I grab a bottle of water, then drag myself up the stairs. Four bedrooms, each with a bath. I drop my backpack onto the bed in a room that overlooks the water and cross over to the sliding glass door that leads onto the deck. The road in front of the house is so narrow that you only see it if you look straight down from the railing. Otherwise, you can almost imagine that you’re directly over the water. It’s too cold to leave the door open, but I crack it to let some fresh air in.
When I put my phone on the nightstand—surprise, surprise—there are three calls from Aaron. Two texts from Taylor. Eventually they’ll call Kelsey to get the address, and once they tell her about Deo, she’ll either give it to them or come looking for me herself. But Kelsey will be on her flight to Indianapolis in about an hour, so I don’t think they’ll reach her before tomorrow morning at the earliest.
I set the alarm on my phone for 7:00 a.m., turn the ringer back on, and crawl under the covers. My mind is still racing. And each time it circles back around to Deo, it’s like a knife twisting. As much as I want to take the two pills that are still in my pocket, I put them back in the bottle. If Dacia, Cregg, or whoever is holding him tries to contact me—
The phone buzzes and I bolt straight up, knocking the phone off the nightstand in my rush to grab it. The timing is almost like someone is reading my mind. Which, given the events of the past twenty-four hours, might actually be the case.
The text is just four words, two of them misspelled.
Patients is a virtute.
I type in that I’ll do whatever they say, but before I can hit send, more words start popping up:
Silents is golden.
Do not call police. Wait for instructiun.
Fiecare pasare, pe limba ei piere.
I have no idea what the last one means, but I hit send on my response:
Just let me know what you want. Please don’t hurt him!
Silence, which I find not at all golden, is what I get in return.
I run the last quote through Google Translate. The answer is an ominous “each bird perishes by her tongue,” which seems to be Romanian for be careful what you say.
I send several more pleas, and get nothing in return. So I try calling the number that sent the texts.
A chipper woman’s voice comes on immediately. “This number has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.”
Sleep, when it finally takes me, is deep and dreamless, even without the pills. The only good thing about the events of last night is that they seem to have jolted Molly’s consciousness a bit, and there were no memories to assimilate. In fact, it’s Molly puttering around, rather than my alarm, that awakens me. I’ve yet to find a way to keep my wall up when I’m sleeping.
Nothing new on my phone, only the earlier unanswered voice and text messages from Aaron and Taylor.
You should call them, Anna. Do you really think you can handle this alone?
Didn’t you read those messages? I’m supposed to WAIT and say nothing. I’m not going to put Deo at risk by doing anything else.
The sky is just beginning to show a hint of daybreak as I step into the shower. This place has four full baths, one for each bedroom, with a half bath on the main floor and another in the basement. There are only three bathrooms at Bart House, which means there’s always a line and never enough hot water. I can’t even remember the last time I was able to shower without someone banging on the door.
But I can’t enjoy it. Even though the ring volume is at max, and I could probably hear it from downstairs, I keep glancing at my phone, perched on the sink next to a basket of shell-shaped soaps, hoping I’ll get something more than the cryptic messages from last night.
I’ve been in the shower about three minutes when I do hear something—not the phone, but someone banging on a door. Okay, not really banging. It’s more like tapping, and it’s not the bathroom door, but farther away. I rinse the last of the conditioner out of my hair, then cut the water and open the door so I can listen.
The doorbell sounds this time, followed by more knocking. Rapid, staccato knocks that suggest the person knocking has been at it for some time.
I wrap a towel around myself and flick off the bathroom light, and also the bedside lamp, so that the room is dark. Then I walk over to the sliding glass door and peek through the vertical blinds. A black car is parked in the driveway. I recognize it even before I hear the voice from the porch below.
“Anna, come on. I know you’re in there.”
Aaron. There’s a strange echo effect in my head as Molly thinks the same thing. How the hell did he get here?
I mutter a few curses under my breath, then slide the door open and step out so that I can whisper over the railing. “I’m coming. Shut up.”
He steps away from the door and glances up at me. I realize a moment too late that he has a very interesting view right now, given that I’m in nothing but a towel and he’s looking up from below. Ducking inside, I pull the door closed and rub the towel through my hair, now chilly from the breeze coming in over the bay. I take my time pulling on a sweater, jeans, and socks.