Page 65 of The Sister's Curse

No one could see inside my head. As long as I kept that anger behind my eyes, no one could touch me.

I thought of the giggle I heard, the singing. Had Sims heard it, or was that all in my head, too?

Gibby crawled into bed, and I wrinkled my nose. No matter how often I washed him, he still smelled like wet dog.Wet dogwas a reassuring, safe smell. I came back to myself and kissed his brow.

I opened up my laptop and stuck in the SD card from the trail cam at the Hag Stone. I held my breath, skimming over the footage. The motion detector caught birds during the day, then a couple of hikers. At night, deer drifted through, munching leaves near the camera. The flash of an owl’s wing washed over the night vision in a flare of black and white.

As the night wore on, the wildlife disappeared. Shadowy figures moved at the edges of the camera’s sight. I couldn’t tell how many people there were, or who they were, only that there were more than three. A fire blazed in the sand, and they flickered before it. Ihad no sound on the trail cam, so I couldn’t tell what they were saying. I strained to make out faces, but the footage was blurry, as if someone had put Vaseline over the camera lens.

They stayed for more than an hour, circling the fire, lifting hands to the sky. When the fire guttered out, they moved away…

…walking into the water. I froze the video and stared. Maybe they had a boat out there? There had to be one, just out of sight.

Maybe that was the way the tweakers chasing me were getting in and out of the area, by boat. This area of the river was too shallow for a speedboat, but maybe there was a rowboat.

I stared at the dark screen, at the frozen shadows. I didn’t know what the hell to make of it.

I closed the laptop and dozed. Part of my mind was reluctant to sleep deeply enough to dream, but another part of me sensed that I was on the cusp of something important. There was something I needed to remember now, and I struggled with how to access it safely.

Keys scraped in the lock, and the front door opened. Nick kicked off his shoes, and Gibby lunged out of bed to greet him. Nick put down his bag and came to the bedroom to sit beside me.

“Hey.” He bent down to kiss the top of my head. “How are you doing?”

“Mm…it’s been an eventful day. I’ll tell you later.” I was deliberately not wanting to deal with Sims’s death tonight. Lately, I had been distracted when I was dealing with Nick, and he deserved a bit of normalcy, my full attention. “And you?”

He looked tired. “Feeling a little at odds.”

“Tell me. Is it Dr.Floyd again?” I was ready to deal with more mundane workplace drama.

He slid his hand over his eyes. “Mandatory overtime for everyone through the July Fourth weekend. We’re down three nurses and one ER physician, and Dr.Floyd won’t fill the positions. He straight up told us that he thinks we’re overstaffed, but we’re not. It’s just not sustainable.”

“Damn. I’m sorry.” I squeezed his other hand.

“A friend from med school told me about an opening in the city, with the university. It’s primary care.” It came out in a rush. “It would be less money, but it would be regular hours. Less time on call. Weekends free.”

I kept still and listened, though my heart pounded.

“I could sell the condo and get a place in town. I’ve got enough saved up, and I could keep paying my student loans. Might be a little tight for a while, but the numbers could work…”

I let him trail off. When he lapsed into silence, I asked: “Is this what you want?”

“It is.” He sighed. “But it’s not the only thing I want.” He reached across for my other hand.

I squeezed his hands. “You should apply.”

“Will you come with me?”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I wanted to. I really did.

He shook his head. “You don’t have to decide now. We could do long distance for a while and see how it goes. I—”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.” His eyes were sincere. So sincere.

But we both knew things could change. We knew that lives could be violently torn apart in an instant.

Or dissolve quietly in a few months, with distance and good intentions.