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Everything finally clicks into place. Damien wasn’t an incompetent cop, he was playing me as a fool the whole time. It has to be sheer dumb fucking luck that Meredith was staying across the street with Pocus. The whole time, he’s been undercover looking for her, and we led him right to her.
“What did I tell you about trusting pigs?” Pocus asks, and I nearly deck him.
But he’s right. I never should have let that man into our lives.
Screams turn to whispers. When I blacked out, Meredith was screaming at the top of her lungs. Now I barely hear the cadence of her voice. It seems like she’s arguing with someone. She sounds far away, but I can’t say for certain. My head feels like it’s underwater.
I sit up slowly and scan my surroundings, trying to assess the situation. The last thing I remember was Meredith’s face. She looked horrified. We were at the jail, right? Where the hell are we now? I stumble to my feet, still feeling lightheaded. My shoulder burns. I look at it quickly, thankful the bleeding has stopped. I don’t know how much blood I’ve lost, but I feel weak. I’ll have a hell of a time getting us out of here.
I walk to the door and press my ear against it. Sure enough, I hear Meredith and a man arguing. It must be him, her ex. They sound far away, like they could be a few rooms away. Dumbly, I try the door, but it’s locked. I lean my head against it, feeling useless and defeated. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to become a fucking prisoner.
I look around the room, looking for a way out, or maybe a weapon. Besides an old, ornate desk, not much is in the room. The desk is covered with papers, but not much else. Perhaps something is in one of the drawers. I walk over to the desk and open the drawers, but nothing is inside. When I crouch down to open the bottom drawer, a small shoe catches my eye.
I peek under the desk and see Charlie there, crouched and terrified. A wave of relief immediately overtakes me. I want to pull her into my arms and hug her. I reach out to reassure her, but she shakes her head, her face pale as a ghost.
The voices get louder, and she looks back as if she can see something through the back of the thick desk. I hold out my hand to her, motioning her to wait, and I go back to the door, listening again. The voices aren’t closer, they’re just louder. I have time. I can get Charlie out of here. I go back to her and crouch down.
“Charlie, sweetie,” I whisper gently. “Are you hurt?”
She looks at me with wide eyes and shakes her head again.
“Good,” I say, another wave of relief rushing over me. “That’s really good. We’ve been looking for you. My friends and I, we’ll get you out of here.”
“He’ll kill you.” Her voice is small and hollow. “He wanted you to come rescue me. He wants to get rid of you. He’s a bad man.”
Her words and her expression are haunting, but I don’t let her see my panic. I smile at her reassuringly and hold out my hand to her again. “My friends and I have met a lot of bad men in the past. And you know what? We always win. Every single time, we win.”
She doesn’t answer or take my hand. Instead, she places her tiny hands on my face and immediately cries. I notice her nose starts to bleed and her hands shake. She’s seen my death. I know it from her expression.
This won’t end well for me.
I push my fear aside, more determined to get her out of here than ever. He can do whatever he likes to me. But he won’t hurt Charlie for one more second.
“Charlie, listen to me,” I whisper urgently. “I don’t care what you just saw. I am not going to die today, okay?”
She looks at me blankly, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I promise you.” I hold out my pinky to her. She eyes it warily but wraps her pinky around it tightly.
Unfortunately, touching her again seems to give her another glimpse of my fate because she cries harder, sobbing. She wipes her bloody nose on her sleeve and retreats further into her corner, wrapping her arms against her knees.
She doesn’t like my chances. I get it. But so what? I won’t give up on her just because it could cost me my life. If I’m going to die, I’ll die fighting. Fighting for her and Meredith.
I back away from her and stand, looking again for something to help us out of here. There’s a small door in the corner, probably a closet. I open it and am immediately horrified by what I see. On the wall of the closet is the collage of a psychopath. There’s a large map of the tri-state area, with pictures of kids pinned all over the map.
As I look closer, I see each picture has a name, an age, and a gift listed. I have no idea if these are the kids Meredith already rescued or kids the man has found on his own. I look at New Orleans and see a large picture of Charlie with a red circle around her face. She’s the prize. Whatever he plans for her, she’s the lynchpin to his whole operation.
I won’t let her succumb to his sick plan. I pull the entire collage down, ripping at it in anger. I punch the wall, sending a hole into the cheap wood paneling. He probably heard that, but I don’t care. Let him come fight me. He won’t get anywhere near Charlie.
I go back to the door and listen, but the two are still arguing, screaming at each other. They didn’t hear. I go back to the hole and realize I’ve punched into a small bathroom. In that bathroom is a small window, just big enough for a small child to climb through. I immediately tear down the paneling, stopping every now and then to listen for sounds of trouble. They don’t hear me. Charlie is getting out of here.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
My head pounds. My thoughts are fuzzy as I sit on the cold floor, staring at Damien. My hands are free now, but I feel just as trapped as before. He’s going on and on, telling me he always knew he would find me eventually. He’s congratulating himself on a job well done. How could I have ever loved him? He’s a narcissistic psychopath.
I yell at him, curse at him, and throw every ounce of rage at him I’ve been bottling up over the last several years. He stands there, smiling at me, as if my rage fuels him somehow. In my heart, I know it would be better to pretend he hasn’t affected me, to pretend I’m not scared, but I’m boiling over. I’ve been afraid for too long. If this is the end for me, I’ll tell him exactly what I think about him.
I scream until my voice is hoarse. When I’ve finally finished, he grins wide.
