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THIRTY-FOUR

I drop to my knees beside Jin. His eyes are closed, his nose is broken and bloody, his shirt is ripped.

My hand flies to his chest, and I nearly collapse in relief when I feel a heartbeat. He’s unconscious, though. Unconscious and battered on the garden path.

How is that possible? I saw him leave. Watched him drive away.

Did he come back? Was the leaving a trick? He pretended to leave and then returned—

No. Keith was expecting Jin, which meant he really was heading to Toronto. He must have returned for something and found the front door locked, so he came around the back.

A twig cracks. My head jerks up, and I remember Patrice. She’d be out here by now, and she’s searching for me because the damn bugs mean she can’t see, and I’ve stopped running so I’m not making any noise.

I grab Jin’s shoulder. I need to wake—

I remember Cirillo’s decapitated corpse.

That’s what happened when someone got in Patrice’s way. When someone came between Patrice and me.

I need to lure her away from Jin.

I carefully check Jin’s pockets. My keys are there, but his phone isn’t. Where is—?

The bugs clear enough for me to see the cell phone near his outstretched hand. As I reach for it, I stop. Beside Jin is a broken paving stone flecked with blood. That’s what hit him. Someone used it to strike him over and over—

I push the thought aside and pick up the phone. It’s working but locked. I can still call 911, right? When I can’t remember how to do that, I send up a silent apology to Jin and try to unlock it with his face, but that doesn’t work.

I take the phone and keys. I also take that paving stone, because I’m not leaving a weapon for Patrice to use on him.

With the keys and phone in my pocket, the stone under my arm, and the knife in my other hand, I veer out into the gardens. Or I think I do. I can’t see a goddamn thing with these bugs.

That first day with the midges, I’d chastised myself for not being able to ignore them. Now they’re all over me, hitting my eyes, crawling on me, being inhaled with every breath… and I don’t care. I do not care if every orifice in my body is crawling with midges. I don’t care if I’m shitting midges for weeks. I just want to live.

I’ve said before that I don’t want to die, that I was furious at any insinuation I should join Anton, but it was only today that I realized it’s not just that I don’t want to die. I want tolive.

Patrice almost killed me in the basement, and now she’s stalking me, waiting to do it again, and I will not let her.

I want to live.

I’m sorry, Anton. I’m sorry if youarewaiting, and I’m dragging my heels getting to you. I’m not ready to go. Nor am I ready to just surrender and wait for death to catch up.

I keep moving. When I think I’m far enough from Jin, I set down the paving stone. Then I take a few more steps and squint through the bugs. I need to make noise. I want to lure Patrice in this direction and then run—

Something swings at my head. I don’t even see what it is. I only see the bugs part as something comes at me. I dodge and trip and catch myself… and a voice laughs in the darkness.

“Cut this shit out, Patrice,” I say. “You know I’m going to win. I always do. I’m the one who got away. The one who escaped and changed her name and lived a damned good life, while you rotted in a mental hospital. Couldn’t kill me then. Can’t kill me now.”

I’m taunting her. With every word, I look from side to side, waiting for her to give herself away.

Instead, she laughs again. Then she says, “Not Patrice.”

I spin toward the voice and step backward. “Fine. You aren’t Patrice. What would you like me to call you? Evil Patrice? Patrice spelled backward?”

“Youdothink you’re clever. Got it all figured out, don’t you, girl?”

I keep my gaze fixed in the direction of her voice as I fish out the keys and plan my next steps.

Run to my right. Around the house. Hit the key fob. Climb in.