A Whisper in Time (10 page)

The knob of the back door refused to turn. I frowned in concentration. Had I locked myself out?

I tried again. It was indeed locked, and I had no key.

There were numerous doors to this house. Perhaps one of them was open.

It took very few moments to discover that every door was locked.

I tried the garage last. It had a keypad that could raise the garage door, if only I could remember the correct numbers.

Mark said that the numbers changed each month and reflected a special occasion. What was the holiday for September? Had it not occurred this Sunday?

9-1-1. Yes, that had to be it. I pressed the three buttons.

Nothing happened.

I tried again. There was no difference. Perhaps I should abandon the keypad.

There might be a window left open.

I walked to the midpoint of the driveway and assessed the distance from the ground to the apartment. I had left a dormer window undone to allow in fresh air, but the pitch of the roof and the lack of trees would make climbing to that window most difficult.

A vehicle rolled behind me on the lane and stopped. A car door shut slowly with a deep
ker-thunk
. I glanced over my shoulder. A man in a dark uniform approached.

He must be a member of law enforcement. An unfortunate circumstance.

“Hello,” I said, clasping my hands before me. “Are you a police officer?”

“I am,” he said, his voice clipped. “Who are you?”

“Susanna. How may I help you?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Were there not crimes to manage in this city? My problem seemed entirely too mundane to concern the police. “I cannot get into the house.”

“Why not?”

“It’s locked, and the keypad doesn’t work.”

“Ah. Do you know the combination?”

“Apparently not, else I should be inside now.”

His gaze narrowed. “Is this your house?”

“No, indeed. It belongs to the Lewis family, but I do sleep here.”

“Where do you sleep?”

“In the space over the garage.”

“Miss, I’ll need to see some ID.”

“I do not have any.”

“Is your ID in the space over the garage too?”

Had he not heard me? “I have no identification card. The government will not give me one.” I shook my head. America was far too concerned with identification.

“Miss, why don’t you come with me?” He caught my elbow and tried to tug me down the driveway.

“Pardon me, sir,” I said, pulling my arm from his grasp. “It isn’t proper for you to touch me so.”

He reached for me again. “Okay, that’s enough—”

“Hey,” a voice shouted.

“Merciful heavens,” I said. “There is Mark. Perhaps he can explain matters to you.”

Mark braked to a stop behind me. “What’s going on here?”

“Who are you?” the police officer asked.

“Mark Lewis. I live here.” He nodded toward me. “So does Susanna.”

“She lives here?”

“Mark, truly, that is too strong a statement. Your parents—”

“Shut up, Susanna.” He frowned at the officer. “Is there a problem?”

“We received an alert. I’m here to check on it.”

I was glad that Mark had come. He seemed far better prepared to address the police officer’s questions than I. Yet I didn’t think the lack of courtesy was warranted. “I’m locked out,” I explained to Mark.

“Did you try the keypad?”

I nodded. “I couldn’t get it to work.”

Mark closed his eyes, released a tight breath, and opened them again. “I apologize, Officer. This is just a big mistake. Susanna is new to the city and doesn’t understand how things work. But she does live at this house, and I have the key code. We’re good.” With that, he took out his phone, tapped out four numbers on its surface, and the garage door opened.

Mark asked me to hold onto his bike as he and the officer made their way back down the driveway. Out came the wondrous identification card that consumed this century.

A few moments passed and the vehicle sped away. Mark walked back to me, took his bike, and proceeded to put it away. He remained silent throughout.

I walked past him, into the house, and up to the apartment. Ten minutes passed before I heard his tread on the stairs. There was a light rap on the door before he entered.

“What happened this afternoon?”

“I sat in your mother’s garden. I didn’t realize the door had locked behind me.”

“Don’t you know the code?”

“A rather foolish question, is it not? Had I known it, none of the remainder would’ve happened.” I did nothing to hide my frown. This first encounter with a law enforcement officer had been an unpleasant experience. Mark’s impatience was not helpful. “I thought it might be your Patriot Day but it—”

“Did you try 9-1-1?” At my nod, he groaned. “That’s for emergencies.”

“I am certain you mentioned it at one point.”

“Yeah, as in
never use that code
unless you have an emergency.” He shook his head. “Granddad’s birthday is September twenty-sixth. That’s the code.” He crossed the room and slumped onto the couch beside me. “Why did you go outside at all?”

“I had some hopeful news. It needed space to breathe.”

He exhaled noisily and then shifted to meet my gaze. “Tell me your hopeful news.”

“There may be more journals written by Phoebe.”

“How did you find that out?”

“I searched on the internet.” I turned on the couch to face him. “There is a warehouse at the State Archives with documents that haven’t been transcribed. They have a section for house servants in the years that Phoebe served the Etons.”

“It’s a stretch to go from that information to
my sister has more journals out there
.”

“I know this to be true. Phoebe didn’t write one journal. She would’ve loved recording her thoughts. I must go to the Archives. Tomorrow, if possible. How far is it to the warehouse?”

“First, we have to figure out where the warehouse is.” He shook his head. “If it’s in the Archives building, it’d be insane to walk there, Susanna. I’ll have to drive you.”

He pushed off the couch, drew out his phone, and made a call, walking to the rear window to stare out. The sunlight etched his profile in sharp relief. How beautiful he was.

How fortunate I was.

He slipped the phone in his pocket and then rejoined me on the couch. “Many of the documents are located in a large storage facility in the basement of the Archives, but you have to have an appointment to get in. They’ll let us down there tomorrow at four. We’ll have at least an hour.”

I tensed. “Will you arrive home that early?”

“I’ll take the truck to school. If Phoebe has journals down there, we’ll know tomorrow.”

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

W
AYS
TO
E
XPLOIT

It took me a long time to fall asleep, because I couldn’t stop thinking about Susanna’s run-in with the law. The
whatifs
were horrible.

What if I hadn’t arrived when I did? As I’d ridden down the lane, he had his hand on her arm and she was on the verge of freaking out. Would she have struck him? That could’ve been all kinds of bad.

If I’d stopped for a smoothie or come down the greenway instead of taking the main roads, Susanna might’ve been on her way downtown to the Police Department without me seeing. Would she have known what to do? Would she have talked too much? They’d never come across anyone like Susanna, and she’d never come across anyone like them.

What if she’d landed in jail with the real crazies?

What if I couldn’t find her, and we couldn’t figure out where she’d gone?

It made me sick to think about it. It made me want to lock her up in the house and throw away the key until she made it all the way to normal. If that ever happened.

* * *

I took the truck to school the next day for two reasons. I had to hurry home to pick up Susanna, and my guidance counselor wanted to talk to me about college. Not that I was looking forward to it. There were a lot of things I liked about my final fall semester. Answering questions about my college search wasn’t one of them.

I paused in the open doorway of his office. “Mr. Rainey?”

He looked at me with a smile. “Come in, Mark. Close the door and take a seat.”

A smiling Mr. Rainey made me nervous. It could mean either bad news or something squishy. Dropping onto a seat, I waited for him to start.

“So, when we talked last semester, you were looking at Virginia Tech and Brevard College.”

I’d finished my junior year with my serious college list narrowed down to two. Both in the mountains. Both with great mountain biking teams. One was a huge, out-of-state public college; the other, a small, in-state private college. “Yes, sir, with App State as my safety school.”

“You won’t need one.” He glanced at his computer. “Your SATs are excellent. Your AP exams are…”

“All fours and fives.”

He gave a sharp nod. “Your unweighted GPA will be the weakest part of your application.” He stared at me over the top of his glasses. “What’s up with that, Mark?”

I shrugged. “Priorities.” The difference between a B and an A at Neuse Academy wasn’t worth the training time I would sacrifice.

“Hmm.” He frowned at his computer screen again, his mouse clicking rapidly. “You’ve taken a lot of science…”

“
Life
sciences.” I’d only taken physics and chemistry under duress.

His lips twitched. “
Life
sciences, which colleges love to see. Any ideas about a major yet?”

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but being outdoors had to be part of it. “Something to do with the environment, maybe.”

“Fine. You have time to get more specific.” He plucked at his lip. “Are you thinking about early decision to Virginia Tech? You’re a shoo-in, especially being a legacy.”

“Probably not. I haven’t decided if it’s where I want to go.” Even though it would please my dad, two hundred miles seemed a whole lot farther away right now than it had last spring. “I’d like to consider something smaller. I might look around here again.”

Mr. Rainey’s gaze narrowed on me. “Really? I thought mountains were a requirement.”

They had been, but Susanna changed everything. And mentioning my girlfriend to a guidance counselor would start a lecture I didn’t want to hear. “I may have written local schools off too quickly.”

“If enrollment size is important to you, the only one I’d recommend is Duke.”

“I don’t have the GPA.”

“You might be surprised.” Fingers tapped briefly, then he smiled. “If you’re serious about looking in the Triangle area, Duke is a strong option. Drop by and give them a visit. If you text me, I’ll mark you excused that day.”

Mr. Rainey wasn’t prone to exaggeration. Shifting to the edge of my chair, I got ready to leave. “Thanks, maybe I will.”

“Before you go…” His face scrunched. “Newman College is another school that might interest you if you’re feeling undecided. Four thousand students. In the mountains. Heavy into life sciences. It’ll have several majors which might interest you.”

“Never heard of it.”

Mr. Rainey’s lips curved. “That’s why you have guidance counselors.”

Okay. “Where is Newman College?”

“The southwest corner of Virginia. Near the town of Damascus. It has a beautiful campus.”

“Thanks, but—”

“They started a mountain-biking program last year and are looking to recruit some strong racers for the team.”

He had my attention now, just in time for the bell to ring. I stood, hesitating. “Do you know anything about the coach they’ve hired?”

“I’ll look into it for you. Any chance you could drop by at the beginning of last period?”

“I have American government.”

“With Mr. Fullerton?”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Rainey sighed. “Another day, then.”

I smiled as I left the room. Nobody wanted to take on Mr. Fullerton.

* * *

Gabrielle walked into the physics classroom, but instead of stopping at her assigned seat on the front row she continued down the aisle until she reached the desk behind me.

“Jackson?” she said in her soft, clear voice.

“Huh?” Jackson Mott coughed. “Yeah. You need something, Gabrielle?”

“Would you please trade seats with me? I’d like to sit behind my lab partner.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see what would happen. Jackson scrambled out of his seat. Very interesting that he’d given in so easily. It would also be very interesting to see if our physics teacher let the change stand.

I looked back at her as she settled in. “We have assigned seats.”

“This will work out.”

“Really?”

She nodded with confidence.

I faced forward. Ms. Milford was watching us. She’d observed the switch and said nothing. I looked back at Gabrielle. “I’m impressed.”

“There are a lot of things about being a celebrity that suck. I might as well exploit the ones that don’t.”

I laughed. “Just don’t try to exploit me. Like, did you get your half of the lab report done?”

“Here it is.” She held up her part. Several thin specimens were tacked carefully to a board.

“I forwarded my half to Ms. Milford last night.”

“And copied me.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We’re trying the study group again today, since we didn’t get much done Monday. Want to join us?”

“Can’t. I promised Susanna I’d hang out with her.” No way would I let her down.

“Maybe next time.” Her phone hummed. When she read the caller ID, her face clouded. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” She put it up to her ear. “Wait a sec. I need to find somewhere private to talk.”

She strolled up the aisle, whispered to the teacher, and left the room.

Seemed to me there were a lot of not-sucky ways to exploit being a celebrity.

* * *

Susanna waited for me on the front porch of the house. I didn’t need to shut off the truck. She ran to the passenger side and climbed in.

“Mark, we must hurry. The Archives close at five-thirty.”

I kind of knew that, since I was the one who had told her. “We have plenty of time.” I backed out and headed downtown.

It turned out that I was wrong. Traffic was horrible. There were orange barrels everywhere.