The 39 Clues: Unstoppable: Nowhere to Run by Jude Watson Page B

by guilt.
    She stared out at the cold gray rain, wondering how a memory that had once given her hope could hurt her heart so much.
    She had sent a text to Jake as she waited on the runway in New Jersey.
    HAVE TO GO AWAY FOR A WHILE. NO INTERNET. I WILL BE IN TOUCH.
    She had added I LOVE YOU and taken it out. How could she sign off that way, when she could be going away for a long time? How dare she use the word
love
when she never knew, from one day to the next, what her life would be? She was midair, like a swift, never able to land.

    Darkness fell, and the sound of rain drumming on the roof lulled them into a doze. When they woke they were off the highway and driving on a series of small lanes. They could smell the sea. Declan drove faster than Amy would like, since she couldn’t see beyond the headlights. But he seemed to know every twist and curve.
    The car climbed a small rise and then made an abrupt turn into what seemed to be a row of bushes. The opening was barely wide enough for the car.
    Through the rain they glimpsed a whitewashed cottage, long and low. Declan pulled up and cut the engine. Without a word, he slid out of the front seat and clomped away.
    “Are we supposed to follow him?” Dan asked.
    “I guess so.”
    They headed out into the rain. Declan had swung open the front door, and he turned and handed Amy a key.
    “My sister came out earlier and put on the heat and stocked the cupboards. There’s everything you need inside. Bicycles in the garage. It’s about a fifteen-minute ride to the village.”
    He headed back toward the car.
    “Which way?” Amy called after him.
    He gestured, but it was hard through the rain to see if he meant left or right. He hopped back into the car and drove out.
    “Ah, it’s that legendary Irish charm I’ve heard so much about,” said Dan.
    They walked inside. Declan had switched on the lamps, and the room looked bright and welcoming. There was a small fireplace with two plump sofas in front of it. Amy peeked into the next room, a large kitchen with another fireplace. The back staircase led to the bedrooms, all made up with fresh linens. Laid out on the sinks were new toothbrushes, toothpaste, and soaps.
    The rain lashed the dark panes. They didn’t know where they were, or why they were here, or what they would do the next day. They were too exhausted to care. They slipped into sheets that smelled softly of lavender and reminded them of Grace, finally feeling safe enough to sleep.

    When Amy awoke, the sky was blue outside her window. She peeked into Dan’s room but the bed was empty. She glanced out the back window. A sloping lawn behind the cottage led to a dock with a motorboat tied to the piling. The inlet snaked out toward a misty blue bay.
    Dan stood on the lawn, his back to her. He was dressed but barefoot, the wind ruffling his hair.
    She started to turn away, but stopped. There was something so . . . solitary and sad about the scene. Something about his posture, the way his hands hung at his sides, told her that he was hurting.
    She shoved her feet inside her sneakers, went down the back stairs, and pushed open the kitchen door. The scent of fresh meadow and salty sea hit her nostrils as she climbed a rise to stand next to Dan.
    “Did you notice that the house is in a hollow?” Dan asked without turning to greet her. “And it’s invisible from the road. We have three exit points — the road, the sea, and across the field. This is Grace’s safe house.”
    “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” And it hurt to see that her little brother had figured it out. He should be pitching baseballs, not noticing escape routes.
    Dan stared with a fierce gaze at the inlet. His chin trembled. “I let go,” he said. “On the bridge. I had you, and I let go.”
    “You
saved
me,” Amy said quietly. “You caught me as I went over. And you held on while some goon was
strangling
you.”
    “Amy . . .” Dan turned to her. His face was anguished. “I felt