Sisters in the Wind(97)

“The Hoppys won’t be selling any more babies,” Mr. Sterling replies.

His wife adds, “They will meet their maker soon and fear his wrath.”

At the word soon, Mr. Sterling looks at his watch.

“What did you do to them?” I ask but get no response.

I am desperate now but trying to remain calm. An idea comes to me. A Hail Mary.

“I’ve set up an alert to someone, a fail-safe. If I don’t check in at certain intervals, they’ll give the key to the authorities. The journal includes proof that Luke’s adoption was illegal. Give me Luke and I’ll continue to check in and keep from triggering the fail-safe.”

“You stupid girl,” Mr. Sterling says with dismissive contempt. “If that were true, you would have led with it. I know liars.”

“Like Steven?”

Mr. Sterling turns around but before he reaches me, I’m shoved from behind. Mrs. Sterling takes me down with more ferocity than I thought possible. She stands over me, held back by her husband from attacking me further.

“He was a good boy!” she shrieks. “Kind to a fault. Those who do evil are drawn to those with an inner light. They seek what they know not.”

I rise while shouting back, “That’s why he went after Stacy and me, and God knows how many others.”

The person Mr. Sterling slaps isn’t me.

“Calm yourself,” he commands, simultaneously striking his wife with measured detachment.

Mrs. Sterling’s mouth forms a perfect O as she covers her cheek with her hand.

Again, he checks his watch. Although his expression remains impassive, he adjusts his tie as if it had tightened around his neck.

Something is about to happen, I realize. His agitation wasn’t with his wife. He grows more anxious as the minutes tick by on his watch.

The only nice thing Mr. Sterling ever did for me was to get my dad’s watch fixed.

He bends to tie his shoe. No. To retrieve a pistol from a holster tethered to his ankle.

“Lucy, you will walk into the barn and meet with Mr. and Mrs. Hoppy. After they finish with you, we will discuss Luke.”

Of course he’s lying. If discussing Luke was ever a remote possibility, he would have led with it. I learn quickly, but it’s true. I have been an incredibly stupid girl.

I did this all wrong. I should have told Jamie. He would’ve known what to do. He could have gotten help from his FBI contacts.

Instead, I came here alone. I don’t know what awaits me in the old barn, but I’m certain it’s not the Hoppys that I have to fear.

I close my eyes and pray.

Miigwech to the curly-haired boy inside the house for existing.

Miigwech to Stacy, who will read books to her little brother.

Miigwech to Diego and all his saints.

Miigwech to Misho Abe for teaching me to give thanks and calling me grandchild. It was nice to hear it at least once in my life.

Miigwech to Miss Lonnie for safety, strength, and warmth.

Miigwech to Gimiwan’s family for being like an onion. Maybe rough around the edges but everyone wrapped around that sweet Anishinaabe spirit at the core.

Miigwech to Jamie and Daunis for love and hope in a someday.

Miigwech to Dad and Lily-bah. I’ll see you both soon.

It feels incomplete, this little leaving prayer. I squeeze my eyes and try to remember who I—

Miigwech to Maggie. May you know grace, serenity, and joy in this lifetime.

When I open my eyes, the structure is about a hundred feet away. I look back, beyond the Sterlings, at the farmhouse and the hammock grove and …

Devery is there. Peeking around the oak tree. Our eyes meet. She mouths words, but her message is lost on me.



* * *



I follow Mr. Sterling’s command to walk to the old barn, but I do it stepping backward. If he is going to shoot, it will be as I face him. He thinks I’m looking from him to his wife following behind.

It’s Devery I track as she rushes from one tree to the next, hiding for brief pauses. She must have a plan to help me. I want to shout for her to call the police, but my distrust of authority figures is minuscule compared to hers.

When Mr. Sterling checks his watch, whatever the time, it compels him to raise the pistol toward me. His damn watch.

I know a little bit about watches.

His words echo, and I remember Jamie telling me about the bomb from the diner. A single pipe bomb with a simple timer.

“You keep on walking,” Mr. Sterling orders. “The Hoppys are waiting for you.”

The hell they are.

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” I pose a question with each step closer to the barn. “You were partners somehow. Did you keep tabs on me after I ran from your house?”

Devery darts behind another tree.

“Did you contact the Hoppys to warn them about me? Did you learn about their baby farm after Steven died?”

My voice rises in panic and excitement, as Devery gets closer. It’s like that silly game of Red Light, Green Light—creeping forward, poised to freeze, strategizing when to make a run for it before the caller turns around.

“You both viewed me as a threat. Did you volunteer to make the bomb that was supposed to scare me?”

“Get in the barn, Lucy. Now or I shoot.”

Another step. I’m doing what he wants and hoping that Devery stops with the sly sneak-up and rushes the rest of the way. She needs to tackle Mrs. Sterling so we can focus on him.