The drive up to Ness’s estate is different this time. At first, it’s hard to say why. I stop at the same service station in Massachusetts to quick-charge the car. I see the same scenery as before. The trip takes the same five hours on the expressway. But then I realize that no journey is ever truly the same the second time around. What felt interminable the first time now passes with a quickness borne of familiarity. It makes me wonder if life seems to accelerate as we get older simply because our days and our experiences become routine. The things we recognize flash right by, where once they held our attention. Only the new bears careful contemplation, and the new gets harder and harder to come by.
As I cross into Maine, I remember to call my sister. I haven’t told her about this trip, partly because life has been hectic the past few days, partly because I know she’ll worry about me. Which is a bad sign that I’m making some kind of mistake.
She picks up after three rings. Her greeting is a half-whisper, like I’ve caught her in a meeting. “Hey,” she says. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry if it’s a bad time. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be out of town for a week in case you don’t hear from me.”
“Assignment?”
My sister works for an investment bank and lives vicariously through what she calls my “abnormal life.” Of course, my life feels perfectly normal to me. I did have to admit to her the day before that the Ness interview was a little out there, which she called a colossal understatement. I brace now for what she’ll make of this.
“It’s kind of an assignment. I’m in Maine again.”
“Shut up,” my sister hisses. I can hear movement on the other side, like she’s trying to get some place where she can scream. “I thought you weren’t going back.”
“I changed my mind.”
“What’s gotten into you? I thought you loathed this guy.”
I flash back to a couple years’ worth of phone conversations while I was hip-deep in research for my piece. I may have cursed the Wilde family name a time or two.
“I’m not up here to date him,” I say. “It’s for the piece I’ve been working on about him.”
“Good, because you know how you hate men with better shell collections than yours.”
“I do not.”
My sister laughs. “You totally do. But I’m single. Put in a word, okay? Is he still gorgeous?”
“Sarah, stop.”
“He is, isn’t he? Oh, God, are you falling for him? Tell me you aren’t falling for him.”
“No—of course not. He’s got issues, Sarah.”
“So why are you up there?”
“Because … it’s complicated. Let’s just say the FBI is involved.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Seriously.”
“Your life is bizarro. I’m undergoing death by PowerPoint over here and you’re … I don’t even understand what you’re doing.”
I laugh. “I just called to tell you I love you and not to worry if I don’t get in touch for a few days. Talk to you next week if not sooner.”
“So jealous,” Sarah says. “Love you, you lucky ass.”
She hangs up, and I have one more person to call before I reach the estate. I find Agent Cooper’s number in my call log and dial it. I met with him yesterday and handed over the wire. What I didn’t tell him was that I’d already decided to take Ness up on his offer. As far as I’m concerned, my story and his investigation are two separate things. He promised me the scoop if they turn up anything, and I promised to sit on what I already know.
“Hello?” he says.
“Agent Cooper. It’s Maya Walsh.”
“Stan,” he reminds me. As if I could ever call him that.
“Just wanted to let you know that … I took Ness up on his offer. If I learn anything that might help you, I’ll fill you in.”
“Where are you now?” he asks.
“I’m in Maine. About half an hour away.”
“You should have told me. This is a bad idea, Maya.”
“Maybe. But it’ll be good for my piece. And he promised to show me where the shells came from, so if I learn anything, I’ll pass it along.”
“I appreciate that. But please be careful.” I hear him take a deep breath. “I wish you’d told me. I would’ve talked you out of it.”
“Seriously? You talked me into coming the last time.” The truth is, I knew he would’ve objected. Probably why I didn’t say anything. “Look, I’ll check in when I get back into town—”
“Oh, Maya?”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking about the marks last night. Inside the shells. One way they could do that is to move a non-extinct species in after they cast the shell. We’re thinking here that it would be cheaper than unique molds.”
“Yeah, I thought of the same thing.”
“Okay. Good sign that we aren’t crazy. So be safe.”
“I will. Thanks for everything.”
We hang up, and I stay lost in thought until I reach Ness’s estate. I allow myself to daydream about the shelling ahead, the access I may have to raw beaches, the fact that Ness told me to bring a wetsuit and my snorkel gear.