But Kaz had a summer job at the public library branch near their house, and on Wednesday afternoons, his task was to prepare the new children’s books to go into circulation. That meant he had to enter them into the system and cover them with special protective bindings. It usually took a couple of hours, and he worked in the office that belonged to one of the reference librarians, because she didn’t come in on Wednesdays.
And every Wednesday, I called him on that phone.
It was a windowless office, and there was no way anyone could be monitoring incoming calls for the entire library. I used my own cell phone and made sure that when the bill came, I was the one who paid it. That was easy enough to get past Prairie once I convinced her that I was old enough to learn about personal finances. Gram had never used a bank, but kept her money locked in an old desk drawer in her bedroom. I had never even had a bank account, and Prairie was happy for me to take on the responsibility.
No one bothered Kaz on Wednesday afternoons. With the office door closed, no one even remembered he was there. We talked for only half an hour at a time-caution had become a habit for both of us-and we never, ever talked about the future, because we both knew that it would be a pointless conversation.
After Prairie left for work, I took a long, hot shower and blow-dried my hair. I tried to read a book for a while but I couldn’t focus on the story. I dusted and vacuumed, and at noon I fixed myself a sandwich. Then all I had to do was watch the minutes crawl by until one-thirty.
Finally it was time. I took my phone and a glass of iced tea out onto the balcony, where I had a great view of the pool. By the time I dialed the number, I couldn’t keep a smile off my face.
But when Kaz answered, it was clear something was very wrong. I heard a clatter and a sharp intake of breath, and when he spoke, I knew something terrible had happened.
“Hailey,
I was so shocked I couldn’t answer for a second, my heart hammering. I gripped the phone tightly. “What, Kaz? What happened?”
“There was an exterminator here all week-no one thought to check-they’ve gotten to the phones-Hailey, I had to sneak in here and if they find me-”
“An exterminator?” I interrupted, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “But how would they-”
“Think about it, Hailey-think about what they do. If they believe I’ve talked to you, they will find a way to go through every single outgoing and incoming call, for every line in this whole building. I’m going to hang up now and-” His voice cracked. “And we can’t talk anymore.”
I knew he was right. If they’d found Kaz, they’d use him any way they could to get to me and Prairie. But I couldn’t accept it, couldn’t accept the thought of never hearing his voice again. Now that I’d lost Jess and Charlotte, Kaz was all I had left-the only person in the world who cared about me besides Prairie and Chub-and the idea that this was the last time we’d speak, this was
“But how will I, how will
“I’ve got to
There was a crash and then an unfamiliar voice, a man speaking in clipped tones without emotion.
“We found him. Room 421. Start trace-”
The phone smashed into the cradle as Kaz hung up.
He hadn’t been quick enough-because I’d kept him on the phone.
Everything was wrong, and it was my fault.
5
FOR SEVERAL LONG MOMENTS I didn’t move. I disconnected and stared at my phone-just a few ounces of plastic and metal, and yet I had used it to destroy every bit of security, of safety, that Prairie and I had worked so hard to create, and to bring danger straight to Kaz.
If only I’d hung up when he told me to…
If only I’d hung up…
But even that might not have been enough. We had hoped that they would never find us. We had wanted to keep Anna and Kaz completely out of it. When Prairie and Chub and I had driven north from Chicago a month ago, we had hoped that they would be forgotten, that the people searching for us would never find the humble bungalow in the middle of Chicago where we’d once taken shelter.
But somehow they’d found Kaz. And they were smart enough to know that Anna and Kaz would never admit to being in contact with us. So they’d followed Kaz instead. Followed him to his job, pretending to be exterminators, biding their time, guessing that eventually he would lead them to us. And they had been right.
“Stupid,” I muttered.
And then I snapped out of my trance.
I raced into the apartment, phone clutched in my hand, and grabbed my purse. Then I left, not even bothering to lock up. As I ran down the hallway, I dialed Prairie; when I got to the elevator, her phone was ringing.
I was alone in the elevator, and I paced the tiny space. The two-floor descent felt like it took an eternity as I waited for Prairie to pick up. The phone rang four times before going to her voice mail; I heard the familiar greeting I’d reached many times before.
“This is Holly Garrett. I’m currently away from my desk… ”
Taxis weren’t hard to come by at our apartment building. The complex was built on a strip of land that once formed the barrier between downtown Milwaukee and the grand old mansions of the East Side, and despite what Jess’s parents thought, many young, rich professionals and families called it home, and cabbies often cruised by looking for fares.
Today was no exception. A man in expensive sunglasses and the kind of golf shirt that nobody plays golf in took the first cab I spotted, barely pausing in the conversation he was having on his earpiece to open the door.
I got the next one.
I’d become pretty good at it, stepping into the street a couple of paces and raising my hand high, looking like I meant business. I’d found that you had to look like you expected them to stop or they drove right by. If you had told me six months earlier that I would ever hail a cab, I would have thought you were crazy. In the entire time I lived in Gypsum, the only cabs I saw were on TV.
I reeled off the address of Chub’s preschool, which Prairie had made me memorize the minute she signed Chub up. The ride took only ten minutes, but it seemed endless. I had to resist urging the cabbie to go faster. When we pulled up in front of the school, I threw some bills onto the front seat and bolted out of the cab.
I’d come only once before, with Prairie, back when Chub had been the newest kid there, and this time I took a wrong turn before finding the desk separating the reception area from the classrooms and play spaces. I could hear children shouting happily, but I couldn’t see any of them. A young woman with a long braid down her back came through a frosted glass door, pulling it shut behind her. She held a stack of construction paper in one hand, and when she noticed me waiting, she gave me a tired smile.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m, um, I’m here to pick up my little brother. Charlie Garrett?”
“Charlie? Is something wrong?”
“No, no, I just… my aunt wanted me to pick him up for her. Holly. Holly Garrett.”
Now the young woman frowned. “Holly hasn’t called in.”
“That’s right. She hasn’t had a chance to. She’s tied up at work. She said I should just come get him. I can show you my ID if you want.” One of the benefits of paying for a fake ID was that even though I didn’t have a driver’s license yet, I had a state ID card and a social security card that were guaranteed to be one hundred percent indistinguishable from real ones.
“Please give me a second,” the woman said, but I saw the change on her face, the way her eyes turned opaque
