“Are you mad at me?” Talia whispers.
“No, sweet—” I was going to call her sweetie, but God. Sweet ruined that endearment for a lot of people. “I have something I want to talk to you about, and I don’t want to be driving when I do.”
Two minutes later, I pull into a roadside rest stop and park at the end of the parking lot. We both get out and stretch. It’s a beautiful day. Old Harbor’s blizzard never reached this far west, and several travelers are getting some air before driving the last leg into the city.
Through a few inches of snow, we walk past a playground with children playing, their parents hoping to tire them out enough to nap the rest of the way.
We sit on a bench that looks over a wooded area where a dog and his owner are playing with a Frisbee.
I tell her about what Barney told me, how he suspects his niece went in for candy and came out with something else.
“It sounds a lot like what you and Serena did,” I say, staring straight ahead to give her privacy to absorb the information.
She strangles out a cry, a hand over her mouth. “It’s not my fault.”
“Hey,” I say, grabbing her arm, and she looks at me. “It wasneveryour fault. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to a party, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten drunk, but what you did that night, thousands of kids do everywhere, all the time. It wasn’t your fault. I know you think you deserve the blame, but all you did was go in and buy some candy. How many children has she hooked? How many kids go through withdrawal after eating something from her store, and their parents don’t know what’s happening?”
Talia collapses in my arms, sobbing into my chest. I hold her for a long time, running my hand over the back of her head, her hair color an exact match to mine.
I know this theory might not be correct, or even provable, but the way it makes sense is scary. Stevie creates her own customers for her own drug supply.
Talia lifts her head and rubs her cheeks. “You have to stop her.”
I’m shaking my head before she’s done speaking. “Nope, nope, and nope. I tried, I failed. I’m not going up against her again. I’m in love with Rick, and I want to marry him. I’m not going to do anything dangerous that could keep that from happening because I was stupid and got hurt.”
“But—”
“No. You remember how she ran me out of Cedar Hill. She turned the whole city against me. I don’t have the power to go after her alone, and no one believes me except for an old newspaper editor in a small northern Minnesota city. Those aren’t great odds.”
She deflates and rests her back against the bench.
“Sometimes you have to learn from your mistakes. I learned from mine. I can’t think about everybody, all the time. You know that. I have to take care of the people close to me. That’s you. And now Rick. I wouldn’t even be spending time in Cedar Hill at all if it wasn’t important.”
“I wish there were a way.”
“I wish there were, too, but not at your expense, and not at mine. Okay? She’s dangerous, and she’s playing a game we can’t win. Come on. We have a couple of hours left, and I need you to call for a hotel reservation somewhere for us for the next few nights. I don’t know how long this is going to take. The less time, the better. I already want to go home.”
“To Old Harbor, you mean,” she says, a hint of a smile on her mouth.
“Yeah,” I agree softly.
“I love you, Devyn,” she says, pushing her face into my arm.
“I love you, too, and you willalwayshave a place in my life. I promise.”
“Now what?” Talia asks as we stand in the lobby of Rick’s building, M&H Development. A bank of elevators sits at the rear, four of them busy around the lunch hour. Going through security was a familiar experience, reminding me of every morning I’d go to the Times offices. Talia, too, was quick. The rehab facility had had a no tolerance policy, and the residents were checked frequently for weapons and drugs.
Now we stand with visitor badges hanging from around our necks, trying to figure out what to do and where to go. Beau’s office is located on the thirty-third floor. Co-Chief Executive Officer, Beaumont Hendrickson.
“Go up and ask. That’s all we can do. If Beau won’t see us, then we’ll have to do some investigating on our own. I still have some friends at the Times but going to the public library first might be a better bet. I don’t want to involve anyone I don’t have to.”
I tried to dress the part of a professional reporter: black high-heeled boots, black slacks, cream blouse and black wool jacket, my hair twisted into a bun fastened with a black elastic. Talia dressed up too, in her school clothes. Over-the-leg boots, black leggings, dressy sweater, coat, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, earrings glinting at her ears.
We look like we belong, so that’s a start.
I never used to feel claustrophobic in an elevator, but I twitch, remembering the last few days I had in Cedar Hill, and I imagine everyone is staring at me, knowing exactly who I am and what I did.
It’s a relief when the lift stops on the top floor, and I’m able to breathe.