“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Want is not really the word I’d use in this situation,” I said. A shudder passed through me, and I knew he was close enough to feel it. “The past just feels a little closer to me than it did in the car.”
Somehow, he seemed to understand what I meant. “If it gets to be too much, or if it feels like something is off, signal me—what did you use at Haven to get their attention?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, each hand clutching the opposite shoulder.
“That works,” he said. “How about one for okay”—Roman demonstrated, pressing his right hand to his left shoulder—“and two for not?”
I drew in a breath, nodding. “All right.”
Priyanka’s hard knock on the door finally tore my gaze away from him. She took a deep breath, then began to pace, letting her shoulders slump as she ran her hands back through her thick hair. I could see her muttering something, but we were too far away to hear what it was.
Finally, the door swung open. A bald man in a dark polo and khakis stuck his head out. At the sight of him, Roman’s body tensed. Mine responded in kind.
“Oh, thank God!” I choked on a laugh at the sound of the rich southern accent Priyanka was suddenly putting on. “Sir, I’m in desperate need of your kind assistance—I’ve come to y’all in dire need, one southern lady to a southern gentleman—”
I winced. “We should probably hurry.”
“Roger that,” he said.
Roman took a small breath before stepping back and breaking the circle of my arms. He moved in front of me, keeping an eye on the porch. Priyanka had angled herself away from us and the pathway, forcing the man to keep his back to us.
Unlike the house next door, this path wasn’t paved with crushed oyster shells, but simple pavers. My heart jammed into my throat as Roman boosted me up over the small fence before jumping over it himself. I didn’t understand how someone with such a big body could move so quietly.
The narrow pathway was lined with small lanterns and hedges spotted with flowers, but I didn’t feel any cameras or other security devices hidden in them.
“Should we try to use the porch rail to find a window?” I whispered. “Is it—?”
I slammed into his back as he stopped dead at the end of the pathway. He reached behind him, for me or his gun, I wasn’t sure.
I stepped to the side, edging past him.
The pathway opened to a side yard bordered by white fencing and the same tall hedges. There was a small garden bed of flowers and vegetables that curved along one side of a round patio table. A plate of food, half-devoured, along with a basket of what looked like toasted bread, had been set out on the table. My stomach ached at the warm smell of it, the way the butter melted on its prim dish.
The figure sitting there was hidden behind the sheets of the New York Times. A pot of tea or coffee sat waiting for the nearby cup. Finally, he folded the paper closed, then neatly in half, turning his attention to the pot in front of him.
Coffee. As he poured it, its aroma filled the small garden, bleeding into the sweet perfume of the roses blooming nearby.
That same icy touch crept over my skin until it froze me in place.
He looked the same—not as when I’d last seen him, but the first time, at East River. His dark hair had grown back, and his form had filled out either with care or age. He was no longer lean, half-starved like the rest of us had been at the end, but strong. Still, the tidy button-down shirt, the crisply ironed slacks, and the preppy sunglasses masking his eyes were pure Clancy Gray.
It wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve to be here, looking so healthy—so content. After everything he’d done, after so many good people had died instead of him, because of him, he got this small, carefree slice of bliss.
As if my thoughts had reached out to him, he looked up and smiled.
“Hi,” Clancy said, setting his cup back down onto its saucer. “Ruby told me to expect you.”
When I first met Clancy Gray, it had been like stepping into a dream.
At the time, none of us had known the careful way he was orchestrating things at East River. How he played each of the kids