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Chapter 24
I follow Brendan’s trackers for hours, until I can’t stay awake any longer and fall asleep.
After Brendan and his driver, Stieg, met up with Stanislaw and Henrik at the rest stop, they drove another fifty miles on the freeway until we were sure no one on Anton’s end followed them. They ditched the car in a parking garage in a smallish upstate city to ensure they couldn’t be tracked on satellite. From there, they walked together well into the evening. Hiking through forest-covered Adirondack mountains, they followed common hiking trails and open wilderness, even trespassing on private property a few times for the sake of shortcuts. The only way they could have been followed was with dogs.
Approximately twenty miles from the compound, they camped out for a few hours’ rest. I smile to myself, imagining the conversation Brendan might have had with a handful of Scandinavian mercenaries. He would have had so many questions, and they probably didn’t say a word. Maybe they didn’t have any conversations, but that would be a shame.
“Kate, wake up,” Ingram says. “Eyal just left to pick them up. They’ll be here soon.”
I dress quickly, my grogginess quickly erased by adrenaline. By the time I finish cleaning up, I reach the compound gates with Ingram just in time to see the van arrive.
The four men climb out, smiling and clapping each other’s backs. At first, I almost can’t believe it’s Brendan: wearing camo hunting gear and a large pack on his back, his face looks grimy and sweaty. His hair has been cut extra short, and his arms look thicker — as if he’s been working out. It’s still him though. He gives me his faint, close-lipped smile, staring at me through the same thick glasses.
“Hey Kate,” he says.
I run at him and nearly knock him over with my hug. He smells like earth and pine, and he feels more toned. The last time I saw him, I never picked him for the type to hike for a day through the mountains. Like a lot of city dwellers, his idea of getting outside was Central Park. Although he has dealt with threats before, as reporters sometimes do when they dig into the dealings of the rich and powerful, his usual response would be to contact the authorities — not strike a deal with someone like Ingram.
“I can’t thank you enough for you what you did,” I tell him. “You’ve gone so far beyond, I can’t even put it into words.”
“You’re my friend,” he says, setting his hands on my shoulders. “I wanted to help.”
“You risked your life. After the way I treated you…”
Anton forced me to publicly denounce Brendan as a jealous ex-boyfriend. I had to file court orders to keep him from contacting me. Guests on Kate Atwood Live made him into a punchline and I had to laugh. It was disgusting.
“You’re a hero, Brendan.”
“I know,” he quips.
I laugh, letting him go.
“Seriously, Kate. I wish I could have done more. I knew this couldn’t be right. Everyone knew that something was happening to you, but they wrote it off as drugs and alcoholism. I wish I could have convinced people to look deeper. No one would touch it. They enjoyed watching the circus that became your life, rather than help. I’m sorry I failed to stop it.”
I shake my head, wiping away tears.
“You didn’t fail, Brendan. I’m here because you succeeded. You have nothing to be sorry for. Absolutely nothing. You did all you could, and now I’m free.”
He nods, then pulls me in for another hug.
“We have so much catching up to do,” I say. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“You two should go get breakfast,” says Ingram. “I have some final preparations to make. You go on ahead.”
“You sure?” I ask.
He nods.
“I’m sure. I told Anton we’d see him soon, and we will.”
—
At the cafeteria, the staff chef serves us a breakfast that would put a Jersey diner to shame: a cheesy omelet, pancakes, crispy bacon and golden, shredded hash browns — all of it delicious.
“Ingram’s story sounded insane,” Brendan says. “But it answered a lot of questions. I knew you weren’t an alcoholic. I knew that was bullshit, but what was I supposed to do? What was more believable: that you were making a false confession or that I was trying to get attention?”
I nod, my heart pounding. Even after such a long time, my blood still boils thinking about the day I went on Jenny Crandall’s show and lied to the world for the first time. Anton had to make my life miserable, it wasn’t fucked up enough already being under the Masters’ thumb.
