Evan feels it roiling inside him, years of pent-up anguish and guilt and grief, an age-old whirlpool of despair. It is every feeling he had consigned to the depths of his gut, every unspoken word he has packed down his throat.

It reaches a vomit pitch, and he understands that it will no longer be denied.

Acid burns up his esophagus and claws crablike into the back of his mouth.

His lips strain at the sutures.

And then rip free.

It breaks through, a howl cracked out of the hidden core of himself, expressing the inexpressible.

It says, Help me.

34. What It Is You Do

34

What It Is You Do

Evan bolted awake, aware of a presence in the dark room.

He’d meant only to lie down for a moment after the boy’s phone call, but the lingering effects of the sleeping gas must have put him out briefly.

Someone stood at the end of the bed.

Was he out of time?

He sat up, blinking rapidly to stimulate his night vision, the shock collar shifting painfully around his neck.

The form emerged from the darkness, curved and feminine beneath a thick bathrobe from the spa.

She parted her robe. Beneath it one arm clutched something to her stomach.

Drawing near, she set the object on the edge of the bed, out of view of the remaining surveillance camera.

The car jack.

“Make them pay,” Despi whispered.

He stared at the slender tool indenting the sheets.

“You were trying to get it,” she said. “I don’t know what for. But you have it now. So do what it is you do.”

“I can’t take this. If he finds out—”

“He’ll what? Hurt me?” She gave a quiet little laugh. “Hurt me more?”

“You. Your family. You have too much to lose.”

“As do you,” she said. “You have one hour until he comes for you.”

He felt it then, the swirling blackness at the heart of himself, the inner whirlpool from his dream. “Don’t help me.”

“No. You don’t get to tell me this. You don’t get to decide.”

Evan stared at the car jack, wanting it desperately. For himself, yes. But even more for Alison Siegler, for the boy waiting for his help.

He said, “But he’d kill you, your family. You can’t take that risk.”

“I can’t? Or you can’t?”

He thought of Jack’s eyes, conveying urgency and love. His finger pointing at Evan through the crimson sea. You hold the key.

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t be responsible for something that could hurt you.”

She gave a laugh that held no humor. “We don’t get to choose that. That’s part of being human.”

He looked down at his hands, clenched loosely in his lap.

“You can’t do it on your own,” Despi said.