Page 118 of Gone Tonight
“Well let’s see, Catherine, you’re… remind me again?” James prompts. “I know I sent a card for your last birthday, but in my mind you’re still a little girl with pigtails.”
“Twenty-seven,” I lie, hoping to muddy as many details about myself as I can.
The moment I utter that number, though, I wish I could snatch it back.
“And I’m forty-three,” James says. “Since I was sixteen when Catherine was born, everyone figured I was old enough to babysit when we got together.”
“I must be getting forgetful in my old age,” June jokes. “Catherine, I could’ve sworn you were twenty-four.”
James moves his head slowly to stare at me as his grip on my hand intensifies. I nearly whimper from the pain.
He has cataloged the discrepancy. Now I’ve highlighted the information in his mind as something significant.
It feels as if a noose is tightening around my neck.
My mind whirls as I try to envision what will come next. My mother is outside, around the back of Sunrise. If James takes me out the front, she’ll never even notice I’ve left the building.
“How long have the three of you known each other?” James asks, releasing my aching hand and leaning back and putting an arm around the sofa behind me. I instinctively lean forward, as if we’re counterbalancing. I can’t stand the thought of him touching me again.
“Six years,” June replies. Her brow creases briefly, and I suspect she is remembering that I came to work at Sunrise and met her right after I graduated from high school, which means the age I just pretended to be is incorrect.
Please don’t say anything else.I will her the message.
“Anyone need a refill?” George offers.
My drink is still untouched, and James’s and George’s are half full. If June nods, I can jump up and run to the kitchen under the guise of bringing back the bottle of champagne. Maybe I can find something to defend myself with there.
But before she can answer, James stands up.
“This was lovely, but we shouldn’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you both have things to do. And Catherine and I are going to meet up with an old friend.”
My time is running out.
“Let me get a picture of you two together before you go,” George offers.
“Oh, that isn’t—” I begin.
“Trust me, you’ll be glad you have it later,” June chimes in.
The last thing I want is to stand pressed up next to James.
“Sure, let me just help you clean up first,” I say, scooping up my glass and James’s before anyone can protest.
I linger in the small kitchen as long as I dare, glancing at the butcher block of knives on the counter. I left my backpack with my mom, and the pockets of my shorts are too shallow to conceal a long knife. My iPhone is still on the coffee table, and there’s no landline in the kitchen. And I’m positive the Campbells don’t keep a gun in their apartment—plus I don’t know how to use one.
I’m hoping by the time I come back out, the photograph will be forgotten. But when James sees me emerge, he says, “Catherine?” and lifts up his right arm, the gesture an invitation. I have no choice. George scoops up my iPhone as I walk to James’s side. James wraps his arm around me, drawing me close again as George tells us to smile.
“Let me just make sure this came out okay.” George frowns and uses two fingers to enlarge the picture on the screen. “Wow, I didn’t see it before, but you can really tell in this photo that you two are related!”
A shrieking noise erupts in my head. Adrenaline floods my body. I’m seized by the desperate urge to run, but I’m trapped as James’s steely arm tightens around me.
George tilts his screen to show the picture to June.
“Oh yes, I see it, too. You have the same beautiful blue eyes. They must run in the family.”
James turns to me slowly and reaches with his free hand to tip up my chin. I’m completely helpless as his unblinking eyes bore into mine.
I can see the precise moment the realization clicks into his mind.
