Part 25 (1/2)
Where are you going?”
”Business,” he said.
”What was Miss LaBarge looking for in Breaker Chasm, Vermont?”
”I don't know,” he answered. ”Which is why it's important that I keep things in order. You can't just take things like this and leave them about the house. What if they'd gotten thrown out? Misplaced? We would have lost the only clues we have.” He snapped his briefcase shut. ”This isn't a game. People are dying. Monitors are dying. I don't think your friend Eleanor would be amused by whatever half-hatched theory you've come up with. So I would suggest you save your childish endeavors for the dormitories.”
That night, it started to snow. I ate dinner alone, sitting at the end of the long dining room table while Dustin stood in the corner, his hands clasped behind his back.
”If I may, Miss Renee,” he said as I picked at my duck. ”I believe Breaker Chasm is in the part of the lake country that many people believe is haunted.”
”Haunted?” I repeated.
”I believe so.”
That's when I felt it. At first it was subtle. Just a slight chill tickling my ankles. And then it moved, traveling up beneath the table to my arms, my shoulders, my neck.
I dropped my fork. It clattered against my plate and fell to the floor. The air around me seemed to rearrange itself into his name: Dante. But it couldn't be. He wouldn't be here; it was too dangerous.
Dustin stared at me. ”Miss Renee, is everything all right?”
Shaking myself to attention, I nodded and reached under the table to pick up my fork. A draft must have snuck in through an upstairs window. Except we were deep into the Ma.s.sachusetts winter; none of the windows were open. Could he really be here?
It was too dark to see anything out the window, except for the snow collecting on the panes, but I could still feel him.
”I'm finished,” I said, picking up my plate. I had to go outside and see if he was there.
”But you've barely touched your food,” Dustin said, concerned. ”Come, just a few more bites?” He must have seen me glance out the window, because he continued. ”Is there something outside?” he said, following my gaze. ”I can call the gardener to fetch it for you.”
”No,” I said quickly. ”I was just admiring the snow,” I said, and sat back down, not wanting to draw his attention to Dante.
After dinner I stayed up with Dustin, watching late-night talk shows until he nodded off, his head in his hand as he leaned on the arm of the sofa. Tiptoeing across the room, I turned off the television. The room went dark, save for the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. I crept out, up the stairs, and into my room.
Before I could turn on the lights, a cold hand covered my mouth and pulled me inside, the door clicking shut behind me.
”I didn't want you to scream,” a deep voice said.
My body went rigid. Dante. He was here, in my bedroom, his chest expanding against my back as he breathed. I could smell the sap on his clothes; I could hear the branches tapping on the windowpanes in rhythm with his heart.
When he released me, I backed away from him. Framed in the doorway of my closet, he looked like a mannequin. Tall, pale, and too perfect to be real, his broad shoulders stiff beneath his sweater.
He pushed a loose lock of hair behind his ear. ”Why are you looking at me like that?” he said, his voice gentle. He moved toward me, but I stepped away.
His smile faded. ”What's wrong?”
”Where have you been?”
”I was moving around,” he said, offering me the same answer he always did.
”But where?”
He frowned, his forehead wrinkling into delicate lines. ”Why does it matter? I'm here now.”
”Why does it matter?” I breathed. ”I've been trying to find you for months. I've been waiting for you, not knowing where you were or what you were doing. You know everything about me, but I know nothing about you. Do you know how that feels?”
”Don't say that,” he said, hurt. ”You know me better than anyone.”
”It doesn't feel that way.”
”I'm sorry,” he said, his eyes a soft brown. ”I was in Vermont. A town called Breaker Chasm. I haven't been telling you because I thought it would be safer if you didn't know.”
I leaned against my bedpost. ”Breaker Chasm?” I said miserably, the words deteriorating as they left my mouth.
He nodded. ”Do you know it?”
”No,” I whispered. ”What-what were you doing there?”
Dante hesitated. ”I was in hiding,” he said. ”Like I told you I was.”
My lip began to quiver. I bit it and turned away, hoping he hadn't seen. ”What do you do when you're in hiding?”
”I've been searching for an answer for us,” he said, beginning to grow worried. ”You know that.”
I gripped the bedpost. ”Searching where? In mailboxes?”
A flash of recognition pa.s.sed over him. ”Mailboxes?”
”Eleanor's mother is dead,” I said.
”What?” he said, confused. ”How do you know?”
”Don't pretend like it's a surprise,” I said. ”You went to a farmhouse and took a piece of paper from the mailbox. It had Cindy Bell's name on it.”
”It's not what it seems,” Dante said, guilt etching itself into his face as he stepped toward me. But when he saw me grow rigid, he stopped.
”What was it, then? Why did you go there? What did you do with that slip of paper?”
Dante gripped the edge of the dresser. ”Please,” he said. ”Don't ask me these questions.”
”Why not? I have a right to know.”
”You don't understand,” he said. ”If I tell you, I'll be putting you in danger.”
”Why?” I closed my hand into a fist to stop it from shaking. ”What kind of danger?”
Dante searched for an answer. ”I can't-”
Suddenly I was crying. ”Did you kill her?” I said, so softly I wasn't sure he heard me. ”Did you kill Eleanor's mother?”
”No,” he said, his voice wavering. ”Of course I didn't. You know I couldn't.”