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Halifax, June 18
8:49 p.m.
The shudders had stopped. The tears had stopped. And Seth sat there on the living room floor, drained of emotion. He felt dead, an empty shell of skin and bones.
He saw Lily on the other side of the room, sitting her Barbies around a little kitchen table inside her toy townhouse. Every so often, she looked over at him and smiled. Oh, Christ, she had the most beautiful smile. Just like Camille’s.
Seth stared at her for a long time. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the wall behind him.
Dr. Somerville had been right—posttraumatic stress could do nasty shit to your brain. Alter your sense of reality. Make you hear things. Make you see things that weren’t there. Make you wake up screaming at night. Throw your mind into complete turmoil.
But the mental fog had lifted, and everything was clear now. Seth realized he had avoided facing Lily’s death by creating a false world where she remained alive and he protected her. Protected her from the monsters and predators lurking beyond these walls. Protected her from the men in scary masks. It was the only way he could cope with the guilt tearing him apart. He had let the ugliness of the world come into his house and steal away his baby.
And when he opened his eyes again, Lily was gone. Gone like she should be. Her Barbies sat around their little table, having tea and cookies, or whatever her imagination had had them doing when she last played with them so many months ago.
The phone rang, and Seth looked at the clock on the wall, 8:56. It would be Dana, he knew, calling to check on him. Late by an hour.
At the fifth ring, the answering machine kicked in. Camille’s haunting voice on the recorded message sounded in the room, and it bristled the hairs on the back of his neck. He felt fresh emotion swelling in his chest.
Dana’s voice shot over Camille’s. “Seth, are you there?” she said. “Pick up, please. Pick up. Pick up. Seth. Pick—”
The beep cut her off.
Seth knew he’d better return her call before she hopped in her car and headed for Halifax.
He got to his feet and went into the kitchen. His pills were scattered all over the counter. A glass lay broken in the sink.
He picked the cordless phone off the floor where he’d dropped it earlier. As he began punching Dana’s number, he noticed a car roll up in front of the house. It was black with tinted windows and bronze rims. The emblem by the door belonged to Saturn.
He set the phone down by the sink, staring out through the window. He noticed a navy-blue Impala parked on the other side of the Mazda he’d rented. Two men appeared in the driveway, one walking close and a little behind the other. The man in the lead wore a khaki sport coat and black pants.
“Stanton,” Seth whispered.
Fingers trembling, he gripped the edge of the counter. The man in back of him was the guy he’d seen earlier at Higgins’s place—the one wearing the black do-rag. He had on a black leather coat with both hands tucked into the pockets.
They walked down the driveway and over to the Saturn. Opening the back door, Stanton seemed hesitant getting in. Do-rag prodded him inside and climbed into the backseat next to him.
Seth glimpsed the pistol in his hand as he reached out to close the door.
