Chapter 5
The ride back to Abigail’s house hadn’t just been silent. It had been completely silent. The one time Cleo had tried to pipe up with a question, John had very carefully and deliberately turned to look at her and asked her calmly if she could hold her questions until the house because he had to think very hard about something.
Abigail hadn’t caught the full force of his expression, but she felt chastened somehow, and she hadn’t even been the one talking.
They were pulling up to the curb outside of the house before John spoke again,
“Now,” he said, “listen. What’s about to happen is probably going to be upsetting... on a range of levels.”
“A range?” Abigail repeated, “That sounds not good...”
John shrugged, “Well, no. Uh, so I did ask to give you a heads-up beforehand, but I recognize that you are unlikely to stay in the car after I brief you. So, first, I would like to say that there has been absolutely no ill will on the part of any of the people you’re about to see. The decisions that were made were made to help you, protect you, or otherwise let you keep living your life as normally as possible.”
The nausea that had been building in the pit of her stomach swirled and threatened to turn very real very quickly.
“Me?” Abigail said, confused, “What do you mean help me?”
He twisted in his seat to face her. “Exactly what I just said. Now, I don’t know everything but what I have been told is that you’re about to get a lot of answers you probably weren’t aware were coming, but I do know that every decision made was done to try and support you.
“I don’t understand,” she said, glancing from John to the house as her heart leaped in her chest.
“I know,” John said, and he really did look compassionate as he spoke.
In fact, Abigail noticed through the haze of panic, John looks embarrassed and even apologetic.
“You’re not going to be chill with me leaving until I say I understand, are you?”
John didn’t even blink or hesitate before he answered. “I’m not chill with pretty much anything that’s going on right now, Abby.”
It was the first time he had called her Abby, and the sudden descent into casual friendliness was disconcerting.
“Uh, right,” she said, glancing at Cleo in the back seat, “so... can I go?”
“You’re free to do as you like,” John said, gesturing at the house.
When it became clear that he wasn’t going to give anything else away, Abigail unclicked her seatbelt and exited the car. The walk to her front door had never felt so long before—she couldn’t stop imagining what might be waiting for her inside. If it was bad news about the girls, though, John would have told her—or at least Byron would have called her.
She knew it.
She reached for the door but it was swung open before her by a female marshal she didn’t recognize.
“Ms. Clement,” she said, “please step to the side.”
The woman gestured to the space in the hallway where Abigail had planned to install a coat rack the first week she arrived but had never quite gotten around to it.
“Spread your arms and legs for me,” the marshal said.
“Oh,” Abigail said, jumping to follow the instructions, “why? What’s going on? You know this is my house, right?”
“Sure do, Ms. Clement,” the marshal said, “just need to be sure, anyone coming in who isn’t a marshal gets a pat down.”
Abigail was sure there was supposed to be a ‘sorry ma’am’ in there somewhere but it was conspicuously missing.
“Right, sure,” was all Abigail could think to say as the woman ran the backs of her hands along Abigail’s arms and legs.
“I need to ensure that you understand the next few things that are going to happen,” the marshal said, “the information you are about to be briefed on is classified. It is a matter of life and death that you do not share the information you are about to be given. If you do disclose any of the information you are about to learn to any third party, you may be guilty of one or more federal crimes should the disclosure of any of this information lead to the bodily harm of anyone involved or the detriment of the case in hand. You will be guilty of at least one federal offense and you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Is that understood?”
“Uh… yes?”
“Good. Step through to the kitchen, please, ma’am.”
“My kitchen, you mean,” Abigail muttered under her breath as she followed the directions.
She contemplated saying something else, but as she stepped into the kitchen, a tall figure turned towards her, and Abigail was sure she was about to be sick all over the floor.
“Hey Abs,” Jacob said, before stepping towards her with his brow furrowed. “Abby?” His face blurred and in and out of focus, and for some reason her elbow hurt. Abigail tried to make sense of the sensations that were overwhelming her when a familiar voice cut through it all.
“You’re all right,” Byron said. “You are okay. You’re right here with me and you’re fine.”
“Okay,” she said offhandedly, belatedly realizing that her elbow hurt because Byron and the unknown marshal had leaped to hold her up as she had swayed in place. Embarrassment threatened to creep in, but she was looking at Jacob Givens in the eyes.
It might have been twenty years but she recognized those eyes.