Chapter Ten
We left the country house before dawn and watched the sun rise as we headed toward the city. The apartment was quiet when I slipped inside, careful not to wake Gracie, I tiptoed to my bathroom to get ready. I had an hour before class, and while little things like lectures and homework seemed inconsequential, I needed to do them. My life had been turned upside down, and school was the only constant thing I had left to keep me grounded.
Three quarters through my last class, my stomach growled, and the girl next to me tossed a sideways glance in my direction. I shrugged it off, and as soon as we were dismissed, I headed to the Center for something to eat. It was crowded with students avoiding the cold, and I stood in line waiting to grab a muffin and coffee. I was digging for my wallet when someone stopped and stood uncomfortably close to my side, speaking before I had a chance to look up.
“That roommate of yours should go into criminal justice. She’s like a hound, at my door at seven in the morning asking me questions.”
Mack’s familiar voice was clearly annoyed. I ignored him and continued to dig through my bag, no longer sure of what I was looking for in the first place.
“She’s worried about me, that’s all.”
“Yeah, I got that.” He took a step closer, forcing me to either stare at his chest or crank my head back to look in his eyes. I did neither and instead resumed my quest for my wallet. My hand grasped it just as the person in front of me moved.
“Blueberry muffin and a large coffee, please. Black.” I pulled a few bills from my wallet, but Mack beat me to it, and the cashier took his money. “You don’t need to buy my lunch,” I said as she handed him back his change.
“This is not lunch,” he said. “This is a sorry excuse for breakfast, at best.”
I rolled my eyes. “I had a late night. I needed a pick-me-up,” I said as I tucked my money into my wallet.
“A pick-me-up would be a bacon cheeseburger and vanilla milkshake from Pappa’s Burgers. Have you been there? Phenomenal.”
I moved to the pick-up counter. “That’s not a snack. That’s an entire day’s worth of calories.”
He shrugged and the tone between us turned somber. “You look tired. I know this is a lot to take in, and I’m trying to give you space, but please don’t take off without telling me where you’re going. You have no idea how worried it makes me.”
I turned my back to him and watched the lady pour my coffee into a Styrofoam cup. “Your concern has a name, you know. It’s called stalking. I mean, do you do this to all the people you watch, or is just me?”
Mack took a step in front of me and blocked my view. “First of all, it’s not stalking, it’s my job. Second, I wasn’t concerned with your every unaccounted for move until someone tried to put a bullet in your head.”
“Here ya go, honey,” the heavy-set woman behind the counter said. I grabbed my lunch and moved toward the door. Outside, the temperature had dropped again, and a cool wind sliced the air, making me wish I’d put on a heavier sweater.
As I walked, Mack fell into step at my side and shoved his hands deep inside his pockets. When he didn’t say anything more, I shook my head. “Explain something to me. Why is the FBI involved in cases like mine anyway? I’m hardly a threat to national security.”
He didn’t say anything right away but led me toward a group of trees whose bare branches offered a bit of privacy. I pressed my back against one of the thick trunks and Mack folded his arms across his chest.
“You have a unique gift. One that, despite the FBI’s best efforts, no one really understands. We’ve done tests and conducted studies, but while all our subjects can, in essence, do the same thing, every single person we’ve encountered has had a different level of ability. Some can only see a single moment. Others see entire years. Do you have any idea what would happen if the wrong sort of people knew you could drift? Do you have any idea the ways they would try to use you for their benefit?”
My neck tingled with unease, and I straightened. “What do you mean, use me? How?”
He sighed and his hand lifted. “You can travel through time and see your past. Imagine if you could alter an event during your drift, or uncover lost information—you could change the present as we know it. The damage would be irreversible. It’s my job to make sure those kinds of things don’t happen. So, to amend your former statement, you are quite a threat to national security.”
“But I can’t do any of those things. I can only relive moments from my own past life. I can’t change anything.”
“Maybe not, but the truth is we don’t know what you’re capable of—not with any certainty. And if someone found out you could travel back, do you think that would stop them from seeing if you could? They would take you and test you until they broke you, stopping at nothing until they got what they wanted.”
My heart thudded a wild beat inside my chest. “You’re talking about people like Roselli.” I pushed myself off the tree, pacing a few steps before facing Mack.
“Normally, cases like yours don’t amount to much. The people closest to those that can drift believe they’re sick, mentally unstable. They’re no threat, and we leave it at that.”
A sharp huff of air escaped my lips. “You leave it at that.” I shook my head. “You mean you leave them to rot. Like my mother,” I said.
Mack’s scowl softened, and his green eyes dimmed with sympathy. “It’s better for the world to see them that way. People wouldn’t understand.”
His words sat on my shoulders, the truth in them ringing clear, but I didn’t respond.
“So, to answer your question, no, I don’t normally follow people like you around. Most times, it’s a quarterly check where I make sure their secret is safe. But your case is different. If James hadn’t painted that portrait, or if he’d painted your portrait but never the necklace, you wouldn’t even know my name or what I did. I’d be a phantom.”
I nodded and looked down at the muffin in my hand. Any appetite I’d had disappeared minutes ago. “But Roselli—he doesn’t know about me, he only knows about the painting.”
Mack stared at me for a moment. “How long before he finds James again? How long before he sees you with him? How long before he recognizes you from that portrait? And that’s assuming he hasn’t already.”
“I don’t know anything about that diamond. I can’t help him.”
“Do you think that matters? The minute he discovers you, he’ll be after you, and when he finds out you’re useless to him, he’ll kill you.”
I turned away from Mack and started toward the library. I needed time and space.
Mack fell into step beside me. “Please, stop walking away. This is important.”
“I’ve got to study.” I tossed my uneaten muffin into a garbage bin, my stomach too twisted to eat.
He stepped in front of me and pressed his hand to my shoulder. “I’m your last defense against Roselli, against people like him who will use you for God only knows what.”
My jaw dropped open. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Is it supposed to make me trust you?”
Mack considered me for a moment. “I know this is difficult.”
I looked away and across the gray-tinted campus, at the students whose lives seemed so simple, so carefree. “Difficult doesn’t begin to cover it. In a matter of weeks, I found out my mother wasn’t who I thought she was, that my father has been lying to me since who knows when, that a psychotic is after a diamond that evidently only I’ve seen…” I threw up my hands. “Oh, and they’ve got guns.”
“So do I,” Mack said, his voice low and firm.
I laughed and looked away. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better.” I sat on a metal bench and released my bag to the ground. “I have moments where I think everything’s fine. You know? Like I’m able to understand it all and know that it’s going to be okay.” I leaned against the bench and dropped my head back to look at the sky. “And then there’s times I feel crippled with fear just thinking about the night you shot that man, and what would’ve happened if you hadn’t.”
Mack shuffled to my side, but didn’t sit. “What classes do you have left?”
Talk about a shift in conversation. “None, but I was planning on studying. Why?”
“I was thinking you could use a breather. Let’s go blow off some steam.” He held his hand out to me.
“I can’t. I’d like to graduate this semester, and if that is going to happen, I need to stay ahead.”
“You’re really going to be able to concentrate in there?” He nodded to the library behind me.
I sagged in my own skin, knowing he was right.
“Just for an hour or two. I’ll drop you off here, and you can study until the sun goes down.” He held out his hand again, and I stared at it. It was an offering, an opportunity to escape. Picking up my bag, I placed it in Mack’s outstretched hand. He smiled and slung the bag over his shoulder, and we walked toward the parking lot.
Mack’s Tahoe was parked in the faculty section, and under the windshield wiper was a ticket.
“You need a pass to park here,” I said as I opened the door and slid inside.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” He opened the center console and tossed the ticket inside, and after winding our way through campus, we hit the freeway heading west.
“Where are we going?” I asked when we exited onto the feeder and pulled into a long driveway. I could see a building set far back on the property, and as we neared, I saw a metal sign bearing the name Elite Shot Indoor Gun Range.
“Somewhere we can blow off steam,” he said as he turned into a parking space.
“Mack, I’ve never held a gun in my life. I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
“Now that you’ve told me that, I think it’s the best idea I’ve had all day. Get out.”
I followed Mack into the building where he unholstered his gun and set it on the counter along with our IDs. He purchased a few things, one of them being bullets, and grabbed two pairs of ear plugs and some paper targets.
After a small amount of paperwork, we were sent through a rear door and into what looked like an underground concrete vault. There was a single hallway that ran alongside a row of individual shooting areas sectioned with concrete walls.
He turned into one of the concrete stalls and placed his gun and bullets on the small shelf that topped a waist-high wall. Above us was a pulley system that ran from the front of our lane all the way to the back of the building. Mack pinned a human silhouette to the clip provided and pressed a button, engaging a motor that moved the target about six feet from where we stood.
“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you live in Texas and have never held a gun?” He seemed baffled. “I thought all you Texas girls could shoot.”
I laughed. “This isn’t the Wild West. It’s not like I’ve ever needed one. I’ve never even seen a gun up close until—”
Mack stopped me with a grin. “Okay. So you’re not a cowboy, point taken.” Mack placed his gun flat in his hand so that I could see it. “This is a nine-millimeter, semi-automatic handgun. It means that once you pull this back”—Mack slid the top of the gun back, and released it back into place—“a bullet is loaded, and there’s no need to reload again. All you need to do is pull the trigger, release, and pull again. The gun will do all the work.”
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because everyone should know how to properly fire a handgun. Especially those that are around guns. Stand here.” He motioned to the small space behind the divider wall and laid his gun flat on the top.
“I don’t think so. I don’t want to touch it,” I said, staring at his semi-automatic something-or-other.
“Why?” Mack’s face twisted with confusion.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” I’d seen enough guns between my lives that I didn’t relish the idea of holding one.
“You don’t need to be afraid of something that could save your life if the opportunity presented itself.” I blew out a breath, and he went on. “Remember, guns are only as dangerous as the people holding them.”
“I’m never owning a gun, so this isn’t necessary.”
“Then think of this as a relaxation exercise.”
“You think that shooting this gun will help me relax?”
“No, not really. But I do think it will help you be less scared of what you aren’t familiar with. And being trained will help you feel more confident and less vulnerable.” He pointed to the spot just in front of him.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Then come here and prove me wrong.”
My heart did a cartwheel as I stepped to the front of the booth. “First things first,” he said. “Never, ever pick up a gun unless you’re prepared to use it.”
“Obviously,” I said, my throat dry and thick.
Mack disassembled the gun by pulling a piece from the bottom of the handle. “This is the magazine.” He turned it over so that I could see the top. “It holds the bullets.” He set it on the countertop before sliding the top of the gun backward to unload the bullet from the chamber. He did this several more times before he was satisfied it was empty. Picking up the magazine, he pressed the bullet he’d removed from the gun back in with the rest.
“Before we do anything, let’s talk about how you hold a gun.” He inched my feet apart about eighteen inches and talked to me about balance before picking up the unloaded gun and showing me how to hold my hands around the base. Mack stepped behind me. He was close, and his big body brushed mine as he adjusted my stance.
“Never put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Rest it here until you’re able to make your shot.” He guided my finger along the outside of the trigger mechanism. After I’d practiced picking the gun up several times, Mack took it from me and slid the magazine into the gun. He placed it flat on the countertop and gestured to it. “Show me how you hold it.”
I lifted the weapon and was surprised by its weight. On TV, shooters made it look so easy. I wrapped both hands around the base like Mack had shown me and extended my arms toward the target.
“Don’t lock your elbow,” he said as he made the adjustment to my arm. “You want firm control without being so rigid. Now, line up your sights.”
I nodded and looked down the barrel past the sights and to the target.
Mack stooped to my level, and I felt his cheek brush my hair when he said, “Whenever you’re ready, move your finger to the trigger and squeeze.”
My heart pumped thick clumps of blood, each beat louder than the last as I prepared to fire. Just before I pulled the trigger, I leaned away from my hands. The sound was loud and heavy, even with the protective ear plugs, and I was immediately embarrassed about the yelp that escaped my lips. I took a nervous step backward and hit the wall that was Mack’s chest.
He pulled the gun from my hands and righted me with ease. “Okay, not bad.” But his voice indicated otherwise. “Ready to try again?”
Mack’s green eyes were sparkling with laughter. My limbs felt like jelly, but the exhilaration or adrenaline or fear that was coursing through me made a smile shoot across my face and brought a laugh to the surface. I turned back to the target and looked for my mark.
“Did I even hit the target?”
“No, not even close, but here’s a hint. If you really want to hit the target, you should probably keep your eyes open.”
Another laugh surfaced, and I pushed against Mack’s chest. “I didn’t close my eyes.” He lifted a brow. “Okay, fine. Maybe I did, but no making fun.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” His eyes were wide with forced innocence. “I was merely making an observation.”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the target. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Show me what you got.”
Mack handed me the gun, and I set my hands before lining up my sights. I fired, this time prepared for the light kick, and was able to hold my ground with just a slight lift of my forearms after the discharge.
The upper right corner of the target bore a small hole. I set down the gun. “I hit it,” I said. “Do you see that?”
“Much improved. Now, let’s see if you can hit the silhouette this time.” I felt the laughter in Mack’s chest as he spoke, but I didn’t care because the sense of accomplishment outweighed any embarrassment at my lack in accuracy.
We took turns shooting, and with every shot I felt more confident. By the end of my lesson, I was consistently able to shoot the silhouette—never in the same spot, but I hit it nonetheless.
I handed the gun to Mack and shook my hands with a mix of excitement and nerves.
“Not bad,” he said as he holstered his gun. “You’re a quick learner. Remind me to lock up my firearms next time you’re mad at me.”
“I am still mad at you, by the way.”
“Really?” His voice was disbelieving. “It seemed like we were getting along just fine.” His lips curled into a smile, and I couldn’t keep mine from doing the same.
“It was a nice change of pace.”
He was the first to look away, and somber lines furrowed his brow. “I know this has to be hard for you. I wish I could fix it. More than anything.”
Any lingering excitement of my accomplishments today fell as the weight of his words settled over me. His entire countenance had changed, and the severity in his voice made me think that there was something else there, something he wasn’t telling me.
Mack systematically packed his things while I fiddled with an empty shell casing. “Is there a way to stop it? My drift?”
Without looking up from his task, he said, “Maybe.”
I sucked in a hopeful breath. “How?”
Mack frowned. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’ve only seen it happen once. Everyone else I know that has drifted like you…they’ve died. You have to take that seriously.”
“But if there’s another way?”
He cracked his knuckles. “I said your drift is a result of a scar. Something that wounded you so deeply death couldn’t erase it. You need to figure out what that was, and if you can fix it—there might be a chance you can stop it.”
We drove in silence back to campus where Mack dropped me at my car. I didn’t get out right away. My mind was running a mile a minute, still digesting what he’d revealed, while Mack sat gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. Maybe I wasn’t the only one with distracted thoughts.
“Thanks for today. I didn’t know how much I needed that,” I said.
He propped an elbow on the doorframe and leaned his head into his hand, facing me. “It was good to see you smile. I haven’t seen that since the day I moved in.”
I played with the edge of my sweater. “It’s been wild, hasn’t it?”
“You could say that.”
“I bet you wish you never met me.”
Mack leaned toward me with his head tilted down and his eyebrows drawn together. “Don’t say that. As much as I wish things were different, I’m glad I found you.”
There it was, again. The heavy side of his words that made me question what he was trying to tell me. Sliding out of the SUV, I gave him a smile before I shut the door, but it was forced. I couldn’t rid myself of this nagging feeling that hinted I was overlooking something big.
At home, the sensation only intensified, keeping me awake well into the night. Giving up on sleep, I turned on my lamp. I stared at the silhouette I’d brought home from the range, and the periphery of my vision dimmed. One moment, I was here in the present, but in the next, my drift swept in and pulled me into the past.
Colin and I didn’t speak the entire drive to Houston. We were silent partners fleeing another life. Grief clawed at me and screamed that I was making the wrong choice, but James had told me to run. He’d told me to hide. Wasn’t that what I was doing? Wasn’t I following his last request to the letter?
I shook my head, knowing he probably wouldn’t have wanted to me to take off with a complete stranger, but what choice did I have? I didn’t have any money or a family. James was it. He was all I had, and now that he was gone, there was nothing left for me in Galveston.
Only when my silent tears gave birth to an audible sob did Colin move. His pressed a tentative hand against mine in a gesture meant to comfort, but all it did was encourage my grief. I didn’t deserve kindness, not his or any other. I pulled away and crossed my arms over my chest, in part to quiet the shaking, and in part to close the hole widening in my heart.
How was I supposed to go on? How was I supposed to forget that I’d left him? He wouldn’t have done the same to me. He’d have stayed and faced whatever consequences there were. I gripped myself tighter and rocked back and forth, hating myself more with every passing mile until I fell asleep.
I didn’t know how long it was before Colin parked the car, but daylight had crept into the sky and through my closed eyelids.
“I’ll be back. Stay right here,” he said.
The door shut, and I opened my eyes. We were parked across the street from a towering building. The sign at the top of a lower terrace read Rice Hotel. I glanced at Colin, who stared up at the building with his back toward me. He adjusted his hat, a straw boater, before taking long strides toward the building.
Once he disappeared inside, I looked down at my lap. My dress was rumpled beyond repair, and the salt from the ocean had dried on my skin, leaving a rough, white residue. My hands, while mostly clean, had blood caked in the crevices of my fingers and nails, but no matter how hard I rubbed, I couldn’t remove it all.
I wanted to rip at my dress and pull my hair out from the roots. I dropped my chest over my knees and bit at my fingers to keep my screams inside, but the harder I tried to restrain them the wider the hole in my heart stretched.
My car door opened slowly, and I sat up. “I want to go back. I need to go back.” My voice was calmer than I felt.
From my peripheral vision, I saw Colin lift his slacks before sitting on his heels at my side. I closed my eyes and turned away.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“He wouldn’t have left me like that.” I pressed a hand to my mouth.
Colin let out a long breath of air. “But is going back, and possibly ending up like him, what he would want?”
I crumpled and shook my head. No. James would want me to live. But if it was the right thing, why did it feel so wrong? Colin extended a hand to help me from the car. I placed my palm in his and watched as his long fingers enveloped mine with care.
When I stepped from the car, his hands moved to my shoulders, and straightened his jacket, which I still wore. I pulled the edges and tried to cover as much of my disarray as possible while he pushed my hair back and behind my ears.
“Are you ready to go inside?” he asked as he placed his hat on my head.
I shook my head no. “Yes,” I said.
“I checked us in under Mr. and Mrs. Faust. I thought it would be better to say we were married.”
The hole expanded. I was married without ever having taken a vow. I was innocent but had seen horrors I’d never forget. Colin turned to face the hotel and offered me his arm. I stared at the crook of his elbow and threaded my hand through to rest my bloody fingers on his bicep.
“Shall we?” he asked.
I nodded and looked up at Colin for the first time. The early morning sun lit the sky behind him, and turned his red hair into a halo of sun-fired color. His lips turned up in a sort of sad smile that crinkled the skin around his green eyes.
“I’m ready,” I said, and we walked in as a couple for the very first time.