I look at Daniela, say, “Tell him you’ve been thinking, and that since we had such an amazing time in the Keys last Christmas, you want to go back.”
“We didn’t go to the Keys last Christmas.”
“I know that, but he doesn’t. I want to prove to you he’s not the man you think he is.”
My doppelg?nger says, “Daniela? Did I lose you?”
She unmutes the phone. “No, I’m right here. So, the real reason for my call—”
“Wasn’t just to hear the dulcet tones of my voice?”
“I was thinking about when we went to the Keys for Christmas last year, and how much fun we all had. I know money’s tight, but what if we went back?”
Jason doesn’t miss a beat.
“Absolutely. Whatever you want, my love.”
Daniela stares into my eyes as she says into the phone, “Do you think we can get the same house we had? The pink-and-white one that was right on the beach? It was so perfect.”
Her voice breaks on the last word, and I think she’s right on the verge of losing her composure, but she somehow manages to hold the scaffolding together.
“We’ll make it work,” he says.
The phone begins to shake in her hand.
I want to tear him slowly apart.
Jason says, “Honey, someone’s waiting out in the hall to see me, so I better jump off.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
No you won’t.
“See you tonight, Jason.”
She ends the call.
Reaching down, I squeeze her hand and say, “Look at me.”
She looks lost, addled.
I say, “I know your head is spinning right now.”
“How can you be at Lakemont and also sitting here right in front of me at the same moment?”
Her phone beeps.
A message appears on the touchscreen, advising that our car is arriving.
I say, “I’ll explain everything, but right now we need to get in this car and pick our son up from school.”
“Is Charlie in danger?”
“We all are.”
That seems to wrench her back into the moment.
Rising, I give her a hand up out of the chair.
We move across the lobby toward the precinct entrance.
A black Escalade is parked at the curb, twenty feet ahead.
Pushing through the doors, I pull Daniela along the sidewalk toward the idling SUV.
There’s no trace of last night’s storm, at least not in the sky. A fierce north wind has raked away the clouds and left in its wake a brilliant winter day.
I open the rear passenger door and climb in after Daniela, who gives the black-suited driver the address to Charlie’s school.
“Please get there as quickly as you can,” she says.
The windows are deeply tinted, and as we accelerate away from the precinct, I look over at Daniela and say, “You should text Charlie, let him know we’re coming, to be ready.”
She turns her phone over, but her hands are still shaking too badly to compose a text.
“Here, let me.”
I take her phone and open the messaging app, find the last thread between her and Charlie.
I type:
Dad and I are coming to pick you up from school right now. There’s no time to sign you out, so you’ll just have to excuse yourself to the bathroom and head out front. We’ll be in the black Escalade. See you in 10.
Our driver pulls out of the parking lot and into a street that’s been plowed clean of snow, the pavement drying out under the bright winter sun.
A couple blocks down, we pass Daniela’s navy Honda.
Two cars ahead of hers, I see a man who looks exactly like me sitting behind the wheel of a white van.
I glance through the rear window.
There’s a car behind us, but it’s too far back for me to see who’s driving.
“What is it?” Daniela asks.
“I want to make sure no one’s following us.”
“Who would be following us?”
Her phone vibrates as a new text arrives, saving me from having to answer that question.
CHARLIE now
Everything ok?
I respond with:
All good. Explain when we see you.
Putting my arm around Daniela, I pull her in close.
She says, “I feel like I’m caught in a nightmare and I can’t wake myself up. What’s happening?”
“We’ll go someplace safe,” I whisper. “Where we can talk in private. Then I’ll tell you and Charlie everything.”
—
Charlie’s school is a sprawling brick complex that looks like a mental institution crossed with a steampunk castle.
He’s sitting out on the front steps when we pull into the pickup lane, looking at his phone.
I tell Daniela to wait, and then I step out of the car and walk toward my son.
He stands, bewildered at my approach.
At my appearance.
I crash into him and squeeze him tight and say, “God, I’ve missed you,” before I even think to stop myself.
“What are you doing here?” he asks. “What’s with the car?”
“Come on, we have to go.”
“Where?”
But I just grab hold of his arm and pull him toward the open passenger door of the Escalade.
He climbs in first and I follow, shutting the door after us.