Minders (40 page)

Tucking the paper with her name and number on it in the pocket of his jeans, she untangled herself from his arms and slid away. She wanted to turn and give him another kiss, but she couldn’t risk it. She tiptoed to the door and let herself out.

On the landing she looked at her phone. Six fifteen. She could just make it home before her parents woke up, if she didn’t get lost.

She ran down the two sets of stairs, onto the street, and was unlocking the door of her car when the hair on the back of her neck prickled, like she was being watched. She swung around quickly, but the street was deserted.

A movement in the window of the Winters’ house caught her eye. She looked up, and her gaze met Lulu’s.

The next moment the curtain had fallen back, and the girl was gone.
She won’t tell
, Sadie thought. Hoped
. Please let her not tell anyone
.

Sadie just had time to pull the covers up over her clothes, the scent of smoke and Ford still on her skin, when her mother peeked in to check on her.

CHAPTER 32

S
adie was at the tail end of dreaming that she was at a dance where everyone was wearing BIGFOOT SAVES T-shirts and yelling for the DJ to turn up the heat when her phone rang.
Of course
, she thought, still in the dream as she reached for it.
The answer is safekeeping
.

“I think you saved my life last night,” Ford’s voice said.

Sadie was immediately wide awake.
Breathe
, she told herself. Swallow.

“Hello?” he said.

Talk.
“I guess I did. Yes.”

He exhaled. “I dream about you. You probably know that.”

Sadie was gripping the phone so hard her fingers ached. “No. I could never see your dreams. Daydreams, yes, but not dream dreams.” Did she say too much? Did that sound stupid?
Oh, god, what if it—

“That’s why I was so shocked when you walked into Mason’s room,” he said. “It was like having—”

“Your dream girl?” Sadie supplied.

“I was going to say ‘ghost,’ but yeah, something from your imagination walk into your life.”

Ghost. Of course.
“I imagine it’s weird.”

“That’s one word. But—can I see you? I’d like to see you.” He suddenly sounded as nervous as she felt. “I have some questions.”

Sadie remembered her own dream. Figuring that whoever had tried to burn Ford to a crisp the night before would assume they’d been successful, at least for a little while, she said, “Meet me at Bucky’s in an hour. Where the bedroom used to be. And bring the Bigfoot bill.”

“How do you—right, never mind. Bucky’s in the bedroom with Bigfoot in an hour.”

• • •

Sadie couldn’t recall ever feeling this anxious before. Being back in her body made her acutely aware of how much she had dreaded situations outside her control, hated the vulnerability of not knowing how something would go, the risk that she’d mess up. That’s why she studied so much, worked so hard at debate—to afford herself as much control as possible.

But there was nothing to practice here. No way to prepare.

She went straight to the room with the radiator and found Ford already there, holding the little black kitten.

“Look who I found,” he said. He was wearing his blue checked shirt. “She looks a little hungry, but all I can find is hot chocolate mix and beef jerky.”

Already every single thing Sadie had thought of to say was wrong. “Bucky was pretty amazing” was what came out.

“Yep.”

She had the feeling that they were both avoiding each other’s eyes. There was so much she wanted to tell him, a lifetime of things, but there wasn’t time. Willy’s murder was the important thing, the whole point.
You need to figure out what happened
.
What he did. Who he is. Ask about Willy.

Instead she said, “That day at the icehouse, you must have been terrified.”
You wouldn’t be procrastinating because you’re afraid of what you might find out, would you?
she chided herself.

His eyes came slowly to hers. “How do you know about that day?”

“You think about it all the time. About the icehouse and what you were all going to do with your fortunes. About the rope.”

Ford frowned.

“Tell me what happened,” she coaxed.

His eyes focused on something far off. “My memory is sort of hazy. James had heard about this old-time schooner with a bunch of gold on it that sank around there. He was convinced that if we waited for the thaw, someone else would get our treasure. So we pooled our money and rented an ice-diving rig. James did the dive, and I let go of the rope. But it was fine in the end.”

“That’s not what happened,” Sadie said.

Now his gaze came to her. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. It’s just not what happened.” She paused, putting it together. “You’re the one who made the dive, and James is the one who let go of the rope. Without it you couldn’t find the hole you dove through, and you were trapped under the ice. You had no idea which way was up or down, which direction to look for an exit. I know how it feels to be trapped like that.”

Ford shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The beer can saved you.”

“Look, that’s not—”

“‘Never touch them myself,’” Sadie said. “That’s what James told me in your subconscious. Like saying that he wasn’t the one who found the beer can under water, that he’d never touched it. Because he wasn’t the one who was trapped. You were lost under the ice, unable to find the way out, until you saw the beer can float down from the surface. You grabbed it and swam back up. And when your hand in the black diving glove came out of the ice and set it next to him, you made Linc scream like a little girl.”

Ford looked uncomfortable. “Why would I say it was James if it wasn’t? Why would I pretend?”

“Because you feel guilty about being angry at James. So you reversed it in your mind and punished yourself for the thing he did. Punished yourself for being angry. Reversal is one of your primary defense mechanisms. You use it a lot.”

“It’s so weird you know that.” He shook it away. “James was a great guy. Everyone said so.”

“And you think so too. But you can still be upset with him.”

Ford stared into space for almost two minutes. When he spoke his voice was plaintive, and young. “He didn’t even notice,” he said. “He didn’t even realize he’d dropped the rope.” His tone changed again, becoming James’s voice: “‘Why do you look so serious, Ford?’ I told him, ‘I could have died.’ And he laughed. ‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘I’d never let that happen.’ He meant it too. He just couldn’t always deliver.”

Sadie said, “But you didn’t need him. You rescued yourself.”

Ford looked away. “Maybe. You said you know what that feels like to be trapped under the ice. Did it happen to you too?”

“Something similar. I’ve been lost and numb. I know what it’s like to feel yourself turning to ice, inch by inch with no hope of escape.” She thought about the Barrington Building, about how close she’d come to jumping. “To be so frozen you can’t feel enough to trust your instincts.” She paused, suddenly self-conscious. “When you’re lost, every direction looks the same.”

She was aware of Ford watching her, could feel his blue eyes on her skin. She certainly wasn’t numb anymore. For a moment she let her mind play tricks about the future: them at the movies, them making dinner together, them lying on a couch being quiet, a hundred lifetimes of normal things she longed to do with him.

She’d decided in the car she wouldn’t tell him any of that, wouldn’t burden him with her feelings. There was no way he could share them—he’d known her less than twenty-four hours—and even if he did, there was no way to act on them. Better to pretend she had no feelings at all.

And there was still Willy’s death to answer for. She said, “I took the gun and the gloves from your pocket last night and hid them, so you should be safe.”

“You keep talking about that.” He frowned. “Safe from who?”

She watched him. “What do you remember from the day with Willy?”

“I remember him taking me to the church and telling me he was the Pharmacist and knocking me out. And then when I came to I was in a shack about thirty miles outside of town and it took me most of the day to get home.”

“Do you know how you got to the shack?”

“No, but it might have been Linc who took me, his place. There were all these little carved lions there, and he’s always liked lions. Tell me about the gloves and gun.”

“You wore the gloves while you used the gun to shoot Willy. You shot him four times.”

Ford shook his head back and forth. “Never happened.”

“I saw it.”

“I’m telling you, no way.”

She hadn’t expected him to flat-out deny it. “You weren’t in your right mind. You probably forgot or repressed it. Just like with the ice that day. You don’t remember anything?”

“Nothing. Except that I’m positive I didn’t do it.” He was serious, concentrating. “What time did it happen?”

“Nine thirty.”

“That’s pretty precise,” he commented.

“You looked at your watch.”

He sat up. “That’s weird. Someone stole my watch.”

“It must have slipped off,” Sadie said, but she had the sense that she was getting further from the truth rather than closer. She felt like she was overlooking a crucial question, and if she could just ask it, everything would fall into place.

“You think I killed him,” Ford said.

“I
saw
you kill him. I felt you kill him. I pulled the trigger with you. That’s not thinking, that’s knowing.”

“But I
know
I didn’t.” His voice was urgent. “You’ve been inside my mind. You know me better than I know myself. Do you believe I could have done it? I want to know the truth.”

She looked at him, into his eyes. And she was positive. Unquestionably, unhesitatingly, she knew she was not wrong about him. She knew him, and she knew he was not a murderer. She might not yet have an explanation for what she’d seen, but she was as certain that there was one as she was certain he didn’t kill Willy. She couldn’t articulate how or why, she just… knew. And it was enough.

“No,” she answered him confidently. “I don’t believe you could have done it. I don’t know how it was done, but I know you didn’t do it.”

He gave her a crooked smile, and it took all her willpower not to reach out and trace her fingers over his lips. “Thank you,” he said. Frowned, searching for the right words. “For seeing me.”

Sadie swallowed hard.

They were quiet for a few beats, both apparently fascinated by their laps. He glanced at her. “What do we do now?”

“Now we find the treasure,” she said. Without letting herself think about it she took his hand and pulled him toward the radiator.

He laughed, following her. “What treasure?”

“The one James stole from the Pharmacist.”

“You mean there really was a treasure?”

Sadie nodded. “I’m pretty sure. And Bucky sent you the key.”

“Bigfoot?” Ford pulled the bill out of his pocket.

“Radiators always get left behind, you said it yourself,” Sadie reminded him. “I think the radiator is the safe, and the numbers on that bill are the combination.”

“You mean where it says ‘#41 of 120’?” Ford asked.

Sadie pointed at the thermostat on the radiator. “He said it was for safekeeping. Try it.”

It was the third combination that hit it, 4-11-20. With a sigh the thermostat slid to one side, revealing a large space behind it.

Filled with hundred-dollar bills. A lot of hundred-dollar bills.

“How much is there, do you think?” Ford asked Sadie. “Thousands?”

“Maybe hundreds of thousands. I guess the Pharmacist did pretty well.”

Ford stared at the money. “This is where I make a crime-does-pay joke, but I’m in shock.”

Sadie laughed. “Me too.”

“Do you think I can use it?”

“I’m not going to tell anyone. But I think you should move it. Hide it somewhere only you know about.”

“I trust you.”

“It’s not that,” she said. She was having trouble meeting his eyes. “It’s just that it’s time for me to go.”

“Go?” he repeated as if the word was unfamiliar.

She laughed, trying to make it seem light, easy. Pretend to be her old self. “I came to meet you because I needed to understand what happened and answer some questions. But there are rules, and—” She put out her hand and was horrified to see it was trembling. “Goodbye, Ford Winter.”

He took it, but instead of shaking it, he held it. “I don’t want you to go.”

“It’s really better if I—”

He said, “You’re breathtaking.”

Sadie’s voice caught in her throat. She searched for anything to say, what her old self would have said. But she had only the truth. “You too,” she whispered.

“There was one night, in the tree house.” He looked at their twined hands. “I don’t know how to put this.”

She let her thumb brush his wrist. “I know. I was there. With you.”

“In the mirror. It was like we, you and I were—”

Her hand slid out from under his so that only their fingertips were touching. “Together,” she finished.

He nodded, and his eyes found hers. “It was extraordinary.” They stared at one another. “I want to touch you. For real.”

“I want you to.” She was breathing hard, unable to look away.

He dropped her hand and cupped her cheek in his palm. He looked at her, into her, locking his gaze onto her eyes. “Meet me at the lake. Pirates’ Cove.”

“That’s impossible,” Sadie told him sadly.

“Do it anyway,” he urged. “The first Saturday in August.”

“I won’t be there.”

“I will,” he promised.

She let herself have one last glance at him. “Goodbye, Ford.”

He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them both. “Goodbye, Sadie.”

She inhaled quickly and turned, not wanting him to see her cry. She stumbled back through the ruins of Bucky’s lair, tripping over everything, the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe, tears rolling down her cheeks.
He’d said her name. He’d kissed her hands, and he remem
—