I watch them pulse on the screen and imagine Carter wherever he is right now. Is he surprised? Does he care?
The dots keep moving. The cramps keep building.
Finally:When?
I tell him.Tomorrow. Maybe the day after. It's coming fast, faster than anything I've experienced before.
A longer pause this time. I stare at the screen until my eyes burn.
Then:I'll handle it. Sending details.
I set the phone down on my chest and wait. The details arrive thirty minutes later.
It’s an address outside the city. I don't recognize the road names. He’s given me detailed driving instructions: which highways to take, which exits to avoid, where to turn off onto the back roads.
Use cash for gas. Leave your work phone at home. Tell no one where you're going.
This is how Carter handles things, it seems. He’s efficient, competent and very discreet. He probably has a checklist somewhere.Secret assignation with enemy journalist: tick.
At 3 AM, I give up on sleep. I get up and pack. A few changes of clothes, basic toiletries. I send an email to work apologizing and saying I need to take emergency heat leave.
I'm dressed and ready when Akari finds me in the kitchen. She's still in her pajamas, coffee in hand, dark circles under her eyes.
"You've arranged something." It's not a question.
"Yes."
She sets down her mug. Takes a breath. "Jamie—"
"Don't." I cut her off. I can't handle the concern in her voice right now. I can't handle kindness, or reason, or any of the things that might make me reconsider.
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she crosses to me and wraps me in her arms, giving me a tight hug.
"Be careful," she says.
"I will."
She steps back. I grab my bag and walk to the door.
"Text me," she calls after me. "When you can. So I know you're okay."
"I will."
I don't look back. If I look back, I might cry. Twenty minutes later, the city is falling away behind me.
Highways give way to back roads, suburbs to farmland, noise to silence. I follow Carter's instructions exactly, taking back roads after the exit.
The sun rises as I drive, pale light spilling across empty fields. My hands are steady on the wheel. My body is burning.
The GPS says twenty more minutes. Then ten. Then five. The road narrows to a single lane, gravel crunching under my tires. Trees close in on either side, bare branches scratching at the winter sky.
And then I see it. A cabin. Small, wooden, set back from the road. There are no cars outside. I take a deep breath and get out of the car. I can do this.
10. Carter
The gravel crunches under my tires as I turn off the main road onto the long drive. Through the bare winter trees, I catch my first glimpse of the cabin and the car already parked in front of it.
Jamie's car.
