“How far?” I ask. Grace is walking around upstairs again. I bet she’s getting the comb to brush her cat. Elvis. It’s a cool name for a cat.
And Grandmother Abbott is a bitch.
Malcolm eyes Laura before answering, and I appreciate his discretion. “Close enough. But we can’t walk.”
Laura is staring at the dark sky outside. She blinks and breathes, then spins on her heel and walks to a narrow table just past the stairs. She returns and holds out a set of car keys. “I will report it stolen in the morning.”
I start to take the keys, then stop. “You did it all for her, didn’t you?”
The keys clink in Laura’s hand.
“You knew even when you were pregnant. Did Derek?”
I shake my head, because it doesn’t matter. Grace would have always been the legitimate heir, even if I’d showed up at some point, but Laura must have learned enough about her in-laws while she was pregnant to know that given the choice between a legitimate heir born with Down syndrome and an illegitimate one born without…they’d have rejected Grace.
I felt carved-out and slick with nausea. Grandmother Abbott’s disdain for Grace wasn’t a secret even from her. I’m ready to gag on the disgust I feel for a woman I’ve never met.
“That’s why you helped my mom all these years, so she’d stay hidden and keep me hidden too.”
Clink, clink, clink.
“I don’t want anything from his family,” I say. “I just want my mom. Grace is…She’s…” Laura won’t want to hear anything from me about her daughter. I spent all of five minutes with her, but I don’t even hesitate as I reach behind my neck and undo the clasp of my necklace. I coil up the chain along with the ring and set it atop the banister. “Grace should have this.”
I take the car keys, and Malcolm and I step out into the rain. The second Laura shuts the door, I turn to him.
“I met her,” I say. “Grace. She was sweet, so sweet. And I hate my mother right now. I hate her. And Laura. And most of all, I hate my grandmother.”
Malcolm is missing crucial pieces that would allow him to understand everything I’m saying, but he doesn’t hurl any questions at me; he runs a hand over my hair and cradles my head.
“You really found her?” I ask him.
“I found where she was three days ago.” His arms tighten around me, as though he’s trying to support me for what he says next. “I don’t know if she’s still there. And, um, she wasn’t trying to hide. Not like a woman who’s spent nearly two decades avoiding capture. It was like she wanted someone to be able to follow her.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, thinking about the risk she’s been taking. If they’d still had Malcolm, they’d have found her long before I could. “She was drawing them away from me,” I say with certainty. “And I know she’s still there. She’s been waiting for this. It’s my birthday at midnight. And now I know exactly why she had to wait till I’m eighteen. Whatever else Laura warned my mom about, keeping Grandmother Abbott as far away from me as possible was highest on that list. She’s planning to turn herself in.”
The clock inside said it was almost nine o’clock. In three hours, I’ll be safe. And Mom will be…
Gently, I free myself from Malcolm’s embrace. “Let’s go.”
I’m not reeling from shock and a concussion like I was the last time I pulled into a motel parking lot. I’m alert and focused, and fear has been my companion for so long that I’ve forgotten how it feels to be in any other state. Except now excitement is also tripping through me, and something like desperation.
“Katelyn.” Malcolm lays a hand on my arm. “Why don’t you let me go first? It’ll probably freak her out if she opens her door and sees you.”
I soak in the warmth from his hand and try less successfully to draw comfort from his words. He’s trying to protect me from what he believes might devastate me. He’s not so sure my mom is safe and sound inside the motel he tracked her to, watching the clock. I get that, but I can’t believe it. “She’s fine, and so am I. You’ll see.”
The car door shutting behind me brings the entire motel into hyperfocus. It’s a large two-story L-shaped building with red doors and a matching roof. There are several other cars in the parking lot besides ours, and I note them all without meaning to, another game Mom and I played whenever we went to a restaurant. She’d let me get dessert whenever I could correctly recite the description of every car in the parking lot.
It’s been five days since I saw her. Only five days. It feels longer, like an eternity. I know she’s inside.
I could never have anticipated the last week. It’s fair to assume that Mom’s plans impacted with reality in ways she couldn’t have guessed either, but she’s okay. I hate that I have to keep telling myself that, but I do. I keep it up for every step until I’m standing outside room 7A.
The rain has stopped and the Do Not Disturb sign is hanging on the door, swaying back and forth in the same breeze that lifts my dark-brown hair into my line of vision. I take a minute to smooth it back, tucking it neatly behind my ears and tugging my sweater down in a vain attempt to make it fit better. That’s all the repair I can make to my appearance here; it’ll have to be enough.
My hand hovers over the door but doesn’t move. Something thick is in my throat, and the wind catches my eyes at just the right angle to make them sting and water.
And then I knock.
There is no answer, so I try again, rapping the metal door with a force that approaches painful. I don’t stop, can’t imagine ever stopping, until the door disappears under my hand.
