When Janie reached the stables, she realized she wasn’t alone out here. Someone stood in the mouth of the stables, peering through the darkness toward the horses. It creeped her out. Rather than sit in fear, she demanded, “Hey, what are you doing?”
The person startled like a frightened horse, jumping around to show his face. It was Jack Whitmore, Alexander’s sixteen-year-old brother, the brother who was probably in over his head, selling drugs and destroying his life. Janie’s heart went out to him. Maybe, when they left, they could take Jack with them and set him up in a different environment, with people who actually cared about his well-being.
“Jack,” she said tenderly. “Are you all right?”
Jack was shaking. Janie touched his shoulder and forehead, realizing he had a slight fever.
“I’m fine,” Jack said, pulling his body away from her.
“You’re sick,” she said sternly. “We should go inside. I’ll make you tea.”
Jack shook his head and took another step back into the darkness. “No. I have things to do.”
Janie sighed deeply and searched the Lodge for signs of Alexander. She saw no light on, not even upstairs, where Nina’s bedroom was. Where was that man? Was it really up to her to talk to Jack about his not-so-secretive business? They weren’t even married yet!
“Jack, I’m worried about you,” she said, trying to sound sweet and silly. “I’m worried that you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself involved in.”
Jack looked like a frightened animal. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, I kind of do,” Janie said. “I’ve lived all over the place and met all kinds of people. I know that sometimes, people tell you that they have your best interests at heart, but it’s a lie to help them do what they want to do. Whether that’s making money or manipulating you or whatever.”
Jack scowled. Janie remembered that Tio Angelo had wrapped Jack around his finger as long as three years ago. Jack had been thirteen at the time. Was that too much damage to undo?
“You’re scared,” she breathed. “I get that. But I want to help you get out of this.”
“You don’t get it!” Jack cried, then took off for the house, his legs blurry in the night.
Janie sighed and leaned against the wall of the stables, grateful for a moment to herself. Since the miscarriage, she’d felt strangely weak, like her body didn’t fully belong to her. She couldn’t chase sixteen-year-old Jack. She could only continue to pester him, to ask questions and remind him that she was there for him if he ever needed her. When they left, he was free to call, write, visit, and stay forever. The Whitmores were poison. Chloe was right.
Chapter Twenty-One
Fourth of July 1998
Nantucket Island
Alexander stood at the top of the staircase that led down to the tunnels beneath the Lodge. His heart pounded in his neck and made his body quiver. He could hear his father’s footsteps pounding as he shot down the tunnel, but toward what? Alexander had seen his father come and go from the tunnels before, carrying mulch, odd equipment, and various pieces of furniture. But what could he possibly want down there on a night like this?
If Alexander wanted to follow him, he knew he had to step delicately. He wanted to see what his father was up to when he didn’t think anyone was watching.
Alexander gripped the railing and walked down the stairs on his tiptoes, his legs shuddering beneath him. He saw a light far, far down the tunnel and off to the right, as though the tunnels created a sort of maze, going left, right, straight, and also back beyond where the staircase was. Alexander remembered the lasttime he’d been down here, the morning he’d discovered Jack acting suspiciously before school. He’d come down and found nothing but empty cardboard boxes. What had kept him from coming back down here over the years? Was he too frightened to face fate?
Alexander crept slowly, conscious of every noise he made and how loudly he breathed. When he turned to the right, he discovered a sort of fork in the road. He remembered that the tunnels had been built long before central heating and freezers had been invented, back when the Lodge had been more of a haven for whalers, and they’d stored fish and whale meat down here. They’d often slept down here and been able to get from place to place via the tunnels, rather than having to go outside in the cold and snow. Due to their age, the tunnels were made of stone and dirt, but it was remarkably dry down here, like another world.
It took Alexander nearly fifteen minutes to discover where his father had gone. When he found him, Benjamin was seated at an ornate mahogany desk with his head in his hands. He was crying. Alexander was taken aback and hung far from the door, giving himself just enough view to take in the scene. Surrounding Benjamin were hundreds of books, notepads, and what looked like photo albums. It looked like the place where Benjamin came to escape the real world.
Clearly, his conversation with Alexander had hurt him. Alexander had never imagined that he could upset his father so much. Alexander didn’t want to add insult to injury, so he backed away from the study, tears filling his eyes. All he wanted was to get back to the bonfire, take Janie in his arms, and tell her to pack up. It was time to go.
But when he turned the corner in the direction of the staircase, he realized that he’d gone too far and too deep into the tunnels to make sense of where he was. He’d been so fixated onhis father and what he was up to that he’d let himself get lost. It was pathetic.
But now, the real stress began. He considered what to do. On the one hand, he could return to his father’s study and ask for directions out of here. But that risked falling back into his argument with his father and saying cruel things. His only option was to keep looking, he guessed. Maybe it only seemed confusing, and he was only two or three turns away from the stairs. He kept going, his ears ringing.
He walked and turned, and then he fell to his knees. How long had he been down here? He wondered if any of the old whalers had ever gotten permanently lost down here, if they’d never been found. He suddenly felt how insignificant he truly was.
But maybe ten or fifteen minutes after he’d begun walking again, he discovered another lit-up room. At first, he was frightened that it was his father’s study again, that he’d managed to loop back around and waste his own time. But this room was different—much larger and stuffed wall-to-wall with cardboard boxes. Alexander froze, then forced himself to look at what was inside. This time, they were full of long, packed plastic bags.
The bags were not see-through.
But they had to be full of Tio Angelo’s drugs.
