Page 61 of Lion's Share
“This will take us to within a quarter-mile of my house,” she said, still in that undertone, even though they hadn’t seen a single soul while taking their circuitous route. “Then there’s another trail that comes out behind the Carmichael property. From there, we can cut through their backyard and approach my house from the rear.”
Ben admired her confidence, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were taking an enormous risk. If DAPI agents spotted them approaching Sidney’s house, their brief moment of freedom would be over. But Sidney was right about needing answers, and the journals might contain information that could save not just them, but all of Silver Hollow.
The logging road felt endless, winding through stands of coast redwoods and slender birch trees. Ben found himself listening intently for any sound that might indicate pursuit, but the forest remained quiet except for the occasional bird call or rustle of small animals in the underbrush.
Finally, Sidney held up a hand. “The trail’s just ahead,” she told him. “From here on, we need to be extra careful. We’ll be getting close to more populated areas.”
The new trail was even narrower than the first, little more than a game path winding between the trees. But Sidney navigated it with certainty, and Ben trusted her knowledge of the local terrain. She’d grown up here; she knew these woods better than any DAPI agent ever could.
When they finally emerged from the forest, Ben could see the back of a small stucco house about fifty yards away. Sidney crouched behind a large oak tree, eyes narrowing as she studied the area.
“That’s the Carmichael place,” she whispered. “If we can get across their yard without being seen, my house is the one just behind them.”
Ben peered around the tree, assessing the terrain. The Carmichael yard was mostly open grass with a few scattered fruit trees and a larger clump near the fence, offering minimal cover. But it was now early evening on a weekday; with any luck, the neighbors would be inside getting dinner ready.
“Straight across to those apple trees,” Sidney said, pointing to the small orchard at the far end of the yard. “Then along the fence line to my property, and we can approach my back door from the side where it’s not visible from the street.”
They waited another few minutes, watching for any sign of movement in the house or yard. When Sidney appeared to be satisfied that the coast was clear, she took Ben’s hand and they made their run.
The open ground felt terrifyingly exposed after the cover they’d enjoyed for most of their journey, but they reached the stand of apple trees without incident. From there, they moved carefully along the property line, using the fence and scattered shrubs for concealment.
Sidney’s home came into view as they approached the final stretch. The big brown house looked exactly as Ben remembered it, but something about it felt different now. Maybe it was the drawn curtains, or the way the shadows seemed to cling to the front porch, but the place had an abandoned, almost haunted quality.
“I don’t see any surveillance,” Sidney whispered as they crouched behind the Carmichaels’ garden shed, which luckily backed right up to the property line. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not watching.”
Ben peered over the fence, looking for any sign of federal agents. The street appeared empty, with no suspicious vehicles in sight. But Dr. Rosenthal’s team had proven they could be cagey when they needed to be.
“How do we get inside?” he asked.
Sidney smiled. “Kitchen window. The lock’s been broken for years, and it’s not visible from the street.” She pointed to the side of the house, where a small window was partially hidden by an overgrown rhododendron bush.
They made their final approach quickly, staying low and moving from one piece of cover to the next. The kitchen window opened easily under Sidney’s touch, and she boosted herself up and through the opening with practiced ease. A moment later, she was helping Ben climb through after her.
The house was quiet, everything neat and tidy, just the way they’d left it. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were trespassing, even though this was her place.
“The journals are in the office,” Sidney said quietly. “Down the hall, past the powder room.”
They quickly moved through the living room and into the downstairs hallway, avoiding the front windows and staying away from any areas that might be visible from the street. The “office” clearly had been intended as a bedroom, since it had a closet and a window that, thankfully, overlooked the side yard and not the front.
“Here,” Sidney said, and hurried over to a plain brown moving box set to one side of the big antique desk.
Ben picked it up and set it on the desktop. Inside the box were dozens of leather-bound journals.
“My grandmother started keeping these when she was just a little girl,” Sidney explained as she pulled the journals out of the box and arranged them on the desk.
Ben picked up one of the older journals, its leather binding soft with age. The pages were filled with neat handwriting in the sharp pencil he remembered, ornamented here and there with sketches of trees and birds…unicorns and griffins.
“Where do we start?” he asked.
“With the electromagnetic disturbances,” Sidney said as she began to flip through one of the more recent volumes. “If there were power outages or other electrical problems in the past, she would have noted them. Obviously, there wouldn’t have been cell phones, but still, if anything weird happened, I’m pretty sure she would have written it down.”
They worked in companionable silence, each taking several journals and scanning for any mention of electrical anomalies. Ben had to work not to get distracted by the delicate pencil sketches, the descriptions of a world so unlike the one he knew.
“Ben,” Sidney said after a few minutes, her voice tight with excitement. “Look at this. It’s the day I was born.”
She held up a journal dated twenty-seven years ago, pointing to an entry for October sixth.
“The power outages began at 3:17 a.m. and continued off and on throughout the day,” Sidney read aloud. “The electrical company told us it couldn’t find any reason for the disruptions. During the worst of the outages, strange lights were reported in the forest, and several residents complained of interference with radio and television signals. Josie went into labor during the height of the disturbances. My granddaughter, Sidney Rose Lowell, was born at 1:53 p.m. Power returned to normal shortly after she came into the world.”
