A Spy Like Me by Laura Pauling Page B

Nothing.
    Malcolm called out, “I found something. Over
here!”
    With a surge of energy, I ran through brush
and ducked branches until I found him, standing by a tree, holding
back the big drooping branches. The heartbreak in Malcolm’s eyes
told me everything.
    “This doesn’t mean she was here. This could
be anything.”
    Underneath lay the scattered remains of what
could’ve been Aimee’s meager captivity, frayed rope and a power bar
wrapper. Crap . I pulled out the tracker and we both looked
at it.
    Malcolm blew out a breath. “Sorry. He’s
leaving the park.”
    The leaves and rope blurred in front of my
eyes. It couldn’t be. Some pieces of trash weren’t real clues. But
then why did I feel my hope slipping away? I couldn’t stand there,
next to Malcolm, so I ran and ran and ran until I couldn’t breathe.
I needed to be alone.
    I arrived at the other bridge—the safe
one—and slumped against a tree, welcoming the jagged bark piercing
through my shirt into the skin of my back. Pain was good, a
reminder that nothing should matter but Aimee.
    Malcolm was soon with me, gently lifting me
up by the arm. “Honestly, I don’t think she was ever here. I should
never have pointed it out. That could’ve been anything.”
    “Or it could be everything. Wasn’t that the
same kind of rope we found in Peyton’s apartment?”
    “Possibly. But it’s pretty common rope.” He
held out his hand. “Let’s go back and regroup. He’ll be on the move
again and we’ll find him.”
    I sighed not wanting to give up, not wanting
to admit that I was failing, not wanting to tell Malcolm to stuff
it when he was just trying to help. We’d find him? When? How? I
wanted answers.
    We crossed the safe bridge. The green of the
trees blurred against the blue sky and the slight breeze moved my
granny dress against my legs.
    Malcolm stopped halfway. “You might as well
take in the view. We did tell your dad we’d have some fun.”
    Geese flapped their wings and skittered
across the lake to settle near the edge. Large tree branches dipped
their fingers into the edge of the water. Aimee would’ve loved it.
I leaned my head against his shoulder, refusing to give in to
tears. I didn’t want Malcolm to know how much it was getting to
me.
    “So, dear, my memory is getting a little
fuzzy,” he whispered, his breath kissing my cheek. “Tell me again
about our wedding day.”
    I stiffened a bit when he put his arm around
me. Very easily, I could’ve slipped into this role and forgotten.
Pretended that all was well, and felt safe and loved with the
warmth of his arm draped across my shoulder. Except I couldn’t
muster the energy to play his game.
    “You can quit trying to cheer me up. It won’t
work.”
    “I remember now,” he said. “We got married
under the Arc de Triomphe at sunset. It was almost perfect, except
for the flock of pigeons that pooped all over our family and
friends. We, of course, were safe under the arc.”
    I relented and couldn’t help but smile. “Did
we enjoy our honeymoon?”
    Malcolm didn’t say anything but traced his
fingers down my back. My legs grew weak, and I leaned into him a
little bit more.
    He kissed the side of my head and whispered,
“Oh, yeah.”
    I just about lost my breath when he said
that. For once I didn’t have anything to say. My heart was lodged
in my throat. He ran his fingers down my arms and goose bumps
quickly followed. He laced our hands and pressed his face into the
crook of my neck.
    “I’ll play out any fantasy for you, Savvy
Bent, if it will keep a smile on your face.” Then he gently kissed
my cheek.
    If my life were a movie, that would be when
the music started, and Malcolm and I would’ve engaged in one of
those long kisses that made all the girls swoon. Maybe even some of
the men if they were being honest. But we didn’t. Instead, tears
slipped down my face. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had
gone out of his or her way to try and make me smile