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“Cam, Abby! Joe’s awake.” Rachel pressed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Yes, of course. We missed you so much.” I answered, my voice cracking despite my best efforts.
I stared hard at my sister, willing the tears away. My eyes shifted to a very groggy-looking Joe. I was ecstatic that Joe had finally woken up, but I couldn’t muster much enthusiasm at the moment. Liz kept babbling statistics and prognoses of Joe’s condition at rapid-fire. I couldn’t take my eyes off my sister fawning over Joe.
“So, what did I miss?” Joe asked, cavalierly as if he had only been away on vacation for a week and not in a coma for the better part of a year.
“What is it?” Rachel’s eyes bore into me. To say that Rachel and Joe looked concerned would be a gross understatement. I didn’t dare turn my head, but I would’ve bet the entire GDP of the United States that Cam’s expression matched my own.
“Rachel, we need to talk.” I swallowed thickly. My sister fixed me with a hard stare. Joe shifted his gaze to Zach, who looked away immediately. Cam vanished as soon as I opened my mouth. Zach whipped past me to follow my niece. I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t even want to be here, but I couldn’t foist this burden onto anyone else. Liz followed Zach when her brain finally caught up with her eyes. After what felt like an eternity, we were alone, and I couldn’t stall anymore.
“Abby, what’s going on?” Joe rasped.
“Is Cammie okay?” My sister asked almost at the same time.
“No,” I answered softly, taking a fortifying breath. Rachel’s eyes widened. I raised my hand in front of myself to still her. “Wait, please. We have to talk.”
“Why? What happened in Rome?” Rachel prodded. Suspicion and apprehension colored my sister’s face.
“I,” My voice faltered. “He’s coming home.”
“Abby.” Joe pleaded. I swallowed hard and took a ragged breath.
“Cam led us to his body.” Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as Rachel sat down hard. She looked like she’d taken a physical blow to the chest. Joe’s eyes sparkled fiercely. I gulped.
“Him?” Joe’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Matt?”
I nodded and closed my eyes to steel myself for the rest of the conversation.
“Cam cased a bank in Rome,” I started. I took another hard breath, fortifying myself.
“Excuse me?” Rachel sputtered.
“Matt set up a safety deposit box at la Banca dell’Impero,” I said. “He set up the box so that you and Cammie had access.”
“I…he never told me.”
“He never got the chance.” Joe croaked. “Rome.”
“Rome.” I nodded.
“So how did Cammie know?” Rachel pushed. I was immeasurably grateful that we hadn’t dwelled on Rome. I would wallow later.
“His journal.”
“I’ve been over that thing numerous times. Nowhere did he mention a bank account or a safety deposit box.” Rachel groused.
“You missed the letter tucked under the front cover.” Rachel and Joe shared bewildered looks. I handed Rachel the letter, and her hands shook as she stared at the familiar writing. “We found the journal stashed in the safety deposit box. Or I should say, Cam, found the journal stashed in the safety deposit box after she disobeyed my instructions.”
Joe’s mouth quirked into a smile, but Rachel’s eyes were incredulous.
“We lost visual and audio contact with Cam when she entered the vault, and she exited into an alleyway we didn’t know about.”
“They tried to grab her,” Rachel whispered.
“Yes.” I nodded. “By sheer, dumb luck, Cammie managed to bum a ride to the American Embassy with Ambassador Winters. She wasn’t so lucky the first time around.”
“That’s when,” Rachel started. I nodded solemnly.
“Yes. Whatever was in that box originally, it was long gone by the time we got there.”
“What else?” Joe asked. My eyes dropped to my hands. “Abby, what are you holding back?”
“What happened?” Rachel’s tone was sharp.
“Cam remembered,” I whispered.
“Remembered what?” Joe prodded gently.
“Where she was held.” My gaze rose to meet Joe’s because I didn’t have the stomach to look at Rachel. She was angry. I didn’t need to see her face know that.
“You went there,” Rachel stated.
“Yes.”
“Cammie guided you there?”
“Yes.”
“Did all of her memory come back?”
“No.”
“Thank god for small mercies.” Joe’s voice was worn and tired. He sank into his pillow. I hated doing this, but I had no choice.
“Not really.” I sighed. “We searched the house and the cellar she was held in. She’d etched her initials into the wall just like him.”
“Abby,” Rachel pressed, a gust of breath leaving her abruptly.
“Like Matt.” I gulped. “His initials were carved into the wall behind the cot.”
“No. That’s impossible.” Joe breathed. I gathered what strength I had left.
“Cammie led us to a small clearing. From memory.” I croaked. “It was a grave. Matt’s grave.”
Rachel sucked in a horrified breath; tears pooled in her eyes. Joe studied his hands while I steeled myself again.
“They used him against her. They used him to crack her.” Rachel’s voice was ragged and on the edge of tears. How she was holding herself together, I do not know.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Does Langley know?” Joe murmured.
“Yes.” My voice gave out.
“Excuse me,” Rachel mumbled, rising from her seat next to Joe. Her pace was brisk but controlled as she brushed past me. I fought the urge to grab her arm, to stop her. She needed to escape and hide from the world, and I couldn’t blame her. Her heart was breaking all over again, and it was my fault. Everything was my fault.
“It’s not your fault,” Joe whispered as if he could read my mind. He was staring at me intensely, every muscle in his body taut.
“What?” I breathed. My chest was tight, and my voice was thick with tears.
“Abby, you brought him home. You did what I couldn’t.”
“I didn’t.” I ground out.
“You did,” Joe grumbled. “You may have had help, but you brought him back to her. You gave her, them, closure.”
“Still my fault,” I grunted, swiping at the tears in my eyes.
“No,” Joe growled fiercely. “Abby, this is not your fault. None of this is your fault. Rachel knows that.”
I nodded, brushed a few more tears out of my eyes, and took several deep breaths.
“She shouldn’t be alone. She may want to be alone right now, but that’s not what she needs.”
“I know.”
“Don’t wait too long.”
“Back at you.” I winked through my tears and sniffed. A sad smile settled over Joe’s face as he relaxed into his pillow. I retreated, leaving Joe to rest, and walked silently through the halls. Joe was right. Rachel shouldn’t be alone right now. I left her and Cammie alone the first time, and I wouldn’t do that again. Suddenly, I found myself in the Hall of History, standing at the ornate doors separating Rachel’s office from the rest of the school. There was no answer to my gentle knock. I tried the door handle and was unsurprised to find it locked. Sighing, I found adequate tools and set to work picking one of the only keyed locks in the building. I worked on the lock for about five minutes before I felt the latch give. I carelessly dropped my tools and pushed the door open as I stood up.
The office was dark. Moonlight floated through the window, partially illuminating the cavernous space. Rachel’s desk was empty, as was the couch. I was beginning to think I’d guessed wrong when I heard sniffles. Rachel sat on the floor with her back against the door as if she simply collapsed, unable to push further into the room. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and her face cradled in her hands. I shut the door gingerly, engaging the lock, and sank down next to my sister. We sat in silence for a while before I felt a weight on my shoulder. I sagged with relief, winding my arms around Rachel and bringing her head to my chest. My body folded around Rachel’s instinctively as I gently rubbed her back. Hot tears soaked into my shirt. I tightened my embrace and kissed the top of her head, my own tears beginning to fall. We sat like that for a long time.
Rachel was a silent crier by nature, so I took a while to notice she’d fallen asleep. I maneuvered her to the couch and draped the blanket across her body. I briefly considered returning to my room in the staff block but dismissed that idea almost immediately. I snatched one of the couch pillows from under Rachel’s feet and made myself comfortable on the floor. Exhaustion allowed sleep to overtake me almost instantly.
I was roused from my recurring nightmare, launching myself upright, by a knock on the door. I gathered my wits as I registered my surroundings. My body made its displeasure with the accommodations loud and clear. I groaned mutely, stretching my back as best I could before another knock sounded. I stood, trying to work some of the kinks out as I did, and crept to the door. Patricia Buckingham greeted me in the doorway. I glared at her and then peered over my shoulder at a soundly-sleeping Rachel. Patricia started to speak, but I held up my hand to stop her. I pointed behind her, gesturing toward the Hall of History. Patricia complied, a scowl forming on her face.
“Whatever it is,” I whispered fiercely. “It can wait.”
“I’m afraid not.” Patricia hissed. “I must speak with the Headmistress.”
“Well, that’s just not going to happen.” I hissed back.
“Abigail.” Patricia chastised me. I felt like I was a student again.
“Patricia,” I growled, trying to steal back some of my dignity.
“Let me speak with the headmistress.”
“Not today. In fact, I have an idea.” I jabbed my finger at her. "You handle it!”
“I really don’t think,” Patricia stuttered
“Nope, that’s perfect. You got this!” I gave her a thumbs-up as I grabbed for the handle. She flashed me a grimace. “Rachel trusts you. I trust you. You’ll be fine!”
“Abigail!” Patricia called after me softly. I gave her another thumbs-up, flashed a smile, and closed the door behind me. With the door locked, I leaned my head against it and sighed.
“What’s going on?” Rachel asked through her yawn. I could hear the smile in her voice.
“I don’t know, I don’t care, and neither should you,” I ordered with a smile pasted on my face.
“Abby,” Rachel warned.
“You can take one day off.” I protested. I planted myself on the table in front of her. Rachel gave me a demure smile.
“I better go find Patricia and see what she needs.” Rachel squeezed my shoulder as she stood.
“Hey!” I hissed, wrapping my hand around her wrist. “Whatever it is, Patricia can handle it!”
Another knock interrupted our conversation. I rolled my eyes, and Rachel frowned at the door.
“For the love!” I growled when Rachel pulled the door open. Joe was propped against the frame, clutching at his midsection. His breathing was labored.
“Wha…what?” Rachel sputtered in disbelief. I gaped and lunged for him. Rachel regained herself and grabbed for him at the same time as me.
“What the heck are you doing out of bed? How did you even get out of bed?” I rambled as we settled Joe on the couch.
“Check,” Joe wheezed. “On, you.”
“That’s sweet. Stupid, but sweet.” Rachel cooed. I rolled my eyes.
“Well, I agree with the stupid part.” I shrugged. Rachel glared at me as realization dawned. “Oh, this probably what Patricia was trying to tell you about.”
“Rest in here. We’ll find a way to quietly get you back to your room.” Rachel chided Joe. She squeezed his shoulder for comfort.
“Where,” Joe gasped. “Go from here?”
“I don’t know.” Rachel shook her head as she rounded her desk.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“Lunchtime,” Rachel answered, resting her chin in her hands.
“That’s not what I asked,” I grumbled.
“The students will be in the great hall. That’s the best chance we’ll have to get him back without being seen.” Rachel ignored me.
“You okay?” Joe sat up. I threw him the ugliest glare I could muster. I’ve always hated that question, especially when the asker clearly knows the answer is, most emphatically, no.
“No, but I will be.” Rachel gave Joe a sad smile. I nearly gagged at their cuteness.
“Alright, alright. At least wait until I leave the room.” I groused. Both of them flinched as if I’d slapped them. Another knock broke the awkward silence. Rachel eyed Joe urgently, willing him to stay quiet as she answered the door. I crossed my arms and took in the show.
“Huh.” Rachel bent down at the empty doorway and stood up with a food tray. She kicked the door closed and set the tray on the table in front of Joe. I hadn’t noticed, but there was also a small cup filled with capsules in the corner of the tray. Rachel plucked the cup of pills and thrust them at Joe. “You can run, but you can’t hide. Take your meds.”
Joe grimaced. He took the paper cup from Rachel and tossed the meds back, dry swallowing. Rachel snatched a cup and disappeared into the bathroom to fill the container with water.
“You’re an idiot.” My voice was low, my tone hushed.
“You told me not to wait,” Joe answered pointedly. I glared at him.
“You’re still an idiot.” I hissed.