37

Salem, Massachusetts

“It was the same guy from the Art Institute in Minneapolis.” Bel was chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know what he was doing at the Institute or in the freaking Hawthorne lobby in Salem, Massachusetts, but it was him both times, I promise. Chubby Ed ­Harris–looking guy.”

“Forget Ed Harris,” Salem said. “Who was the snake-eyed woman?”

The cab was currying them to the Enterprise Rental on Canal Street. The cabbie had assured them she was driving as fast as she could. It didn’t stop Salem from wanting to strap jet packs to the roof and rocket them across town.

“I wish I knew. Maybe we’re being followed by a brother and sister? That would explain why they have the same eyes.” Bel touched the outline of her handgun. She’d assured Salem that she could carry the piece across state lines as long as she kept proof of her law enforcement status handy. Salem didn’t like guns, but she was happy to make an exception in Bel’s case. Their situation had gone from upside-down to deadly.

Salem started her fingernail-rubbing routine. “Maybe we’re just being paranoid? I’ve read about heightened stress causing delusions.”

“Paranoia might be all that keeps us alive here.”

Salem flinched. “If what Ernest said was true, it didn’t work for our moms. At least for one of them.”

“I won’t believe that without proof.”

But they both settled into the heavy blackness of the possibility. It had the ring of truth, as did every word Ernest Mayfair had uttered. It was simply too large to process all at once, though Salem had tried to fit those words into the slots that would elicit the correct emotions. Conspiracy. Hermitage. Underground. Death.

She cleared her throat. “I think it was a mistake not to talk to Agent Stone back in Minneapolis. Or here. My mom said not to trust anyone, but we have to trust someone.”

Bel shrugged. “No looking back, only forward. Besides, I don’t like that Stone showed up in Salem, and that he was in the lobby the same time as the snake-eyed woman and Ed Harris. There’s no good reason for the FBI to be following us.”

“Are you thinking about what Ernest said about the Hermitage having a plant in the FBI?”

Bel ran her hand over her face. “I’m thinking about your mom’s warning. I intend to beware. We both should.”

Salem hugged herself and glanced out the window at the bayside city sliding past. One two three breathe. They would look forward, not back. They would talk about things as if both Grace and Bel’s mom were both alive, because the alternative would hurt too much. One two three breathe. Wherever the messages took them, they would follow, because her mother had set them on this trail. One two three breathe.

“He looked pissed,” Bel mused.

“Who?”

“The Ed Harris guy. But not at us. At Agent Stone.”

“Think they know each other?”

“Stone for sure has a partner. Could be him. But right before the Ed Harris guy looked pissed to see Stone, he looked surprised to see him. Just for a split second.”

Salem rubbed her eyes. Blinked. Her vision was blurry. When was the last time she’d slept? Two days ago? Three? She took a whiff of her armpit. Definitely past due for a shower. She envied Bel’s rapidly drying silken hair.

The cab stopped abruptly in front of a strip mall, the force of the sudden halt banging Salem into the seat back.

The driver clicked a button on her meter. “Here you are.”

Salem handed her a ten, told her to keep the change, and squeaked out with her and Bel’s duffels in hand, rubbing her shoulder where it had hit the seat. She slammed the door and glanced around. Bel did the same. They stood in front of a Jackson Hewitt Tax Service. A Family Dollar was around the north corner, occupying most of the strip mall. On the south side, a white garage with shredded paint leaned against a graffiti-stained warehouse.

The setting sun turned the sky a dull red.

Besides one car parked in the strip mall lot, the neighborhood was deserted. Salem knocked on the cab door. “Hey, I don’t see—”

But the cab sped off. Salem had to hop to keep from having her toes run over. “Dangit!”

“Over here,” Bel said, jogging north. “The Enterprise is right around the corner, tucked behind the—”

Her words were cut off as a shadow separated itself from the bushes and stalked toward her.