Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand

Author:Claire Legrand
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-08-28T16:00:00+00:00

Zoey

The Tesseract

Forty-five minutes after fleeing her bedroom, Zoey hid in the shrubs down the street from her house, waiting for her father to leave.

She watched his patrol car drive down the street, stop at the corner, and turn west. Maybe heading for the docks, to pick up Agent Briggs?

Zoey peered out of the bushes and scanned her surroundings one more time. Honestly, she would have preferred to remain hidden in the shrubs, possibly forever. But if there was actually an FBI agent on the island, then Zoey needed to do a thorough search of her father’s secret room and remove anything incriminating or encoded or just plain weird before Briggs could start poking around and jump to terrible conclusions.

If, Zoey thought, Dad hasn’t removed it all already.

Zoey’s nose started to tingle. She rolled her eyes skyward until the feeling faded.

She did not have time to sit in the bushes and cry about how unfair it was that she had to worry about whether her father was lying and what he could be lying about.

She waited five more minutes, then hurried to their backyard, dropped off her bike, and slipped inside the house. She rushed to her father’s bedroom, heaved the dresser aside, unlocked the door, and held her breath, desperately hoping that the combination would still work—and it did, thank God, and maybe that meant her father wasn’t a terrible person or unforgivably weird or hiding something unforgivable, and that he did still love her, even if she had stolen his book, thank God, thank God.

Muttering a prayer of gratitude to the universe, Zoey climbed down the stairs. The carpeted walls swallowed away all sound. She switched on the desk lamp, then the computer. Next she opened the voice recorder on her phone, set it on the desk, and started searching the room.

“Hi, Future Zoey, this is Past Zoey,” she announced. “I’m looking through Dad’s secret room and I’m going to tell you all about it, so I don’t forget anything. And also because it’s super creepy down here, and I like the sound of my own voice. So.” She crouched by a stack of plastic tubs against the wall, tried to move them, couldn’t. Way too heavy. She found an old wooden chair, climbed onto the seat, opened the topmost crate.

“Ammunition,” Zoey said. “Bullets and shit I know nothing about. Great. Awesome. Closing that immediately.”

On a set of metal shelves: “About a million cans of beans and vegetables and fruit. Also, SPAM. Gross.”

Hanging on the wall: “Also, the guns. We can’t forget the guns. Five of them. Super. Fantastic.”

She returned to the desk and opened each drawer.

“Top drawers are just pens and notepads and tools,” Zoey dictated. “A hammer, screwdrivers, wires.” She sighed sharply. “I’m gonna be really pissed if he’s building a bomb.”

She moved to the deeper bottom drawers.

“Hanging file folders,” she said, thumbing through the nearest ones. “They’re packed with newspaper clippings, and some printed online articles. Each file’s labeled with a year. Not every year, there are gaps.

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