Not that I'll ever actually say those words to him. I have a feeling Sam wouldn't appreciate the analogy.
“I'm just looking over everything,” I tell him. “There's something I'm missing. I know it's right there in front of me. I can just feel it. It's as if I just tilt my head a different way and look at something, it's going to pop out at me. It's right there.”
“You should get to bed,” Sam says. “It's late.”
“Don't you have some ghost stories that can keep you company?” I ask.
“I'd rather you keep me company,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.
His eyes fall to my fingers still spinning my phone around.
“Dad called,” I say.
“How is he?” Sam asks, suddenly sounding more serious.
“He sounds fine. He says everything's okay and that he's safe. He only anticipates staying there for another couple of weeks.”
“Didn't he say that around the holidays?” Sam asks.
“Yes, but then he got that lead. He had to follow it. Now he says he thinks he's gathered just about everything he's going to be able to without people getting suspicious. He'll tell us more when we can meet in person. He did say he hasn't been able to actually track down any of the men from Harlan. But some guys from one of the chapters he spent some time with earlier in the spring said a couple of things that sounded like references to the Dragon. He said it was in code, which he recognized because the same kind of language was used in the chapter here in Sherwood and in the ones in Florida. But to communicate in that code, you have to know certain keywords. He doesn't know any of them for that code, so he couldn't reciprocate the conversation,” I say.
“Did that put him in danger? Does that mean that the other person knows something's going on with him?” Sam asks.
“No,” I say. “Apparently, it's something they do on a fairly regular basis. Because the Order of Prometheus is fairly complex and deals with delicate situations like political careers, it's not uncommon for smaller factions within the chapters to work together on certain missions. In order to make sure those missions are secure, the code language is adapted with keywords. Those who know the keywords can unlock pieces of the conversation that eventually becomes ongoing communication. Using that code with another member of the Order is just a way of gauging whether that person is familiar with any given activity. If they don't know the keywords, you just move on.”
“That sounds like a kind of risky game,” Sam says.
“I guess it can be. But he might have been able to pick up on some information. Then we can see where that might go,” I say. I let out a sigh. “I still can't help but think all of this is going to tie back to Greg. I can't figure out how or why. But it can't be a coincidence. It cannot be a coincidence that Lydia Walsh crossed his path while investigating Dragon and then showed up in Harlan. And I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to think about Gabriel, but that wasn't a fluke. You know that as well as I do.”
“You called her to Harlan,” Sam says. “You had been trying to get in touch with her since Greg died.”
“I know that. But she stayed involved. There's no way we could have encountered two separate situations that have to do with the Dragon and not have them linked in some way. All of this is going to come back to Greg. Either it will tell me how and why he died, or finding out how he died is going to give me the information I need to figure out the Dragon’s involvement with the Order. I just don't know which one first.”
“He did give you a key,” Sam points out.
“I know,” I say. “He just didn't give me the code.”
“Come on,” Sam says. “Come on to bed. You have a lot going on in the next couple of days and you need some rest.”
“I have to figure these things out. I need to find the link. These people are dead. Someone has to pay for it."
"I know, babe. But you can't run yourself into the ground trying to figure it out."
I pick up the picture frame in front of me and look at the image in it. My old friend Julia and her daughter Iris are smiling from a park bench. Most of their wounds are healed and the light has come back to their eyes. But I can't help but focus on the overly shiny wig Julia's wearing to cover the fact that they had to cut off her hair because it was so matted, and the sleeve of her sweater pulled down over her wrist to conceal where her hand was chopped off. Iris is on her way to looking like the teenager she should be, but I can still see the scars. The last time I talked to them, she was still working on building up her strength again.
"This is what happens when things don't get figured out. When I don't get it right," I say.
"Emma, what happened to them wasn't your fault."
"If anyone had listened to me, it wouldn't have happened. Or at least, they would have gotten to her sooner."
"You can't blame yourself for that. You can't. You did absolutely everything that you could. You were just a kid."
I let out a short, mirthless laugh and shake my head. "Do you realize that all happened just a few months before the last four went missing? When I was trying to find Julia, she was already in those woods. He'd taken her to the cabin, and she was out there in the cold, in the same park as those other people who went missing. It was miles
