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Lydia Lauren Farrowman, I’m going to turn twenty-one in two months. Which matches the details on the auction brochure and means they kept me for nearly three years.
Marty Farrowman is my father. Laura is my mother, and they were married just before I was born.
I turn the page, and Maddy has listed all the addresses that the Farrowman Family lived in up until the time of my disappearance. There are a few, but none of them that trigger any recognition.
My school report is here in full. I have no idea how the hell she obtained that. But it turns out I’m a grade-A student.
It seems I had a particular interest in literature and history. Which is ironic when I consider that I can’t remember a thing from my own past.
There are some newspaper articles and pictures of me in a school play that must have been posted somewhere online. I look at the child dressed as a dinner plate in what must be some kind of thanksgiving reenactment. She looks happy and content.
And then there’s my missing poster.
Snatched is the word that Alex used. I was snatched in broad daylight. The police report isn’t in here, and I’m certain Maddy would have had it. She’s too efficient not to.
She’s keeping it from me until I’ve spoken to Grace, and I’m thankful for that. It would be too much to take in at the same time as all of this. I close the file and bring it to my chest, staring out at the water and remembering how happy I’d felt yesterday when questions seemed so simple and learning I could swim had felt like progress.
“So?” Screwy’s voice travels from the other side of the deck.
“I’m a grade-A student,” I tell him, trying to make light of it all.
“And them…”
“It must be horrible for them not knowing if I’m alive or dead.” I close my eyes and feel guilty for how selfish I’m being. “I just don’t feel ready. I’ve started getting used to things around here. I trust these people. I have friends.”
“You do have friends,” Screwy agrees.
“I don’t know if I can handle stepping out of this place just yet. It’s become my comfort zone. I don’t even know if it’s safe for me outside of here.”
“You’ll always be safe.” Screwy stands up, making his way toward me and crouching in front of me. “The club is close. Pueblo is nearly under our management. It’s just a matter of days before we bring down Verretti. When that’s done, you won’t be confined here anymore.” He takes both my hands in his and kisses my knuckles.
“I’m not leaving here, Screwy. Not even for them. I will contact them when I find the strength. And I will know them. But I will not give us up.” My word is final, and Screwy must understand that because all the worry he’s holding in his face seems to fade.
I haven’t slept, I’ve barely eaten, and watching Lydia trying so hard to be strong is killing me. She smiles at me every time I walk into the room and pretends to be coping when I ask her if she’s okay. But I see the sadness in her eyes. I notice how she drifts away from me when she starts thinking about them. And I wonder if she remembers things, horrors she doesn’t want to share with me in case they make me mad, or worse, happy things that she thinks would make me feel insecure.
“Screwy, you with us, brother?” Prez’s voice snaps me back into the room. He called a meeting early this morning, which only means one thing.
Shit’s going down.
“We pretty much have Pueblo. No one seems to be causing us any resilience.”
“That's ‘cause the place is like a fucking ghost town.” Squealer flicks the toothpick in his mouth.
“We still need to bring in Kenny. We’ve taken down two crank houses and got eyes on a third. All of them are associated with him, and his silence is too convenient.”
“Maybe he just wants to cut his losses and move on to another town? Come on, Kenny ain’t nothing serious. He works alone.” Jessie shrugs.
“If he knows what’s good for him, that’s exactly what he’ll do,” Skid sniggers across the table at him.
“Word’s spreading that we’re taking over. Chalmer has asked for a meeting with me next week. He’s already looking to make some investments.” Prez looks pleased with himself as he sits back in his chair. He’s a clever man, built this club up from nothing over the years. Pueblo is just another expansion of his empire. “We need eyes on that address Maddy flagged. Screwy, Squealer, take Storm. You’re on the graveyard shift. I wanna know who’s in and who’s out. Kenny will know we're closing in, so he’ll be getting twitchy,” Prez orders.
Kenny G is the guy who appears to have been running the narcotics in Pueblo up until now. He’s no threat to us. But he still needs to be put in his place.
“We’re on it, boss,” my brother answers for both of us.
“Jessie, me, you, Troj, and Nyx are gonna pay some of the local businesses a visit, explain what we’re about and what we can offer. Let’s see if they wanna work with us or against us.”
“Where does the sheriff sit?” Brax asks, raising his eyebrows.
