Sisters in the Wind(94)

“You need to tell Daunis about her dad’s death,” I say bluntly.

He pales. His Adam’s apple registers a gulp.

“Now.” I keep my voice steady with steely determination. “She needs to know what you suspect. If she learns about it in any way that isn’t directly from you, she won’t get over it.”

I let my voice soften.

“There are no perfect moments. Daunis can love imperfect people, but she can’t build a future with someone who hides things.”

My phone buzzes while I reach into the dresser drawer for my workout gear. It’s an unknown caller, possibly from a foreign country. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t answer, but Daunis might have given my number to Miss Lonnie.

“Hello,” I say, suddenly homesick for the cabin and her puzzles.

“Um, Lucy? This is Stacy.”

It’s been over three years since I left the Sterling house.

“Yes. I’m here.” I try to still my voice. Something’s happened.

“I’m supposed to tell you to come back to the library.” There’s a muffled sound before she continues. Her voice is still girlish, as she repeats what she’s been told to say. She speaks loudly: “Come back to your library.” Then I could swear she whispers, “Rachel,” before inhaling deeply and continuing to practically shout. “Don’t wear your ankle bracelet.” Again she whispers something that sounds like “shants” or “chance.” She finishes with, “It’s the key to seeing me again.”

The call ends abruptly.

My risk-and-reward analysis takes a nanosecond.





PART FIVE





“Zombie fires,” much like the persistent reanimated corpses for which they’re nicknamed, are known for coming back to haunt the same regions from year to year. These fires, also called holdover fires or overwintering fires, are essentially wildfires that never fully extinguish, and instead continue smoldering under the ground or snow for extended periods of time, emerging as full-on blazes when conditions allow.

—Michael Bartiromo, “What Are ‘Zombie’ Fires, and Why Are They Becoming More Common?” Nexstar Media Wire





ASHES DENOTE THAT FIRE WAS





I am responsible for Stacy being in danger.

I told Devery about Steven Sterling being a drug dealer who sexually assaulted his little sister, who tried to do it to me, and who was protected by his parents. And I’m the one who told Devery that I liked Stacy but hadn’t known how to help her in that family.

Devery believes that good acts can cancel out bad ones. Sin plus confession equals balance. Maybe she could reverse the order of events: Do a bad thing—then do a good thing.

By her reasoning, she could tell Missus about Stacy and try to make up for it later. And if she hurt Steven, would that balance the scales? Would Devery think she was avenging Stacy when in reality she’s traumatizing a girl whose only crime is loving her awful family?

In the end, it seems like everything comes down to Devery and me.

If my sister is the gas can … does that make me the spark?



* * *



“Ready?” Jamie calls from the connecting door.

“Hey, uh, I’ve got to take a pass on the workout. Sudden health thing,” I say, rubbing my lower abdomen.

“Oh right. Okay,” he says quickly, assuming I just got my period.

“You go ahead,” I say. “I’ll be fine here.”

As soon as Jamie leaves, I rush to the kitchen. I use a paring knife to slice a section of the black duct tape from my dad’s watch. It’s been wrapped around the watchband since the night I left Hoppy Farm. The small gold key sticks to the black tar-like tape. I tear the loose part of the tape from the watch and tuck the sticky tape and key into my pocket.

I enter Jamie’s room and take his car keys. In return, I place my dad’s watch on his desk. If things don’t work out, I want him to have it. He will find the SIM card hidden under the remaining tape. The card has all the photos of Luke and me. And the screenshots of Diego’s foster-care file from the Hoppys.

His office scissors don’t look hefty enough to cut through the tether wire. Besides, if I cut it, an alert will be sent to the monitoring company.

Thanks to Devery, I remembered to plan an escape route. Just in case. I researched how to get out of a tether.

If I can slip it off my foot, it might not send an alert right away. The trick is to grease my ankle but not get the strap wet. I slide a plastic trash bag over my foot but underneath the tether. The vegetable oil works with careful maneuvering. Once I’ve slipped it past my heel, it’s off.

I grab my backpack and the tether when I leave. Instead of taking the nearest elevator, I walk the long hallway to the other one. Along the way, I come upon the housekeeping cart in the hallway while the employee vacuums a room. I slow my stride enough to shove the tether between the caddy of trial-size toiletries.

Part of the monitoring is to track for movement. The housekeeper’s cart will move around the hotel, which is within my authorized zone.

By the time Jamie returns from his workout, I will be halfway to Hoppy Farm.

Each mile between Mount Pleasant and Hoppy Farm takes an eternity to complete. It’s not enough time, however, to figure out what Stacy meant by whispering “chance” and “Rachel.” The only Rachel I can think of is Rachel Devery from the movie. And my foster sister, Elizabeth Plouff, who I nicknamed Devery.