Two Months Later
Quinn
Igrip Reid’s hand and inhale the pine-scented air. The log cabin had been an all-too-brief respite from the leash Ilya had managed to tie around my neck, and I’m glad we’re back here. There’s no leash now. I’m as free as I can be while weighed down by a persistent guilt that I can’t yet shake. I’m hoping today will change that.
“Just remember, you can stop this at any time,” Reid says, dragging his heels as we walk away from the row of cabins. The day has lost some of its heat, but it’ll be a while before the sun sets. “If it gets too overwhelming. Or if it just feels wrong. Stop. You can try again another time.”
I tug his hand, forcing him to keep walking. “Reid, I can’t promise I won’t get upset. You know I will. But I have to try this,” I insist. “And there won’t be another time. This isn’t a rehearsal. Either it gives me what I need, or it doesn’t.”
As we head for the woods, I wave to Levi. I didn’t question when two men were assigned to protect usduring our week-long trip. There’s no harm in being cautious. We’re not too far from Poulton Springs, and the Griffins still don’t trust Barrett, even without Ilya’s influence.
I’m hoping to visit the town before I leave. I’ve heard Clara is back and has returned to her old housekeeping job. According to Tandy, who, unlike Clara, is still speaking to me after my switch of allegiance, there’s been a lot of activity at the estate.
“I hope Strider’s set this up properly,” Reid says.
He’d wanted Mace to work on my little assignment, but even though I’ve been living under the same roof as Reid’s brother for over three months now, Strider’s known me forever. He was our neighbor when Blake and I were growing up, and we often sought refuge in his house, spending most of our time in the basement where Strider is currently waiting for my call.
“I know you’d feel better if you knew him, but you’re going to have to trust me on this. We share a history, and he’s the best chance I have of this stupid idea working.”
“So, you admit it’s a stupid idea?”
I pull Reid to a stop. “Maybe. But I need you to give me the space to do this. I’m the one making the call. You stay here.”
He rests a hand on the gentle swell of my belly. “I know you want your privacy, but I’ll be watching.”
“Thank you,” I say, cupping his cheek and going in for the longest kiss. It’s deep and sensual, and sends my pulse racing for all the right reasons. “I won’t be long.”
I walk on alone and check my phone. There’s a new message from Strider confirming it’s all set.
Resting against the gnarled trunk of an old cedar tree, I slide to the ground and rest my back against it. Dappledsunlight plays across my bare arms as I tap the screen and put my phone to my ear.
My heart pounds in my chest. It’s for me to break the silence.
“Blake, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”
My breath hitches. It sounds just like my little sister, which settles one question I’d been beating myself up over. I couldn’t understand why I’d been stupid enough to fall for an AI-generated voice, but this technology is frighteningly good.
“Are you doing OK?” she asks when I don’t say anything.
“I think so.” My voice is suddenly hoarse when I add, “But damn, I miss you.”
Blake sighs, and it’s a sound I’ve heard a thousand times. “I know it’s hard,” she says.
I note that she doesn’t say she misses me too. I’ve had long conversations with Strider about the parameters we needed to establish for this conversation. I’m not looking for make-believe. I buried my sister last month in a cemetery close to where we’d grown up in Boston. We didn’t have much of a home life there, but it’s the only home Blake knew in her short life.
AI Blake knows my sister is dead, and has been given explicit instructions not to generate a false narrative. She can’t miss me. She has no feelings in the present.
What this Blake does have is a good understanding of our past relationship. Ilya had not only recorded my sister’s telephone conversations with me, he’d recorded their conversations too, ones where he’d asked Blake about her relationships with her family. Blake wasn’t a unique experiment in that respect. Ilya had used AI numerous times todeter family members from tracking down the women he enthralled.
“What do you want to talk about?” asks Blake. “You know you can tell me anything, right? You were always there for me, and I want to be here for you too.”
“I just…”
I press the heel of my hand against my forehead. I wish I wasn’t so painfully aware that this Blake isn’t real. I’d wanted this call because I’m desperate to be with my sister one last time, but my rational brain resists the pull I feel deep down in my soul.
“I’ve been wondering what I’d say to you for days,” I say, “but maybe hearing your voice is enough. It makes me remember how easy it was to talk to you.”
