In the middle of my thoughts, the intercom above Miss Jarbowski’s desk buzzed. The secretary’s voice came through, carefully measured.
“Miss Jarbowski? Pardon the interruption. Would you please send Nora Grey to the attendance office?” A touch of sympathy crept into her tone.
Miss Jarbowski tapped her foot impatiently, apparently not appreciating being cut off midsentence. She flicked her hand in my direction. “Take your things, Nora. I don’t think you’ll make it back before the bell.”
I scooped my textbook into my backpack and headed for the door, wondering what this was all about. I knew of only two reasons students were called to the attendance office. For ditching, and for excused absences. As far as I knew, neither applied to me.
At the attendance office, I tugged on the door, and that’s when I saw him. Hank Millar sat in the lounge, his shoulders hunched, his expression haggard. His chin was propped on his fist, and his eyes stared blankly ahead.
Reflexively I backed away. But Hank saw me and immediately rose to his feet. The deep sympathy etched on his face wrung my stomach sick.
“What is it?” I found myself stammering.
He avoided looking directly at me. “There’s been an accident.”
His words rattled around inside me. My initial thought was, why would I care if Hank had been in an accident? And why had he come all the way to school to tell me?
“Your mom fell down the stairs. She was wearing heels and lost her balance. She has a concussion.”
A tide of panic crashed over me. I said something that might have been no or now. No, this couldn’t be happening. I needed to see my mom now. All of a sudden I regretted every sharp word I’d said to her these past couple of weeks. My worst fears came crawling in from every direction. I’d already lost my dad. If I lost my mom …
“How serious is it?” My voice wobbled. Deep down, I knew I didn’t want to cry in front of Hank. A trivial matter of pride that shattered the moment I pictured my mom’s face. I shut my eyes, trapping the tears.
“When I left the hospital, they couldn’t tell me anything. I came straight here to get you. I’ve already signed you out with the attendance secretary,” Hank explained. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
He held the door for me, and I mechanically ducked under his arm. I felt my feet carry me down the hall. Outside, the sun was too bright. I wondered if I would remember this day forever. I wondered if I would have reason to look back on it and feel the same intolerable emotions I’d felt upon learning my dad had been murdered — confusion, bitterness, helplessness. Abandonment. I choked, no longer able to hold back a sob.
Hank unlocked his Land Cruiser without a word. He raised his hand once, as if to give my shoulder a consoling squeeze, then made a fist and dropped it.
And that’s when it hit me. Things were looking a little too convenient. Maybe it was my natural aversion to Hank, but it crossed my mind that he could be lying to get me inside his car.
“I want to call the hospital,” I said abruptly. “I want to see if they have an update.”
Hank frowned. “We’re on our way there now. In ten minutes, you can talk to her doctor in person.”
“Excuse me if I’m a little worried, but this is my mom we’re talking about,” I said softly, but with unmistakable firmness.
Hank dialed a number on his phone and handed it to me. The hospital’s automated system picked up, asking me to listen carefully to the following options, or stay on the line for an operator. A minute later I was connected with an operator.
“Can you tell me if Blythe Grey was admitted today?” I asked the woman, avoiding Hank’s gaze.
“Yes, we have a Blythe Grey on record.”
I exhaled. Just because Hank hadn’t lied about my mom’s accident didn’t mean he was innocent. All these years living in the farmhouse, and never once had she fallen down the stairs. “This is her daughter. Can you give me an update on her condition?”
“I can leave a message for her doctor to call you.”
“Thanks,” I said, leaving my cell phone number.
“Any news?” Hank asked.
“How do you know she fell down the stairs?” I quizzed him. “Did you see her fall?”
“We’d arranged to meet for lunch. When she didn’t answer the door, I let myself in. That’s when I found her at the bottom of the stairs.” If he detected any suspicion in my voice, he didn’t show it. If anything, he sounded morose, loosening his tie and wiping sweat off his brow.
“If anything happens to her …,” he muttered to himself, but didn’t finish the thought. “Should we go?”
Get into the car, a voice inside my head commanded. Just like that, my mind emptied of all suspicion. I could grasp only one thought: I needed to go with Hank.
There was something strange about the voice, but I couldn’t place it through my muddled mind. All my reasoning power seemed to float away, making room for that one continuous order: Get into the car.
I looked at Hank, who blinked benignly. I had the impulse to accuse him of something, but why should I? He was here to help. He cared about my mom….
Obediently, I slid inside the Land Cruiser.
I didn’t know how long we rode in silence. My thoughts were a whirlwind, until suddenly Hank cleared his voice. “I want you to know she’s in the best hands. I requested that Dr. Howlett oversee her care. Dr. Howlett and I were roommates at the University of Maine before he went on to Johns Hopkins.”
Dr. Howlett. I juggled his name a moment — and then it came to me. He was the doctor who’d cared for me after I first returned home. After Hank saw fit to return me, I corrected myself. And now it turned out Hank and Dr. Howlett were friends? Any numbness I felt was quickly eclipsed by anxiety. I felt a swift and instant distrust of Dr. Howlett.
As I was frantically considering the connection between the two men, a car pulled up beside Hank’s. For one split moment, I didn’t see anything wrong with the picture — and then the car slammed into the Land Cruiser.
The Land Cruiser careened sideways, grating against the guardrail. A shower of sparks flew from the scraping metal. I barely had time to yelp when we were battered again. Hank overcorrected, the rear of the Land Cruiser fishtailing violently.
“They’re trying to run us off the road!” Hank yelled. “Get your seat belt on!”
“Who are they?” I shrieked, double-checking that my seat belt was fastened.
Hank jerked the wheel to avoid another hit, and the abrupt movement jarred my attention back to the road ahead; it curved sharply to the left as we approached a deep ravine. Hank stomped the gas, trying to outrace the other car, a tan El Camino. The El Camino gunned forward, swerving into the lane ahead. Three heads were visible through the windshield, and from what I could tell, all were male.
An image of Gabe, Dominic, and Jeremiah flashed to mind. It was pure speculation, since I couldn’t make out their faces, but even the mere suggestion caused me to yell out.
“Stop the car!” I shouted. “It’s a trap. Put the car in reverse!”
“They destroyed my car!” Hank snarled, accelerating into a chase.
The El Camino screeched around the bend, skidding across the solid white line. Hank followed, veering dangerously close to the guardrail. The shoulder of the road dropped away, plunging into the ravine. From way up here, it looked like a giant bowl of air, with Hank racing recklessly along the rim. My stomach turned circles, and I clutched the armrest.
The El Camino’s taillights blazed red.
“Look out!” I screamed. I flattened one hand to the window and the other against Hank’s shoulder, trying to stop the inevitable.