She shakes her head. “It’s always too little, too late with you.”
“Kit, I’m the only family you have. We need to stick together.”
She turns on her heel and heads for the door. “The people here are better family than you ever were.”
“You don’t mean that.” I suppress a mortifying urge to cry.
She sniffs and glances out the window. “Skies are clearing up. It’s time for you to go.”
43
Natalie
JANUARY 10, 2020
KIT SLAMS THE door behind her. I stand in the middle of the room with my arms wrapped around my waist, struggling to formulate a plan on no sleep. The big sister in me wants to run after her and patch things up, but my sense of self-preservation is screaming to take Kit at her word and leave now. I feel a little better knowing some anonymous e-mailer isn’t out to get me; still, the staff here has messed with my stuff （twice）， stolen my property, and threatened me at knifepoint. I don’t want to stay any longer than I have to.
One step at a time. First, I’ll pack. Then I’ll get my phone back. I’ll demand a meeting with Rebecca. I chew on my knuckle.
Then I’ll make one last pitch to get Kit to leave with me.
Either way, Gordon’s driving me back to Rockland within the hour.
A few minutes later, I’ve thrown all my clothes and toiletries in the duffel. I lift the bag to my shoulder and check the cabin. I linger in the doorway, afraid to leave the room. I don’t want to go back out there, where Rebecca’s goons are waiting.
Tugging on my wool hat, I force myself over the threshold and hike through the powder toward Rebecca’s house, keeping an eye out for someone official-looking. I’m halfway there when I spot a stocky older man marching across the grass. He wears a thick raincoat and galoshes.
Gordon.
He’s animated in a way I haven’t seen before. An excited flush has replaced his staid expression.
I block his path. His glasses are rain-spattered, strange since it’s not snowing anymore. He wipes the glasses clean and frowns when he sees who’s standing in his way.
“I’m ready to leave,” I say. “How do I get my phone back?”
“I don’t have time right now, Ms. Collins,” he says, hand clenched.
When I see what he’s gripping, I stop breathing.
44
Kit
DECEMBER 28, 2019
CALMLY I CLOSED my file and put it back in the desk drawer, my gaze never leaving Teacher’s.
“You were right about Jeremiah.” I sat back in her chair. “He’s not who he says he is.”
The fury in her eyes changed to fear. She closed the office door. I rose from her desk, motioned for her to join me on the sofa. We each took a cushion, knees grazing. I squeezed one of her hands.
“I’m sorry for snooping. I was scanning his file to see what you already knew.” Out of habit I reached for Mom’s scarf, but it was wound around Teacher’s neck, not mine. “Gordon’s been keeping tabs on the wrong guy.”
Teacher smoothed her hair behind her ears, then folded her hands in her lap. With forced restraint she asked, “Whom should he have been examining?”
“The guy you know as Jeremiah? That’s not his real name.”
Spots of color bloomed across Teacher’s pale face. Her hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles had turned white. “Shall we sit here all day or are you going to disclose his identity?”
“Your old manager, Gabe Cooper? Jeremiah—whatever his name is—is his younger brother.”
Her jaw fell open.
“He’s here for revenge. He wants to topple Wisewood. And take you down with it.”
I had never seen her speechless. I counted backward from five—still she didn’t speak. Her neck muscles strained, nostrils flared.
She looked like she wanted to kill me.
“I told him the suggestion was absurd,” I hurried to add. “That he was being ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” she repeated softly, violently. She lifted the glass bowl of china shards off the coffee table. “Balancing a platter on your head for an hour is ridiculous.”
She whipped the bowl at the wall. I gasped as it shattered. “？‘Treasonous’ is the word you’re looking for,” she roared.
“This man is deranged. I think you might be in real danger. We have to get you off of Wisewood.”
Teacher paced the room, crunching in leather boots over glass and porcelain. “No, we must fight back.”
I shook my head. “Neutralizing a threat doesn’t always mean staying to fight. Sometimes it means running for your life.”