Chapter Thirty-Nine
Tiny, carefree clinks of a wind chime and a crick in Amanda’s neck urged her to wake. Her head ached. She blinked, trying to place the little tree fairies kicking chimes in her skull.
The dark room smelled of gasoline, and when she moved, her skin pulled like it had stuck to the seat. She sat up. Her head swirled. What had happened to her—the dead agents. Halle driving. “Oh, God.”
She was still in the car? Her hand reached for the door, her stomach threatening to throw up. The armored door swung wide, but Amanda turned for her mom.
Mom laid over the back seat, and Amanda reached over the center console. “Mom.” She pressed her fingers to her mother’s neck, relieved at the steady pulse. “Mom, we have to wake up.”
Then figure out what the hell was going on.
Mom didn’t wake. The wind chime’s song danced in the night.
Amanda checked for her weapon. Gone. She studied the surrounding area.
Rusted tools haphazardly covered the uneven floor.
Moonlight poured through the open garage and cast a gauzy light over the shiny black SUV that had every window rolled down.
“Halle?” Amanda called.
Only the wind chime and the whisper of rustling leaves answered.
She returned to the backseat and shook her mother. “Wake up.”
“You’re up?” Halle called.
Amanda turned to the garage opening. “What the hell is going on?”
“Is your mom awake?” Halle stepped into the moonlight.
Unlike Amanda, she had her weapon, and by the looks of it, access to a militia’s payload. “Where are we?”
“Home.” She leaned against the garage. “Where we grew up.”
“We?” Her thoughts struggled to catch up.
“Amanda?” Mom called.
“Right here.” She jumped into the backseat of the SUV and helped her mom sit up. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve got a hangover from hell,” Mom muttered. “What’s going on—”
Through the shadows, Amanda saw as her mother recalled the events that led to where they were now.
“Where’s Halle?” Mom rubbed her temples. “Halle, can I have a word?”
“Mom,” Amanda hissed for her mother to be quiet, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if Halle wasn’t watching them from behind. “This isn’t something you can lecture us about.”
Her mom waved Amanda aside then slid from the backseat, somehow with her usual grace. “Halle?”
Amanda waited to hear, Yes, Dr. Hearst. Or something else oddly normal that would make no sense. Not one to be ignored, Mom grumbled and trudged toward Halle until they faced each other. “Young lady, what is this about?”
Mom and Halle danced around the situation, getting nowhere, and Amanda tried for a plan. Short of getting Halle’s weapon and shooting, nothing came to mind. Queasiness and lack of intel didn’t help.
“Enough questions. Time to take it inside.” Halle directed them with the barrel of her gun as though they’d been out for a nice hike that had gone wrong. “That way.”
Amanda locked arms with her mom and followed the directions that led them into the cabin lit by a handful of candles.
Shadows danced on the exposed timber walls and bent over the ceiling beams. Old family photographs hung on the wall.
Some frames and glass were cracked. Cobwebs hung over lamps.
A pair of sneakers waited by the closet door.
Amanda pivoted and took in the small space: living room, dining table, and kitchen. A once blue-and-white checkered tablecloth had been dulled with a thick layer of dust. It must’ve been years since anyone had stepped foot in this cabin. “You lived here?”
“Not all of us grow up in the White House.”
Amanda shrunk back.
Mom stepped between them. “That’s not Amanda’s fault.”
Amanda pressed her hand to her throat. “Where are your parents?”
“In prison.”
Since when? Reality snapped, and Amanda realized nothing had been true. “Why?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” Amanda stepped forward.
“Because,” Halle snapped, “we believe nothing that you do.”
A shiver ran down her back. Billy had said those same words, filled with that same venom, during his trial. “Beliefs won’t put you in prison.”
Halle lifted her chin, proud of whatever had jailed her parents. “There’s no progress without sacrifice.”
Hadn’t Billy’s lawyer said similar things? Amanda wasn’t sure. She’d been recovering from burns, mourning, and hopelessly depressed. But she recalled the headlines that screamed: Homegrown terrorist. Nationalized extremist. Hate in the name of God. “You’re one of them?”
A photograph of Halle caught her eye. Dust and cobwebs had been wiped clean, and in the candlelight, Amanda could tell that the picture frame had been picked up and put down dozens of times.
She picked it up and stared at Billy and Halle. By the looks of this picture, they were far more than old friends … “I don’t understand.”
“You never will,” Halle snapped.
“Why are you doing this?” Amanda threaded a hand into her hair and pulled until it hurt. “Because of Billy?”
Halle pursed her lips. Her nostrils flared.
“He’s why? You did all this for him?” Amanda shook the frame and threw it onto the floor. “This isn’t progress or sacrifice. It’s insane.”
Glass crunched under Halle’s shoes. She crouched and lifted the frame. Glass shards fell, and her eyes glistened. “He has cancer.”
Amanda hadn’t known. What was she supposed to feel? Joy? Compassion? Her mind had gone numb, and she simply muttered the only thing she knew for certain, “He’s in prison.”
Halle’s anguish rolled in waves. A tear slid down Halle’s cheek. “And they won’t let him out.”
Mom moved to Amanda’s side. They watched Halle pick the broken glass from the photograph. She dropped the pieces to the floor.
“Halle,” Mom whispered.
Halle held up the photograph as if that were what Mom had asked for.
Part of Amanda had always understood that Halle and Billy had a bond, but to see them so young, sitting hand-in-hand on a porch swing, and to know what they both believed…
The truth clarified doubts that Amanda had tried to ignore from the first lunch in the cafeteria to the last night at the library. “You loved him?”
Halle swallowed hard. “He’s dying.”
“I know,” Mom said. “And, I’m so sorry that he brought it upon himself.”
“Shut up!” Halle said.
Amanda twisted to her mother at the same time. “What?”
“He has lung cancer.”
Halle shook her head like it wasn’t true. “We didn’t know the explosives would make him sick.”
“But you knew it could kill people,” Mom added softly. “And it did.”
Amanda trembled. “How do you know any of this?”
Mom took the picture frame from Halle then set it where it had been. She stared at the photograph and shook her head as if everything made sense. “Someone filed a compassionate release request on his behalf.”
Halle’s lips trembled. “It was denied.”
“No, honey,” Mom said, almost heartbreakingly sad. “Whoever made the anonymous request failed to include who they were and how to contact them.”
“So what …” Halle’s voice cracked.
“The warden and federal medical center never offered a decision. They needed financial support details. A confirmation of care.”
“He would’ve been?” Quiet tears fell down Halle’s cheeks.
“Mom,” Amanda whispered, “how do you know?”
“That boy tried to kill my child.” The evening breeze carried through the open windows as the wind chimes sang. A tear slipped down Mom’s cheek. “I made it my job to stay informed.”
“I’m bringing him home,” Halle snapped as she hardened into the stony friend who Amanda had always known. “I’m going to work on that now.” She removed the gun from her side holster and jammed the barrel into Amanda’s chest. “Get on the couch.”
Amanda hadn’t come up with a magical escape plan, so she and Mom followed orders. Dust plumed when they sat down. Halle bound their hands and feet, then tied them to a hook on the wall.
“Go to sleep,” she demanded, then disappeared the way they’d come in.
The muffled sound of a phone call filtered through the wind. She and Mom couldn’t distinguish a single word. Two phone calls came in after that.
“Don’t worry, sweet pea,” Mom said.
“Give me a single reason why we shouldn’t worry.”
“No matter who she’s called or what she’s planning, your father will be one of the first to know.”
That offered some solace, but Halle’s betrayal and haunted thoughts of murdered agents kept her spirits down.
What seemed like hours later, Halle returned with a blanket and pillow. She set up camp on the dirty floor and tucked herself into bed with Billy’s picture and a shotgun by her side.