“We would take the stems like this”—Quinn cleared her throat around the tears that threatened and grabbed a handful of grass in each palm—“and twist them together. We crawled through the tunnels.”
“Weren’t you afraid?”
“No.” Quinn passed a hand over her cheeks, hoping that Lucy didn’t notice her suffering. Then she lifted a sandwich out of the picnic basket and held it out for Lucy. The girl took it and sat down gingerly on the edge of the blanket. “What would we be afraid of?”
“Spiders.”
“They can’t hurt you,” Quinn said.
“Snakes.”
“I don’t like snakes,” Quinn admitted, “but they’re more afraid of us than we are of them.”
“What are you afraid of?” Lucy had unwrapped her sandwich and she took a tiny bite.
The question caught Quinn off guard. The things she was afraid of she couldn’t share with Lucy. I’m afraid that my husband doesn’t love me as much as I love him. I’m afraid I’m going to lose him. I’m afraid that if I don’t get pregnant soon everything is going to fall to pieces.
I’m afraid of things that I can’t name and don’t understand. Of you. Of what you mean.
“Mice,” Quinn finally said, because she had to say something. “I’m terrified of mice.” It wasn’t exactly true; she wasn’t afraid, just grossed out.
“But mice aren’t scary,” Lucy protested.
Quinn shrugged. “What are you afraid of?”
And for one of the very first times since Nora dropped her off, Lucy stared straight at Quinn. Her gaze was troubled, her eyes gunmetal gray in the sloped early morning sun. Or maybe it was just the way the color of her shirt set off her hair, her eyes, her skin. Either way, Quinn felt a chill ripple over her skin that had nothing to do with the cool morning breeze.
“Him,” Lucy said simply. “I’m afraid of him.”
Friday
8:11 a.m.
Quinn
Who is he, Nora?
Nora
OMG. Did something happen?
Quinn
???
We’re fine.
Nora
Stay put. This will all be over soon.
Quinn
Nora?
I don’t know if I can do this.
NORA
SHE RAPPED THREE quick times on the door, and then drew back on the landing, wondering if there was time to run away. What was she thinking? What did she hope to accomplish by coming here? Nora pivoted and would have taken off down the staircase, but before she could beat a hasty retreat the door creaked open behind her. She flinched and froze midstep.
“Hello?” And, of course: “Nora? Nora, what in the world are you doing here?”
Nora exhaled sharply and then made use of her dimple, pinning what she hoped was an appropriately contrite smile on her face. But it slipped and fell away before it fully formed. She turned around and lifted one shoulder instead. “Wondering if your offer still stands?”
Ethan gave her an indecipherable look, but he held open the door and motioned her inside. “Where have you been?” he asked, plucking a leaf from her sleeve as she passed.
“Here and there.”
Shutting the door, Ethan leaned against the frame and studied Nora for a few awkward seconds. She realized she was still wearing the jeans and concert T-shirt that she had changed into after leaving the Grind, and her clothes were rumpled and musty from running in the rain. Of course, she was dry now, but she hadn’t bothered to look in a mirror for hours. She had no doubt her hair was stringy, her makeup smeared. Slipping her thumbs into her belt loops, she tried to stand a little taller and exude an air of nonchalance. Ethan wasn’t buying it.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Really?” A spark of annoyance licked through her fear. It was, after all, just after eight o’clock in the morning, and all her nighttime worries had amounted to nothing at all. At least, as far as she knew. Nora had enough on her plate; no need to endure the Inquisition. “I didn’t realize we were playing twenty questions,” she said, moving toward the door.
Ethan put up his hands. “Sorry. But you have to admit this is a little unorthodox. And, nothing personal, Nora, but you look like hell. Have you slept?”
She hadn’t. Well, she’d dozed a little in her car, but the truth was she had spent the entire night trying to find Tiffany. Tiff wouldn’t pick up when she called or respond to any of her messages. And she had turned off the friend tracker that they had both installed on their phones. They told each other the app was so that they could coordinate Everlee’s schedule seamlessly. But they had really downloaded the software so that Nora would know, always, where Tiffany was. Donovan Richter was not to be trusted.
When her phone proved to be a dead end, Nora scouted out their favorite dive bar and a park where Everlee loved to go, and knocked on the door at the trailer of an old friend. She even drove past Tiffany’s dealer’s place several times, an unassuming house on the edge of town where you could score not just marijuana and a little E, but things that packed a much harder punch, too. There wasn’t a trace of Tiffany anywhere.
But even after she came up empty-handed, Nora hadn’t dared to go home. What if Donovan was waiting for her there? What if he came? What if he demanded answers that Nora didn’t have—or worse, ones that she did?
“No,” she admitted. “I haven’t slept.”
Ethan put his fists on his hips as if he was faced with a tough decision and he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Get involved? Make her leave? In the end, he gave Nora a grim smile and waved her deeper into the apartment. “Let me make you some breakfast,” he said.
Nora found that she didn’t have the will to refuse. She was so exhausted she was shaking, and her heart was a riot of warring emotions. Where to start? How to find Tiffany and make sure Everlee stayed safe and keep Donovan far, far away? And what about Quinn? Nora knew her sister might never forgive her for the secrets she had kept, the trust she had broken. That wasn’t what Nora wanted. Quinn was innocent of any wrongdoing, and Nora had ensured she would never escape unscathed. The guilt was crushing.
“Can you stomach eggs?” Ethan asked as he rummaged through his refrigerator. “I have some red peppers and a bit of ham. Maybe an omelette?” He was wearing plaid pajama pants and an old T-shirt that had been washed so thin it was almost transparent. Nora could see the outline of his broad shoulder blades and the narrowing of his waist. He once told her that he played hockey in college, and she wasn’t surprised.
Nora looked quickly away. Seeing Ethan like this felt indecent somehow. Uncomfortably intimate. But what did she expect at this hour on his day off? “Yeah,” she forced herself to say. “Eggs would be great.”
Ethan emerged from the fridge with his arms full of containers, but when Nora tried to help he waved her away. “Sit,” he instructed. “I’ll bring you a cup of coffee.”
Nora realized that she could already smell it; clearly he had brewed a pot before she showed up on his doorstep. Her stomach lurched at the promise of coffee, of food. How long had it been since she last ate? Nora honestly couldn’t remember.
“Please.”
Nora looked up to find Ethan studying her, a line of worry creased between his eyes. “What?”