The Last Day of Emily Lindsey
Sunday—two hours left
Not for the first time during this trip, Emily glanced into the rearview mirror and stared at herself for a few moments before letting her eyes drift back to the road. She liked looking at herself with her new hair and flushed cheeks and barrels of newfound, reporter-extraordinaire confidence.
She felt alive.
She pushed down on the accelerator and let the needle go five, then ten, then fifteen miles over the speed limit. She slowly eased her foot off until she was back in a safe zone and then did it again.
The meeting was being held at a small coffee shop in a town not far from the hotel where she was staying. Friends of Frank held meetings three Sundays out of every month with interested women. They never held them at their home—that place was reserved for women who made it past the several-month-long recruiting process.
And those women were few and far between, Matilda had told her several times.
“Only certain women are destined to be a part of our group, and I feel like you’re the one,” she’d said to Emily on just their third meeting.
They’d met more than a dozen times over two months, and within just a few weeks, Matilda had been eating out of her hands. Emily saw in her a woman who was yearning to be free from her past, searching for acceptance and childlike in her friendship.
And apparently, Matilda saw in her some desperate woman who was yearning to be in a mind-controlled world. Emily smiled at the thought as she pulled into a space a few blocks away from the café. Maybe, if this whole blogging thing didn’t work out, she could go into acting.
As she parked, her jet-black hair hanging around her cheeks, she felt more confident and more nervous than she had that first day. She was more confident, because she had a plan and she knew what she was doing, but she was more nervous for the same reason.
That first day, Matilda had walked timidly into the restaurant to meet her, and Emily had been surprised at how normal she looked. It was a cult after all, and she’d expected the woman to have ankle-length hair and beady eyes or to have some sort of religious symbol painted on her forehead. Instead, she actually didn’t look too different from Emily herself, with long, blondish-brown hair and an athletic build. They were even about the same height. Besides her overtly pale skin, Matilda could have been any of the girls in the neighborhood who Emily worked so hard to avoid.
“Emily?” the woman had asked her. “Welcome.”
As she sat outside the recruitment event three months later, Emily knew she had to find a way to get close to her without the men seeing her. The men were always watching; that’s one thing it took her a while to learn. During her regular meetings with Matilda, she’d seen them lurking, usually the tall one who sort of looked like a vampire John Travolta.
And then there was the man in the ill-fitting tan suit, Bill Boyd, the one who’d been watching her for a while.
She’d noticed him after her second meeting with Matilda, trailing her home. A few harmless questions, and Matilda had admitted that Bill was the organization’s personal private eye—he followed prospective women around to make sure that they were who they said they were. Emily had spotted him early and had managed to keep him at bay, for a while. He was the one who’d broken her cover to Matilda.
Still, Emily knew she had to find a way to get the woman alone.
If they saw her again—she’d already tried to get close to Matilda twice since they’d banned her—they’d get Emily out of there right away, and she knew she’d never see Matilda again.
She got out of the car and walked quickly into the drugstore next to the café. In case anyone was watching her, she wanted to appear like a normal woman running some errands who stopped for a coffee. She walked around for about ten minutes before leaving and heading to the café. She was early. She opened the door and walked inside. She crept to the side of the room.
She just needed a chance, an opening.
She took a seat at a table near the back.
A teenaged waitress appeared, a smile on her face. “What can I get you?” she asked.
“Um, just some hot tea, with lemon.”
The girl nodded and walked away. Emily brushed her hair in front of her face and slumped in her booth, her eyes on the door.
About fifteen minutes later, she watched as the door opened and a young woman walked in. Emily knew immediately that this was the woman who was meeting Friends of Frank. She was young—she had to be under twenty—with waist-length brown hair and big, brown eyes.
And she looked scared out of her mind.
She walked over to a table near the back of the café and sat down. Emily turned her head and pretended to read the café menu that was scribbled on the wall behind the counter, but she watched as the woman reached into her purse and set something out on the table in front of her.
A small, red dictionary.
That must have been the item they told her to bring to identify herself. For Emily’s first meeting, it had been a blue notebook. Emily turned back and watched the door.
“Here’s your tea,” a voice said from behind her.
Emily jumped. “Oh, thanks,” she said, leaning back so the girl could place it in front of her. As she added sugar, Emily saw that her hands were shaking. She was reaching for another sugar packet when the door opened again, and two women walked in.
Emily recognized Matilda right away, and she quickly averted her eyes to the table. If Matilda recognized her before Emily had a chance to get her alone, she’d be gone. Emily stared down into her tea as the women walked to the back of the café and joined the woman with the dictionary.
The meetings usually lasted a while, and Emily settled in to wait. All she needed was for Matilda to go to the bathroom, to get separated from the other two women for just a moment, and she’d seize her opportunity.
“Ma’am?” Emily looked up. The waitress was standing there, frowning.
“Oh, sorry?”
“I said do you want more hot water?” The girl peered over into the cup. “Oh, never mind. Looks like you’re still full there,” she said loudly before walking away.
Emily turned to look at the table and felt her heart skip a beat. Matilda wasn’t talking to the other two women.
She was staring directly at Emily.
There was a frown on her face, and that frown turned into something else—fear, anger, or something close to it. She stood abruptly, leaned down, and spoke quietly to the woman she’d come with. They both stood, said something to the woman with the dictionary, and then turned to walk toward the door.
“Wait…” Emily croaked out, scrambling from her seat. She reached into her purse and grabbed a few bills for the tea, dropping them on the table. Then she rushed toward the door where Matilda was leaving.
“Wait, Matilda,” she said. “Mattie.”
The two women at the door shared a glance.
“I told you to leave me alone,” Matilda said. “What did you do to your hair?”
“They’re here, aren’t they? Somewhere out there waiting?”
“You need to leave me alone, Emily,” Matilda said quietly but urgently. “Please. Leave us alone.”
“Who is this woman?” the lady standing next to her asked.
“Nobody.”
They turned, stepped through the door, and began walking quickly down the street. Emily stumbled along behind them.
“Wait!” she said. “Mattie.”
The women kept walking. They were heading toward a black car at the end of the block. Emily watched as the door opened and a man got out, peering in their direction. He scowled when he saw Emily, and he began heading toward them.
“Mattie, wait!” Emily said again, and then, because she had no more tricks up her sleeve, she used her last one. “Mattie, remember what you told me! You told me. I’m not going to stop.”
Matilda stopped in her tracks and looked at the woman beside her and then at the man who was walking toward her. He reached her and put his arm on her shoulder, looking over her head at Emily.
Emily stood there, her shoulders square. They were in the middle of the street in broad daylight. She had the information she needed. They couldn’t do anything to her.
She watched as Matilda leaned forward and whispered something to the man. Then Matilda turned and, with both hands in her pockets, walked quickly back to Emily.
Her eyes were unfocused, her breathing shallow, but Emily knew she’d gotten through to her.
“Did you drive here?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“Let’s go for a drive.”