The Duplicate

Chapter Thirty

"What do I even say?"

"The truth, just... not the whole truth. He's been stressed. He hasn't been sleeping well. We've been arguing."

"So..." Dax is trying not to smile. "You want me to leave out important details again."

I give him a look. "This is different. It's necessary, and they won't kill you." Glancing again at the door, I take a deep breath and mentally ready myself to face the storm I know is brewing out there. I'm dreading it. "Okay. Wish me luck. I'm going to need it."

"Good luck. And, um, thanks, Evette."

"Don't thank me yet."

Before I can procrastinate any longer, I open the door, and out I go into the cool air, leaving Dax behind. I step onto the porch, and like a greeting, the breeze picks up, tossing wind-chimes into tinkling excitement.

For some reason, this whole time I thought Trip would be prowling around somewhere near the car, maybe even sitting inside. But when I draw myself up on tiptoes to peer over the porch railing, I find the car vacant, untouched. Trip—nowhere to be seen. Cursing under my breath, I slowly descend the stairs and sweep my gaze across the dead leaves tumbling over the front yard.

Of course he couldn't make this simple either, could he? Where the hell did he go?

My shoes crunch on gravel as I shift in indecision, pausing to think... Probably should check the backyard before I waste my time walking all the way down the road or traipsing around in the woods. I start moving again, cutting across the driveway, through brown grass, and around the house to the back.

The pale winter sun has waxed higher in the sky since we first arrived, and the Bay is in full glitter, so bright it burns white specks in my vision. Squinting my eyes, I search the lawn—the dock I'd seen earlier, a swing I didn't see earlier hanging from one of the few trees scattered across the yard. But no Trip.

Arms twirling around with my body, I turn on heels, somewhat ready to commence plan B and start a journey down the road. But before I can take two steps, out of the corner of my eyes I catch a glimpse of something white, something man-made peeking out from behind the trees. My head snaps up, then to the side to make out what, exactly, I'm seeing.

It's a gazebo, tucked in the woods, hovering over the Bay. Hidden, secluded. Barely visible from the house. Barely even visible from here. It's my best bet.

I trek across the long stretch of yard. The sun warms my cheeks, and the chilling breeze flips my hair. By the time I reach the round, uneven stepping stones leading through the woods to the gazebo, there is a pleasant knocking in my chest from the exercise. My pace slows. My eyes wander over bare branches. It's darker, quieter here among the trees.

And I spot him.

He's at the farthest part of the gazebo, leaning over the railing on his forearms, looking down at the water. He doesn't turn as I approach the gazebo or as I climb up the two steps, but by the way his head tilts slightly towards the sound of my footfalls, I know he hears me. He listens to each soft, hollow thud as I slowly start to walk alongside the railing, circling the edge of the building. He tracks me in his mind. Like heat pursuing me, I can sense it.

Quickened breath drawing in the tinge of salt and the must of mildew, I try to ignore the feeling and lift my eyes past him, across the water where the City's skyscrapers prick the horizon and twinkle in the sun. "I've never been on this side of the Bay," I mumble. "Have you?"

No response. But that doesn't shock me.

Sighing, I tip my head back to look up at the gazebo's coned roof. I study an old, abandoned wasp nest at the top. "This is nice. I guess it could be fixed up a little, and it could use a new coat of paint. But..." My hand brushes over the white paint chipping off the railing, and I watch some of the flakes fall and sprinkle over the water. "I kind of like the way it is."