“What are you hooked on?” I repeated.
She turned away from me. I hated the sharp angles of her body. She used to be soft—someone worth hugging. Now, her bones threatened to slice through her skin every time she moved. There were marks not only on her neck and face, but tract marks in the crook of her elbow. I saw it even when she tried to hide it.
It was August.
It was hot.
No one wore long-sleeve t-shirts in August. Only a drug addict.
“If you can’t help me, I’ll leave.” She took three quick steps back, her shoes scraping on the concrete.
“I don’t have anything,” I whispered.
Our little secret was about to end. If I couldn’t make her stay… she wouldn’t come back.
Mom shifted again, pulling at the hem of her shirt. She was backing away, shaking her head. Strands of dark hair slid from the clip on top of her head, getting caught in the wind.
“Take care of yourself,” I told her.
I stayed rooted to the spot until she was gone. Down the street, around the corner.
I glanced back at the house. It was shuttered, dark. Now that I knew what the inside was like, I could spot the flaws on the exterior. Cracked foundation and a crumbling roof. Ivy burrowed in the stucco walls, gripping like its live depends on it.
Me too, ivy.
They wouldn’t notice if I went for a walk.
All my belongings were on my back, anyway.
Mom didn’t want me. The foster system certainly didn’t want me.
Maybe I’d just keep walking until I found someone who did.
Present
The detective is skeptical.
Angela is clueless.
And my head freaking kills.
At my request, they turned off most of the lights. A single bulb glows behind my head. It illuminates their faces and hides mine—not that I mind that. The detective is staring at me in a way that tells me he thinks I’m lying. Ignoring that, I clutch a cup of water in both hands and tell them all about Matt Bonner.
Lion’s Head boy. Caleb’s secret friend and public enemy. Nice—or so I thought.
“A friend of Caleb’s?” He latches on to that.
I shrug. “I don’t know much about it. He’s come over and said hi at football games.”
“You’re speaking about Bonner.”
“Yes.” I glance at Angela. “I have to use the restroom.”
She straightens. “Let me grab a nurse.”
Detective Masters and I are suddenly alone.
I shift in the bed. “You said my abductor brought me in, but you were surprised when I said it was Matt.”
He scoffs. “Come on, Margo. I know Caleb had something to do with it.”
“Caleb found me?”
Masters watches me. “He orchestrated the whole thing. He has motive and the arrogance to pull it off. You said you heard another voice. Was it Caleb?”
“No.” No, no, no.
No matter what dark hole you go down, I will find you and bring you back. Isn’t that what he promised me?
He kept that promise.
And now I’m going to keep mine.
“It wasn’t him, Detective. I know him. I know his voice.”
He opens his mouth but closes it again.
A second later, a nurse comes in behind Angela. She flips the blankets back, shooting the man a quick look before I swing my legs over.
She helps me stand. “Slowly now.”
I’m as wobbly as a newborn deer. The room slants and spins. We pause, allowing me to close my eyes for a moment.
“Head injuries do nasty things to our balance,” the nurse murmurs in my ear.
I heave a sigh. I really do need to pee—but I could also use a moment alone. Thankfully, the nurse agrees to my request for privacy. She tells me to ring the bell when I’m done and closes the door.
I hover by it for a moment, listening as hard as I can.
It’s quiet, and then, “He really carried her in here?” That from Angela.
My heart picks up speed.
“Her arms and legs were still duct taped. He really didn’t think it through.” The detective is disgusted. A personal vendetta against the Asher family?
Maybe.
My attention goes to my wrists. They’re red and angry. I touch one, surprised at the sticky residue still on my skin.
After Matt wouldn’t stop apologizing, I don’t remember much. Any of it, really. I don’t know what he knocked me out with, but it was like only a sliver of me was still with it. But the parts I need to remember slip away like sand.
Why they decided not to bring me to a hospital—since clearly Caleb found me, and he probably didn’t run into them.
Which means Matt is still on the loose.
I shiver. My fingers are still on my opposite wrist, scratching at the sticky residue.
“You okay?” the nurse calls through the door. Her voice is jarringly loud.
I step away from the door and reply, “Yep, almost done.”
The detective and Angela haven’t said anything else—probably because the nurse is hovering outside the bathroom door. I scrub my hands until my skin is pink.
I cast one look at myself in the mirror, afraid of what I’m going to find.
There’s a wound on my head that’s been bandaged—and presumably stitched underneath. Various scrapes across my face. There’s a bruise on my temple, coming down onto my cheek, and the skin around my eyes is puffy. If I had more time, I’d do a more thorough examination. But in this moment, I can barely stomach to see my bare legs and socked feet. If my ankles are in the same shape as my wrists, I don’t want to see.
I breathe. My ribs don’t hurt as much as they did when Ian kicked me, but there’s still a deep ache.
Enough stalling. I open the door and smile at the nurse. She doesn’t have to help much on the way back, and soon enough, I’m tucked back into bed, hooked back up to monitors and the IV.
The detective drags the chair back to my bedside. Angela is once again leaning on the wall.
“Can you walk us through the day? Everything you remember.”
“I got home—”
“Who dropped you off?”
“Caleb.”
“So he knew where you were going?”
I narrow my eyes. “Objection—leading the witness.”
He jerks, then laughs.
“Caleb dropped me off, then left. Robert and I went to the prison soon after that. I visited with my dad for the first time in…” I shrug. Not relevant. “I left, got in the car with Robert, and we were hit.”
I try not to think about the crunch of metal. The car flipping. Or the way he hung upside down. He’s in the ICU while I’m being interrogated.
And what about Caleb? Did they arrest him?
Is he sitting in a jail cell?
“We were off the road. I had hit my head, so everything is kind of blurry…”
“Just do the best you can,” Masters says.
“Someone helped me out of the car.”
“Did they unbuckle you?”
I frown. “No… I think I did that. I was right-side-up, about to check on Robert, when…”
I was dragged over glass.
“They kept apologizing. Saying it was going to be okay.” My fingernails are on my wrist again, scratching. “I believed them up until they put something over my face. It hurt to breathe.”