“You’re smart to give up,” Lydia said, sending a jolt through Jamie.
Jamie’s heart sank the instant he saw her, any shred of hope that she was a product of his imagination now gone.
“Nice of Walt to bring you water, considering what he put you through. I wasn’t sure about him until tonight. He is a hardened believer.”
Jamie flashed back to that final moment in Sammie’s bedroom. The crickets returned, the window was cracking, Lydia sat in the corner, then …
“You and Walt are in this together. You and all the others.”
Lydia sighed. “I cannot say who is with whom anymore. These assassins … Rand Paulus, Agatha Bidwell … I knew they were observers, but fifteen years on this limited world must have worn heavily upon them. Walt will kill them if he has the chance. He will keep you hidden here so you can die and be reborn before the others reach you. They used to be such allies.” Jamie stared into space, his jaw hanging. “Walt is a defender of Chancellory genetic regeneration. As is Grace Huggins. And their daughter.”
Jamie picked through the scrambled mush that was his brain.
“Sammie,” he whispered, almost believing what he was hearing.
“Yes, Jamie. They despise this town, much as you do. They will celebrate their return through the fold. Twenty miles north of Albion. They have triangulated it by now. The folds are not stationary, you see. No doubt sent an observer to verify. Packed their bags, so to speak.”
“Where are we now?” He asked.
“The lake house. You’ve been here before. Three years ago.”
Lydia was right. He was here with all the Hugginses, his parents, and Michael. It was a great weekend. Cookouts, swimming, hiking, some pot on the side.
Jamie closed his eyes, his anger seething to the boiling point.
He screamed. “Huggins! Walt Huggins! I wanna talk to you.”
Jamie created a stir for five minutes, until he heard footsteps above. A second later, the fluorescent light flickered and the basement went dark. Jamie continued to shout, adding a series of profanities that might have peeled wallpaper. Lydia didn’t interfere.
He stretched his voice for almost half an hour, certain that sooner or later Sammie’s muscle-bound father would storm downstairs with a fist specially prepared for Jamie’s face. When the door opened at last and the light returned, Jamie didn’t believe what he saw.
15
J AMIE’S TORTURE DIDN’T end when he saw a familiar face appear on the stairs leading into the cellar. Instead, his confusion deepened and his temper burned. Ben stopped at the bottom step and stared, his bloodshot eyes glistening as puddles of water formed. Ben lowered his head for an instant, muttered words Jamie couldn’t understand, and started slowly toward the boy, who was bound as if he were a dangerous criminal.
Jamie didn’t try to decode what piece of the puzzle his brother fit into. Ben presented him with so many identities over the years: the big brother who pushed him high on the swings, the alcoholic who now stood over him reeking of booze. Jamie felt cold and empty and waited for Ben to make the first move.
Ben knelt then pulled apart the Velcro band wrapping Jamie’s wristwatch on the left arm and compared that watch to his own. He played with the buttons on Jamie’s watch and returned it to his little brother.
“Nine fifty-six,” Ben said. “Don’t forget. Everything leads there, J. Nine fifty-six.”
Ben removed a switchblade from his pants pocket and sliced through Jamie’s cords. Jamie dropped his freed arms into his lap and watched the knife do its magic on his leg bindings. When those cords fell away, Jamie wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.
Jamie felt this paralysis before. He sat on the couch in the Coopers’ den when Sheriff Bill Everson arrived in the middle of the night two years ago. The sheriff spread a cloud of heavy musk as he sat next to Jamie and explained what happened to Tom and Marlena Sheridan. Jamie remembered the words because they slithered out matter-of-fact beneath the sheriff’s abundant gray mustache, carrying not the first hint of concern.
“Young man, it’s my sad duty to inform you that your momma and daddy have met with a tragic end. It appears a man broke into your home with intent to rob. That individual fired shots at both your momma and daddy. They did not survive. I want to offer you my condolences and promise you the Albion County Sheriff’s Office will find the individual who did this. He’ll never harm another momma or daddy.”
Sheriff Everson rambled on, but Jamie heard none of it and had no memory of the rest of that night, only that he woke up around noon in mid-scream. For a few seconds, he believed it was all a nightmare. Then his brother appeared, face ashen and eyes drooping. Jamie knew. They fell into each other’s arms without saying a word.
Jamie turned his unbearable grief into seething anger, at first blaming himself for not being at home. Maybe he could have done something to save them. He assigned blame everywhere. He stirred his anger in a cauldron deep inside until he couldn’t breathe. He saw no way back from the abyss.
The next day, he awoke to the voices of adults in the Coopers’ kitchen. They were all there – Michael’s parents, Sammie’s parents, Ben. They talked about how to break the news that the killer, a thug just released from prison, was caught overnight and claimed his innocence – even though the sheriff insisted the case was open-and-shut. They said they never saw Jamie so withdrawn. He allowed his rage to consume his every thought. Later, he said he didn’t remember grabbing the baseball bat from Michael’s closet. He ran a mile into town, never slowing down, not
