“Yes,” he whispers. He can barely get the word out.
“I want you to touch me,” she says, taking his hand and guiding it.
“Okay?”
“Oh god.”
She pulls a newly purchased condom from her pocket.
Sets the package on the skin of her belly.
Reaches for his jeans.
Cabel, momentarily rendered speechless, helpless, and thoughtless except for wanting her, sighs in shudders as he touches her skin, her breasts, her thighs, and then, as the light fades from the window, they are kissing as if their lives depend on their shared breath, and urgently making love for the first time, with their eyes and bodies, like it’s the only chance they’ll ever have.
In the evening, as they lie together in Cabel’s bed, she knows it’s time.
Before she reads the green notebook, before what happens, happens, she needs to say what she feels. Because he is the only one who matters.
She practices in her mind.
Forms the words with her mouth.
Then tries them, softly, out loud.
“I love you, Cabe.”
He’s quiet, and she wonders if he’s sleeping.
But then he buries his face in her neck.
February 1, 2006
Janie spends the school week swapping sexual innuendos with Mr.
Durbin, trading confusing glances with Mr. Wang, and bantering spiteful barbs with Coach Crater.
Cabel tracks down the whereabouts of last semester’s Chem. 2 class.
He’s working madly behind the scenes, not saying much about it.
Controlling his feelings about the creep being near the woman he loves. Knowing if he says what he’s really thinking, the tension grows between them.
“So,” he says carefully, “it’s you and six other students on this trip, plus Durbin. And who’s your female chaperone?”
Janie glances up from her chemistry book. “Mrs. Pancake.”
Cabel scribbles in his notebook.
“Four girls. You have a room together?”
“No, I thought I’d sleep in Durbin’s room,” Janie says.
“Har, har.” Cabel scowls at Janie, and then tosses her chemistry book aside and tackles her. He buries his fingers into her hair and kisses her.
“You’re asking for trouble, Hannagan,” he growls.
“And you would be…?” Janie asks. She giggles.
“Trouble.”
ON HER OWN
February 5, 2006, 5:15 a.m.
Janie, sprawled out on Cabel’s couch, finally finds Miss Stubin on
Janie’s own terms.
She’s on the bench. Miss Stubin is there, next to her. It’s dusk.
Perpetual rain.
“I’m going on an overnight trip with the teacher who we think is the sexual predator. Some of his former students are going too—they may be victims,” Janie says.
“What season is it?” Miss Stubin asks.
Janie looks at her, puzzled. “Winter. It’s February.”
“Wear a bulky coat to disguise the shaking in case you get sucked into a nightmare. Drape it over you. You’re taking a school van?”
“Yes.”
“Grab the backseat. And if you get sucked into a dream that’s unimportant to the case, pull out of it. Don’t waste your strength. You can pull out of them now, can’t you?”
“Most of the time—the regular dreams, anyway. Not always with nightmares.”
“Keep working at that. It’s very important.”
“I want to try pausing the dreams. Panning the scene. How did you do that?”
“It’s all about focus, just as you focus to pull out of dreams, Janie. Just as you focus to help people change their dreams. Stare hard at the subject and talk to them with your mind. Tell them to stop. Focus on panning first—that comes most easily. Then pausing the scene. Who knows, perhaps you’ll be able to zoom and rewind someday—that really comes in handy when solving crimes. And keep studying the meanings of dreams too. You’ve read books on the subject, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Your work will be easier the more you can interpret some of the strange aspects that naturally occur in dreams. This, too, will help you immensely. Study my notes, see how I’ve interpreted dreams over the years.”