popping as they dropped below the bay, the lights flickering and creating dim shadows around them, thinking about the next day when she’d have to roll the shelf in her kitchen aside and get back to work, and she felt the beginning tendrils of tension take root and start to spread outward. She wished she could turn back time, go back to that morning when Liz stood in her doorway infused with an excitement that nearly filled her up. Or maybe earlier. To that afternoon at Tilden waiting for Brittany. To have listened to her instincts and gone home. Gotten ready to work her shift at DuPree’s, far removed from Agent Castro and Brittany’s collaboration. Or maybe even further still, to the sidewalk outside her dorm, saying no thanks to Dex. Saying no thanks to Wade. That was the problem with wishes. They always led to others. Bigger ones. Trailing back in time, knot after knot needing to be untangled, never noticing how they wrapped around you until they pulled you down.
But as she stared at her dim reflection in the dark train window, Eva was struck with a thought so clear, so pure, it sent a shiver through her. I’m not going to do this anymore.
An impossible wish. Fish and Dex would never let her walk away. Not just because of what she could do, but also what she knew. Even though she was compartmentalized, she still knew too much.
Could I find out more?
Castro’s presence had felt like a threat. But she saw now how it could also be an opportunity. The chance to become the person Liz saw when she looked at Eva. She fingered the photo of the two of them at the entrance to the stadium, already looking like a relic from another time. As the train rose again on the east side of the bay and outside light filled their car again, Eva felt it slip into her, creating space where there had been darkness, hope where there had been despair.
Eva would do what was expected of her—she’d go back to work, she’d deliver the drugs—but underneath it all, she’d do what she did best: She’d watch. And wait. And exploit everyone’s complacency. Because she knew without a doubt Castro would be back. And this time Eva would be ready for him.
Claire
Friday, February 25
At the coffee shop Friday morning, I wander over to the job board while I wait for my coffee. My tentative plan is to take Eva’s social security card, her birth certificate, and any other relevant documents and move somewhere else. Which will require more money than the three hundred fifty dollars I have left.
There are plenty of minimum wage jobs I’m qualified to do—data entry, waiting tables, or even working in a coffee shop—but I feel paralyzed with fear, constantly weighing the risks against the benefits of applying. It would mean committing to being Eva in a very real and public way. There’s a difference between using her name to order a coffee and writing her name and social security number on a W-2 form.
And whatever Eva was running from tumbles around in my mind, a riptide of questions that pull me in unforeseeable directions. I can never work a job requiring a background check. I will always have to be on the move, never settling, always wondering when Eva’s past will finally crash into me.
Through the window, students are beginning to make their way to class. A crowd of them emerges from a bus, some carrying coffee cups and wearing earbuds, while others look tired and drawn, up too early on a Friday morning.
When they’ve dispersed, I see him again. The man from yesterday, standing on the corner, waiting to cross the street. He wears the same long wool coat, with a paper tucked under his arm, as if he’s heading to work. I stare at him, trying to figure out what it is about him that bothers me. He’s just a man on his way somewhere. The longer I stay at Eva’s, the more familiar the people in the neighborhood will become.
But as the light changes, he looks over his shoulder, directly at me, as if he knew I would be here, watching him. Our eyes lock, and I feel the weight of his gaze, curious and searching. He lifts his hand in a silent salute, meant just for me, before he crosses the street, disappearing onto campus.