On Wednesday I called every half hour until after eleven at night, desperate to hear the warmth of Jacob's voice.
Thursday I sat in my truck in front of my house—with the locks pushed down—keys in hand, for a solid hour. I was arguing with myself, trying to justify a quick trip to La Push, but I couldn't do it.
I knew that Laurent had gone back to Victoria by now. If I went to La Push, I took the chance of leading one of them there. What if they caught up to me when Jake was nearby? As much as it hurt me, I knew it was better for Jacob that he was avoiding me. Safer for him.
It was bad enough that I couldn't figure out a way to keep Charlie safe. Nighttime was the most likely time that they would come looking ior me, and what could I say to get Charlie out of the house? If I told him the truth, he'd have me locked up in a rubber room somewhere. I would have endured that—welcomed it, even—if it could have kept him safe. But Victoria would still come to his house first, looking for me. Maybe, if she found me here, that would be enough for her. Maybe she would just leave when she was done with me.
So I couldn't run away. Even if I could, where would I go? To Renee? I shuddered at the thought of dragging my lethal shadows into my mother's safe, sunny world. I would never endanger her that way.
The worry was eating a hole in my stomach. Soon I would have matching punctures.
That night, Charlie did me another favor and called Harry again to see if the Blacks were out of town. Harry reported that Billy had attended the council meeting Wednesday night, and never mentioned anything about leaving. Charlie warned me not to make a nuisance of myself—Jacob would call when he got around to it.
Friday afternoon, as I drove home from school, it hit me out of the blue.
I wasn't paying attention to the familiar road, letting the sound of the engine deaden my brain and silence the worries, when my subconscious delivered a verdict it must have been working on for some time without my knowledge.
As soon as I thought of it, I felt really stupid for not seeing it sooner. Sure. I'd had a lot on my mind—revenue-obsessed vampires, giant mutant wolves, a ragged hole in the center of my chest—but
when I laid the evidence out, it was embarrassingly obvious.
Jacob avoiding me. Charlie saying he looked strange, upset. . . . Billy's vague, unhelpful answers.
Holy crow, I knew exactly what was going on with Jacob.
It was Sam Uley. Even my nightmares had been trying to tell me that. Sam had gotten to Jacob. Whatever was happening to the other boys on the reservation had reached out and stolen my friend. He'd been sucked into Sam's cult.
He hadn't given up on me at all, I realized with a rush of feeling.
I let my truck idle in front of my house. What should I do? I weighed the dangers against each other.
If I went looking for Jacob, I risked the chance of Victoria or Laurent finding me with him.
If I didn't go after him, Sam would pull him deeper into his frightening, compulsory gang. Maybe it would be too late if I didn't act soon.
It had been a week, and no vampires had come for me yet. A week was more than enough time for them to have returned, so I must not be a priority. Most likely, as I'd decided before, they would come for me at night. The chances of them following me to La Push were much lower than the chance of losing Jacob to Sam.
It was worth the danger of the secluded forest road. This was no idle visit to see what was going on. I knew what was going on. This was a rescue mission. I was going to talk to Jacob—kidnap him if I had to. I'd once seen a PBS show on deprogramming the brainwashed. There had to be some kind of cure.
I decided I'd better call Charlie first. Maybe whatever was going on down in La Push was something the police should be involved in. I dashed inside, in a hurry to be on my way.
Charlie answered the phone it the station himself.
"Chief Swan."
"Dad, it's Bella."
"What's wrong?'"
I couldn't argue with his doomsday assumption this time. My voice was