RAP, RAP, RAP.
Freya’s eyes parted. The sound was coming from her window, but it was too dark see as dawn was hours away. She strained against the darkness and froze.
Outside of her bedroom window a face was outlined in starlight, peering in at her. There was an instant of total confusion. It was a fifteen-foot drop to the ground on the east side of the house. No one should be out there.
The black face smiled at Freya, splitting the darkness with a slash of gleaming white teeth. She tried to scream, but the sound was frozen in her chest, she could not expel it. There was a body on top of her, a crushing weight pinning her against the bed.
Freya was suffocating. The shade grinned wider and pecked at her window with a long tapering finger. A useless jolt ran through her arms and legs, and her brain tried to jump-start her, but the engine would not turn. There was heat-lightning flashing at the edges of her vision, the colors of drowning.
Death’s eyes swelled with interest, like spreading oil slicks shimmering with surface interference. The shadows of her room pulsed with each rap if its finger. The walls shuddered and skittered like they were overrun by masses of spiders.
GET THE GUN.
The thought cut through her paralysis. Freya groped in the darkness, knocking things off her nightstand. Death’s smile widened, and the rapping grew louder, soon the glass would shatter.
RAP, RAP, RAP.
Freya found the orb. Her fist closed around the Starball. She squeezed with all her might, feeling its heat flaring against her palm. Light burst from between her fingers, cutting through the shadows, lancing through the apparition.
The oil slick eyes grew hazy and indistinct, the white slash of a mouth spread into a howl and there was nothing behind it. Like a ring of fire eating through paper, the white band spread through the shadow until it was gone.
Freya woke up and gasped for air like she’d been punched in the stomach. The angry rapping at her window continued. When her eyes focused, they locked on the finger. It was the butt of a rake tapping on her window. Someone outside was trying to wake her up.
She didn’t dare get up to see who it was. Her heart beat so hard her chest hurt, and she was mired in the lacuna of sleep and wake. She was naked, the bottom sheet damp with sweat, and the top sheet and comforter a twisted mess.
Go away, she willed, trying to remain perfectly still. The tapping continued. The Starball was in her hand. She needed the gun, but it was in the ottoman in the living room. She wondered if she could get out of the room without the person below seeing her.
The rake continued its assault, whoever it was wanted Freya’s attention. She slid off her bed on the side away from the window careful not to make a sound. Taking cover like she was in a firefight, she pulled a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants out of her dresser and wormed into them.
Who was out there? She felt certain she would sense if it was Dan. Lassa didn’t need a rake. She would have just barged right into the room. With a flash of anger, she wondered if it was Malcolm Lewis. If it was, she was going to get the gun and call 911. The insistent tapping continued. Finally, she found the courage to look.
Lynn Harris stood below in the moonlight, holding the rake by its tines. She looked very upset.
“FREYA! WAKE UP!” Lynn shouted, her voice muffled by the triple-paned glass. Freya could only stare stupidly down into the yard.
“OKAY! COME AROUND FRONT!” Freya shouted back when she got her bearings.
What the hell was Lynn doing down there? Could this be some kind of trick? Freya had knocked her phone off the nightstand during her dream, and it was face-down on the carpet. She picked it up, and the screen announced she’d missed forty calls. It was 6:30 AM.
“Oh, fuck,” Freya uttered. How had she slept through that? The little orange tab showed the phone had been flicked into silent. She didn’t remember doing that but, sometimes, it got nudged by accident.
No dreams.
Freya put the Starball in the corner of her nightstand drawer. There was no time to hide it better. She threw on sweatpants and thumbed through her phone. Most of the calls were from Lynn, but there were two calls from SILLAS POLICE DEPARTMENT. Something terrible must have happened.
Freya had an insane thought the police were calling to tell her it had all been a lie, that Randall was somehow alive. She clenched her jaw, forcing the thought away. For months after he’d died, false hopes sprang up from every corner, stinging like wasps.
Freya rushed across the living room and peered out the side window into the driveway. She was afraid there would be a swarm of police cars outside, but it was only Lynn’s Mercedes. The attorney stood on the walkway, stepping from one foot to the other, and tugging impatiently at the hem of her coat.
“Lynn! I’m so sorry, my phone was muted,” Freya apologized the moment she opened the door.
“I was about to call 911,” Lynn griped, her face drawn with annoyance. She hurried inside, bustling towards the dining room table without taking off her coat or gloves. How long had she been out there? Lynn only huddled at the table with her shoulders hunched, rubbing her hands. Must have been a while.
“Is there coffee?” Lynn asked pointedly, her teeth chattering. Freya shook her head.
“Can you make some? I’m frozen solid.” There was a note of exasperation in her voice, as if shouldn’t have to ask.
Freya felt a twinge of defiance. She wasn’t Lynn’s secretary. Lynn could go fuck herself. But this wasn’t the time to be difficult. She swallowed the feeling and made a pot.
“What happened?” Freya asked as she set the coffee to brew. Lynn gave her a searching look, like she thought Freya already ought to know.
“Lassa’s in a lot of trouble. The police came by. Why didn’t you answer the door?”
“I was asleep. I didn’t hear them.”
There was that look again. Lynn didn’t believe her at all. Freya’s irritation burned through her confusion. She noticed there were streaks of dirt on Lynn’s coat and pants.
“What happened to you?” Freya asked, pointing to the marks.
“Oh…God damn it. I had to climb a tree to see into your room. I rang the doorbell about a hundred times. Were you sedated?”
“What? No,” Freya shook her head. She couldn’t picture Lynn shimmying up a tree to peep at her but, clearly, she had. Freya had an uncomfortable suspicion Lynn had seen her naked. She felt her cheeks getting hot, and she shook her head. There was nothing to be done if she had. She just stared at Lynn, wishing she would get to the point.
“The police are looking for Lassa,” Lynn said, pausing and looking at Freya.
“Oh, shit. Did she go after Malcolm?” Freya asked and, too late, she realized it was a trick. Lynn had wanted her to fill in the blanks on what she thought Lassa was in trouble for. It was a slimy tactic, and Freya narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know, what, a DUI?” she guessed.
Lynn shook her head, and Freya snapped.
“Could you just fucking tell me?” Now, it was Lynn’s turn to glare. Freya had never bitten back before.
“Hiidenkirnu thinks your mother may be involved in some kind of espionage. They haven’t pressed charges yet, but they will soon if she stays missing. They filed a missing person report. I got a call about this at 2 AM.”
“Espionage?” Freya gave her an incredulous look. It had to be a joke, but it clearly wasn’t. “What did she do?”
“They’re not telling me yet. This is about to be a huge problem. Do you know anything about this? Anything at all. Whatever you say to me can’t be used against your mother.”
Freya shook her head emphatically.
“I honestly have no idea, I swear.”
“Apparently, this has been going on for a while. It stopped during her disappearance and started again when she returned. They were planning to confront her yesterday, but she didn’t show up to work. Do you know why?”
“No. She didn’t tell me she was planning to skip work. The police were here the night before, did she tell you about the spray painting?”
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“She emailed me about it. She didn’t give any indication anything else was going on. Was she acting strangely?”
“She’s always acting strangely,” Freya said, and it sounded a bit like she was trying to be funny, but she wasn’t. “I guess she seemed sad, but she didn’t give any sign she planned to take off again.”
“Their lawyer seemed very concerned about Lassa’s mental state. I think whatever she did, it doesn’t make sense to them.”
Freya knew at once. She winced, and Lynn didn’t miss it. Her pulse thudded in her ears, the muscles of her neck tensing. It was the Starball. This was all her fault.
Lynn kept talking, but the words were a vast distance from Freya. They reached her as a meaningless echo. She faintly tasted river water, and she trembled. Lynn shut up and stared with mounting concern. She reached out for Freya’s shoulder and, without thinking, Freya swept the hand away. Lynn drew back from her, shocked.
“Oh, my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” Freya apologized.
“It’s okay,” Lynn said, but clearly her feelings were hurt. She couldn’t brush it off the way Lassa could.
“We do that drill all the time in class. I wasn’t thinking,” Freya pressed on, trying to explain, but they were just words. They couldn’t outweigh slapping someone’s arm away. For a few awkward moments, they stood there while Freya grappled for some reasonable explanation.
We don’t know what it is, or what it’s doing.
Dan had warned her, and she hadn’t listened to him, or to Dr. Garbuglio, or anyone. She’d been such a fool, and now Lassa would pay the price.
Lynn looked at Freya as if she were just as crazy as Lassa. Freya couldn’t blame her. Her head swirled with all the things that had happened, trying to figure out how to explain this. Dan had no choice but to believe Freya. He’d been her. An outsider couldn’t possibly understand.
Had Lassa handled the Starball? Did she get jabbed, too?
Freya thought about the dot of blood on her palm, the missing Tuesday, the empty cans of Ensure, the whiteboards at school, and then she remembered the day Lassa had taken her computer.
“I just thought of something,” Freya said, her mind bounding ahead almost too fast for her mouth to keep up.
“What is it?” Lynn demanded.
“There was something wrong with our home internet a couple weeks ago. Our line was maxed out, and Lassa thought someone hacked our Wi-Fi to torrent stuff. She changed the password and ran a virus scan on all our computers. That must be related to this.”
Lynn’s face brightened immediately.
“That’s very, very good news if we can prove that. Possibly, she was just compromised.”
“Maybe they got into Hiidenkirnu through her VPN,” Freya offered.
“I’ll check with the company. Hopefully, there will be some kind of record.”
“Lassa called our ISP about it. They should have a record of her complaint. They were trying to charge us three hundred dollars for exceeding our data quota. She made them drop it. She argued with them for half an hour.”
Lynn had her phone out and tapping rapidly.
“That’s fantastic. That might save us. I still don’t know where she is. Was she drinking?”
“Not that I know of. She’s been a little better since she came back, but only a little.”
Freya was surprised to see concern on Lynn’s face. It was hard to reconcile with her image of Lynn Harris, shark attorney. The day they’d met with the women from child services, Lynn’s eyes had quested towards the bedroom, and Lassa had frowned with disapproval. Freya put it together. Lynn cared about Lassa but, to Lassa, Lynn was just a diversion.
Red shift.
“Shit, they’re going to want my phone, aren’t they?” Freya realized.
“Definitely. Don’t delete anything. I’m going to call Hiidenkirnu and tell them what you told me. This is all about to be a big mess.”
With a sinking feeling, Freya remembered the concert. Even if Dan didn’t want to go with her, it would hurt Mr. Mathis if she didn’t come.
“I have to go to a concert tonight at 5:30,” Freya said, aware as she said it of how cold she must sound. Lynn gave her an incredulous look.
“Freya, this is very serious.”
“I know, but it’s important,” Freya stressed. “Mr. Mathis is playing, and I told him I would go. I have to.”
Lynn shook her head, and Freya stared back. Neither would budge. Lynn’s face contorted. She was clearly holding back things she wanted to say.
“It’s just in Bangor. I’ll be back later tonight. What happens now?”
“No charges have been filed yet. Hopefully, she hasn’t done anything crazy. If she had, we’d probably be talking to the FBI right now.”
Freya felt her stomach plunge, and then it growled loud enough Lynn raised her eyebrows. The combination of hunger and anxiety was making her feel awful. She wondered when the last time she’d eaten was, and then remembered Dan.
“I have to let Dan know. He’s supposed to go to the concert with me tonight.”
“I don’t think that’s wise,” Lynn cautioned.
“Well, I’m doing it. I’m not going to stand him up.” Freya took out her phone. She was ready for Lynn to try and take it away from her, but Lynn only sighed. She had accepted the situation.
“I won’t tell him anything specific, okay?” Freya promised. “Wait, should I give him your number in case they take my phone?” Freya asked.
“They might ask for my phone, too. If the police get involved, I could be in trouble with the Bar.” Lynn realized she shouldn’t have said the last part and seemed to be working on an excuse.
“I already know about you two,” Freya said. “It’s no big deal.”
Color rose to Lynn’s cheeks, out of place against her silver hair and imperious features. She seemed uncomfortable. The coffee maker gurgled at the end of its brewing cycle. Lynn rose to get a cup.
“Who are you emailing?” she asked, glancing over from the counter.
“I’m ordering flowers for Mr. Mathis. I forgot to do it last night.”
“Would you like coffee?”
“Sure. Black, please.”
Lynn brought two mugs to the table.
“I have a tiny bit of good news,” Lynn said, sliding Freya a mug. “Last night, the police found Malcolm Lewis’s car.”
“Not him, though?”
“Unfortunately, no. It was parked outside of Black River Market. They think he’d been sleeping in it. They impounded it.”
“I guess the next time he wants to spray paint the house he’ll have to take the bus.”
“Hopefully, there won’t be a next time. They’re getting closer at least.”
“I bet he’ll blame me for getting his car towed. What happens when they find him? He won’t be able to get bail, right?”
“He most likely will be able to get bail. How well do you know his parents?”
“I only met his mom a few times, never his dad.”
“The Lewises are in the middle of a fairly acrimonious divorce. The mother, Nora, is a very pragmatic woman. I’ve spoken with her. She understands what Malcolm did and is disgusted. It’s a little heartbreaking. It takes a lot to get to where your own mother won’t defend you.”
Freya nodded, thinking of Lassa.
“The father is the problem. Neither he nor his lawyers will talk with me. I’d wager Grady Lewis is a big part of why the police haven’t caught Malcolm yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“Grady owns a lot of land in town. I’m sure SPD wouldn’t ignore Malcolm if they saw him walking down Thoreau Street, but they probably aren’t putting a lot of effort into finding him either.”
“Ugh. That’s so gross. Wouldn’t Grady get in trouble for sheltering a fugitive or something?”
“He would, and that’s probably why Malcolm was sleeping in his car. I’m sure Grady’s not thrilled about his son’s crime spree, but I bet he hasn’t cut him off either.”
“Great,” Freya said, wishing Lynn hadn’t even mentioned Malcolm.
“I’ll take care of it. For now, we need to talk about what we’re going to say and what we’re not going to say before we talk to Hiidenkirnu,” Lynn said.
“Understood. Let me just talk to Dan. Wait, shit. It’s Saturday morning, he’ll be at work.”
“Where does he work?”
“At Seven Over Seven.”
“How about if I drive you over there and you talk with him in person? I’d like to keep our calls to a minimum until we figure this out,” Lynn suggested. “We can get something to eat, too.”
“That’s a good idea. I should text him first thought and make sure it’s cool if we show up at his work, though. I’m not exactly sure where the two of us stand right now.”
It felt weird to share so much with Lynn, and Freya remembered the strange exchange with her sister Lee at the library. Surely, the two of them had talked about it.
“That’s fine. Would you show me the text before you send it, please?”
Freya wanted to refuse, but she couldn’t think of a reason. She spent a long time agonizing over the wording of her text as Lynn tapped on her own phone.
“Looks good,” Lynn said.
“It doesn’t seem too cringe?”
Lynn shook her head. “It’s very thoughtful of you to check. I wish everyone was that polite.” It was clear who Lynn meant.
Freya took a deep breath before she pressed send and, with each second that passed, she felt more and more that it was a stupid thing to do. She steeled herself for the response, and she imagined the words that would destroy her completely appearing on the screen:
For long minutes, there was no reply, and she felt so hopeless and helpless she was surprised the Starball didn’t try to calm her down. Was it running out of power? Maybe it abandoned her.
Her phone buzzed against the tabletop, and she took an expectant breath. She might be about to be hurt very badly.
Freya shut her eyes and let the breath out slowly. Her shoulders trembled a little. She was so relieved.
Lynn smiled at her over her phone. Freya was afraid she would say something awkward, but she only gave a knowing nod. She hadn’t forgotten what it this was like.
Freya sat beaming at the screen. It had taken her almost a minute to decide what smiley to end with.
“Okay, let me shower and get dressed. Ten minutes,” Freya said. She got ready quickly and, as she was preparing to leave, opened her nightstand drawer to stare at the Starball. She ought to seal it up in the shell before it could do any more damage.
“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered and, of course, there was no reply. She wondered if she should try to hide it in her room somewhere, but there was no time now. She didn’t like the idea of leaving it at home, what if the police searched the place, and they took it?
She put the Starball back in her pocket where it belonged and took out the phone to look at the text again.
Love.
To.
See.
You.
She shut her eyes and felt herself ascend.