A whisper in her ear, her name spoken by an inhuman tongue. It’s keeping pace with her, saying her name over and over in a way that makes her want to stop. Stop and sit down and give in.
Clare.
Clare.
Clare—
—Clare?” Adam said, and the world materialized around her.
They were standing in the middle of the old basement a few steps away from where the pit had once been. It wasn’t a gaping hole anymore, only a lower place where sediment had settled over time. She looked around, mouth trying to form words that wouldn’t come. Shanna stood upslope, left hand worrying at the opposite wrist.
“Are you okay?” Adam asked. He held her by the upper arms, his hands strong and solid. She felt like sagging into him, needing to hold onto another person.
“I’m . . . I need to sit down,” she managed. Adam guided her back up to level ground and she sat on a large rock partially buried in the soil. Adam and Shanna waited before her, an audience of two she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. When she finally felt able to speak, she said, “He put me down in that hole in the ground as punishment. For helping you that night when it was so cold. Do you remember?”
“You brought me inside while everyone was singing,” Shanna said. “You disobeyed him.”
Clare nodded. “I don’t know how long he left me down there but I panicked and thought . . . I thought there was something down there with me. Some monster. And the pit seemed bigger than it should’ve been.” She gazed up at them. “I didn’t remember it until now, until coming here. I never knew where my counting compulsion started. But it was there, in that hole.” She gave the depression a glance and looked away. “It’s how I’ve been coping all these years. Making sure things were right and true.” Tears spilled free of her eyes and Shanna sat down beside her and held her hand.
“I’m sorry for making us come here,” Shanna said. “I thought it would help.”
Clare sniffled and wiped at her face. “Me too. I guess I wasn’t ready.” She stood and wavered for a second before heading toward the SUV. All at once this place was too much. All of the sights and scents were overpowering. Knowing where her counting compulsions came from did nothing to calm her. Instead her mind spun with the memory of the pit. It was impossible, but the recollection felt so real, so true. She clung to the idea that a sick, cruel man tortured a little girl and that girl’s mind had tried to cope with it the best way it could. The other possibility was the sprawl of madness. There had been nothing down there in the dark with her, and the pit hadn’t changed. It was impossible.
Her hand scrabbled at the door handle and she yanked it open, pulling herself into the passenger seat. Adam and Shanna silently climbed in as well. As they pulled in a small circle she gave the clearing a final look and swore it was the last time she’d ever lay eyes on this cursed place.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The sketch artist was waiting for her in one of the two interview rooms adjacent to Hughes’s office.
His name was Barry Tillman—an older man with receding, feathery white hair and long, delicate fingers she couldn’t help but watch as he took notes and began mapping the outlines of a face on a sheet of white paper. He had her first describe the twisted man as best she could. What were some defining features that stood out to her? Did he have any distinctive marks, scars, tattoos? She was shown a folder filled with headshots, all marked with letters and numbers beneath their frames. Clare picked out three different pictures, selecting features from each of them that made up the man’s face in her mind.
When they were finished Barry said he would do a general sketch, then send it to her, and she could give him feedback about any changes. Clare thanked him and headed outside to where Adam and Shanna waited in the SUV.
As she crossed the parking lot Clare realized the weight she’d hoped would be lifted by coming here and exposing herself to the past had only become heavier. All of the therapy she’d had over the years contended that by facing one’s fears, the fears themselves would lose their power and hold over the subject. She would have never agreed to going back to the Refuge if she’d known the memories it would stir up. By identifying the trauma that had brought about her counting she’d shone a light on the boogeyman, and instead of exposing the monster as a harmless childhood fear she’d seen the gleam of its eyes and teeth.
When she reached the SUV Adam was outside, leaning against one fender. His expression stopped her in her tracks.
“I’m going home,” he said quietly. “I was really hoping I could help you, and I’ve tried, but this isn’t going to work.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re too close to this, Clare. You’re taking chances when you shouldn’t and you’re not thinking clearly. I understand why, but I’m afraid you’re going to get yourself hurt or worse, and my being here isn’t helping.” He grimaced. “I can’t risk my career for this. I’ve already gone out on a limb and I don’t want to push it any further. That was reckless what you did last night.”
“I know what I saw, what I heard.”
“And if so? What if they would’ve caught you? What then?” He shook his head. “I’ll let you know if I find anything else, but I have to step away from this. You should think about going home too. Take Shanna with you.”
“She won’t leave without her son.”
“Then go without her.”
“I will not leave her again.” The steel in her voice cut through the air between them.
Adam stared at her. “I’m sorry,” he said, and climbed into the vehicle.
She stood there for a beat, unable to move before finally walking to the passenger side.
They rode in silence back to the hotel, the mood heavy and cloistering. When they arrived she led Shanna up to the room without saying anything to Adam. Next door, she could hear him packing. After fifteen minutes or so his exterior door snapped shut and it was quiet.
“Is everything okay?” Shanna asked.
Clare swallowed, trying to steady her voice before she spoke. “Yeah. Everything’s going to be fine.”
After changing into more comfortable clothes, they dined in the hotel restaurant. It was deserted except for them and two construction workers drinking beer at the bar. They sat at a table in the farthest corner beneath a mounted pheasant perched on a log. The waiter was polite and enthusiastic, and the food was surprisingly excellent. Clare had the lemon garlic perch while Shanna tried a bacon cheeseburger, declaring after a single bite it was the very best thing she’d ever tasted. Clare had several glasses of the house cabernet and offered Shanna a sip, who pulled a face so comical after swallowing, Clare burst out laughing. It felt good despite the events of the day, perhaps in spite of them. A low-grade anger throbbed whenever she thought of Adam’s departure, and yet he wasn’t wrong. She had taken a chance, but what would he have done in the same situation? He’d come here of his own volition, tapped into sources without her asking, and now he’d left them to fend for themselves.
But he isn’t wrong.
She glanced at Shanna, wishing she could whisk her away from here tonight and knowing she would never agree to it. She would no more leave her son behind than Clare would leave her. They were bound together and would see this through one way or another.