“You knew.”
“I did not,” Aiden insists.
“You did this on purpose.”
“Again, no.”
“Then why are you so unfazed?” I point at the horrifying display on the dresser. “Those dolls are absolutely going to murder us in our sleep.”
“Come on, it’s not that bad. The bedding seems clean. Doors lock properly. There’s wifi. I’ve stayed in way worse places than this.”
“Have you?” I ask, reluctantly setting my backpack down on the armchair in the corner.
Aiden takes off his snapback and stretches his arms over his head. “Yeah.”
“So - like what? You stayed someplace with even more murder dolls?”
“No, but…” Aiden leans back against the window. The neon light of the vacancy sign breaks against his shoulders and back, turning him all colorful. “Once I stayed in this hostel... I didn’t do that very often, but I would if I was in a big city. Or sometimes I needed a night to charge my phone, do some laundry, that type of thing. Anyways, I booked this one hostel because they told me that the room I’d be staying in had a skylight.”
“Okay…?”
“Turns out there was just a hole in the ceiling.”
I let out a startled laugh. “What!”
“Yeah, like a fist-sized hole in the ceiling, and the night I slept there, it rained. There was this single column of rain coming down into my room.” I burst out laughing again, and Aiden grins. “All things considered, Keane, this could be worse.”
Very much so. I didn’t expect to hear more about Aiden’s traveling years tonight, and after the laughing fit we just had - I’m feeling weirdly okay, given the circumstances. I hesitate, then finally pull off my jacket. I guess we really are staying here. Like Aiden said, it’s our only option.
“What are you doing?” I ask, as he slips his hands beneath one of the beds.
“I was gonna push the beds together - unless you want to sleep apart?”
“No, god no.” I gesture again at the dolls on the dresser. “It’ll be harder for Anabelle, Chucky, and Talky Tina over there to slaughter us in our sleep if we’re together.”
Aiden laughs, then groans. “Twin beds. Fuck. This is not gonna be great for me.”
“Yeah, maybe we should put them together end to end, instead of side to side. That might make enough room for your legs.”
Aiden sticks out his tongue at me. I move to help him finish getting the beds together. When we’re done, he crosses to the dresser and opens the top drawer.
“Dolls in here, don’t we think?”
“Don’t touch them! That’s how they possess you!”
Aiden scoops the dolls into the drawer, then closes it. “There. Feel better?”
“Hmm. Maybe we should just put them outside? Or call someone to come get them? Like a priest, or an occult expert-”
“An occult expert? So, like a ghost hunter?” He raises an eyebrow. “That’s what you are.”
“Well - yeah, but-”
“Jamie.” Aiden takes my face in his hands and plants a kiss on my forehead. “You have the Vision, remember? If there was a spirit in here, you would see it.” He glances around, then grins again. “Honestly, I think this place feels kind of appropriate for what we’re doing. Don’t you?”
That much is definitely true.
Aiden toes off his boots, climbs onto the pushed-together beds, and curls up. “See? It’s fine.”
“Aiden. Straighten your legs out.”
He does so, then lets out a helpless laugh when he sees how far they hang over the edge of the bed. I laugh, too, then kick off my shoes and hop up next to him.
“At least the room was really cheap?” he tries, and I groan, dropping my head onto his chest.
“I guess. Why do you never have any money, man?”
It’s not like Aiden ever asks or wants me to pay for any of his stuff, but. I’ve been wondering.
“Rude!” he laughs.
“Oh, is that a rude thing to-? No, come on. You’re my boyfriend, I can ask about that. I know why I never have any money. I spend it all on coffee and pastries. But you make more than I do, and it’s not like you have an online shopping problem or something, so - where do your paychecks go?”
He wraps an arm around me, drawing me closer. “My savings account, mostly.”
“What are you saving up for?”
“For-” Aiden breaks off. “Nothing. Just - good to save up, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I know what it’s for,” I tell him. “Bail money, in case the heist goes wrong?”
He’d tensed up for a second, but now he chuckles.
“Nothing’s going to go wrong. Come on, get your toothbrush. We should get some sleep.”
When Aiden passes out, I get up and pad to the window. The town is invisible in the darkness, but there is one thing I can see, and hear: the railroad. Every now and then, a train comes grinding past. I can only make out the lights, the sounds, the movements of it.
The train is part of our emergency backup plan, in case there’s a disaster. It’s a reminder that everything could go wrong.
I sit in the window, in the glow of the neon sign, watching.
I stay there until Aiden wakes up, takes my wrist, and brings me back to bed.
~~~~
The next morning, we’re roused by a mixture of sunlight, Aiden’s alarm, and what I have to assume are - duck sounds?
Our suits are hanging from the closet door, but we leave them behind. Today is Saturday, and we won’t be making a move for the locket just yet. If all goes to plan, we’ll take it on Monday.
Today, and tomorrow, are about making Coburn think that he’s onto us.
~~~~
Donna, the Bratton Collection receptionist, clearly recognizes us when we step into the lobby. Good news, because she’s part of today’s plan. We can’t go right to Coburn and pretend to slip up. We need to be more careful than that. We’ll pretend to slip up in front of Donna, and hope that she tells him about it.
We have reason to believe that she will. Everyone at the Collection calls their chief curator Mr. Coburn - but Donna, we’ve noticed, calls him Nick.
I take a moment to get my expression under control.
“Half of the act is going to be your temperament and behavior,” Kasey told us. “Don’t laugh. Don’t smile. Be polite, but don’t be nice. Firm, in charge, in control, that’s what you’re selling.”
Stiff-backed and solemn, we stop before Donna. She hesitates at the sight of our familiar faces. I have to think that the Bratton Collection doesn’t get a lot of visitors who return as frequently as Aiden and I have.
“Good morning,” Aiden says, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. He stopped shaving a few days ago, and touched up his beard this morning. It’s close-cropped and neatly trimmed, and it makes him look a little older than he is.
“Hello,” Donna answers. “Back again, are we?”
“Back again, yes.” Aiden gives her a tight, unfriendly smile. He pulls a twenty from his wallet, hands it over, and drops the wallet on the floor. He bends down to get it, covertly shifting his unzipped jacket.
The movement reveals the quickest flash of the badge clipped to his belt. Donna only has a few seconds to notice it, but she does.
Aiden straightens back up and lets his jacket fall over the badge again. Donna’s gaze immediately flits back to his face.
“Is there a problem?” Aiden asks, and she blinks. She’s frozen in her seat, the cash still in her fingers.
“Oh - no.” She turns to the register and starts typing, putting in our payment.
I reach into my pocket for the handheld radio, then switch it on and play the audio we pre-recorded.
“Sutton, Foster, check in,” it says.
I step away from the counter. Donna’s eyes follow me. She doesn’t seem to realize that it was in fact Aiden’s voice coming from the radio. Just pitched differently, and shrouded in static.
I talk quietly into the radio for a moment - not really saying anything - then return to the counter and catch Aiden’s eye.
“Foster.” I indicate with my head that I need him.
Aiden nods, then takes our receipt from Donna and follows me back to the doors. We bend our heads together, pretending to have another serious conversation.
“Think she bought that?” I murmur, and he adjusts his jacket, making sure his badge is covered up again.
“Hope so. The badges look convincing.”
I think so, too.
Aiden and I did research on getting real badges. We scanned different auction websites, but the faded and outdated styles we found there simply wouldn’t sell. So we ordered custom fake ones, and they turned out better than I expected.
This is our only internet purchase for the heist, which means it's traceable. We think it won’t matter. If anyone asks why Aiden and I bought fake badges - well, Halloween is coming up. I can claim that I’m going to a party dressed as Agent Dale Cooper, and no one would second-guess it.
The badges were cheap. They came quickly. You could reasonably believe the fake gold-plated backing to be authentic. They came in neat leather sleeves, a belt clip on the back. I have mine on, too, hidden beneath my jacket. And, since they were custom, the lettering denotes us not as FBI or CIA, but rather CDA, the fake agency of our own making.
Donna’s eyes follow us to the showroom, where we’ll wait for Coburn to give his tour. We won’t be taking it today, but we will be laying down more cold spots, closing doors, playing the footsteps.
It’s time to ramp up the haunting. Up until now, there have been a few days between each instance of paranormal activity at the Bratton Collection. But not anymore. Today, we’re keeping the pressure on Coburn until Aiden runs out of energy, and we’ll be back to do the same tomorrow.
On our way out, much later, we walk past Donna again. Her eyes find us immediately, watching closely.
Aiden bends down and pretends to say something in my ear. He makes sure that Donna catches the last word: Coburn.
If she wasn’t going to mention us to Coburn before, she definitely will now. It was a nice touch from Aiden, quick thinking. Smart one, I think, affectionately. I want to lean up and kiss him.
But government agents don’t usually go around smooching each other in public, so. I’ll have to wait until we’re back to my car before I risk doing that.
~~~~
That night, we slip past Michael and Davis again, but we don’t make a cold spot in Coburn’s office doorway. Instead, Aiden plunges the entire office into sub-zero temperatures. Coburn had a cup of tea on his desk; it solidifies into a block of ice, expands, and cracks. Frost creeps over everything.
Including our camera, which we didn’t think about. The video feed abruptly stutters and goes dark. Even after we hear Coburn’s ensuing panic, even after we retreat and let the cold drop away, the feed won’t turn back on. The camera is broken, and we have no way to fix it.
And so the first thing goes wrong. From here on out, we’re working blind.
~~~~
On Sunday, Coburn is standing behind the reception desk when we arrive, apparently reviewing some papers that Donna has to show him. But the moment we step inside, she leans closer to him and whispers something. His eyes go right to us and linger there.
I have the moisture meter from the flower shop with me today. While Aiden pays, I stand near the doorway and draw it out of my pocket. Pretend to hide the fact that I’m holding it, take a ‘reading’ of the air. Jot a few things down in my notebook, then slip the meter back into my pocket.
When Aiden comes over, I show him what I wrote down - nothing, just a squiggle. We exchange a meaningful glance.
Coburn watches, and says nothing.
~~~~
Just like that, it’s Sunday night. Tomorrow is the day.
Monday is a holiday, which means that there should be no one at the Bratton Collection besides security. Security, and the one man who works every day, regardless of whatever else is happening.
At least, that’s what we’re counting on. We need Coburn alone.
Aiden - who has been unwaveringly steady this whole time - finally cracks. He falls into anxious silence, pacing circles around our hotel room. The window is open; he stops there and leans his hands on the sill, filling his lungs with cold night air.
I’m nervous to the point of feeling nauseous, but seeing Aiden like this flips some switch within me. Powered by an unexpected wave of calm, I go to the window and close my arms around him. Press my ear to his back. Listen to his nervous, jumpy heartbeat.
Tonight it’s me who guides him back to bed, where I slowly strip away his clothes and kiss him down into the pillows. I’m determined to take his mind off of the heist, at least for a little bit.
He seems grateful for the distraction, working his hand into my hair as I make my way down his body.
Afterwards, when I listen to his heartbeat again, the rhythm is much steadier.
But he still can’t fall asleep, so I sit up in the bed, massaging my knuckles along his spine and shoulders, then drifting them down to his thighs, working out the knots that have formed there. Men his size are really not supposed to sleep on such a tiny mattress.
Aiden passes out in my arms, his head resting on my lap. I’m sitting up with my back propped against the headboard, but I won’t move him. I sit there in silence, staring out of the window, thinking of tomorrow.
The train passes in the distance.
It’s only the backup plan, I tell myself. We won’t need it.
~~~~
Aiden is already up when I stir in bed the next morning. He returns from the town’s one coffee shop with bagels and two cups of coffee, insisting that I eat. I can barely force it down, I’m so nervous.
Neither of us can stomach sitting around the hotel room all day, so we go for a long walk by the lake. I want to hold Aiden’s hand, but we can’t risk anyone in town seeing. Who knows which of these people might know Coburn? Maybe he lives in one of those massive houses across the water. I wouldn’t be surprised.
When the sun starts dropping lower over the lake, we go back to the hotel and change our clothes. I wore a borrowed suit of Kent’s when we raided the FIC for Wills's records, but this time I have a suit that actually fits me. It's black, and near-identical black to Aiden's, right down to the white dress shirt underneath.
I can tell that Aiden is just as nervous as I am. He’s standing in front of the mirror, his fingers fumbling with his tie. I join him there and gently push his hands out of the way.
“Here, I’ve got it.” I fix his tie for him, then smooth out his collar.
“You look nice,” he murmurs, and in spite of everything, I smile.
“You do, too.”
There's only one thing left. Aiden’s beard serves to make him look a little older than he is, but we needed something for me. It was Kasey’s idea.
To counteract your cute lil’ babyface, is how she put it. We got it very cheaply at a pawn shop.
Aiden finds the thin gold wedding band in his pocket. I expect him to just give it to me, but -
He takes my hand in his and slips the ring onto my finger.
I don’t know why, but my heart jumps into my mouth, watching him do that.
He does it slowly and deliberately. He keeps his gaze fixed on my hand, and doesn’t look up.
I glance at the mirror. There we are, together in our matching suits, our fingers intertwined around a ring. The image moves something warm and bright within me, taking me by surprise.
I realize that Aiden is looking, too. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and he clears his throat, dropping my hand.
“Ready?” he asks.
Right. The heist. I take a long, deep breath, and nod.
“Ready. Let’s go.”
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