Daniel could only blink. “Fucking hell, Lydia.”
“I only found it all out because her diary was in the things she’d packed for the birth at the clinic. But labor happened too fast to get her across town, so after I was born, as soon as the bleeding stopped and she could walk, she got in her car and drove away. That bag was all I had. I slept with it under my bed. When I was ten, I finally opened it. She’d clearly packed with a mind to bolt from the hospital. I read the diary, but I didn’t understand it all until a little later, when I was older.” She laughed awkwardly. “The only picture I have of her was the one on her driver’s license—she didn’t even take her wallet, and I was glad I got it.”
“Is she still alive?”
“I don’t think so. I did try to find her, once. The picture on the license was real, but the name and address were fake.” She put her fork down and pushed her hair back. “Oh, my God, this sounds like such a soap opera.”
“So it was your father’s father you lived with?”
She nodded. “He lived in a secluded area surrounded by trees. I used to sleep with the window by my bed open, even in the winter. The wolves singing to the moon were my biggest comfort.”
“I love that sound, too,” he murmured. “Is that why you ended up here? Working with them.”
“It’s just home to me. And let’s face it, I do better in places where I don’t have to be anything other than what I am.”
“A behaviorist.”
“Someone who doesn’t belong anywhere.” She shrugged a little. “Here, in this small town, where there aren’t a lot of people? It doesn’t bother me as much. And then there are the wolves … they’re such beautiful creatures, and they need to be protected. Even predators can be hunted, and humans are the biggest threat to everything.”
This was why she wasn’t going to stop him from leaving, Daniel thought. She was used to being alone.
“There are other places you could live,” he said. “Other jobs.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath. “And I will have to find one … God, this was not how I imagined everything coming to an end.”
“You said Candy left, too? Did she just quit?”
“She decided to take the afternoon off. After everything, why wouldn’t she. But whether or not she comes back tomorrow morning is anyone’s guess.”
He nodded. “I realize I’ve said this before, but I wish things were different.”
Lydia pointed at him with her fork. “Truer words have never been spoken.”
They fell silent for a while as she worked through what he’d made for her. When she was finished, he cleared her plate and fork and left her to drink the rest of her milk.
At the sink, he ran the water. “That package that was for Peter. Are you going to find out what’s on those disks?”
“No. I think I just need to give it to the sheriff and let him sort it out. What am I going to do, you know?”
“Yeah, I know—”
“You’re leaving tomorrow morning, aren’t you.”
As Lydia let the words out, she was aware of her whole body tensing like she was about to be hit by a car. And yet what was that thing they always said?
Don’t ask a question you didn’t want the answer to.
In this case, it was true, she didn’t want the answer. But she knew what it was.
“I’m going to be fine,” she said. Was that directed to him or herself? she wondered. “One thing life has taught me is that I’ll always be okay. One way or the other, I always have been.”
Daniel opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
“It’s all right.” She smiled a little. Or tried to. “It’s been a lot. I mean, I’m even committed to the Project, and I’m drowning in the drama. Someone just passing through like you are? I get it.”
“I wish things were different. Jesus, I’m just saying that over and over, aren’t I.”
“It’s okay.” She put her hand over her heart. “And again, I’m inclined to agree.”
There was another silence. Then he said, “You don’t have to pay me.”
“You worked the hours at the WSP, you deserve the money.”
“Nah. I’m good.”
Lydia looked to the window. Pulling back the mauve drape, she stared into the darkness—and wondered what was out there. And not in terms of a threat against herself. She wondered where he would go, where destiny would take him.
She already knew part of the answer to that.
Away from her was where destiny was taking him.
“It’s late,” she said to the window.
“It’s only eight-thirty,” he countered. “I believe it violates your nine p.m. rule to go to sleep now.”
“Wow, feels like four in the morning—”
The floor creaked next to her and she looked up. Daniel was standing over her, staring down from his great height.