Mint Baxter: Ms. Briarlane. It’s me, Mint. I wasn’t going to text you again so soon, but things have gotten kind of heavy with my parents. I know you’re in Brazil, but you told me I could text you and you’d respond as soon as you had cell service at your camp. I need to talk to you. Please text or call me back when you can.
Camille Briarlane: I’m sorry, Mint. I’m very busy with my new projects. We can speak when I return.
Veronica Singer: You had to have landed a while ago. Text me and let me know you weren’t eaten by angry Amazon tiger things.
Camille Briarlane: Everything here is fine. I’ll text when I can.
Link Stewart: I miss you, baby. How was your flight? I love you.
Camille Briarlane: Great. Won’t have much cell service. Will text when I can.
Leaving Link hanging gave me a delicious sense of satisfaction. The other two would be easy enough to throw off the scent. Link was the only real threat to my plan, but he’d stay in the dark just as he’d done for most of his senseless life. Once satisfied with my subterfuge, I switched to reviewing contract documents for timberland deals, but my eyes couldn’t focus on the endless legal terms, not when she was so near. I started off just stealing glances, but when I’d realized she was engulfed in her book, I’d stared.
A loud crash of shattering glass shot down the hallway from the opposite wing.
She jumped and peered at me with troubled eyes. “What was that?”
“Nothing to worry about.”
A few shouts and then the sound of hastily approaching footsteps tapped down the long back hall.
“Mr. Lindstrom?” Timothy knocked at the library door.
Bitter to give up my view, I rose and strode out into the hall and closed the door behind me. “What was that?”
“Some of the workmen dropped the final wall pane.” His light eyes had dark circles beneath them. “It shattered, but they have another to replace it.”
“It has to be finished tomorrow.”
“It will be.” He glanced at the door behind me. “How’s she doing?”
“I think she’s getting used to—”
My phone vibrated, and an incessant beeping raised the hackles on the back of my neck. “Fuck.”
I swung the library door open just in time to see her jump out the window and take off across the lawn.
A thrill coursed through my veins, and a buzz started in my brain. The need to chase her overrode every other concern. Even though she had nowhere to go, I still wanted to track her down and drag her back so she’d know there was no other reality but this one. And I would.
Timothy blanched as he stared into the empty library. “Shall I—”
“No.” I flexed my fists. “I’ll handle it.” Striding past him, I pushed out the door to the pool and skirted it on my way to the rear door beyond the waterfall. The cold air greeted me with a bitter chill as I walked into the cloudless day. Turning right, I entered the code to raise the rear garage door. The lights overhead clicked on as soon as it opened. Motorcycles and ATVs filled the room, with the car garage along the other wing of the house.
I chose the nearest ATV, a black four-wheeler. Slinging a leg over the leather seat, I started it up, the engine coughing and then purring to life. Guiding it from the garage, I hit the grass and stopped, just watching her in the distance. She ran hard, desperate to escape me. The fissure in my chest opened again, lava surrounding my heart and charring the edges. No amount of antacids could cure the feelings she brought to my surface. Though I couldn’t be sure, I suspected the feeling was a mix of rage and pain. My phone vibrated and beeped a different set of sounds, telling me that she’d passed the first barrier away from the house.
What she didn’t understand was that there were six more barriers, each one farther than the last. I gunned the engine and leaned forward as I raced across the sea of grass. Her retreating form pulled me forward like an arrow. The ache in my chest intensified. I had to have her.
She aimed for the tree line, seeking shelter in the foothills of the Catskills. I rocketed through the chill air, straight toward my prey. Her hair flew out behind her in a golden ribbon, and she chanced a look over her shoulder.
I couldn’t see her face, but I imagined the panic that must have widened her eyes, perhaps made her jaw go slack. Instead of giving up, she poured more fuel on her fire, her legs pumping as she pushed herself toward the woods. She wouldn’t make it. A hundred yards dwindled to fifty. Then less.