Chapter 77 #2
“Thank you so much,” she says. “It’s older, but I really love it and the location.” She sounds more confident. “The master bathroom layout is lovely, but it’s dated, and the cabinets really need to be replaced. So I’m not looking to make structural changes, just a basic overhaul so it’s not dated.”
We walk into the master bathroom, and I have no trouble guessing the sour, musky smell that pings my nose is Sterling’s scent. Freya, in comparison, reminds me of a meadow and baked bread.
In the bathroom, she turns and I show her the tablet screen.
Can we talk softly?
She nods. “No cameras up here. Who are you?” She sniffs me again. “You smell like Mal.”
“I’m a friend. I’m here to get you out. Right now.”
She slowly shakes her head. “If I leave, my husband will hunt me down and kill me.”
“Not where we’re taking you. And we need to do this today.” I arch an eyebrow at her, not wanting to say too much. “As in right now. Are there cameras inside the house?”
“None up here, but there are two in the living room, both pointing at the sliders. They have microphones.”
“Can they see people walking from the stairs through the kitchen and to the utility room?”
“No, but we’ll be heard if we’re not careful.”
“And there’s still a blind spot in the garage?”
“Yes. How do you know all of this?”
“Time?” I ask, and she starts to answer, but I hold up a finger.
Morning softly speaks in my ear. “Still good,” Morning tells me.
Her mouth shuts with a click, meaning she obviously heard.
“When we head downstairs,” I explain, “we’ll talk about an estimate for garage cabinets and I’ll walk out there with you. I’ll help you carry the big bags so we don’t have to roll them. But we need to make as few trips as possible. It’ll look weird going back and forth a lot.”
“Is he alive?” she asks, her lip trembling.
I didn’t want to go nuclear out of the gate, but considering her mood, I think it’s exactly what’s needed. “He looks at the moon every night, and he tried not to look back, but he loves and needs you.”
She claps both hands over her mouth, muffling her cry as more tears spill down her cheeks.
Whatever that means, it worked, because then she reaches out and grabs my arm, fingers digging in. “How long do we have?”
“This happens now. Clothes aren’t important, but anything you can’t bear not to see again? Grab that.”
She bolts out of the bathroom, her speed and agility surprising me. But she doesn’t stop in the bedroom.
She races down to Mal’s bedroom and goes inside.
I can’t help but follow. I want to see, and I’m drawn by his scent.
It looks more like a guest room, but I spot a few items that were likely his, like books.
Standing in the doorway, I take a few pictures.
Frey’s already inside the closet. She pulls out a small box, a little larger than a shoebox, and sets it on the bed.
Then she retrieves two large suitcases from the closet.
That it all smells like Mal is nearly intoxicating to me. I move to help her carry them to the master bedroom, but she shakes her head and puts the biggest one on the bed, unzipping it.
Inside is a brown, stuffed bunny, around a foot long. It’s been well-loved, and that’s what she hands me.
Confused, I take it. It’s embedded with Mal’s scent, but I smell her on it, too, and wonder if she comes in here and cries, holding it, missing her son.
She goes to the dresser, and I start to say she doesn’t need to bring clothes for Mal, but I realize her clothes are in there. Practical clothes—jeans, T-shirts, underwear, bras, socks—nothing fancy. Those are what she packs.
She looks at me. “I don’t wear them around Sterling,” she says. “I wear them when he’s not home. They smell like Mal.” A dark glare crosses her face. “And they don’t smell like my husband.”
My heart breaks for her, and I wish to hell I could tell her the ring on my hand matches the one on Mal’s hand, but this was the deal. Morning doesn’t want to compromise security. She gets the full story only after she’s reunited with Mal.
“Can I help?” I ask.
She nods and points to the closet. There are two more suitcases in there. I pull them out for her. “Is there anything you need from the other room?”
She pauses. “I’ll grab a couple of pairs of shoes, but everything in this dresser goes.”
I open another drawer, and it’s full of photo albums and other memorabilia. Report cards, three large, zipper-top bags of assorted items I guess are Mal’s, and a small jewelry box.
I start packing, and after she fills the largest suitcase, I pick it up and set it by the bedroom door. I’ll be carrying this one for her. I notice she adds a few books from the shelves into one suitcase. As she packs, I reveal the next stage of the plan.
“Randolph can track my car,” she says. “It’s got one of those automatic things in it.”
“Does he usually track it?”
She thinks, then shakes her head.
“Please, hurry,” I say. She resumes packing while I move luggage to the base of the stairs, including the bunny. “How we doing?” I whisper to Morning on my way back up.
“Still clear. She sounds committed.”
“Hope so.”
Twenty minutes later, Freya’s completely packed and going through the master bedroom and bathroom for anything she missed.
Other than a couple of items and a practical jacket, she took hardly anything from the master closet.
She starts to pack a laptop from another upstairs room that’s a home office, but pauses and looks at me, her meaning clear.
“Is it powered off?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I pull the large, folded Faraday bag out of the pocket in the tablet case and hand it to her. “Computer, tablet—anything electronic that connects to the internet, except your regular phone.”
That done, I add it to the pile.
After one final sweep, she looks around. “Anything downstairs to take?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “He made me take down all pictures of Mal. Those were in the dresser. I took them out of the frames. I don’t want anything else.”
“Okay.” I turn to head out with the last load of luggage, but she touches my arm.
“At this point, I don’t even care if you kill me.
I’ve fantasized about leaving for years.
” She swallows. “Please lie to me if Mal’s dead and this is a trick.
Just let me have that, please? I want to believe he’s safe and happy. ”
I pause, gently resting my hands on her shoulders. “Close your eyes and inhale.”
She does, tears squeezing past her eyelids. I realize she’s not wearing makeup.
“Smell him? That’s from this morning.”
She opens her eyes, still crying but looking determined now. “Okay.”
“Good. Now let’s hurry.”
She finally opens her eyes and looks around, closing the bedroom door after us and following me down.
“Fuck, she’s a wreck,” Morning says.
“Yeah,” I reply.
We carry the first load of luggage, not rolling it, and I realize if I stick to area rugs, I’m practically silent. Out in the garage, I motion for her to leave the utility room door open as I set down the first load.
“So tell me about what you were envisioning out here,” I loudly say, gesturing for her to start talking. “We can create any kind of setup, from storage, to a workbench, to a crafting space.”
Panic fills her face for a split second before she groks and starts talking as I gesture for her to keep going.
I make a few sounds in agreement, then hurry through the house to grab more bags.
Upon my return I speak again, ask a couple of cabinet-related questions.
I want any cameras that might pick it up to hear it.
“Good job,” Morning softly says in my ear. “Keep going. We’re still clear.”
I transfer all the bags into the garage and walk across the space so the camera picks me up, the tape measure in my hand.
I start taking measurements and pretend to make notes on the tablet.
She follows, her voice quickly filling with confidence.
We return to the utility room doorway, where I mime her opening her car’s deck lid.
Fortunately, it has a power lock, so it does so nearly silently.
We keep up the charade, walking back and forth in the garage, into and out of range of the camera, discussing mythical cabinet possibilities, until I have all the bags loaded.
The bunny goes on top. Freya grabs my wrist, squeezing hard, looking up at me.
I offer her an encouraging smile, and she closes the deck lid.
Wrapping up the “estimate,” I say, “I’ll go through all of this and get back to you by the end of this week with an initial estimate. We’ll need to go through material choices and other options. The garage will be straightforward. Do you want to do it first?”
“I think so. Thank you so much. I’m looking forward to it.” I’ve already reclaimed the business card and brochure as Morning ordered. “Oh, did you want to go out this way?” She hits the garage door button.
“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand. “We’ll talk soon.”
She walks me out to the driveway, her smile and wave natural-looking. When I reach the shopping center parking lot, I circle around as Morning instructs.
“The exfil team won’t leave until after she’s in her car and on her way. They’ll follow. Leave that car where we planned, and they’ll pick you up.”
“Copy.”
My stomach winds into a tight knot, but it’s almost over.
An hour later, the SUV picks me up. Freya looks terrified where she sits on the far side of the back seat. “Here’s the phone.” She holds out the one I left on her car.
I slip it into the other Faraday bag. I don’t need to know Morning’s machinations about the setup. I don’t care.
All I care about is bringing my mate’s mom to him.
Tension fills the air as we drive. She doesn’t talk, and neither do I. Her hands twist in her lap as she stares out the window, and I realize the bunny is tucked into the top of her purse.
I take out the earpiece and the radio, shed the jacket, hat, and glasses, and hand everything over the front seat to the passenger. By the time we arrive at the meeting place, my stomach’s knotted.
We pull up next to the other SUV. I can’t see inside because the dark tint blacks out the windows.
I open the door as the front seat passenger hops out and starts transferring her bags with the help of one of the guys from Mal’s SUV.
She looks nervous. “Where are we?”
I smile. “Welcome to your future, Freya.”