Hourglass (Hourglass 1)

After a thorough hand scrub in my bathroom sink, I threw some essentials and dark clothing—in case I needed to blend—into a bag, as well as the binder Michael told me not to let out of my sight. I twisted up my hair to keep it out of my face before stopping in the freshly tidied kitchen to pour my coffee into a travel mug. I wrote a quick note for Thomas and Dru and left the loft with Michael’s card in my hand.

Thomas had installed GPS in Dru’s SUV for her birthday. All I had to do was enter in the address listed on the business card. I checked the gas gauge, then took a deep breath, putting the vehicle in reverse. I was a decent driver, but I didn’t do it very often. Good thing driving a car was like riding a bicycle.

Or whatever.

Jack. If he wasn’t a rip, what was he? What if he’d existed for so long that he picked up some matter along the way? If that was the case, why hadn’t Scarlett been semisolid, too?

I could ask Michael, but for reasons I didn’t exactly understand, I wanted to keep Jack to myself. My face grew hot just thinking about it.

I’d expected the Hourglass to be in some kind of an office building. Instead, the GPS system led me through downtown to rolling green farmland and rural country estates. I lowered my window to let in the breeze, along with the smell of harvested hay and other earthy things. Soon, the GPS indicated I’d reached my destination, and I stopped, noting the property was lined with a stone fence guarded by an iron gate. It stood open.

Tall oaks blocked the view from the main road. A gravel drive curved beneath them, leading to something I couldn’t see.

I’d have to take a chance.

One benefit of being a survivor was that there was no fear when it came to taking risks. What could happen? I could go to jail for trespassing. Couldn’t be worse than a mental hospital. Whoever lived behind the stone fence could capture me and hold me prisoner while performing experiments on me. Not unlike a mental hospital. I hesitated, my turn signal blinking so brightly it felt like a beacon for the security officers and guard dogs I imagined hiding just beyond the property line.

I needed answers.

I needed to know if Michael was telling me the truth—and what he was still hiding.

I took a deep breath and drove through the gate.

Chapter 20

Wondering if I had entered the wrong address in the GPS, I looked at the business card again to make sure I was in the right place. A Greek Revival style plantation house spread out in front of me—big, rambling, and red brick, with tall white columns flanking the wide front door. No armed guards, no dogs, nothing like I expected. Part of the driveway extended past the house, creating a small parking area under some trees.

After I pulled in, I decided in my typical fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants fashion that if anyone asked, I was going to be “lost.” I hoped no one would have the opportunity to look in the car. Lost and a fancy GPS system didn’t go together. I decided to case the joint—since I was such a superspy and all.

Sliding out of the car into the humidity, I hurried to hide myself behind the trees. The sunset burned orange on the edge of the horizon, all Creamsicle and heat. In the scant amount of daylight left, the outline of a stable as well as some other outbuildings rose against the backdrop of dark forest.

I crept closer.

Perspiration formed at the base of my neck and ran down my back as I slid along the side of the house, ducking at the occasional low window. The effort I expended to stay quiet combined with the heavy air made me glad I’d pulled my hair up. Once I reached the corner of the house, I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe my forehead. The leaves might be changing, but it didn’t feel like fall was almost here.

The back of the property reminded me of one of those grandiose 1980s television shows I had seen in reruns. A well-lit lap pool was lined by pencil-thin evergreens in urns. Four columns stood at each corner of the Italian ceramic tile patio. A three-tiered stone terrace extended from the back of the house. Tiny café tables with matching chairs and plush outdoor furniture were scattered about, along with electric torches and more evergreens in urns. It certainly didn’t feel like Top Secret Time Travel Headquarters.

I ducked behind a retaining wall when I heard voices. I could barely make out the shape of two people at the other end of the patio. They were leaning over the railing, and their voices carried. Distinctly male.

One stood out.

Michael.

Moving closer, I placed my back against the stone retaining wall and slid down into a sitting position. Might as well get comfortable. As comfortable as I could get against rocks.

“So what’s she like?” asked the voice I didn’t recognize.

“Frustrating. Unbelievable.” Michael sighed. “More than I ever thought possible.”

There was a brief silence. “What does she know?”

“Pretty much everything, except why I need her.”

“How did she take it?”

“How do you think she took it? How would you?”

I stiffened. I had a feeling I knew who they were talking about.