The Memory Keeper by Jennifer Camiccia

Author:Jennifer Camiccia
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 2019-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

19. Amygdala

Our amygdala is an almond-shaped cluster of neurons. It’s responsible for our memory of emotions, especially fear. It’s our alarm system. Panic is a direct response to this fear. This is why Olivia and I run. This is why we don’t stop until we’re sure there’s no way he followed us.

* * *

Olivia bends over and tries to catch her breath. “He was super creepy.”

“Do you think he really was chasing us?” I look around to make sure we’re safe.

Olivia stomps her foot and makes a low frustrated sound in her throat. “Now how are we supposed to find out what he knows?”

We walk in silence. At this point I’m not holding out much hope that I’ll ever translate the journal. We catch the bus to my house and manage to find seats together.

Olivia sighs. “We need to tell Max. Maybe he can look up information about Yakov.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

I text Max and give him Yakov’s name and the address of his business. The late-afternoon sun shines through the bus window and my stomach rumbles. I missed lunch.

“He says he’s on it,” I say. “I’m not sure how long it will take, and I need to get home.”

Olivia nods. “Good idea. You can get Gram to tell you another story.”

“Maybe.”

Olivia scrolls through her phone with complete focus. “There’s a surprising number of Yakov Zhabins in the Bay Area,” she says.

“There is a whole Russian neighborhood in the city.”

“You mean Russian Hill?”

“I guess,” I say.

“I think this one might be our Yakov.” Olivia excitedly jabs her finger at her phone. “See—seventy-one years old and lives in San Rafael. That’s close to his office. Maybe we should stake out his house?”

The bus lurches to a stop, and we hop off. As we hike up the hill to my house, I think about how different my life is now from how it was last week. If anyone said I’d be investigating an old Russian guy, I’d say they’d been watching too much television. And yet here I am, pretty much agreeing to whatever Olivia comes up with.

Clay’s screams reach us while we’re still three houses down. I recognize the pitch of his cries immediately and break into a run. I hear Olivia gasping for breath as she tries to keep up.

The open side door gives a clear picture of the kitchen. Clay is stuck in his high chair, his legs dangling at weird angles. He must have tried to wiggle out. I release the tray, and Olivia scoops him up.

“Lulu,” he cries pitifully. He reaches his arms for me, and I hug him close.

“Where’s Gram, little man?” I search each room, calling out for her or Mom.

“Bye-bye.” His body shudders as tears stream down his chubby cheeks.

“No one is here,” Olivia says, her eyes bigger than I’ve ever seen them. “They left him alone?”

I close my eyes, trying to calm down, and play back the scene of us rushing home. Click. “The van is still here,” I say. I run out the front door, Clay’s arms still wound securely around my neck.

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