Page 51 of Plain Sight

“Oh, fuck.” Mason closes his eyes, then opens them. He and Gabriel stare at each other, having a silent conversation that I wish I could hear while knowing that it probably wouldn’t matter. “Listen, I—I don’t know how this is going to play out.”

I think he’s talking to Gabriel, but remember he’s on the phone when he angles himself away from us.

“Okay,” he says. Then, quieter: “Okay.” Then Mason hangs up and faces Gabriel. “Borrow some of my clothes. We have to go.”

“I—”

The two of them are already moving, their faces set. Mason steps over to me and deposits his sleeping bundle of a son into my arms.

“Please. Hold him for a few minutes while I wake Charlotte.”

“You don’t have to, really, I—” Robin weighs more and less than I expected. Inhaling the scent of a fresh baby is a balm for my racing heart. My body relaxes into holding him. “I’m okay. If you tell me where the bottles are, I can⁠—”

“She’ll want to be awake for this.”

“Do you know where you’re going?” I say to Mason’s back. “Should I—I could come with you. It’s probably best if I come with you.”

He stops at the living room door and leans back into the room. “Lily, trust me when I say that I think you’re completely capable of handling yourself in this situation.”

“But you don’t think I should go?”

“No.”

“He’s probably at my grandfather’s house.”

“That’s exactly why I think you should stay here. The situation could be…volatile. And Jameson might not want you to see him like that.” There’s a split second of fear in Mason’s eyes, and I understand, somehow, that it’s not me he’s worried about. Not like that. He doesn’t want to add additional variables to whatever he and Gabriel might walk into.

“Do you think—” I swallow hard. Robin stretches in my arms, then curls up and relaxes again. “Is it even possible to intervene?”

Mason’s jaw hardens. “At this point, we can’t get there first, but if we hurry, we might be able to get there in time.”

13

JAMESON

How embarrassing. I talked up my emergency preparedness plans, but I should have been more humble about them, because I am not prepared.

However, I am prepared to be prepared. I am prepared with the knowledge of which stores with hardware sections will be open at this hour of the night. I am prepared by living in the city that never sleeps, so we have to be ready for someone to want to do a project at any time.

If you think about it, the night I took Lily was a dress rehearsal. One more point for me in terms of preparedness.

No one will think less of you, my mother says, as I’m standing in the aisle with rows of accelerants in their cans.

“I know you won’t. It’s reassuring. Have I told you that before?”

“Can I help you?” A salesman with a red vest pokes his head into the aisle. “Sir.”

“So reassuring,” I say, louder. “No, thanks. I’ll be ready to check out in a minute, though.”

I check out.

At least, I think I check out. I don’t remember it, but that doesn’t mean I’m cracking up. It means I’m tired.

But more than that, I am focused.

The world distorts as I’m loading the accelerants and other assorted items for my errand. It pushes toward me, then away, like one of those parachute things they had in elementary school. I watch it until it levels out, then keep driving to Cobble Hill.

Before the sun rises, the world is going to be better.