out the back of the barn, and I was far enough in that I couldn’t see or be seen from the house or street. A chill took me as I began to re-excavate the hole I had been filling. The soil was still soft and so the work was easy. I still had to work half bent over to avoid the low branches. Cedars and pines that looked so soft to the touch jabbed and scratched my head and arms.
The hole got smaller as I went down, but at least I was no longer constrained by the lattice of roots knotted under the earth; I’d cut through them the first time. When it got so that I couldn’t move dirt with the shovel, I threw that aside and pulled out the trowel. That got me another few inches, the hole narrowing even more quickly now. My shirt stuck to me, broken twigs and leaves hung on to my shirt, and more dirt wedged under my fingernails.
I found the keys from the coffee shop, just where I’d buried them, and dusted them off as best I could. Then I refilled the hole, scattering the duff of dead leaves and pine needles over the top. It was almost as though I’d never been there at all.
The car was in the driveway, I was relieved to see. After I replaced the tools in the garage, I went into the house. I didn’t bother locking the door; there didn’t seem to be a point. I dropped the carabiner and keys onto the counter, then went upstairs. I stripped down and got into the shower. I don’t know how long I was in there, but after a while I realized that I could barely breathe for the steam and my skin had gone bright red and pruney. I got out and pulled on some shorts and a jog-bra, then sat in my office.
I sat for a long time before I realized that I’d forgotten to turn on the fans. I was sweating again. I drank a whole bottle of tepid water, and then looked for another one.
The charm was a present, I understood that now. Tony’d been sending tokens or expensive presents to everyone—flowers, chocolates, photos—and now gold jewelry for me. The shamrock wasn’t my taste, but I thought that was just a good guess. What really bothered me was that he knew how much I’d like the carabiner.
Does the fact that I realized what Tony was doing, that this was a gift, mean something? Did it mean that I was starting to think like him? Or was I just so weirded out that I was reading too much into things? How could I tell what was real anymore?
I didn’t want to think that I was right. I didn’t want to think like Tony. I didn’t want to do things and then not remember them. That was crazy.
I shivered and felt myself break out into a sweat again.
Brian came home shortly after that. One look at my face, and he was at my side.
“What is it?”
I told him about the key chain and the car. I showed him the charm.
“Okay, this is bad,” he said. “But nothing’s happened to you?”
I shivered, shook my head.
“That’s something.” He looked at the key ring more closely. “Why is there so much dirt on them? Maybe that’s a clue—”
“No. It’s not.”
He looked at me sharply. “Why not?”
“I…I dropped them.” I couldn’t tell Brian about the time I’d lost. “My hands were shaking…after I tried the keys on my car. And we can forget about fingerprints, too; everyone at CaféNation will have handled them by now. What do we do?” My hands were still trembling, I felt like I had flu.
“Call the locksmith, call the cops. Check the house.”
I nodded numbly, my arms wrapped around myself. Nolan, the keys, it felt like I couldn’t even think straight, couldn’t keep a thought in my head long enough to act on it.
Brian made the calls. He found me a glass of water, and then sat down and waited with me. Suddenly, he looked up.
“The spare keys!”
I looked up; the rack by the back door where we kept the spare keys seemed to be much the same as ever. Brian rushed over in excitement, though.
“Look, they’ve been rearranged!” He picked through the keys, put them back the way that our system required. “They’ve been moved so that you can’t tell a couple have been taken! That’s how he got into the barn when