He arrived back at the entrance and sat down on the steps between the columns as the realization slowly dawned that she hadn’t come. He’d made a risky play, tipped his hand, and scared her off.
What would she do now? Run?
He killed the light.
The walk over from his house and the anticipation of seeing her had bolstered him against the cold, but now it came screaming in.
He struggled onto his feet.
Drew in a sudden breath.
Kate stood five feet away, a ghost in the dark, dressed completely in black with a hoodie pulled over her head.
As she moved forward, the blade of the butcher knife in her hand threw a glint of starlight.
Ethan said, “A knife? Really?”
“Thought I might be coming to a fight.”
“Did you now?”
“Never know these days.”
“Will you put it the fuck down? I didn’t even bring a gun.” She just stared at him. He couldn’t read her eyes in the low light, but her mouth was a thin, tight line. “What? You don’t believe me? Wanna pat me down, Agent Hewson?”
“Open your jacket.”
Kate slipped her knife into a makeshift sheath that had been constructed out of duct tape.
Her hands slid around his waist.
Then up and down his thighs.
Fast, thorough.
“You still got it,” Ethan said.
“Got what?”
“Still frisk like a pro.”
Kate stepped back. She looked at him with a hardness he’d not seen in her eyes before. At least not aimed at him.
“Are you fucking with me?” she said.
“No. Are you here alone?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Harold?”
“You think we’re dumb enough to let you take both of us?”
“No one’s trying to take you, Kate. At least not tonight.”
“I don’t even know if I believe you.”
“But you came.”
“I had a choice?”
“How about we talk inside.”
“Fine.”
Ethan followed her up the stone steps into the crypt.
When they were both inside, she put her shoulder into the door and forced it shut.
Turned around.
Faced Ethan in the dark.
“Are you chipped?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“So they know you’re here.”
“Probably.”
Kate spun and grabbed for the door handle, but Ethan dragged her back.
“Let go!”
“Relax, Kate. It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t. They know you’re here.”
“Only my location. The mausoleum isn’t miked. I’m not miked.”
“But they know you’re talking to me tonight?”
“They sent me.”
She shoved him back toward the stained-glass window with a surprising burst of force and smoothed her clothes.
Ethan fished his flashlight out of his pocket, turned it on, set it on the floor between them. The light streaming up lit their faces grotesquely.
Their breath steaming in the cold.
“I need you to trust me, Kate.”
She leaned back against the wall, said, “I need you to prove that I can.”
“How do I do that?”
“What do they know about me?”
“They know that you and others remove your microchips. That sometimes you go out at night.”
“And they sent you to investigate me?” she asked.
“That’s right.”
“For what?”
“You really want to play it that way?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Two weeks ago you’re turning this town upside down, desperate to leave. Now you’re sheriff. Clearly working for them.”
“So you know there’s a ‘them.’ ”
“What idiot doesn’t?”
“What else do you know, Kate?”
She eased down onto the floor.
Ethan sat too.
“I know there’s a fence around the outskirts of town. I know we’re all under surveillance. All the time. I know that two weeks ago you wanted the truth.”
“Have you gone beyond the fence?”
Kate hesitated, then shook her head. “Have you?” She must have read it in his face, said before he even had a chance to lie, “Oh my God, you have.”
“Tell me about Alyssa.”
Kate didn’t flinch exactly, but he read the surprise in her eyes.
“What about her?”
“You know she was killed two nights ago?”
“Are you serious?”
“She was found naked in the middle of the road, stabbed to death. Tortured.”
“Oh Jesus.” She let out a long, trembling breath. “Who found her?”
“I did.”
“Why are you asking me about this?”
“Kate.”
“What?”
“You think they didn’t know you were talking to Alyssa?”
Her eyes darted, a flicker of panic setting in.
“She came to me,” Kate whispered.
“I know. I saw the footage. You were supposed to meet with her the night she died.”
“How do you know that?” He didn’t answer, just let the realization come. Kate’s face fell. “Oh. I see. She was with them.”
“Yeah.”
“A spy.”
“What happened that night, Kate? You were supposed to meet her here at one in the morning. She documented everything. What happened?”
Kate stared at the floor.
He said, “Maybe you’ll believe this. Maybe you won’t. But I am here as your friend.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t take the risk of being wrong.”
“Tell me what happened. I can help you.”
“Do I need your help?”
“In the worst way.”
“What’s on the other side of the fence?”
“Don’t ask me that.”
“I need to know.”
“What happened to Alyssa?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you kill her?”
“You tell me. Am I a murderer?”
“I don’t know you anymore.”
Kate stood. “That hurts more than you know.”
“Did you kill her?”
“No.”
Ethan grabbed his flashlight, struggled up onto his feet. “Tell me what you’re into.”
“Goodbye, Ethan.”
“I need to know.”
“For you? Or for the people who hold your leash?”
“They will kill you, Kate. You and Harold. They will disappear you.”
“I know the risk.”
“And?”
“And I live my life on my terms. If my terms lead me down that road, so be it.”
“I just want to help you.”
“Whose side are you on, Ethan? Really?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She smiled. “First honest thing you’ve said to me. Thank you for that.” She reached out and took hold of his hand. Her fingers were ice, but the shape of the hand was familiar. The last time he’d held it was two thousand years ago on a beach in northern California.