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Sandrine sat down on the floor, cross-legged, beside Brian. “I know this seems like the worst possible time to do this,” she said. “But let’s circle up and try some grounding exercises.”
“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Nicola said. She looked to Brian but his eyes had gone unfocused and vacant. He was lost in some pocket of memory.
Alice scooted over and sat on the other side of Sandrine. “Do you have a better idea? Because right now all we can do is sit here and freak out. Didn’t we come here to learn how to not freak out so much?”
Josie slipped her phone into her pocket and sat down beside Alice. Nicola glared at each one of them before scuttling over and sitting next to Brian to complete the circle. Sandrine said, “I know these aren’t the best circumstances, but let’s try to take some deep breaths.”
Josie looked over at the door, but no more smoke filtered around it. The wind must have shifted again. Still, she could smell the fire raging outside. She wondered if the flames had spread to any of the cabins or nearby trees. What would happen to them if it began to spread? They’d have to do their best to get down the trail, wading through nearly three feet of snow with very little clothing to warm them. They’d never be able to outrace the fire if it spread. The vise took hold of her chest again and she knew immediately it was from fear and anxiety and not the remnants of smoke in the air.
But Alice was right. This was not the time to freak out. Josie couldn’t control anything that was happening outside, but she could try to control her thoughts and her breathing. She tuned back in to Sandrine’s words, following her instructions as she guided them through a breathing exercise. She had fallen right back into her role as a therapist and guide. The remarkable calm she’d exuded all week returned, in spite of everything that Josie had revealed to her the night before.
Josie noticed that Sandrine wasn’t using any of the grounding techniques she had taught them during the week, probably because they all involved being in touch with your surroundings in sensory ways and they were already overwhelmed by their present circumstances. Instead, she had them focus more on their bodies. “Rub your hands together,” she instructed softly. “Feel the friction, the warmth that your palms create.”
Josie immediately thought of Mettner. Again, she felt his hand in hers as the life bled away from him. She was glad when Sandrine moved on. “Put one hand on your heart. Feel it beating. Feel how it pumps your blood so effortlessly, bringing oxygen to the rest of your body. This heart has sustained you through all the days of your life. It has seen you through the best and worst times of your life. Feel it now and know it will see you through more.”
Josie knew her heartbeat should be slowing but it was still on overdrive as her mind returned to a safer topic than the inferno raging outside: the connection between the imposters and Sandrine. Brian, Dean Thurman, Delilah Stowe, Sandrine. What reason would Brian have for harassing Dean Thurman to such a degree that a restraining order was necessary?
“Now put one of your hands on the back of your neck,” Sandrine instructed. “Feel how solid and comforting it feels, like when you were an infant being cradled by a parent.”
A parent.
Josie looked across the circle where Sandrine and Brian sat side by side, heads bent, their left hands on the back of their necks. Josie hadn’t seen any physical similarities between them before but she hadn’t been looking for them. Why would she? But now, she stared at them, searching for a resemblance and flipping through her mental snapshots from the week. It was their eyes, Josie thought. They both had blue eyes and their eyebrows arced over them in the same configuration. When they smiled, their cheeks bunched in the same way, making the same lines in their faces. It was incredibly subtle but once you saw it, you couldn’t unsee it.
But Sandrine could not have children. Even if she could have had them, she was not old enough to be Brian’s mother. Yet he had grown up in foster care, parentless. From what Josie had gathered, he had been in the system since birth, never adopted. No one had asked him that week if he had ever made any attempts to find his biological parents but that didn’t mean he hadn’t.
A puff of cold air, tinged with smoke, came from under the door. Alice coughed but quickly regained her focus, dipping her chin to her chest and continuing to follow the breathing instructions Sandrine was giving like a mantra.
Josie remembered what Sandrine had said about her mother.She left me with ‘friends’ for months at a time. I was never sure if she’d come back or not but she always did. I never knew where she went or why. Had Delilah disappeared for months at a time to give birth to another child? A child she’d had with a married co-star? Was Dean Thurman Brian’s father? That would make Sandrine and Brian siblings.
All along, Brian had said that he didn’t think Sandrine was the person she claimed to be.I’m not sure she is who she says she is. Somehow, he had found out that Delilah Stowe was his mother. Even though Sandrine had long ago changed her name, he had tracked her down. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he just called her on the phone or gone to her office and told her that they were long-lost siblings? Why was he here, at this retreat, with two other imposters?
More smoke reached them. This time, as Josie inhaled, it tickled her throat. She coughed, using the hand over her heart to cover her mouth. The rest of them followed suit. Alice’s face was red, tears streaming down her cheeks. “We should try to block the bottom of the door with something.”
Nicola looked around. “Like what?”
“No,” said Brian. “I can’t stay in here.”
Sandrine reached over and took his hand. “It’s okay, Brian. I think Alice has a good idea. It will keep some of the smell out.”
“No,” he said. Then he yanked his hand from hers and jumped up, sprinting toward the door. He threw it open and plunged out into the snow.
FORTY-FOUR
Noah paced the dark cellar, hands extended in front of him so that he didn’t bump into walls or anything else that might be down there. He had to get the feeling back into all of his limbs. He had to be ready. He’d found a corner to relieve himself. He’d been around the room enough times now to make a mental map. There were several shelves along one of the walls. He’d identified as many of the objects lining them as he could by feel. Paint cans, paintbrushes, tape, a few tarps, multiple cans and bottles of chemicals, what felt like holiday decorations, light bulbs, a host of other miscellaneous things that he didn’t bother trying to puzzle out because they weren’t of any use to him. The only thing on those shelves he cared about was the hammer. He’d tucked it into the back of his waistband so it would be easily accessible when Cooper returned.
Except that he had not heard Cooper’s footsteps overhead for a very long time. No light had come from around the door at the top of the steps.
He had a choice to make. He could try smashing the doorknob off and opening the door, or he could wait. If Cooper heard him trying to get out, there was a chance he would just shoot through the door and kill Noah. If Cooper wasn’t there and Noah couldn’t get out, when he did eventually come back, he’d see whatever damage Noah made trying to escape and then maybe kill Noah.
Perhaps it was best to wait for him. Noah had the advantage down here in the dark. Cooper didn’t know he had freed himself of his bindings. He didn’t know he had the hammer. Noah could wait until he got to the bottom of the steps and attack. Except that if Cooper opened the door or turned on any light, Noah would be blinded, and he’d not only lose his advantage but once again be at Cooper’s mercy. He needed a plan for when Cooper returned, with a contingency that wouldn’t leave him helpless in the event that the lights came on.
He paced the cellar again, mind working to come up with something. The furnace kicked on and off. Up above, the house was silent. There wasn’t even wind to make it groan. There was no sound at all.
Noah stopped in the middle of the room. “Fuck this,” he muttered. “Plans are stupid.”
He pulled the hammer from his waistband and jogged up the steps. Before he had time to think about it, he lifted the hammer over his head and brought it down where he thought the doorknob was located. A satisfying clang reverberated through his arms.
He kept going. When the knob fell off, he used the claw end of the hammer along the edge of the door to pry it open. Then he was standing in the dated kitchen. The light was dim. Noah blinked several times to get his eyes acclimated. He found the clock on the wall. It was the afternoon but of what day?
