Towering

girl. Emily Hill. Do you know her?”
    “Um, yeah. Emily Hill is my mother. There was a letter from her?”
    She nodded. “It was in the coat, the pocket of the coat you gave me.”
    “The coat?” Danielle’s coat? Was it possible the letter had been waiting there all along? “What did it say?”
    “It was from your mother to mine. My mother was pregnant, and your mother was worried about her.”
    “Why?” In retrospect, it made sense, but I was surprised to hear my mother had been worried all along. Then again, she was probably worried about normal stuff, like whether Danielle’s mom would throw her out of the house or if Danielle would go to college.
    “She said Danielle was talking crazy, about hallucinogens.”
    The rhapsody!
    “Danielle said it was destiny.”
    “What was?” Had my mother known about Danielle? About everything before she sent me here? No, it was crazy.
    “Emily didn’t say. She was trying to get Danielle to calm down, saying it would be okay, but . . .”
    She broke off.
    “But what?”
    “I have to go.” Her voice was a whisper.
    “What? Wait, Rachel. You have to tell me more.”
    “It’s Mama. She’s early.”
    “Okay. I’ll come tomorrow morning, early.”
    And then, the line went dead.
    I stood there, holding the phone, wondering if it had malfunctioned somehow. No, it hadn’t. Rachel had hung up on me. Then, I wondered if I should call my own mother, should see what she knew. She definitely knew about the baby. Had she sent me here on purpose to make me part of this?
    I dialed her cell phone, but it rang and rang. No surprise. She was probably working late. Without my cell phone, I couldn’t text her. I’d call tomorrow.
    Instead, I dialed the number Rachel had just given me.
    Someone answered immediately.
    “Is this Mr. Fox?” I said.
    “Not the Mr. Fox you met,” a smooth voice said. “This is Carl, his brother. I assume this is Wyatt?”
    “Yes.” I glanced out the window. It was snowing again. “Did you have something to tell me?” I didn’t want to give too much away. This might have been the guy who’d followed me. I wanted to ask him.
    But he said, “I talked to your sister before. Henry said you were looking for information on Zach Gray. I have it.”
    “Great . . . um, what do you have to tell me?”
    “I actually can take you to him.”
    “Your brother said he moved.”
    “My brother, fact is, he’s losing it. He’s got total recall for a football game he watched six months ago, and then, he can’t remember something that happened yesterday.” He laughed. “Zach moved to New York City, wanted to be a rock star. But then, he moved back.”
    “Oh.” That was weird. “Wouldn’t people know he was there?”
    “He’s sort of a recluse, I guess. Doesn’t come out much. But I could take you to see him.”
    Everything in the world told me to say no. No, I couldn’t meet him. But, finally, I said, “The supermarket in Gatskill? I could meet you there.”
    “You’re really making this difficult.”
    “Sorry. Someone followed me yesterday.” Probably you. “It was weird.”
    “Well, it wasn’t me. I don’t get out much. I’ve been sick.” He coughed, a bad smoker’s cough that came up all the way from his chest, and he kept coughing for almost a minute. “Can we just meet outside the Red Fox? Maybe at noon?”
    “Can we make it earlier?” I wanted to see Rachel.
    “I can make it as early as you want. Eight?”
    “Eight’s fine. How will I find you?”
    “I’ll find you.” And then, the line went dead.

Rachel
    I could hear Mama’s footsteps on the stair. Usually, she was easy to hear, for her steps were labored, which reminded me that she was old. But, of course, I had never needed an early warning before. There had never been any danger. Now, I fumbled with the strange phone. I thought, at first, to stuff it under the mattress. But, at the last minute, I dropped it into a tall, empty vase in which Mama had placed some fake flowers. She would never look there.
    Mama’s footsteps grew still closer, then paused. I heard her fumble for her keys. If she would but allow me to open my own door, I could let her in. But no, she did not trust me.
    I sighed. I wasn’t trustworthy. I had done exactly what she feared—allowed someone inside. She would see it as endangering myself.
    But Wyatt was not a danger to me.
    I had begun to wonder if there was any danger at all. But, indeed, the letter, and then, the strange