GL: And you took further measures, correct?
NL: Yes. I traded Toby for some of his ADHD medication, the kind that's supposed to keep you awake. I also had a four-pack of Red Bull, and enough food for a week.
GL: Taking medication that isn't prescribed to you is dangerous, Noah. I understand why you did it, but I feel obligated to bring that up. Further, mixing a controlled substance with even something as common as caffeine can have unexpected side effects.
NL: I didn't care. I wasn't going to sleep for twenty-four hours, period. I'd stay out in the boat all day, then go to this bowling-alley birthday thing my friends we throwing that night. If I didn't nod off, I couldn't dream. And you can't sleepwalk across a frigging lake. Then I'd surround myself with people at the party. I'd beat my condition for once. Then . . . maybe . . . maybe it'd be over.
GL: [PAUSE] But it didn't work.
NL: [SUBJECT SHAKES HEAD]
GL: I know this is hard to hear, Noah, but your condition can't be cured by external measures like drugging yourself to stay awake. There's a switch inside your brain that is tuned to your even-year birthdays. You will sleep no matter how hard you fight it. Our job is to disable that switch by finding out what created it in the first place.
NL: You give me drugs. Why are they supposed to work?
GL: Your prescription is highly targeted to the complex chemistry of brain function. It aims to ease a path to an internal fix, not overpower the disorder, as you attempted to do with stimulants. But we're getting off track. Tell me what happened.
NL: There was no clear break. I was out there for hours. I put on sunscreen twice. Fished some. It was incredibly boring. Still, right up to the moment I heard the engine, I felt totally alert. [PAUSE] But it must've happened. Because suddenly there's another boat headed right for me.
GL: Did you recognize the vessel?
NL: [SUBJECT SNORTS] It was my dad's speedboat. I'm not allowed to touch it. Suddenly, I'm stuck in a rowboat in the center of the lake, and I realize how idiotic I've been. I can't escape a speedboat with two paddles, and-
GL: It's a dream, Noah. Don't beat yourself up. You can't outrun your brain in any sort of contraption.
NL: [SUBJECT NODS] You're . . . you're right. It's just, it was such a bad idea. You can barely see land from the middle of Fire Lake, much less hear anything. I'd made it so easy for him.
GL: Please continue.
NL: It was laughable. Black Suit cruised up right next to the skiff. He only looked at me once-like, just to verify he was killing the right person-then he tossed something into my boat.
GL: And?
NL: Boom. I barely had time to think before a wave of heat tossed me from the boat. I hit the water. Tried to swim, but my legs weren't working. I looked down, and the left one . . . my left leg wasn't-
GL: Move on from that, Noah.
NL: It wasn't there! I . . . sank. The light fell farther and farther away . . . only I knew the light wasn't moving . . . I was the one . . . dropping into the cold . . . I stopped fighting . . .
GL: Let's stop for a moment.
NL: [SUBJECT SHAKES HEAD] No! Why?
GL: I don't want to upset-
NL: [SUBJECT LAUGHS] Don't want to upset me, Doctor? We're talking about the day I was blown up and drowned. This was never going to be fun.
GL: You're distressed. We can pick this up another time.
NL: No. [PAUSE] Please. I'm sorry. I just want to finish. This is the last one.
GL: Very well. Tell me what you remember about waking up.
NL: It was just after sunset. I rolled over and cried. For a full hour. In a way, the cave has become a comforting place for me. Strange, isn't it? But I've never been hurt in there. And it's always over. I don't have to worry. [PAUSE] How could I have slept? I was in a boat, out on the water. How could I have rowed all the way back to shore while unconscious? It doesn't make any-
GL: Let's finish the details, please.
NL: You know them. You were there. Next thing I knew, you were kneeling beside me on the cavern floor. Telling me I was okay.
GL: I was worried about you. It was your birthday, but I couldn't get in touch. I went to your house first, but your father wasn't home.
NL: Of course not.
GL: I found your iPad. I know I shouldn't have, but I decided to use it to track your iPhone, just to be sure you weren't thinking of harming yourself. The program led me to the pond, and the cave where I found you.
NL: [SUBJECT NODS] Do I need to go over the rest? You took me home. I never said a thing. I even went to the stupid party, chilling with my friends while this silly girl drama played out, like some normal-Noah robot. That night was the first time I ever got drunk. Carol put me to bed and promised not to tell my father. I don't think she ever did.
GL: Was there anything else?
NL: I . . . Yes. I never told you the last part.
GL: Please do, Noah. We can't know what might be crucially important until we discuss it.
NL: [PAUSE] I woke up later that night and got sick. Then I snuck out, down to our boathouse. The skiff was there, just like always. I . . . I cried again. For a while.
GL: That must've been difficult. I know how certain you were that you hadn't slept. You stated it repeatedly on our drive to your house. Proof of the opposite couldn't have felt good.
NL: [SUBJECT NODS] I went back to my room and took my pill. Emptied my pockets. Found everything just like I'd carried it onto the boat, even Toby's pills. Then . . . then I . . .
GL: [PAUSE] Then you what?
NL: [SUBJECT FAILS TO RESPOND]
GL: Noah? Is something wrong?
NL: [SUBJECT FAILS TO RESPOND]
GL: Noah, what is it?
NL: [PAUSE] It's . . . nothing, I guess. I just remembered something.
GL: Yes?
NL: Right before I went to bed, I . . . I tried to check my phone. You said you'd called and left messages. But . . . it was completely dead. I remember now that the battery died sometime around noon, out on the boat.
GL: The messages were there. You told me you listened to them the next morning.
NL: Yeah. [PAUSE] Yeah, I did. But . . .
GL: Please, Noah. Tell me.
NL: How did you know where to find me again? In the cave, I mean. You can't track a dead cell phone that way.
GL: You must be mistaken about the phone. Probably because you fell asleep.
NL: [SUBJECT SHAKES HEAD] But . . . No . . . I . . . I remember being mad about forgetting to charge it. It was the only mistake I made in preparing, and it was a pain in the ass not having a working phone at the party. I'm almost sure-
GL: I'm so sorry, Noah, but we're going to have to stop now. I just remembered I have another appointment. We'll pick this back up another time.
23
I awoke in a cold sweat.
Sprang up from the couch. Despite everything, I'd zonked out. First time in days.
Nightmares. Real ones this time.
Black Suit, creeping up the stairs, and me with nowhere to run. Black Suit, stalking me through the halls of Fire Lake High, whistling tunelessly as I scrambled for a hiding place. He was everywhere. Inescapable. Implacable.
I hurried to my father's office. Checked the security feeds. Nothing. All clear. I collapsed into an oversized reading chair. Blowing out a ragged breath, I tried to think rationally. Black Suit was alive, but that didn't mean our pattern was suddenly meaningless. There was no reason to think he'd show up for a special "bonus" slaying tonight.
Then another thought struck me, and I sat up straight.
Black Suit was a real person. Which meant he had to eat, and sleep. Which meant, logically, he had to be staying somewhere. In the valley, almost certainly-it was thirty miles to the closest town with guest rooms.
I can probably find him.
My father owned the largest resort in Fire Lake, and could access the integrated booking system used by every bed-and-breakfast and hotel in town. Normally that wouldn't help much-most places stayed at least half full, even in fall-but this year the Anvil had kept nearly everyone at home. Active reservations were scarce.
I logged in as my father. His password was a joke: EQUITY. The name of his first boat. Though forced to use them, Hunter Livingston disdained computers and the silly "online webs," mainly because he was hopeless with technology. Despising things he didn't understand was one of his favorite pastimes.
Inside the system, I found what I'd expected: blank ledgers across the grid. There were less than a dozen reservations, and half had been canceled. The rest were easily dismissible to someone familiar with our town. I didn't know much about Black Suit, but you couldn't keep a low profile at Waterfront Court, especially when no one else was staying there.
Disappointed, I tapped a few more keys. Nearly gasped.
There was a single booking at Powder Ridge Ski Lodge.
My father's resort.
"What is this . . ." I pulled the listing. A one-bedroom suite was blocked out by special code. Indefinitely. Even more strangely, the reservation was in the boutique chalet at the top of the slopes rather than the main lodge at the base of the mountain.
My fingers drummed the desktop. Rooms up there weren't usually available out of season. Known as Chimney Rock, the facility was summerized from June until the first good snow, usually sometime in mid-October.
I sat back. Why would anyone be up there now? It was well out of the way, and there were cheaper places by the lake. Plus, the mountaintop village was closed. Literally everything you'd need was ten minutes downslope.