ONE
Ray only neededto get across the street and into his car and he’d have a fighting chance at survival. More importantly,theywould have a chance to survive—an innocent woman and child who had no idea what was coming for them if he didn’t get them out of the city and to safety.
He thought of Mira and how she’d trusted him six years ago.
How she’d died for the secrets she’d kept.
Ray’s life had been ruined, too. But at least he’d had a life to live.
What if I don’t make it to them in time?
He couldn’t afford to think that way. The car was just across the street, only a few yards away, but it might as well have been on the other side of the planet.
Ray checked his phone one last time. Yes, he had Maren’s correct number. He played back the message he’d recorded a few days ago, the one that would be sent to her if anything happened to him. He double-checked the timer. Then triple-checked it.
But I’m going to make it.I have to. For Mira.
Ray picked up his bugout bag from the table. The ground floor apartment was dark in contrast to the sunlight outside. He peeked out the window from behind the cheap blinds. No onewas on the street. Everything seemed quiet. But looks could be deceiving.
I’ve done everything I can, he told himself.The important thing now is keeping Maren and Juniper safe.
Ray wiped the sweat off the palm of his hand as he reached for the doorknob. It felt cold and slick in his hand as he turned it. The door cracked open, letting in daylight as Ray stepped out of the shadows and into whatever came next.
TWO
“Ouch, ouch ouch!”Maren Walsh jumped in her chair the second the sewing needle pricked the pad of her finger. She set her project down quickly in case her finger was bleeding—it wouldn’t do to have a blood spot on Juniper’s new doll. Luckily, there was no blood, not even a sign that she’d stabbed herself with the needle. She picked the doll back up and continued sewing.
Be more careful and focus on what you’re doingMaren told herself as she picked up the doll again. Granted, she was at the hardest part of the project—trying to sew an oval-shaped bottom onto a beanbag doll hand-painted as a fairy. Maren had ordered it online—she had no talent for drawing—and it arrived as a piece of white cloth with the front, back, and bottom of the fairy painted on it with guidelines for cutting and sewing it all together. Hand-sewing the front and back together inside out was easy, as was turning it right-side out and stuffing it with cotton. But things got tricky when she started trying to sew on the bottom, then adding the beans, lentils, and barley she got from a dried soup mix to the bottom of the doll before closing it up. They kept spilling out as she tried to stitch the bottom on correctly.
It’ll be worth it though, another voice in her head—Maren’s twin, Mira—told her,when Juni sees it on her bed after school.
A month ago, Juni had pulled down an old book from the bookcase in Maren’s living room and handed it to Maren.
“What’s this, Auntie Mer?”
“Oh, wow, I haven’t looked through this book in ages,” Maren had told Juni as she leafed through the pages ofA Blue Fairy’s Treasury of Tales. “This was your mom’s and my favorite book when we were your age. But we just called it the Blue Fairy Book.”
That’s all it took for Juni to insist on a bedtime story from ‘the Blue Fairy Book’ every night. And every night she asked the same question—was the story one of Maren’s favorites, or one of her mom’s? It didn’t matter how Maren answered—her favorite, Mira’s favorite, or both—Juni would nod silently and file the answer away.
Maren always wondered just how much Juni remembered about her mom. Probably not much if anything. Juni was only eighteen months when Mira died in a hit-and-run in a parking garage, and since Mira and Maren were identical twins, Juni didn’t even have a different face to go off of. Maren had been there since Juni was born, and now, her entire life was preschool pickup and dropoff, medical coding, errands, and her niece’s bedtime questions.
And at the moment, fairies were Juni’s whole world. So it was a no-brainer for Maren to buy the beanbag doll printed with one of the illustrations from the book.
“Ouch!” She did it again. Working on the doll brought back memories of Mira when they were growing up, distracting her from her sewing.
Maren glanced at the clock. It was almost time to pick Juni up from preschool.
If only I had a magic wand that would finish the last of this doll for me.
But the last of the stitches went surprisingly quickly, and she only managed to lose a dozen lentils before she tied off the thread and the fairy was done. Maren smiled at her handiwork. It wasn’t perfect, but Juni would still love it, she hoped. Maren carried the fairy to Juni’s room and propped her against the pillows. She checked on the bread dough rising in the kitchen, then grabbed her purse and keys and headed out to pick up Juni.
“Hey, Junebug!”Maren called when the doors opened and kids spilled out along with their two teachers. Juni smiled and waved a piece of construction paper in the air as she ran toward Maren.
“Wanna see what I drew?” she asked as she thrust the paper at Maren. Just as quickly she whipped it behind her back before Maren could get a good look. “Wait. Guess first.”
“Um…is it a phone booth?” Maren joked.
Juni tilted her head. “What’s a phone booth?”
