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Angus starts playing around with the control board. “Nothing?”
“Her window was open.” I wince. “But in the weather? The walls are too slippery to climb and the fall would have broken her legs.”
Angus says nothing as he brings up a new camera. This one points at the back of the north wing. He skips ahead to 04:22 and we both stare narrow-eyed at the window to the sunflower room.
Not five minutes later, the window opens.
Roisin’s legs appear first, then her torso inches carefully down.
I can barely watch. There is nothing there that could break her fall, and the rain seems to be getting heavier with every passing moment.
But then suddenly, her foot finds purchase on the wall. Then her hand. Then her foot again. We watch in stunned silence as Roisin climbs down expertly from the window in a pair of sweats and a hoodie I thought I’d thrown away years ago.
When I see her feet planted firmly on the floor, I let out a breath.
“She’s something else,” Angus mutters to himself as we watch her throw up her hood and begin sprinting across the lawn.
“She’s probably halfway to Manhattan by now.”
Angus leans in and points at another screen. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
The other screen shows the more advanced CCTV on the perimeter of the estate. It lists intrusion alerts when it senses anyone crossing the wall.
The only alert is at 03:02 A.M., when a tree branch falls on the wall.
“She’s still here,” I whisper.
I’m on my feet a split second later, calling back over my shoulder to Angus. “Get a bath ready!”
I barely notice the rain as I crash through the back door.
“Roisin!” I roar, running across the green toward the pool. If she were smart, she may have taken shelter in the pool house.
But when I reach it, she’s nowhere to be found.
“Roisin!”
I turn around, wracking my brain for places she may have taken cover. I’ve hardly explored the grounds since I was a child visiting my uncle. Back then, there was only one place I was ever interested in.
Without any smarter ideas, I run toward the line of trees at the edge of the garden, pushing through brambles I should have had someone cut back months ago. But I press forward.
Here, the rain is buffered by leaves spraying you with less concentrated water. It’s quieter too, despite the roar of thunder.
It only takes me a few seconds to orient myself.
I hear her before I see her.
Quiet sobs drift from the trees above and my heart sinks.
It’s like I’m visiting a memory. Only this time, the person curled in a ball beneath the awning of the treehouse isn’t me.
It’s a soaked and shivering Roisin.
Chapter Ten
Roisin
The rain soaks through my hoodie the second I climb through the window.
