All Our Yesterdays (20 page)

As soon as Richter is gone, James balls up the business card in his fist and tosses it across the room.

“What were you thinking?” Vivianne says. “I’ve never seen you act like that before.”

“It makes no sense that a gunman was able to get to the ballroom from that service exit.” James stands and begins to pace from wall to wall. Nate once told me they had to replace the carpet in his bedroom every couple of years because he wore right through it. “The place was swarming with Secret Service. No way that entrance would have been unsecured like that.”

“So what are you saying?” Finn asks.

James stops. “I think someone in the Secret Service was involved.”

“What?”
Vivianne says. “James, that’s—”

“How else would the gunman have gotten so close to Nate and the vice president?” James says. “How else would all those doors off the service hallway have been unlocked when they should have been secured? How else would the shooter have gotten away, and without a single camera picking him up? Nothing else can account for all of that.”

“But Assistant Director Richter—” Vivianne begins.

“Richter is covering the government’s ass,” James says. “Why else wouldn’t he even entertain the
possibility
of collusion? No. I don’t trust him, which is why we can’t tell him what Nate said to Marina.”

“What?” Vivianne’s eyes go wide, and she grabs my hands. “He talked to you? What did he say?”

I look at James, and he nods. “It’s okay.”

“While everyone was out of the room,” I say, all attention suddenly on me, “Nate signed a few words to me.
Air
, which I don’t understand, and
CT
. Connecticut.”

Vivianne seems to shrink into herself. “What does that even mean?”

“Nate was holed up in his office for days while we were in Connecticut,” James says. “Normally he spends the recess doing events and pressing flesh, but he was working on something he wouldn’t tell even me about.”

“The night you got home,” I say, “he told me he’d been investigating something. Did he say anything to you about it, Vivianne?”

She covers her eyes with one hand. “No. He didn’t.”

So why would he tell me, the kid next door, and not his own fiancée? The only reason I can think of is because I spend the most time with James. If this really has something to do with him, I was in the best position to notice the changes Nate warned me about.

“I think maybe . . .” I take a deep breath. “I think maybe whatever Nate was working on has something to do with why he was shot.”

“Like he was getting too close to something,” James says.

“Stop it!” Vivianne stands. “Both of you! This isn’t a spy novel. This is real life, and Nate is
dying
!”

Her voice rises hysterically at the end of the sentence, and I feel as though I’ve been slapped across the face. The blow knocks me back a step.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I really
look
at Vivianne. Her skin is dull and her eyes shot through with red. I realize she’s been here all night, dealing with Alice and the others, watching the man she loves fight for his life with no sleep or support. Suddenly I see just how thin it’s worn her.

“He’s not dying, Viv,” James says stiffly. “He’s not, so don’t even say it.”

Vivianne sighs. “I’m afraid you can’t think your way out of this one, sweetheart. You need to take advantage of the time you have with Nate while you still can, instead of wasting energy on these crazy conspiracy theories.” She shrugs, slowly, like the weight of worries on her shoulders makes it hard to move. “Who cares what he may or may not have said if he never wakes up again?”

James’s voice is tight and small. “Nate would care.
Especially
if he never wakes up again.”

Vivianne’s lower lip quivers, and she presses her hand to her mouth to hide it. Tears are filling her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. I want to disappear. Finn and I shouldn’t be here for this; it’s too personal and too raw. It shouldn’t have been me that Nate communicated with. It should have been James or Vivianne, and he should have told them he loved them. My guilt at being the one who happened to be in the room is suddenly suffocating.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, Vivianne?” Finn says softly, taking a step toward her. “The nurses should be able to set up a cot for you. Want me to go ask them?”

Vivianne swallows, and when she speaks, her voice is thick. “Yes. Thank you.”

Finn leads her from the room, and James watches them go.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Viv cry,” he says.

The room is silent without them. James leans back against the counter and rocks slightly, running his fingers over and over his lips as he thinks. I pull fluffy pills of wool off my sweater and try not to let the silence crush me.

“I don’t know what to do,” James suddenly says. “Maybe Viv is right and I’m being irrational, but . . . Marina, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. Useless.

Finn returns. “Viv’s asleep. She was exhausted. She wanted me to tell you she didn’t mean what she said.”

James nods, but I’m not sure he believes him. I know I don’t. Vivianne meant every word, but she was wrong. Nate told me what he did because it was important to him that we know.

“I guess it’s back to the waiting room and Cousin Alice,” James says.

Finn and I follow him out into the hall, and I say tentatively, “What about Richter and the Secret Service? What about Connecticut?”

James looks torn. “I . . . I’ll call Bob Nolan. Have him look into it.”

Finn raises an eyebrow. “The director of the FBI? How are you two such pals?”

“He went to Princeton with my dad.”

“James.” I catch his wrist and pull him to a stop outside the waiting room. “I know this is a terrible time, but I think we should go to Connecticut and find out what Nate was working on. Today.”

“What?”
Finn says.

“I know it’s seems crazy,” I say, “but we can’t trust anyone else to do it. Not even Bob Nolan. What if you’re right and Richter is involved in some cover-up? If he searches the house first, he could destroy evidence that points to the person responsible.”

James looks back toward Nate’s room. “But what Viv said . . . I can’t leave here now.”

“How far is the drive?” I say. “New York’s only four or five hours, and Greenwich can’t be much farther. Vivianne would barely even be awake by the time we got back.”

“Marina,” Finn says, reproach in his voice. “He wants to be with his brother.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t normally ask you to leave, but . . .” I pause. “James, I’m afraid the people who shot Nate might want to hurt you, too. I don’t believe for a second that what happened in the parking lot last night was a gang shooting. We have to find out who they are and stop them.”

“If that’s true, you should just tell the police,” Finn says.

“They wouldn’t believe me!” I say. “And I don’t trust them to keep James safe anyway.”

“What makes you think someone’s after me?” James asks.

“You were
shot at
! And Richter’s lying about who did it, I know he is.”

Finn groans. “Not this again, M.”

“Shut up, Finn! I know what I saw!” I snap. “James, please. Nate asked me to look out for you. He told me his investigation has something to do with you.”

“He said that?” The worry lines on James’s forehead deepen.

Basically. “Yes.”

James looks back at Nate’s room and then into the waiting room, where Alice and Aaron and Julia and Uncle Perry are sitting in silence.

“Okay, let’s do it,” he says. “It’s what Nate wants, and that’s enough for me. I can’t go with Morris and Spitzer on my ass, though, so we’ll have to lose them.”

“You know this is nuts, right?” Finn says.

“Maybe, but I can’t do anything for Nate here,” James says. “Maybe I can help him there.”

“What if someone really is trying to kill you?” Finn says. “You really think now’s the time to ditch your protection?”

“What if they can’t be trusted?” I say. “We’re driving straight up and back, and we’ll only get out at the house in Connecticut, which is safer than almost anywhere.”

Finn sighs. “Fine, but I’m coming. You’re both acting like lunatics, and I don’t trust you out in the world alone.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Fine.”

“Okay,” James says, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “Here’s what we do.”

Sixteen

Em

Finn and I park across the street from the hospital and wait. My gut is churning. Finn rifles through our backpack and comes up with a Snickers. He offers me half, and I have to pretend I’m not hungry, even though I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I can’t tell him what’s really wrong: the acute flash of memory that threw me back into my prison cell, how I had the perfect opportunity to end all of this by putting a bullet into James through that window, or how I hesitated because Marina was beside him. I should tell him, but I can’t.

I hate myself.

I must look as sick as I feel, because he puts a hand on my knee. “It’s going to be okay.”

I look at him.
Really
look at him. For so long, he was only a voice to me, and now he has a body and a face once more. I want to memorize every expression so that no one can ever take them away from me again.

I try to smile. “When did you become so trusting?”

“Around the same time you became so cynical, I guess. Now try to inhale. It’s good for you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The front door to the hospital slides open, and Marina steps out. I hit Finn in the shoulder. “Look!”

Marina runs to the street and flags down a cab, the younger Finn on her heels. The photographers and news crews still camped outside the hospital don’t even look up, and the two of them climb in and drive away.

“Where are they going?” Finn asks. “Just the two of them?”

“I don’t know.” I’m glad I didn’t take that Snickers, because my stomach is turning flips. “But it means James is alone inside.”

Before, Finn and I had to wait for James to come out of the hospital on his own because we can’t make a move on him while the three of them are together. We can’t risk coming face-to-face with our younger selves; the fabric of time might not be strong enough to survive it.

But if James is alone again, it’s our best chance to do things right this time.

“He’ll be protected in there,” Finn says. “He’ll be with Nate, surrounded by armed guards.”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But I think we have to try, don’t we?”

“You’re crazy, but let’s do it.”

We wade through the mobs of press and supporters, who pay no more attention to us than they did our younger selves, and approach the entrance of the emergency room. I stop short near the front of the crowd. I’m close enough to see through the sliding glass doors. Beyond them, there’s now a portable metal detector manned by two officers.

“Okay,” Finn says. “Change of plan.”

“What’s the new plan?” I say.

“I don’t know yet.”

We both stand there, thinking. A girl from the crowd hands me a candle, and I stare into the flickering flame.

“The ambulance bay?” I whisper.

Finn shakes his head. “Too conspicuous. Plus, it’ll be guarded, too.”

“Maybe you could distract the guards, and I’ll slip around the outside of the metal detector?”

“Too risky. It might work with one, but not two.”

I sigh. “Then we have to leave the gun. Find something inside to use instead.”

The crowd shifts and presses against us, and Finn wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder. I’m not sure if he’s doing it to comfort me or so that he can lower his voice even further from the whisper we’ve been speaking in. “You realize that a best-case scenario for that is a scalpel or a hypodermic needle, right? We’ll have to kill him up close, if not with our bare hands.”

I drop my eyes to the sidewalk. Looking at someone down the barrel of a gun and actually spilling their blood with your own hands are two very different things. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay then,” he says softly.

We go back to the car and stash the gun in the glove compartment. As we weave our way back through the crowds to the hospital entrance, I pass off my candle to an empty-handed mourner. Finn and I pause to look at each other before we enter the hospital, and he gives me a tight little smile. I nod, and we step forward together. When the glass doors slide apart, we’re hit with a blast of warm air that makes me realize just how cold I’ve been. One officer offers me a bowl for keys or change without looking at me, but the other has a faint frown line across his forehead as he looks between Finn and me.

“Yep, we’re back,” I say, dropping my cell phone into the bowl.

“We basically live here now,” Finn says. “So if you ever want us to take over for a little while . . . ?”