You’ve Been Warned

The answering machine continues to blink, practically begging me to play back the entire message. Go ahead, Kris. Satisfy your curiosity.

I hesitate only because I’m not supposed to – listen to messages, that is. One of the first things Penley told me when I started the job was that I “needn’t concern myself with the machine.” Translation: keep your nose out of my business!

So for the past two years, I’ve not once hit the playback button.

Until now.

Screw it, what have I got to lose? My job? One way or the other, I don’t think I’ll be the na

Besides, didn’t Amanda say that Michael had already called earlier? The timing seems strange.

So I hit the button. “You have one new message,” says the automated voice.

“Hi, honey, it’s me,” Michael begins. He sounds somber, almost crestfallen.

Then he absolutely blows my mind.

Chapter 98

I CAN’T BREATHE as I listen to Michael’s words. It’s almost as if I’m hearing them one at a time.

“I’ve obviously been doing a lot of thinking since last night. That was pretty clever, by the way, your bringing me to our favorite restaurant to break the news. God knows how I would’ve reacted if we weren’t in public.

“Maybe that’s the problem; you know me too well. Because right now, I feel as if I have no idea who you are. Oh, Christ, that sounds like some cheesy movie line, doesn’t it?

“I know I’m not the easiest guy to be married to, and I know what you told me took guts – and you probably wouldn’t have said anything unless you really do want us to work things out. But the whole thing, I mean, it just came as such a shock.

“Shit. I don’t want to say something here I’m going to regret, but you’ve got to understand how upset I am. You keep saying that you love me and, yes, I love you, but I don’t know if that’s going to be enough. I guess we’ll have to see.

“One other thing, though – I’m a little worried about your wanting to end things with this guy in person. What if he doesn’t take the news well? I want to make sure you know what you’re doing. Think about it, Penley. Okay?

“I don’t know; maybe I’m just being paranoid. Hopefully, you’ll do the same thing you did with me and take him to a restaurant. Jeez, this is too weird. I’m actually giving advice to my wife on how to end her affair.

“You know what? I’m going to leave the office and head home. It’s not like I’m getting any work done here. In fact, I think I’m going to pick up some ice cream along the way. Chunky Monkey, of course. To hell with the diets, right?

“So if you hear this message before I get there, hang around, okay? We’ll pig out and do some more talking.

“I’ll see you later, then, okay, honey? I love you… Love you.”

I stand there motionless in the kitchen while my brain goes absolutely haywire.

I can’t believe Penley would confess to her affair.

And I also can’t believe Michael would ever consider forgiving her, let alone discuss staying together. Has he been stringing me along this entire time? Is there a whole plotline going on that I’m not aware of?

I’m so confused, I don’t know which end is up. It’s all one big hazy cloud. Plus, I think I’m going to be sick. Reaching a hand out to the counter, I try to steady myself. I need to figure this out. Think, Kristin, think!

It just doesn’t feel right. Michael sounded too meek on the phone.

Unassuming.

Docile.

Harmless.

I

And then it all becomes clear to me.

Everything does.

From the begi

Or, should I say, his alibi.

I turn and rush to the fridge, pulling open the freezer door.

There, staring back at me, is a brand-new pint of Ben amp; Jerry’s ice cream. Chunky Monkey, of course.

God is in the details.

13

Chapter 99

“CAN’T YOU GO any faster?”

The cabbie glares back at me, pissed. “Hey, I’m going as fast as I can, lady!”

“No, you’re not! And this is a matter of life and death.”

“What? You’re late for your Pilates class?”

He’s speeding down Fifth Avenue, probably looking to cut over to Madison. We’re still blocks away from the Fálcon.

It’s come down to this. I don’t understand anything completely, and yet it all makes sense. Finally. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. It’s up to me. It’s always been up to me. If I don’t get to the hotel in time, something horrible is going to happen.

I’ve seen it happen.

And at this very moment, all I can do is wonder. Will I be too late?

The cab careens around a corner. Now we’re cooking!

Fuck.

Traffic! A parking-lot situation.

The driver skids to a halt behind another cab, a Checker, sandwiched in by a city bus that’s blowing hot smoke.

“Here!” I say, pushing money through the divider. “Take it. Keep the change!”

“Hope you make your class, sweetheart.”

I bolt from the backseat and start ru

Why, Michael, why? Don’t throw everything away. Don’t throw us away. Or the kids.

All I can see in my head are the images from the hotel, what was in my dream and what I captured on film. The procession of gurneys being wheeled out. And then – I think of my other time at the Fálcon. Three years ago with Boston Matthew. Coincidence? I doubt it. But I don’t want to think about it now. I couldn’t if I wanted to.

Hurry! Just hurry.

Stay in the moment.

I hear a siren warbling up ahead, and my heart sinks, my legs actually buckle, and I nearly fall.

I’m too late. I blew it.

No – it’s a fire engine heading downtown, a blur of red shooting by a block away on Madison. The blare of the siren trails off, restoring hope. What is with the Fálcon Hotel, anyway?

I’m almost there. The burn from my legs is moving up to my lungs. It feels like a load of bricks has been dumped on my chest. But I don’t dare stop ru

Then, something does.

Chapter 100

MY CELL PHONE RINGS.

Michael! This has to be him!

I cut sharply to my right on the sidewalk, pulling up alongside a building. Barely able to catch my breath, I answer the phone.

“Hello?”

It’s not him.

“Is this Kristin Burns?” I hear. It’s a woman. I don’t recognize the voice, but she sounds upset. Oh man, this is no time for more pranks from the dark side.

“Yes.”

“This is Madeline Sturges from Preston Academy. I’ve tried to reach both Mr. and Mrs. Turnbull. To no avail. And you’re listed here as another contact -”

“What’s wrong?” I interrupt.

There’s a silence, and I can practically feel the woman’s anxiety through the phone. “It’s Dakota,” she says. “She told a classmate that she needed to go find someone.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“She’s missing from school. We’ve looked everywhere. Dakota’s gone.”

The phone drops from my hand. Before it hits the sidewalk, I’m sprinting again. Faster than ever.

Four gurneys.

Please, God. Don’t let this happen. Not to Dakota. She’s only seven years old.

How could she know about the Fálcon or that her mother might be there? It doesn’t seem possible.

Yeah, just like everything else that’s happened so far.

The pathetic truth is – anything is possible right now.