Come and Find Me A Novel of Suspense - By Hallie Ephron Page 0,19
the square, got snagged by the spire that topped a tourist information kiosk, and then continued on. It crash-landed, headfirst, against a band of ironwork that bordered the top of a four-story office building on the opposite side of Boylston. A cheer rose as the dummy was hauled onto the roof by unseen figures.
Then a massive, three-story-tall crimson banner unfurled from that building’s roof. In white letters, it said P2H4, followed by Spontaneous Combustion’s URL.
P2H4—Diana Googled it—turned out to be the chemical notation for a highly combustible form of phosphorus.
Chapter Ten
Sunday morning Ashley still didn’t come by to get her computer. She hadn’t called either, which wasn’t unusual but was still annoying as hell. She’d probably met someone and gotten involved in her own drama. Diana called and left a message. She sent her an e-mail which generated an automated out-of-the-office reply.
Diana tried to keep busy. She did some more research for PWNED on chelation scams. Worked on the proposal for a hot new client, Vault Security, who Jake was convinced would launch them to an entirely new level. Jake talked about their business like it was some kind of computer game, and they were advancing to the castle where they’d free the princess. The thought brought Diana back to Ashley. Where the hell was she and why wasn’t she returning Diana’s messages?
The possibility that something had happened to her was too terrifying to contemplate. Ashley had been her rock. She’d been there at the airport to meet Diana and Jake’s flight back from Switzerland. She’d stayed for a week in the isolated farmhouse while Diana sleepwalked through the motions of everyday life. When Ashley finally left, Diana had climbed into the four-poster bed she’d shared with Daniel and buried herself in a mound of his T-shirts and flannel and fleece tops, his pajama bottoms, all clothing that she’d dug out of the laundry bin. Burrowed her head under the pillow and slept.
She’d lost track of time, one day blending into the next. Ignoring the phone, rising only to go to the bathroom or nuke one of the frozen dinners Ashley had stocked in her fridge. Whenever she’d been jerked awake by another falling-off-the-mountain nightmare, she willed herself back to unconsciousness by envisioning the soft lap of a forest where she could lie half buried in pine needles, sensing Daniel’s breathing, pulsing presence all around her.
Day after day had turned into week after week. Then Diana had felt a touch on her shoulder. She’d tried to burrow deeper, barricade herself.
“Diana?” Ashley’s voice tugged at her.
“Leave me alone, please, just go away.” The words were only in her head; even the will to speak had fled.
A cool hand snaked under the mound of clothes and found her. She tried to break free, but she was held in a firm grip.
“Come on. Time to come out.”
Diana tried to hold on to the pillow, then to the covers, but Ashley pulled them off. As cool air claimed her, Diana blinked and winced away the bright morning sun that slanted in through the window.
“Sweetie, you can’t keep on like this.” Ashley was crouched beside the bed, her face inches from Diana’s. Beyond her, Diana could see Jake hovering in the open doorway.
“See this?” Ashley held the newspaper in front of her. Its white background was blinding. “It’s the middle of February. Twenty-five degrees out. The sun is shining. In a month the snow bells will be blooming, for goodness’ sake. It’s time to get up. Get out. It’s been too long for you to still be like this.”
Ashley and Jake had hauled Diana out of bed, wrenching her from the nest she’d built. Diana tried to climb back in but Jake scooped up the clothing and ripped away the bedding, leaving only a bare mattress.
“There’s nothing for you there,” Ashley said.
Diana backed up and tripped over Daniel’s driftwood walking stick. She bent over and picked it up. It was solid and surprisingly light in her hand, and she cried out as her head seemed to fill with Daniel’s presence.
The front door opened and closed. A few moments later, an older woman, a stranger with a soft, sympathetic face, stood in the bedroom doorway.
“Thanks for coming,” Ashley said to her.
Later, after a long shower, Diana had sat at her kitchen table. A pot of beef stew burbled on the stove. Ashley sat on one side of her. Dr. Lightfoot, who would become her therapist, sat on the other side.