Page 73 of If Anything Happens To Me

I stared at the necklaces again. They seemed such a different addition to the panels—clearly laden with meaning. I wondered if Minerva had attached them. If she had, it meant that she was in on everything. She had driven us here to the Miramar. She had spoken badly about Fitch, but what if that had been a way to put us at ease while she delivered us straight to him? Deep down, I couldn’t believe that.

I heard very faint footsteps in the hallway. The sound was different than usual—as if someone was sneaking up the stairs and didn’t want to be heard. I was suddenly on high alert—Fitch had said they would be back before long.

I heard the key quietly scratching at the lock, then a long silence, and that was strange, too. I’d noticed Fitch’s way was to shove the key in so hard, it was almost violent, as if he was attacking the lock in preparation for getting to us. He’d barge in, come directly over to us, make his presence known in an aggressive way, to assert his domination. I was so lost in the fear of what was about to happen that, when the door opened silently, I had my eyes closed.

“Oli.”

He whispered my name, and I turned.

My pulse jumped, and I nearly did, too.

Matt was standing there, barely inside the room, his back to the door. Tall and lanky with that familiar brown hair falling into his blue eyes. His smile wasn’t there. That gap-toothed smile that always gave me butterflies was gone, replaced by a worried frown. He looked like himself, not like Fitch’s evil accomplice. He put his finger to his lips, in a shushing way, telling me to not make a sound.

There was so much I wanted to say, wanted to shout. My thoughts raced with words of blame and hurt, with one big scream of despair. I wanted to run at him with my fists, hit him as hard as I could, attack him for whatever part he had played in my sister’s murder, in our imprisonment, in tricking me into loving him.

But his eyes stopped me. They held a combination of sadness, intensity, and acute warning. There was urgency in his gaze that made me stay totally quiet, stand right where I was. To pay attention to whatever he was trying to tell me.

Without a word, he pointed overhead, at the snowy owl and the American kestrel—the birds that held the cameras. Because the lenses were directed toward the center of the attic, where the bed and mattresses were located, Matt was out of the cameras’ lines of sight.

If Fitch was monitoring the attic, he wouldn’t be able to see Matt.

I knew I should be afraid. Fitch must have sent Matt. But my old feelings were sweeping in, like the tide flowing in from the sea and rising on the beach.

I tried to fight those emotions, to tell myself to stay strong and keep my heart hard, but again: The expression in Matt’s eyes was telling me something else. His gaze was so focused on me, as if he couldn’t get enough of seeing me, that I felt a rush of hope.

He beckoned me toward the door.

I shook my head. There was no way I would follow him.

He held out one hand.

His blue eyes had a spark that reminded me of the time we’d gone crabbing in the marsh, when we had to cross a cracked and weathered plank over a muddy creek.

He was doing the same thing here in the attic—reaching out for me to take his hand, to steady me as I balanced my way across. At the creek, I’d been the first to cross. I had turned, reached out for him, pulled him to the opposite bank.

That memory shook me up. Here I was, in the attic, facing this boy I had known forever. He held his hand out. He was either going to trick me, take me to Fitch and whatever nightmare he had in store, or it would be something else.

It was something else.

I stood in front of Matt, so close the toes of our shoes were touching. I took his hand.

We stared into each other’s eyes.

So much bad stuff had happened. It had scared me, made me doubt everything. I felt my whole body ready to burst with pent-up suspicion and anger.

“Were you part of it?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “I had to make him believe I was,” he said. “It killed me that you believed it, too.”

He put his arms around me.

I was shaking.

He pulled me against his chest.

I could feel his heart pounding, or maybe that was mine.

I realized I was holding my breath, but I couldn’t help it.

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