‘And if you look around the fence post edges, there are star-flowers and wild columbines …’ Kristin examines the picture again, feels her eyes getting hot. All she can do is look to her brother. ‘I was so happy in Massachusetts. Do you think we’ll ever go back there again?’
‘No, Kristin.’ He is gazing at her lovingly, sadly. ‘No, I don’t believe so.’
‘But … have you heard any word from Mr Jasper about the execution appeal?’
‘Mr Jasper commends me for assisting the FBI with their inquiries, but advises me not to get too excited.’
‘That’s not right.’ Kristin feels her cheeks pale, then heat. ‘You’ve beenhelping. Simon, that’s not fair!’
‘Life isn’t always fair, dearest.’ He sighs gently.
‘This feels so inhumane – both of us staring at each other across this distance.’ She can’t help her eyes filling, her bottom lip quivering, no matter how strongly she tries to rein it in. ‘And in two months, they’ll expect me to stand by your grave with an armful of flowers …’
‘Hush, darling,’ he says gently. ‘You know I won’t let that happen.’
But Kristin will not be consoled. ‘And all the stories they’ll tell about you will be the bad stories, the awful things, and I will have to listen to them over and over … People will justswoopin, you know, trying to explain you, to pin you down like a bug in an insect collection, and me with you, and I don’t think I will be able to stand it. I won’t be able to stand it, Simon.’
‘I wish I could hold you right now,’ Simon whispers. ‘Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.’
‘My brother.’ Kristin’s voice is hiccupping softly in her grief. ‘My twin, my love. My other half, the part of me I cannot live without. Theycan’tkill you. Please tell them not to keep us apart, or I will die too.’
‘You cannot die.’ Simon’s eyes are flaming. ‘You can’t die, Kristin.’
‘Simon … Simon.’ Kristin cups her own face, her palms filling up with tears. ‘What are we going to do?’
A pause in the cell. Then sinuous movement, as her brother stands from his cross-legged position on the concrete floor, unwinding fluidly to his full height.
‘Darling.’ Simon flicks dust from his blue scrubs. Behind the bars, his face is calm. ‘I think the time has come for me to share what I really know. Go and fetch Monsieur Grenier.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
‘Emma? Kristin?’ Travis knocks again, opens the door of the hotel room a little wider. The wedge of sunlight on the beige carpet in front of his feet seems intensely bright in the dark entryway. ‘Hey, it’s me.’
He steps in, closes the door with his free hand as he balances the cardboard tray with three to-go cups. Now it’s possible to see that the only illumination in the room is from the glow of the television. Cartoons are running, but the sound is so low it’s a barely audible hum.
The room’s twin double beds, separated by a nightstand, are both messy. Emma is sitting in a nest of blankets and pillows on the farthest one; her head is resting back on the wall, her face a moon of blue shadow. She looks wiped. She’s wearing the gray sweatshirt he’s seen her in before, over a white tank and a pair of black athletic pants. He’s wearing athletic pants too, with a USMS T-shirt: maybe she’s running out of clean clothes the same way he is.
One blanket is wrapped around her like she’s cold. Last night, she couldn’t stop shivering. Now she looks over, her skin waxy-pale. ‘Hey.’
‘I got coffee,’ he says.
‘Yay, coffee.’ Her voice sounds threadbare.
‘Where’s Kristin?’
‘Beats me.’ Emma shrugs, and the collar of the sweatshirt slips down her shoulder. ‘When I woke up, she wasn’t here. But I only woke up about a half-hour ago.’
It’s ten in the morning; Travis thinks she absolutely deserved to sleep late. He’s surprised she didn’t sleep until noon, after the stress she’s experienced and the amount of medication she took yesterday.
Last night was an endurance test for them all: Kristin didn’t return from Byberry until after eleven, and by that stage Travis had slept only two hours in the previous thirty. As soon as Kristin took over with Emma, Travis phoned and left a message at headquarters explaining that Saturday morning would be a slow start, before returning to his own room and crawling into bed in his clothes.
‘Maybe Kristin’s gone for a walk or something.’ Now he comes closer to the bed, easing a to-go cup out of the embrace of the cardboard tray. ‘Coffee. Sweet, with cream – you need the sugar.’
‘Okay.’ Even Emma’s hand seems limp with tiredness as she reaches up, sets the warm cup on her knee.
‘And here.’ Travis digs in the pocket of his pants, comes out with an orange pill bottle with a white lid. He thinks it’s safe to give it back to her now. ‘Your prescription.’
‘Thank you.’ Emma takes the bottle, tucks it under her leg. She inclines her head to the space on the bed beside her. ‘Take a load off.’
