Page 54 of Call Off the Dark

She didn’t feel like talking with him in his current state, but she sat on the edge of the bed, the pajamas in her lap, and waited for him to say something. Instead, he resumed pacing.

She watched him tread back and forth. “What are you doing?”

Without breaking pace, Wade said, “I’m working on a plan.”

“What exactly am I doing then?”

“Waiting here while I figure this out.”

“Would you like to know what I think about all this?”

“Not right now.”

Helen stood. “Okay. Then I’m going to bring him pajamas.”

She left before Wade had a chance to reply.

The guest room door was barely cracked and Helen pushed it open, revealing Isaac inside, sitting atop the bed with his back to her, shirtless.

“Oh” was all she said.

Isaac stood and turned to face her. She took in the large horizontal scar across his torso. Smaller scars branched out from it. She stared at it for a moment, then her eyes met his. He had an unreadable expression. Slowly, he approached and stopped in front of her.

Helen couldn’t help it. Her gaze lowered again to his scar. He just stood there, letting her trace his scar with her eyes. Studying it closely like this created an almost intimate atmosphere.

Finally, Isaac broke the spell. “Are those clothes for me?”

“Yes, they are.” She shoved the clothes into his arms. “Good night.”

“Actually, do you have a book I could borrow?”

She paused, surprised. “Sure, help yourself to any book in the living room. I don’t have much fiction though. Mostly poetry.”

“Poetry is fine. Why don’t you pick something for me?”

A part of her was fascinated by the request: This man—a hitchhiker, an explorer, a rebel, a romantic apparently—was going to read one of her poetry books before going to sleep. But a bigger part of her was certain he was a liar, and he just wanted her to believe he was going to read poetry.

Nonetheless, Helen went out to the mantel above the fireplace to look for a book in the hope that he was a romantic, not a liar.

As she was considering her W. B. Yeats book, Wade appeared beside her. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

She jumped a little. She hadn’t even heard him coming. He must have crept down the hall. “I’m getting your brother a book to read,” she replied, not in a whisper.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Wade said in a level voice. “It’s best if we act normal, so he doesn’t suspect anything.”

She pressed the book to her chest, apprehension prickling on her neck.

“You go back in there and give him the book,” Wade said. “Say good night to him. Pretend you’re about to go to sleep too. While you’re doing that, I’ll pack us a bag. And then we’ll leave.”

“Leave?” Helen repeated.

“That’s right.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You don’t have a choice,” Wade said. “You’re my wife. It’s my duty to protect you.”

Chapter Twenty-One