“Relax.” Adam laughed loudly, putting his phone away to dodge my slaps. “I’m kidding dammit.”
I stopped hitting him. “What?”
“I’m kidding. You do need to open the casket though.” He took a deep breath and let it out, still chuckling.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s actually pretty funny.” He looked at his phone and played the video.
“I will murder you if you show that to anyone.”
“I’ll keep it in my private collection.” He grinned and it caught me off guard. “Open the casket.”
“Right.” I blinked, grabbing the gloves from the ground and the shovel.
Adam decided to help me after all. After the door to the casket popped up, he stepped back again. I grabbed onto his arm as I looked inside. There didn’t seem to be a body in there, just a garment bag. On top of it was a white envelope with the name Stella Thompson. I reached for the envelope first and hesitated on the bag. What if it had human remains in it? The Swords did seem sick enough to do something like that, after all. Fifty grand, I reminded myself. Fifty grand. I stepped forward, reached down, and grabbed the garment bag. It definitely didn’t have anything heavy in it.
“It’s a cloak,” Adam said. “Read the note.”
I ripped open the envelope and took out the card, reading it as he illuminated his flashlight on it.
You have been hand-selected to join The Swords.
Should you pass our test, you will be welcomed into our organization.
Doors will open.
Money will flow.
Opportunities will arise.
Unbreakable bonds will form.
The Swords is a historically male-driven society.
You are one of the few women chosen.
This gift is not to be taken lightly.
When it comes time to make your choice tomorrow tonight, keep that in mind.
Choose wisely.
Wear this tomorrow.
9 p.m.
P.S. Don’t take your meds.
Don’t take my meds? How did they even know about my meds? I put it away and unzipped the bag. It was a white and gold cloak.
“When do I get a red one?” I zipped it back up.
“When you’re an official member.”
He helped me close the casket and put the dirt back on it. When we were done, he grabbed a spray can sitting nearby and sprayed a big red S on it. We walked back to the car, me drinking water and holding the bag. Him, carrying the shovels and gloves. Inside the car, I felt myself melt onto the seat as he drove.
“Hey, how’d you figure out my name was Eva?”
“I saw it at The Institute the other day.”
“How?”
“I met your sister.”
His words slammed into me. I sat up straight. “What?”
“I met your sister. She’s in there, but her file has your name on it.”
“How can that be?” I whispered. “So she’s not missing.”
“Missing?”
“That’s how . . . ” I shook my head and started from the top. I told Adam everything, from Karen to Stella to Dr. Thompson and Dr. Maslow. I tried to condense my whole life story into short paragraphs. I spoke fast and went in circles, but ended up coming back to the same point: I needed to meet my sister.
Chapter Sixteen
The burial was tonight, but I needed to find Aisha ASAP. Adam said he would see what he could find in The Institute and begged me not to show up there. We decided last night that if Stella was in there and I was out here, the Maslows may have something to do with it. My hands itched with the urge to call Dr. Thompson, but I waited. I needed to be sure he wasn’t in on this too.
I was standing outside of Aisha’s one o’clock class, my gaze fixed on the door. I’d skipped Stella’s Psychology of Motherhood class. In my defense, I’d gone to the class, and when I arrived and found a man teaching it, I opted out. I wasn’t in the mood for lectures today and I certainly wasn’t in the mood to take a class on motherhood given by a man who didn’t know the first thing about womanhood to begin with. At three-fifteen, the doors to Aisha’s class opened and people started spilling out. I caught a glimpse of her rummaging through her messenger bag as she walked, and started to walk in her direction. She was pulling out her phone when I reached her, and stumbled back a step when she glanced up and saw me standing there.
“I told you I didn’t want to speak to you.”
“I know. I know and I’m sorry that I’m here, but I need to talk to you. I need you to tell me if you saw me last week and if so, what happened.”
“You’re not serious.” She searched my eyes.
“I am.”
She stared at me a moment longer before sighing and shaking her head. “Fine, but you have to drive me to my next class.”
“Fine.”
We started walking toward the parking lot. When we picked our schedules, we made it so that our classes were near each other’s. It would make it easier to get around campus. We would take turns driving, because even though they were short five-minute trips, they added up. Aisha had a job on campus. My job was thirty-five minutes away. My chest squeezed as I thought of the children I’d left behind and Ms. Paxton. Even though the parish school was small, with only a handful of kids in each class, when four six-year-olds were together in a space it was like having sixteen of them. Besides, Ms. Paxton was old. She needed the help.