The rotors slowed, but did not stop.
A door opened.
“This is a surprise.”
Michael looked at Abigail. “What?”
She tilted her head at the chopper. Two men climbed down, and walked, bent, beneath the blades. “The senator came, too.”
Michael recognized Jessup Falls: tall and rangy, his face unforgiving. Beside him, the senator looked broader, more solid and more sure. His hair was white, his suit impeccable. He moved as if the world owed him a living.
Abigail stepped out to meet them. Michael followed.
“Hello, darling.” She raised her voice to be heard. The senator kissed her lightly, then held out a hand to Michael.
“I’m sorry we have to meet like this,” he said. “Abigail has told me much, of course, but I would have preferred to do this in a more civilized manner. I’m Randall Vane.”
“Senator.”
They shook. Jessup Falls did not offer a hand. He held back and looked unhappy as the senator took Abigail’s hand and cupped it in the two of his. “When Jessup said you’d left the house, I didn’t think you’d gone quite so far.”
“It’s a long story.”
“And a long flight home. You can tell me all about it.”
“Any word on Julian?”
“No. Nothing. I’m sorry.”
“Do the police know he’s gone?”
“Of course not. God. It would be a disaster.”
“How did this happen, Randall?”
“He’s a grown man, Abigail. He’ll be fine.”
“I wish you would not be so blase.”
“And I wish you would keep the boy under control.” He kept the smile, but his voice cut. “This is not doing me an ounce of good. Christ, the headlines alone…”
“You don’t think Julian has something to do with those bodies?”
“I don’t know what to think, and neither do you. That’s the problem with Julian-after all these years, we still don’t know what goes through that head of his.”
“God, I hate that politician’s smile.” Abigail stepped past, angry. “It’s a miracle anyone buys it. Jessup…” She took Jessup’s hand. “How did it happen?”
“We took men off to cover the perimeter. A few reporters came over the wall earlier in the day. The crowd was building. Apparently, the doctor left for a few minutes, and Julian simply walked off. He wasn’t under lock and key, as you know. I suspect he’s on the grounds, still. Too much commotion beyond the wall. It’s his pattern. We’ll find him.”
“Does he know about the bodies? Is he aware of what’s happening?”
“Unknown, but possible.”
The senator interrupted. “The locals are getting restless.” He gestured at a small crowd forming on the roadside. Cars angled on the verge. People had come down off their porches. “If there’s nothing that can’t wait, we should go. Jessup can drive the car back.”
“I’ll drive it back,” Michael said.
The group pulled up short, and Michael saw Jessup press his hand against the small of Abigail’s back. “You’re not coming?” She stepped away from the other men, closer to Michael.
“I need to finish this.”
He lifted his chin toward the far, black mountain, and she knew he meant the orphanage beneath.
“Andrew Flint?” she asked.
“I still need to find him. It’s connected. It has to be.”
“It’s been decades, Michael. You saw how the orphanage is. Flint could be anywhere.”
“It’s a starting place. It’s something.”
Abigail glanced over her shoulder; she looked at the chopper, the men waiting for her. “Come with me,” she said. “There are no answers here. Julian needs us.”
“Do you remember what you said at the gate? How it’s hard going back to the place you’re from?”
“Yes.”
“I need to see it again. The halls. The rooms. Maybe I’ll get lucky with Flint.”
“What about Elena? Women get angry. They settle down. What do I tell her if she comes back?”
Michael glanced at the helicopter and felt an unexpected weight of emotion. He wanted on that chopper, and for an instant regretted every decision that had brought him to this place. They could be in Spain, by now, or on a beach in Australia. He felt Elena’s hand in his, imagined the small, bright spark she carried. “I’ll be back by tomorrow night. If she shows up, tell her that. Tell her I love her and to please wait.”
“Are you sure?”
“You should go.”
“Michael…”
“Go.”
“Okay.” She nodded in a small way, eyes unsure as the senator took her arm and led her to the helicopter. Falls gave them five seconds, then leaned in close to Michael, his anger unmistakable. “I can’t keep her safe if I don’t know where she is.”
Michael felt armor drop across his eyes. “She’s a big girl.”
“In a dangerous world, you arrogant, insensitive prick. She’s my responsibility, and has been for twenty-five years. Do you get that?”
“I was looking out for her.”
“Did it occur to you that there might be risks you don’t understand? Skills you don’t actually possess?”
“You’re going to miss your flight.”
Falls glanced back, saw that everyone was in the helicopter. He raised one finger. “Don’t take her away from me again.”
Michael watched him climb in beside the pilot and strap himself down. Abigail’s face was a pale, round blur as she lifted a hand in his direction. Michael waved back, conflicted. He knew what to do, but didn’t want to do it; needed Elena, yet was here. Michael told himself to get a grip, to chill out. He could still fix everything: Julian, Elena, the life they’d yet to make. But the comfort was illusory. Everything he loved was far away.
He dropped his hand as the helicopter lifted and turned. Its nose dipped, and it accelerated past the car, red paint flashing once and then gone in the dark.
Michael was alone with the mountain.
He drove back to Main Street and found a parking place between a diner and one of the open bars. Standing on the sidewalk, he checked his phone and willed it to ring. He glanced once at the mountain, a black hulk that blotted out the stars, then turned his back and called information. When the call was answered, he asked if there was an Andrew Flint in or around the town of Iron Mountain. Was told no. Unsurprised, he hung up the phone. Then, knowing that she would not answer, he dialed Elena’s cell and left a message.
And he thought that he could. If the circumstances were right. If the world changed, too.
Turning for the diner, Michael walked along the broken sidewalk, then swung in through the glass door. A small bell chimed, and the smell of buttered greens came like a memory. He took in the row of booths
