Six Months Later Part 32

"It's fine," I say, but of course it's not fine. It's an insane idea born out of pure desperation. As tense as I am right now, it'd be a miracle if a trained hypnotist could put me under, let alone a couple of amateurs with a textbook. But we have to try.

Adam's face makes it clear he doesn't agree. "It's dangerous, Chlo. We don't know what we're doing."

"Yeah, well, clearly neither did Dr. Kirkpatrick. They obviously killed her for a reason, and I'm thinking a botched attempt at cover-up is probably said reason."

He trails a hand down my cheek. "I just want you to think about this. There's a lot that could go wrong."

"I've done nothing but think about this." I sigh. "I'm done thinking. We're doing this, Adam. We have to. It's simple. You're going to lead me through some relaxing imagery and count backward and gently lead me through the night at Blake's house."

His jaw goes tight. "And what if you do remember? Are you ready to remember everything that might have happened that night?"

"Yes, everything! Why would you-oh. Oh."

Everything that might have happened starts to sound a lot like s.e.x things that might have happened.

My stomach does an ugly barrel roll. I take a breath and press my lips together. Could I forget something like that? I think about Blake's familiarity in my room, the way he'd tossed our books aside like there were better things to do.

No, I wouldn't have done that with him. But a devil's voice reminds me that not so long ago, I would have done anything for Blake Tanner. And I'm just kidding myself if I try to pretend that anything wouldn't have potentially included s.e.x.

I turn to Adam, biting my lip. "Were we...serious? Blake and me?"

Adam shakes his head slowly, looking pained. "Don't make me go there."

"Are you saying this because you don't know or because you don't want to talk about it?" I ask.

"Both, if you want the truth," he says.

I scoot away from him. "Because it would change the way you feel about me, right? Because you were fine and dandy with the whole fake dating gig right up until you had to think of me as leftovers."

"First off, you're n.o.body's leftovers. Second, until that day at the tutoring center, I had no idea Blake being with you was actually his dad's sick new way to keep a thumb on you."

"What, you thought he was sincere? Why on earth would someone like Blake date me?"

Adam's eyes are narrowed, his voice too loud. "I don't know, Chloe, maybe because he's met you?"

The compliment doesn't faze me. Maybe because as far as I remember, I haven't had s.e.x with anyone. So yeah, I'm a little preoccupied with the fear of it happening with somebody who was getting paid by the hour.

Maggie taps on his window, and we both look up. I climb out of the car, trying to look nonchalant. "Where's your truck?"

"I walked. I was t-too paranoid someone would see it," she says. Her brow is furrowed in a way that tells me she doesn't buy my glib att.i.tude. She can tell I'm upset.

Adam heads in first, and Maggie snags my sleeve at the door. "What's wrong?"

I take a long breath. "How about what isn't? It's a shorter list."

An hour later, Maggie bites her lip and looks around the silent study hall room. "Okay, this isn't working, and I'm nerved out. When d-does the cleaning crew get here?"

"They don't come on weekends. We're fine," Adam says.

She's been edgy since we got here. Maybe the school wasn't the best idea, but we need privacy and I figured being in the place where it all started might jog my memory.

I open my eyes and s.h.i.+ft in the chair, my gaze going to the window beside me. It's creepy thinking about the last time I looked at that rectangle of gla.s.s. If I fall asleep now, will I wake up to flowers?

Adam adjusts his coat behind me, and I frown up at him. "I'm sorry. I thought it would work faster."

"Don't be," he says. "I'm probably not doing it right."

"Me either," Mags adds.

I shake out my shoulders and clear my throat. "Let's go again. I just need to be a little more receptive."

Maggie gives me an appraising look, one that tells me she's pretty sure I'm not going to be receptive to anything even remotely like what they're doing. She exchanges a look with Adam that makes it pretty clear it's a shared opinion.

"We could try the lake imagery again. That was nice." My voice sounds unconvincing. Even to me.

"Maybe Adam is right. We could g-go to the police," Maggie says.

"We've been over this," I say. "I need that box. I wouldn't have hidden it if it wasn't seriously important." Their silence seems to agree with me, so I push my hair behind my ears. "We have to do this."

Adam nods and scoots closer, reaching for my hand. I feel the roughness of his fingertips against my palm. A flash of him walking down the stairs at school rushes back at me. Halfway down the stairs, he turns over his shoulder, giving me a smile that makes my insides curl warmly.

I gasp and squeeze his hand harder. "Wait. I know what I need. I need you to touch me."

He smiles a little wickedly, and I smack his arm, flus.h.i.+ng to the roots of my hair. "Not like that. I mean-"

"You've remembered things when I touch you," he says, filling in my awkward silence.

"Yes. That." I turn to Maggie, willing my cheeks to cool down. "That's how I remembered that night at Blake's. When you held my hands to help me up, it all came back to me."

"How?" Maggie asks.

"I don't know," I admit, lacing my fingers with Adam's. "Maybe it's because of my connections with you."

"Would that b-be stronger than the drugs?"

"It can be," Adam says softly, and I squeeze his hand, too overwhelmed to voice my own opinion. The truth is, my connection with both of them might be the strongest thing I know. Maybe the strongest thing I'll ever know.

"Okay, we'll d-do it again. Holding your hands," Mags says.

She scoots her chair closer to me. Her hand is small and cool, and Adam's is wide and warm. They are absolute opposites, and they both fit me just right.

"Close your eyes," Maggie says.

Something in me struggles, still afraid of what will be waiting when I open my eyes. Most of all, I fear the truth of the six months I can't remember. Knowing there will be pieces I wish I could forget.

No. This is not me. I jump off bridges. I pull fire alarms. I don't have a place in me for this kind of fear. I push it back, tamp it down, and focus on Maggie's words.

"Should we start with the lake?" she asks, voice gentle.

I feel the rising panic as the unknown draws closer. I think of the person I've been. Of the things I might have done and said. And then I feel the welcome softness of Adam's lips against my temple. It's featherlight, nothing like the heat and pressure he usually delivers.

I feel his lips near my ear, then a soft whisper. "We find what we find. And we move on."

"We leave it in the past," Maggie whispers.

I let out a sigh, one that comes from the deepest parts of my soul. Maggie starts to count, and they both hold me tight. Finally, I begin to let go.

I look around the blurred edges of this memory, down at my black sweater and jeans. At the wet snow clinging to my boots. Something dark peeks out from my curled fingers.

"I'm holding the box," I say, but my voice comes out somewhere else. I'm here but not here. Watching it like a bad movie, where the color is distorted by static.

I move through the yard, my steps pus.h.i.+ng through the snow to the wet gra.s.s underneath. A familiar house stands across the yard, the back steps covered in snow.

"I'm at Maggie's house."

I walk away from the house, my feet slipping through the slushy backyard. Am I going home? No. Not home.

I know where I'm going. Around the compost pile and down to the base of the tree. I drop to my knees and wipe the snow away with my bare hands. My fingers burn and ache from the cold. There's a shovel in the tree, but I don't use it. I just rip the loose chunks of dirt away until I see the metal rectangle.

The Not Treasure Box.

"I found it."

I wrangle it out and wrench it open. Bracelets and bookmarks and coded letters in Maggie's writing and mine. Tears sting my eyes, but I don't let them fall. I put the new plastic box inside, pulling the latch open to look at the contents.

Four syringes rest side by side in the bottom. I snap the lid shut and tuck the container beneath an old Tinker Bell T-s.h.i.+rt. Then it all goes back into the ground. I scoop mounds of half-frozen dirt back over the hole, stomping it down with my feet. The snow turns the dirt to mud, but it's good enough. It will have to be.

"Are you still at Maggie's house?" The voice is nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Yes." My own voice is still crisp and clear in that other place. "I'm leaving now."

I find my car parked crookedly two streets over. I turn the key in the ignition with shaking hands and slip-slide my way back to the main road.

Lights flash overhead, green and red. I don't know if I stopped. I don't even know if I was supposed to. I'm on autopilot with no destination, turning blindly from one street to the next. This is crazy. I have to stop this.

I pick up my phone, dialing the only number I can think of.

"Don't tell me you're stuck on number twenty-nine," Adam says by way of greeting.

I try to keep my voice normal. "Can you meet me?"

"Yeah. What's wrong? You don't sound right."

"Chloe, are you ready to come back now?"

"Yes."

The faraway voice begins to count. It pulls me away from the cold and the snow, tugging me closer to the sound. Then it is right there with me. Only inches from my ears.

I am back.

I hear the soft drone of the radiator and the shuffle of Adam's boots against the floor. It's okay. Everything is okay this time.

"I know where I hid the drugs," I say.

I open my eyes.

I'm facing the window I saw the first time I woke up. This time there's a man standing in the snow beyond the gla.s.s. He's tall, graying, and either he can read lips or he has mutant hearing. Because the smile on his face tells me he knows what I said.

Chapter Thirty-One.

"Adam?"

The terror must be as clear on my face as it is in my voice. Adam swears softly under his breath. His back is to the window, but he knows who's out there. I'm sure of it.

Daniel Tanner.

Out of nowhere, Adam lunges out of his chair, hands reaching for us. His chair knocks backward, and I hear him whisper even as he hooks his fingers in my s.h.i.+rt. "Run!"

I jerk back, shocked, and he kicks at the chair, like he's tangled up in the legs. I can't do anything but stare, my mind reeling to catch up. He fumbles for my sleeve, but Maggie yanks me free, dragging me toward the door.

Daniel is watching us. Adam nods and waves him toward the cafeteria before reaching for me again.

"You're not going to get out of here until you tell me where they are!" Adam yells, but the sharp edge in his voice doesn't match the worry in his face.

My face feels hot, my jaw too tight. This can't be happening. He can't have fooled me for this long. But he told me to run. I heard that. I'm sure I did.

Something flings past me. Maggie's thrown a chair. It hits Adam in the shoulder, and I don't know if she's acting or if he's acting. I don't know what's happening, but I run. We rush into the hallway and around a corner with Adam right on our heels.

He grabs both of us by the shoulder, hauling us back easily. I take a breath, feeling a scream build, but then Adam's hand is over my mouth and his cheek is pressed to the side of my face.

His voice is low. "I'll keep him off your trail, but you have to get out fast."

Relief floods my senses. I nod and curl my fingers around his wrist as he pulls his hand away.

"H-how? Where w-will we go?" Maggie asks.