“Yes, of course he should have told you. And I will talk with him when he gets home,” Holly says, thinking hard. “But you have to admit, it was an awfully big adventure.”
There’s no way Christopher will understand, but even so, she utters those last words as casually as she can, without the slightest hint of emphasis, and prays Jane will make the connection.
There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Peter,” Jane whispers. “Are you sure?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Lucky boy,” Jane says in wonder. “Lucky, lucky boy. I must hear all about it.”
“Absolutely,” Holly says, her own voice grim. This isn’t the time or the place to dispel Jane’s fangirl crush. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. But it may be a while.”
She says the last with a glare over her shoulder at Christopher.
“Great news,” she announces, disconnecting the call. “Jack’s been in touch. It’s exactly what I thought—a stupid teenage prank.”
“Really,” Christopher says. He doesn’t move from the doorway, doesn’t uncross his arms. “Did he say where he was?”
“A friend of my mother’s. She has a castle in the countryside, and she spirited off her grandson and a bunch of his friends, including Jack.”
Christopher’s eyes narrow as he studies her. “Did you happen to catch the friend’s name?”
Holly shakes her head. “I was too relieved.”
“How convenient,” he observes. “And I suppose you have no idea where this castle is located, either.”
“Not a clue. I’m just happy to know he’s with someone my mother trusts.” The irony of that statement overwhelms her, and she swallows a hysterical laugh. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back.” She crosses the room and stands directly in front of him.
Christopher looks at her for a long moment. His face isn’t angry, not anymore, but she can’t read it. He reaches out and touches her shoulder, rests his gloved hand there. The weight is heavy and warm, and suddenly her breath is coming so quickly it muddles her thinking. She can’t remember which hand is real and which is not.
“Holly,” he says, and his voice is gentle. “You can trust me.”
He means it, she thinks, and her earlier doubts vanish. Now is the time to tell him the whole truth, her opportunity to come clean. Her chance to explain what’s happening to Eden, who Peter really is. What he’s capable of.
Tell no one.
She can’t risk it. No matter how much she wants it to be different, she still has to do this alone.
So she takes a step back. Looks Christopher in the eye. Resists the urge to thumb away the smudge of dirt on his face. “I need to call the office,” she repeats.
He doesn’t move, but when she squeezes past him, he doesn’t stop her, either. He lets his hand fall to his side. She finds it doesn’t matter whether it is the hand with the hook or not. The empty spot on her shoulder still feels bereft and cold.
The loss of his touch stays with her all the way through the little house, and she knows it’s a bad sign. For Jack’s sake, she can’t let herself be tempted. Can’t let down her guard and tell Christopher the truth in a weak moment. So when she reaches the safety of the front door, she doesn’t let herself hesitate, doesn’t let herself turn back.
No matter how much she wants to.
* * *
She knows, of course, that giving the slip to Christopher Cooke won’t be that easy. As much as she wants to speed back to the house, she forces herself to drive slowly, to stop at every light, to signal her innocence with every turn.
It takes six blocks before she spots the sleek black motorcycle weaving in and out of traffic. He hangs back, at the edge of her sight in the mirror. He wants her to know he’s following. Or he thinks she’s too arrogant, too foolish to look.
Either way, her plan remains the same.
She holds a steady speed until she’s home. Although Jane prefers to have the Mercedes parked in the drive, Holly leaves it in plain sight on the street. She walks to the front door, ignoring the whispers in her head that say time is slipping away, that she’s taking too long, that she should run.
Tick. Tock.
Holly doesn’t turn around, doesn’t linger to see if he’s pulled in behind her and is watching. She unlocks the door and goes inside, shuts it behind her as quietly as she can. Footsteps click along the second-floor landing, so she hurries down the hall to the kitchen and the back entrance. Unlocks the dead bolt.