Dreamland

The world was passing in jump cuts. Darkness. She curled her fingers under his mask. Darkness again. And then his mouth open, roaring, enraged: a monster’s mouth.

She pulled.

THIRTY

There was the sound of a thousand shattering windows, a scream so high and terrible Dea thought her head would explode. Co

But it was too late.

There was a blast, a tremendous force of wind, and the room broke apart. The bed disappeared; the walls and floor and ceiling, gone. Co

“Dea!” Co

She let go. She let the wind carry her. She was floating in a dark pool. She just wanted to sleep. But screaming—the screaming kept rupturing the darkness, shocking her into temporary awareness.

“Dea, this is Kate. Blink if you can hear us.”

A huge shock ran through her: it lit her body up all at once, toesfingerschestlungs, and she came awake, gasping.

“Come on. Wake up. Stay with us.” Co

“Dea?” Kate was practically shouting. “Can you hear us?”

She opened her mouth and rasped a reply. Her mouth tasted like ashes. She swallowed and tried again. “Yes.” Then, a little louder: “Yes.”

“Stay with us, okay?” Co

Her head hurt. She could still hear screaming, a high, distant wail. Then she realized: sirens.

She struggled to sit up. But it was like forcing her way into Co

“You called the cops,” she said.

“We called an ambulance. We didn’t have any choice.” Co

“No.” She was too tired to fight. She leaned into him. She closed her eyes. She was so tired. “No, not dead.”

The sirens were getting closer. The noise reminded her of the shrill whine of an overgrown insect. But she was too tired to run anymore and she’d done what she had needed to do.

It felt nice to lie in Co

“I won’t leave you.” Co

She knew he was making promises he couldn’t keep, but the words sounded so nice, she let herself believe.

“It was . . . it was Briggs,” she managed to say. “It was Briggs all along. He lied. . . .”

“Shhh.” Kate put a hand on Dea’s knee, patting her gently, as if she were an animal. “That’s all right. Just rest.”

She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sirens, trying to ignore everything in the world but the feel of Co

“I love you, Dea,” he whispered.

I love you, too, she said, or tried to say. She was drifting again, this time into the warm tide of sleep. She let go of the shore; she let herself be carried into the soft waves; she let darkness reach out its arms and enfold her.

She knew she was back in the hospital even before she opened her eyes. The smell of bleach was a dead giveaway. Distantly, she could hear the squeak-squeak-squeak of gurney wheels on linoleum, and the rhythmic clicking and humming of dozens of machines.

She opened her eyes and saw Co

“Why are you here?” she said. She wasn’t afraid of him anymore—only disgusted. “Where’s Co

“Good morning to you, too,” he said, putting both hands on his knees to stand up. His fingers were thick and patchy with hair. She looked away, ignoring the sudden tightness in her chest, the memory of choking. “Co

“That’s fu

“You interfered with an investigation. You tampered with evidence.” Briggs crossed his arms. “You ran away. Co

Dea was glad, too, that she hadn’t been stripped down and forced into a hospital gown. She was still wearing her own clothes. She grabbed her jacket off a peg in the corner. “Arrest me, then.”

“We’re not going to arrest you,” Briggs said, still doing the concerned-parent act. Of course, he didn’t know she knew. “I just want to have a talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Dea said.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” Briggs said.

They stared at each other. Dea took a step toward him, consumed by a sudden sense of rage. “Co

Briggs drew back an inch. For a half second, the mask fell, and Dea knew he was afraid. Then he was smiling again, easy, condescending. “Co

It was a bluff. Dea knew that. Briggs was afraid because Co

She felt a sudden ache, a longing to see Co

“He’s a good kid,” Briggs said. “He drove himself crazy with worry over you. If you really care about him, you’ll leave him alone.”

Dea had nothing to lose. She said: “You should have left his mother alone.”

There was a long beat of silence. A smile twitched at the corners of Briggs’s mouth, like a kind of tic. At last, he said, “You’re very confused.” It was a struggle for him to keep the mask on, now. She kept seeing flashes of his real face—the face that had panted inches above hers, enraged, cruel. “I don’t blame you. You’ve had a very hard time.”

She was tired of playing games—tired of hospitals, tired of Briggs, tired of Fielding. It was all a big game—Briggs was pretending he wouldn’t find the first excuse to chuck her in a mental ward or juvie, make sure she never got within fifty feet of Co

And Dea was pretending she was going to cooperate.

She pulled on her jacket. “So. When are we going to have our talk?”

“Whenever you’re feeling up to it,” Briggs said, obviously relieved by her change in tone. “The doctor’s cleared you to go.”

She shrugged. “Sure. Right after I . . .” She nodded toward the bathroom, which was no bigger than a closet, and totally windowless.

Briggs made a gesture like, be my guest.