I’m a little lost when I first exit the guest room, but I follow my nose and find my way to the kitchen. There’s still half an hour before my usual tutoring day would start, and I’m starving, so I begin foraging around for some breakfast.

  One of the housekeepers walks in on me while I’m burning a bagel, and she turns the toaster dial back, fans away the smoke, and tells me to sit and she’ll finish the job.

  All of this feels miraculously normal.

  Maybe the world doesn’t end once you’ve slept with your boss and had your apartment broken into.

  Maybe the globe just goes on turning, seconds go on ticking by, and housekeepers go on keeping up houses.

  The woman places a plate in front of me, as well as a butter dish and knife.

  “Next time, ask for help before you start using the appliances,” she suggests briskly.

  Her admonishment adds to my sense of confidence. It’s much easier to focus on little things, like a slightly burnt bagel, than big, overwhelming problems like my confusing love life, the state of my apartment, or the haunting memory of Thomas Greening’s grin.

  Besides, Jason said that he would handle it. He said not to worry.

  Okay then, maybe I won’t.

  I polish off the bagel and lick the butter off of my fingertips before putting my plate into the sink. I decide to just leave it there, lest the cranky housekeeper lecture me about loading the dishwasher correctly, and head to the tutoring room.

  Again, normalcy greets me like a ray of warm sunshine. The room is nice and tidy, just as we’d left it before departing for Dublin. Charlie is already at the table, with a pile of books to one side.

  When I sit down at the table, he grins at me.

  “Harper!” he signs, before springing out of his seat and bouncing over to me. He hugs me, which hasn’t been our normal start-of-the-day greeting so far. The distance between myself and his dad must have really gotten to him yesterday.

  “You’re here!” he says.

  “Of course I am!” I reply. Then, because I care about him too much to make promises I can’t keep, I add in, “Charlie, if anything changes with my job, I’m going to tell you about it right away. I won’t just disappear, okay? And even if I wasn’t your tutor, we could still be friends. Right?”

  He nods solemnly. “You mean you might not be my tutor anymore?”

  His face is drawn and serious, and I wonder if he’s thinking about his mother, or others who disappeared unexpectedly from his life.

  I sign, “Things change all the time. Right, buddy?” I keep my eyes steadily focused on his, willing him to understand. “But we’ll talk first, okay? I won’t just leave.”

  I want him to know that I truly care about him, and that I don’t want to hurt him.

  I’ve always believed that kids understand far more than adults give them credit for. I know that Charlie is sensitive, and that he picks up on everything that is going on around him. I don’t want to hurt him by bringing up the fact that my tutoring might end one day, but I also think that he’s smart enough to guess that my job might be on the line.

  Slowly, Charlie’s grin returns. “Okay, Harper. What are we going to do today?” he asks.

  “Well!” I sign. “I thought we could start with science. Guess what animal we’re going to study this morning?”

  “What?” he asks.

  “Meerkats!”

  “My new favorite animal! How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.” I wink.

  Within minutes, we’re learning all about meerkat habitats. My intention to have a normal day seems to be unfolding just like I’d hoped.

  Unfortunately, the normalcy doesn’t last for long.

  Chapter 22

  Harper

  “Lunchtime!” I sign.

  Charlie’s eyes light up and he slams his math book closed.

  I laugh. “You’re not even going to finish that problem?”

  “No way,” he says. “Math is not my favorite.”

  “I’ve noticed,” I sign with a chuckle.

  “Can we go to the deli for lunch?” he asks.

  Last week, we walked through the neighborhood to a little sandwich deli a few times. It was a good twenty-minute walk, and the fresh air and movement seemed to revive both of us for afternoon lessons.

  For a brief moment, the thought of leaving the house scares me. But in the spirit of having a normal day, I override the fear and nod my head. “Sure,” I say. “But only if you add up the bill and count the money.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  I cross my arms over my chest, pretending to be a stern tutor. He smiles, and before I know it he signs, “Fine”, and flies out of his chair and toward the door. I have to hustle to catch up to him.

  The fresh air, as I suspected, feels marvelous. I tilt my face up to the sun and soak in the rays, feeling instantly re-energized.

  Charlie and I hold hands as we walk, a routine we’ve settled into since our day of building a giant snowman in Switzerland. It’s such a good feeling—holding his little hand. I feel all of this loving, nurturing energy flow through me. It’s like that feeling when you see a baby and all you want to do is smile like a fool and kiss her fat chubby cheeks.

  It’s a warm, fuzzy high.

  I’m basking in it, along with the sunshine, as we work our way down the block.

  Walking is never a straightforward act with Charlie. He stoops down to investigate interesting leaves, sticks, or bottle caps on the sidewalk. When people—especially people with dogs—pass us by, he loves to stop and wave hello. Sometimes, I have to jog a little bit if he’s kicking a stone in front of him like it’s a soccer ball.

  We’ve stopped to pet a particularly fluffy labradoodle when I happen to glance behind us. Because of our erratic pace, it’s rare that the same people are behind us for long. And yet, as I glance behind us, I notice a guy that I definitely saw just as we left the mansion.

  He’s a short, stocky man, wearing scruffy looking jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. It’s not Thomas Greening, but I get that familiar twinge of danger in my stomach.

  Am I being irrational? Paranoid?

  Suddenly, I want to pull Charlie away from the fluffy dog, and start running. I want to put distance between us and this stranger.

  But that would only freak Charlie out.

  The dog owner is talking to Charlie, because she doesn’t know that he’s deaf. I jump in and start signing to Charlie, translating what the woman is saying so that he understands. “The dog’s name is Rosie,” I sign. “She’s three years old.”

  Charlie is infatuated with the dog’s silky curls and wagging tail. After a minute, I chance a second look back. I pretend to be looking up at the sky—which is perfectly clear—like maybe I’m making sure rain clouds aren’t rolling in. With a sweeping look, I take in my surroundings and note that the guy is still there. Now, he’s leaning against a stone wall, checking his phone.

  The twinge of anxiety in my stomach becomes more intense.

  But people check their phones all the time, right? It’s not out of the ordinary to see someone taking a time-out to catch up on emails, check a map, or send a message. Nonetheless, my heart is hammering hard against my ribcage as I give Charlie’s hand a gentle but firm tug, indicating that it is time to get moving.

  I wave goodbye to the woman and the dog, and Charlie does the same. We walk down the block, and instead of staying straight on the main road—the direct route to the deli—I guide Charlie right, down a side street.

  The chances that this stranger is going to turn down this particular side street are pretty unlikely.

  “Why are we going this way?” Charlie signs.

  “I thought we could play a game,” I answer him, thinking on my toes.

  “What’s the game?” he asks.

  We pass a couple of buildings, and then I pause, pretending to read a sign. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the man. He turned too!

  “It’s a scavenger hunt,” I sign, trying to keep my face neutral. On the inside, I’m freaking out. My hammering heart is now rapidly firing off what feels like an epic drum solo.

  “I like scavenger hunts!” Charlie signs. “What do I have to find?”

  “A yellow shirt,” I reply. I can see one, inside the store, through the tinted window.

  Charlie spots it too. “In there!” he says.

  He releases my hand and darts toward the store’s entrance. I follow him. It’s an African market, and it’s crowded and dark. All of the shelves are packed to overflowing with foreign foods and spices. Bins of unfamiliar vegetables crowd the floor, leaving only a narrow pathway for walking. Charlie weaves through the obstructions, until he stands victoriously in front of a bright yellow woven tunic.

  “Got it!” he signs. “What’s next?”

  The store owner is sitting behind the counter, and since we’re the only ones in the place, he’s watching us carefully. I’d venture to say that we’re not his typical customer, and his stare is making me slightly uncomfortable, but I don’t want to leave yet. I want to give the man in the hooded sweatshirt time to walk past the store, on his way to wherever he’s going.

  Because he has to be going somewhere. It’s just a coincidence that he happened to be outside of the Raynes residence, and he happened to pause when we did, and he happened to… Okay, it’s sounding less and less like a mere coincidence to me, too.

  Definitely suspicious.

  Charlie’s waiting for me to answer him.

  “The next thing that you have to find is…” I glance around me, and finally recognize a produce item. “A lemon,” I sign.

  This one takes him longer, and he spends at least five minutes peering into various fruit and vegetable bins before he spots the yellow citrus fruit.

  “Is this scavenger hunt going to be all yellow things?” he asks happily.

  “Yes!” I walk to the doorway and try to peer outside. It’s hard to see out to the right and left, but at least the man in the sweatshirt isn’t right in front of the door.

  Maybe we can continue on with our day.

  “Let’s go, Charlie,” I sign. I wave goodbye and say thanks to the shop owner, who looks grumpy because we haven’t bought anything.

  I step out onto the sidewalk first, and Charlie is second.

  For a brief moment, as I scan the sidewalk, I think we’re in the clear. But then I spot him.

  He’s just standing still, not even looking at his phone this time. In fact, I catch him looking at me, before he tries to hide it and pretends to read a street sign instead.

  I don’t believe his act for a second.

  Maybe, if he knows that I’m onto him, he’ll leave.

  It’s worth a shot. I plant my feet and stare directly at him.

  Charlie reaches for my hand. I stand rooted to the spot, as I grip his hand firmly. The nurturing energy that was flowing through me earlier takes on a whole new flavor. As I stand there with Charlie, I feel this protective energy surge through me. I keep staring at the man, and finally, he looks down from the street sign. He’s only about fifteen feet away, and I can see his beady black eyes.

  Come on, pal. I see you. I’m onto you. Just leave.

  Nope. Luck is not with me today. The man doesn’t back down. Instead, he takes a threatening step toward me.

  I panic.

  Gripping Charlie’s hand tightly, I turn to him and sign, “Follow me, okay? Now, we’re going to race!”

  We pivot and start to run. Charlie’s an athletic kid, and the two of us fly down the street, dodging pedestrians as we go. We speed round the block, and I hold my arm up to hail a cab.

  Two yellow taxis sail past us, but a third grinds to a stop near the curb. Charlie looks confused.

  “See? It’s yellow!” I say. “Charlie, we have to go home instead of to the deli, okay? I just remembered that the chef is cooking us a special lunch.”

  “Okay, Harper!” Charlie says. He hops into the back seat, and I slide in after him. Once the door is closed and the driver takes off, I look out the window. The man is nowhere to be seen.

  I take out my phone and dial Jason’s number.

  Still looking out the window, so that Charlie can’t read my lips, I leave him a voicemail. “Jason, it’s Harper. I just went out for a walk with Charlie, and there was a man following us. It wasn’t Thomas Greening—it was a different guy. I’m scared, Jason. I’m really scared.”

  I take a deep breath and push my hair away from my face, trying to figure out what else I need to say. I’m too panicked to think clearly. “Call me back,” I say, before hanging up.

  Within five minutes, the cab drops us off at the front of the mansion. I hustle Charlie inside, and then quickly ask the chef to whip up some lunch for us.

  While we wait for the meal to be prepared, Charlie asks if he can go to the gym and shoot hoops. I say yes, and I’m relieved when he happily trots off. A few minutes later, I hear the front door open.

  Jason?

  I run down the hallway, toward the footsteps that I now hear echoing through the mansion.

  “Jason?” I call out, before I can see him.

  “Yeah! It’s me.” He rounds a corner, and I see the concerned look in his eyes. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

  I feel myself shaking slightly as I start to speak. I’m still reeling, and even though we’re home now, I can’t manage to calm down.

  “We left the house around eleven-thirty, to walk to the deli that Charlie likes, by Kissena Corridor Park. Right away when we left the house, I saw a guy who looked sketchy, but I didn’t think that much of it. But then, I noticed that he stopped every time that we stopped. He kept following us, and I got freaked out. We took a cab home, and the chef is cooking lunch for—”

  “What did he look like, the guy? You said it wasn’t Greening?”

  The mention of Thomas Greening only adds to my nervous state. I feel my brow crease, and I lift a shaking hand up to my lips. I close my eyes for a minute, wishing that this nightmare would end. When I open my eyes, Jason is still looking at me intently.

  “No, no. This man was stockier…shorter. He looked a little rougher around the edges than Greening did.”

  “Okay. Right.” He turns and starts to pace, deep in thought.

  “Jason, this can’t keep happening. We need to do something!”

  “I know, I know,” Jason says. His voice is hushed and intense. “Just give me a minute…”

  “No, Jason. I can’t keep waiting…like this is normal. I tried to pretend everything was normal, even though my apartment was broken into. I tried to have a normal day. Look where that got me!”

  I feel so panicked. If Jason isn’t going to act, I’m going to have to. Where is my phone?

  It’s in my purse. Right. On the back of a chair, in the kitchen. I spin on my heel, and take long strides in that direction. I hear Jason’s footsteps behind me.

  “Harper, calm down,” he says. “I told you, I’ll get this figured out.”

  “I was with Charlie—the guy was following me and Charlie, Jason! Your son!” I arrive in the kitchen, and make a beeline for my purse. I reach inside for my phone.

  “I understand that, Harper, and I know that this must feel scary. But trust me—”

  “I can’t trust you, Jason. You won’t tell me what’s going on. I can’t wait anymore. I’m calling the cops.” I begin dialing. Nine, one—

  Jason swoops in and grabs the phone before I can dial the last digit.

  I look at him, my glare so ferocious that I can almost feel two hot beams of red light shooting out of my pupils. But before I can yell at him, he says something that makes me freeze.

  “Wait,” he says. “I’ll tell you, Harper. I’ll tell you everything. Just don’t call the cops. Not yet. Let me explain.”

  Chapter 23

  Jason

  I have to tell her. I have no choice.

  “You’d better sit down,” I say.

  Of course she doesn’t. She keeps standing in front of me, glaring daggers, with her arms folded across her chest.

  She has every right to be angry.

  I’d be angry too.

  “Okay then, suit yourself,” I say. I reach for a bar stool, swivel it around, and take a seat. This is a long story, and I’ve never told the whole thing to anyone, ever. I feel terrified and relieved at the same time—and both drain me of the energy to stand.

  Finally, she’s going to learn the truth. It’s taken so much effort to hide it from her, and now I can finally stop pretending.

  “I told you how I went to one of the top engineering schools in the country, right?”

  She nods.

  “Well, when I was in my senior year of college, I studied under a really brilliant industrial engineer. It was during his course that I got the idea for Rayne or Shine Steel.”

  “You told me that, too,” Harper says, clearly unimpressed. I see her glance at her phone.

  I am stalling for time, and she’s not going to stand for it. I need to get to the important part of the story.

  “Well, at the time, I was really excited about my discovery. It was all I thought about, and I couldn’t help sharing my excitement. I talked about my idea sometimes. Primarily, I talked with my professors, but also with my classmates, friends and occasionally, with my roommate—Thomas Greening.”

  Harper gasps.

  I nod. “That’s why Thomas said that we go way back. We do—our names were matched during a housing lottery drawing. Neither of us had many friends. I was too busy with school to bother with social events, and Thomas wasn’t the most popular guy. So we ended up as roommates.”

  “And you told him about Rayne or Shine Steel?” Harper asks.

  “Not exactly. Back then, it was just this idea that I had—I wasn’t even sure that it would work… The theory was there, but I didn’t have the funds to put the theory into practice and actually make a sample of the stuff.”

  “Why would you share your idea with him? You must have known it was valuable.”