According to conspiracy theorists, Tesla realized that if the rotating magnetic fields were charged enough, then time and space could be altered … which led to the development of the time machine.
Is this what I need to link Dean to the Montauk Project?
I hear a noise coming from the front of the house. A door opening. “Hello?” Dean’s voice calls out.
I stuff the magazines back into the drawer and slide it shut. I tiptoe to the doorway and strain to hear what’s happening in the hallway.
“We weren’t expecting you till tomorrow,” Elizabeth says.
“They let me go early. I report back on Sunday, twelve hundred hours.”
“Two-day leave? You said it would be longer than that.”
I peer around the door. They’re standing in the entryway, facing this direction. I jump out of sight, frantically looking around the room. There’s nowhere to hide if he comes back here.
“Something was changed. You know I can’t talk about it.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m going upstairs. I’ll be down in a second.” Dean’s boots are heavy as he starts to climb the stairs.
“Let me make you something to eat,” Elizabeth calls out to him, and I stare at the door in horror. If she walks to the kitchen, she could find me in here.
There’s a pause, and I risk peeking out again. The hallway is empty. Elizabeth must have gone back into the living room, presumably to get the remains of the tea. I slip out of the study and make my way toward the living room.
“There you are!” Mary says as I rejoin them.
“Dean is home!” Mrs. Bentley claps her hands together. “Isn’t it lucky that we caught him?”
I take a seat on the stuffed couch and reach for a cookie, hoping they don’t notice my shaking hands. “Very lucky.”
A while later I stand on the back porch, watching Peter run through the yard. He’s holding a toy airplane, similar to the ones flying over Dean’s childhood bed. “Vrooom,” he calls out as he dips and twists the plane. It’s humid and cloudy out. I slap at a mosquito on my arm.
The door opens behind me and Dean steps out onto the porch. We stand side by side, not speaking.
“That’s a Warhawk,” he says after a minute.
“What is?”
“The plane. A Curtiss P-40.” He takes a cigarette out of a pack and offers it to me. I shake my head. He sticks it in his mouth and lights it, pulling in the smoke. I wrinkle my nose as the smell hits me, not used to the thick, bitter scent. Aside from my grandfather with his pipe, I hardly know anyone who smokes.
We’re both silent as we watch Peter. I look at Dean out of the corner of my eye. He’s changed out of his army uniform and is wearing a white undershirt tucked into dark pants.
“Lydia!” Peter yells. “Watch this!” He lifts the plane up, then down, takes a fast spin in the yard, and runs in the other direction.
“Awesome!” I clap my hands together.
Dean takes a drag of the cigarette, the end glowing red. “He likes you.”
“I like him too.”
Another drag, and the smoke swirls around us. “How do you like staying at my parents’ house?”
I cross my arms over my chest and look at him directly. “They’ve been very welcoming.”
“They’re very trusting. It’s my job to look out for them. Sometimes I get carried away.” He throws the half-smoked cigarette onto the wooden floor of the porch and steps on it with his boot. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I shake my head.
He turns away from Peter to face me. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you the other day. My father and mother trust you, and my boy likes you. That’s enough for me for now. But I’ll always do what it takes to protect my family.”
I stare at him, not sure how to respond.
He smiles slightly. Before I can say anything, he disappears inside.
Peter runs through the grass, waving at me. I wave back, but my thoughts drift to what I found in Dean’s drawer.
The Electrical Experimenter magazines are a clue, but it’s not enough to prove that Dean is definitively involved with the Montauk Project. For all I know, he really will have a freak training accident in a few days.
I rub my bare arms. I have two tasks ahead of me: solve the mystery of Dean’s involvement with the Montauk Project; then try to save Dean’s life. I can’t do the latter until I find out how he fits into Camp Hero.
For a moment, I consider telling Dean everything, blurting out the truth about who I am and what his fate is. But why should he believe me? I don’t know anything yet. I don’t know how he’ll disappear. I don’t know what’s happening with the Montauk Project. I don’t even know what to warn him about, other than a vague threat to his life.
I’ll eventually need to tell Dean the truth about what happens to him, but first I have to get more answers. I have three days left to discover his connection to the Montauk Project and why he disappears. I’ve searched his home and didn’t find much. But there’s another place to explore. Dean’s home away from home: the officers’ barracks at Camp Hero.
As we leave Dean’s house, I ask Mary if I can go with her to Hero later that afternoon. “Of course!” she cries, obviously pleased. But tea was early, and we have more time than we expected, so before Dr. Bentley drives us out to the field hospital, we go to the beach with Mary’s friends.
It’s still overcast but humid and sticky, and the heat is an oppressive weight. I lie on a towel near Susie, her fiancé, Mick, and their friend Jinx. Mary wades into the ocean with Billy, a classmate from school. She’s wearing a white bikini with thick straps and a bottom that looks like a skirt. “Isn’t it
