His face is set in hard lines. “I’ve explained the consequences of staying in the past. How else can I convince you that you need to go back to your own time, for all of our sakes?” He keeps his voice low and private.
“I’m not ready, Wes.” I whisper the words. “There are things I have to do here.”
“Lydia.” He looks down at me through half-closed eyes. “I’m worried about what I suspect you’re planning. I should stop you. I know it’s what the Project would want me to do.” There’s something dark in his expression that makes me want to step farther away from him. I don’t even ask him what he means, though I’m dying to know. “But I’ve never … I don’t … I want to …” His brows draw together. He looks confused, like he doesn’t know how to find the words he wants to say.
His expression is the same one from that first day in the bunker, and then again at the fundraiser when he saw me from across the room. Wes seems so confident, but I keep seeing these flashes of vulnerability in him. It makes me wonder what he’s hiding from me. It also makes me want to touch his arm and tell him that everything will be okay.
Before I can respond, Mary walks up to us. She has taken off her apron, but I notice blood on her sleeve. “Lydia. There you are.”
She comes to a stop when she sees that I’m talking to Wes. “Who’s this?” Mary scans Wes’s long, lean body.
“This is Wes—” It occurs to me that I don’t know his last name.
“Private Wesley Smith,” Wes cuts in smoothly. Any trace of vulnerability has disappeared now that Mary is here. His voice is steady and sure again.
Mary beams up at him. She looks like she’s about to melt all over the lawn.
“I’m Mary. I haven’t seen you around here before. How do you know Lydia?”
He looks at me. I see his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. “We met in the hospital on Wednesday.”
I nod and glance down at my feet, suddenly embarrassed but not sure why.
Mary gives me a knowing look. “Well, I’m sorry to steal Lydia away, but we have to be going. Daddy is ready to drive us home, and we have to get back for dinner.” She puts her finger on her chin, like she’s just had a brilliant idea. I’m afraid to hear what it is. “Why don’t you come to our house for dinner, Private Smith? Ma always makes extra food and I’m sure Lydia would love to have you join us. Wouldn’t you, Lyd?”
I grit my teeth. “I’m sure Wes has other things to do.”
He half smiles. “I’m sorry, but I have to decline. I always eat in the mess with the other privates.”
“Phooey.” Mary sticks out her bottom lip, then brushes her hand through her curls. I notice the gesture and automatically look at Wes. He raises one eyebrow and I bite back a smile.
“Well, let’s go Lydia. Daddy’s waiting.” Mary takes my arm and we start to walk away. We cross the clearing and head toward where Dr. Bentley parked his car.
Wes’s gaze never leaves my back. I can feel it on my skin, as intimate as a touch.
CHAPTER 12
On the drive back to the Bentleys’ house, I can’t stop thinking about Camp Hero. If I’m going to find out more about Dean’s involvement with the Montauk Project, I have to sneak back into the Facility. And I need to do it tonight.
Dean disappears in three days. I’m running out of time to find answers. I pat the pocket of my skirt, feeling the outline of the strange metal key. It must open one of the bunkers, and I wonder if it’s the same one Wes and I snuck out of. If only I had found a way to test it this afternoon. But first I was with Wes, then I was with Mary, and there was never any time to sneak away.
It’s probably for the best. I don’t want to draw any more suspicion to myself, and I need the cover of night. Now I just have to figure out how to get back there.
As we pull into the Bentleys’ driveway, the first thing I notice is that Lucas’s truck is here. A truck he’s driving back to Camp Hero later tonight. And it has a large, canvas-covered truck bed. Perfect for someone to hide in undetected.
“I didn’t know Lucas was coming to dinner,” I say to Mary and Dr. Bentley as we get out of the car.
“He’s always welcome.” Dr. Bentley pulls his medical bag out of the backseat. “And he usually takes us up on it. Hates the mess food.”
Mary grins at me, and I know she’s thrilled Lucas is here. I grin back, thrilled for a different reason.
That night at dinner I pick at my food, half listening to the conversation around me. We’re eating something called liver loaf, mashed potatoes, and tomato salad with chunks of cheese on top. Mrs. Bentley cuts a thick slice of the loaf and puts it on my plate.
I glance at the black curtains pulled tight over the windows. Out in the fading twilight, Lucas’s army truck sits in the dirt driveway. I think about what’s ahead of me tonight: sneaking into Lucas’s truck, around Camp Hero, into the underground labs. Trying not to get killed.
Wes was so appalled when he thought I was going to talk to Dean, and this is—potentially—an even bigger step. But now that I know Dean really is somehow connected to the Montauk Project, I need to find out how. Both for my own desire to know the truth, and because knowing that truth is the only way I can
