I can barely mumble a weak apology as I take a seat at the
long table. My eyes are fixed on Ned. Why is he so on edge?
Does he know the truth about Cooper Enterprises?
“This is Jerome Smith,” Ned says, motioning to the mustached man. Then he motions back to me. “My nephew,
Lawrence. He’s the one I was telling you about. Has quite the
promising career ahead. He’ll be in a top firm in New York.
Very soon!”
“Once I finish college and law school,” I explain.
Jerome Smith clips a look to Ned, and he nods. “Of course!
Of course that’s right.”
I’ve never seen my uncle so nervous. He must know the kind
of danger he’s in.
I picture the whole scenario. A dinner-table confrontation.
Shouts. A gun is pulled. Aimed for Ned. I jump in the way. A
bullet pierces through my chest, lodging somewhere near my
heart.
But Cassandra’s article said I die on the beach tomorrow. So,
maybe I crawl out there with my dying strength, in hope of
saying goodbye.
Nausea sweeps over me like a cold wave. Such dark, terrible
thoughts. I look at Ned and Jerome Smith, and realize that the
conversation has gone on. I can see their mouths move, but the
only sound is this darn ringing in my ears.
I push my fingertips into my eyes. All this picturing of how I
die is enough to drive me completely mad.
A hand comes down on my arm, startling me to consciousness. It’s Jerome Smith. His brow is furrowed.
“I say, son. Are you quite all right?”
His hand is like a red-hot brand on my skin. I jump to my
feet. The dizziness nearly overtakes me.
“I’m not well.” I pull the words from somewhere in my rapidly constricting throat. And then I turn and run. I run until I reach my room and slam and lock the door. Breathing hard, I
press my back to it and slide to the floor.
I stay there for a solid hour. But even as I sit still and breathe,
my pulse doesn’t slow. Air still feels heavy and scarce in my
lungs. My hands tremble.
Each tick of the second hand circling the clock pricks me like
a pin. Each stab of pain makes me hate myself more and more.
I’m afraid. So afraid. But I can’t be a coward. Ned is in danger.
How can I abandon him like this?
My eyes press closed, and I think of Cassandra. I need her.
Her strength. Her intelligence. Her fire. I’d give anything in
the world to have her by my side at this moment.
But I’m on my own. I’ve known that from the first moment
she told me about the danger. Opening my eyes, I take a slow
breath. And I stand.
I let the pounding of my own heart fuel each step I take as
I leave my room and head down the stairs. The light from the
dining room glows on the polished marble floor of the entryway. The voices of Ned and the man from Cooper drift out into the shadowy silence.
Breathe. That’s all I have to do. Keep breathing.
Ned’s voice rises above the other. Sharp. There’s an edge to it.
An edge of alarm. Of fear. Desperation. For a brittle, stinging
moment, I’m paralyzed. And then I’m running into the dining
room.
The two men are still at the table, but Ned and Jerome Smith
are standing, leaning forward, their hands pressed to the shiny
mahogany surface. Ned’s broad face is flushed, his eyes wild.
They turn to me.
At first, I’m not sure what exactly to say. I want to order
Jerome Smith out of the house, but I’m not a complete fool.
“I need to speak with you, Ned,” I manage.
“This isn’t the time, Lon,” he says harshly.
“It’s very important.”
Smith scowls. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“What are you implying?” Ned counters.
My pulse throbs in my temples. But Jerome Smith isn’t reaching for a hidden gun. He just seems confused and irritated by my presence.
“I have to talk to you,” I say again to Ned. “You need to trust
me on this.”
“What could possibly be so important?” he asks, his face getting redder.
Smith pounds a fist on the table. “What kind of game are you