23
Work is too quiet. Our kennels are more empty than full, and the most pressing issue for me to deal with is organizing the missing pets board, which unfortunately leaves me to nothing but my own thoughts.
I try over and over to understand how it is that I could have missed something huge. Either I never knew Ches at all or she became someone else without me ever even noticing. I can’t decide which is worse.
But then I consider my own secrets. If Ches and Matt knew the real me, they might not recognize the Faith they thought they knew.
“Faith?” Dr. Bryner asks.
I shake my head, loosening my thoughts as I realize she’s probably called my name more than once. I blink. “Sorry.”
She plops down in my office chair, spinning in a circle to face me. “You been okay lately?”
Dr. Bryner isn’t insensitive, but for her to notice something is up means that I haven’t done a very good job of keeping it together.
“You know, Faith, you remind me of Kit.”
“Is that good?” I ask.
She laughs. “Well, I did marry her, so yeah, I would say so. But it’s not just that. You both brood in the same way, which is to say you’re not very good at brooding.”
I let out a huffing sigh and cross my arms.
She laughs again, and then coos a bit as she realizes my pride is a little wounded. “It’s not a bad thing, I swear it’s not. I just . . . I think we all spend a lot of time glorifying people who know how to sweep their feelings under the carpet or people who are tough. But there’s not just one right way to be strong. You know that, right?”
I know she doesn’t know about me and my newly discovered abilities, but I feel like she can see straight through me. I can’t help but wonder if my abilities are wasted on me, especially now, when everyone I know and love is falling apart and I can’t save them. What’s the point of having superpower abilities if you’re incapable of rescuing anyone?
“My Kit . . . she’s so full of emotion and feelings. She’s brimming with them, and when we were kids, she spent so much time hiding that part of herself, but—and I might be way out of touch here with whatever you’re dealing with—maybe it’s okay to let your feelings take the front seat. Maybe that’s just what you need. Maybe your ability to feel so deeply is what makes you so special to begin with.”
Wouldn’t that be something? If my feelings made me more of myself and not only that, but if they were the reason why my powers were so . . . super. It sounds good. It sounds wonderful. But is it even possible?
“Thanks, Dr. B.,” I say. Even if I don’t know what to do with what she’s telling me, the fact that she’s even taking the time to talk to me like this feels special.
“You can call me Suzanne.” She stands and reaches for her jacket on the hook.
The familiarity of it warms me, but I shake my head. “You worked way too hard to tack that doctor title to the front of your name for me not to use it.”
“My student loans would agree with you,” she says. “I’m going to head out early today. You okay with locking up? You know the code for the front door, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”
After she leaves, I gather all the trash and recycling, since tomorrow is our pickup day. Normally this is a two-person job, because our alleyway door locks from the inside, but I just wedge a rock between the door and frame and cart all the bags and recycling down the alleyway. Even though the sun is still setting, it might as well already be nighttime between these two buildings. Dr. Bryner told me she was out here by herself one time when someone tried scaring her by jumping out of the dumpster while their accomplice broke into the shelter and stole tons of medical supplies.
A gray-and-white cat tail swings around the edge of the dumpster, putting my imagination to a halt before I scare myself, and I carefully set everything I’m carrying on the ground so I don’t startle the cat. “Kitty,” I call. “Baby kitty!”
We’ve found dogs and cats back here. Sometimes pregnant mamas searching for safe places to have their litter and sometimes jerks dumping pets they never truly wanted.
I turn the corner around the side of the building, but the cat is nowhere to be seen. Cats are tough. There are lots of ways to catch them using traps, but I hate seeing them so stressed out when it happens. Last spring it took me six months to catch a black kitten who frequented our alleyway, but by the time I coaxed him inside, all he wanted to do was curl up beside me at my desk.
After having no luck with the cat, I throw the trash in the dumpster and put the recycling in our bins. The back door, though, is shut tight. No rock in sight. “What the hell?” I mutter, and yank on the door. “Ugh.”
With my arms crossed tight around my chest, I trudge around the whole building, wind whipping me in the face. Inside, I gather up my things, and by the time I zip my coat, the clock strikes six and it’s time to go. I do a once-over to make sure everything is just where it should be. Dr. Bryner’s left me to lock up only once more on my own, and I’m not going to mess it up. And that’s when I see it.
Written over my perfectly organized missing pets board in bright red marker are the words SHE ISN’T WHO YOU THINK SHE IS. Each letter has been traced over and over again, making it all look that much more manic. She isn’t who you think she is.
I can barely breathe. Someone could be in here with me right now. And then I know it. I’m not alone. Or I wasn’t alone. I don’t even know. Whitney. It had to be Whitney. This has to be about Dakota. But how could she know that I work here?
I tear the papers down and shove them in the trash, not bothering with shredding or recycling. I check on the animals in their kennels once more, knowing I could never live with myself if something happened to them. The second they’re all accounted for, I grab my keys and burst through the back door before locking up as quickly as I can and then racing to my car.
I have to go home. I have to check on Grandma Lou. I have to find Dakota. But I can’t go home. What if Whitney follows me? But if she knows where I work, it can’t be that hard to find out where I live.
I run over the speed bumps leading out of the parking lot much too fast, causing the car’s undercarriage to rattle beneath me.
“Call Dakota!” I shout at my phone. The line rings over and over until I hear her voice mail. I try again and again until I falter at a stop sign. In one direction is Grandma Lou and home. In the other are the production offices and Dakota. The car behind me honks, and I turn, hurling myself to the heart of The Grove. I dare Whitney to follow me. I dare her.
I park outside the massive warehouse. There are a few cars, but not enough for them to be filming. I don’t see Dakota’s car, but if I could just find Margaret or even one of those security guards I’ve seen hovering around before, maybe they could point me to her.
With the settling darkness, the temperature has dropped enough now that I can feel the chill in my bones when I get out of my car. The doors to the production office are locked, so I duck under one of the partially open freight doors. The sets are completely dark except for a few security lights. It’s warmer in here, but only because I’m protected from the wind. For a moment, I’m distracted by a table of props. A gun, a half-smoked pack of cigarettes, and an envelope full of documents that reads EMANCIPATION at the top. I can’t even begin to imagine what all those props mean for next season, but—actually, I can imagine, and I have to actively remind myself that I’m on a mission right now, and not only that but some unhinged stalker girl could be literally on my tail at this very moment.