supposed to bring this.”
Mara stared at it without touching it.
“What is it?”
“A billing record Caleb gave me in June.”
“Why would he give my divorce lawyer a billing record?”
“Because he couldn’t approach you directly.”
“Why?”
Rebecca looked toward Evan.
“Because he had already tried once.”
Evan frowned.
May you like
“When?”
“The pharmacy wasn’t the first time someone connected to Halcyon Bridge came near her.”
