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Skinnier, bearded, but still himself.
And so utterly, completely different. There were far too many scars beneath the surface that no one would ever see. Only she would fully know.
Her thoughts tripped clumsily over themselves. She felt out of it, unable to believe this was real. That they’d been rescued. They were going home.
“Thank God,” Evan’s father said. “Thank God.” Mr.Sinclair dropped his hands and stepped back, his eyes moving over Evan. “We’ll get your hand fixed,” he said. “I’ll find the best surgeons. For your face and for your hand.”
“It’s fine,” Evan said.
His father blew out a breath and nodded, his relief obvious. That’s when he noticed Noelle standing off to the side. For the briefest of moments, she swore she saw raw hatred on his face, but then it was gone, and he nodded at her. “You’ve both been through a lot. But you’re whole. You’re here. We’ll get you back to the US, and then you’ll receive the medical care you need. Let’s go.”
They exited the motel, and Noelle saw that, rather than one hundred men, there were only three other black SUVs. Mr.Sinclair said something to one of the men he passed, and that man stepped toward Noelle, touching her arm. “You can come with me, ma’am.”
Evan had stopped and now began walking back toward Noelle. “No, she’ll ride with us.”
“Son,” his father said, gripping his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Noelle said before his father had to say anything more. She could imagine that he wanted time with his son. She had no love for the man, even now, when in essence he was rescuing them, but she could only imagine the fear and grief he’d been experiencing while his only child had been missing. “I need to call my father. Can I use your phone?” she asked the man standing next to the vehicle.
“Yes, ma’am. Let’s get on the road and you can make your call. That way we’ll have an ETA.”
She nodded and turned back to Evan. “I’ll be okay,” she said.
Evan hesitated, not looking happy but accepting with a nod. The man opened the back door of the SUV for her, and she looked back at Evan, every muscle in her body telling her to run to him, to latch on, to never let go.
They’d depended on each other for so long.We leave here whole. We leave here together.They’ddonethat. So why, now, did it feel like they were breaking a promise? It felt like she was losing a piece of herself. It wasn’t rational, she knew, but it was still true.
She turned and ducked into the vehicle, sliding over the supple leather seats and then lying down as the tears began to flow. It felt like she had a never-ending supply. It felt like she might cry forever.
The driver pointed to a bag on the floor behind his seat. “There’s food for you, Ms.Meyer. Water too.” She mumbled a thank-you.Food. Water.As much as she wanted. She should have been only relieved, but the thought brought mostly pain, and she wasn’t even sure why.
She felt so intensely bereft. Bereft of the boy who’d held her fingers throughout her nightmare, who may never hold her fingers again.
The car she was in began backing up and then turning, driving away, leaving the small nowhere town where they’d found refuge for a few brief hours. Noelle didn’t watch it out the window as they left. Instead, she continued to cry.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Night came, the sun dipping below the desert horizon. Evan watched blankly as the clapboard houses along the highway whizzed by. He ate a sandwich and drank a bottle of water. Strangely, he wondered when he’d feel a sense of freedom even in eating. “Does Noelle have food?” he asked. His father gave him a thin-lipped look but nodded. Evan glanced back every few minutes to ensure that the car Noelle was in trailed close behind his own. His father only asked that he describe the building where they’d been kept and its location as best he could in reference to where they’d traveled. He did, speaking in a monotone. His emotions felt muted, and he was somewhat grateful and a little concerned. He sensed they were gathering, the way storm clouds did, and at some future time, the sky overhead would split.
He heard his father on the phone, talking to some form of law enforcement, relaying to them what Evan had described regarding the general direction of the building they’d been kept in and the fact that it was on fire. Whoever it was on the phone sounded displeased. “I wasn’t going to trust anyone with my son’s safety. You failed to find him,” his father spit out.
Evan drifted off and then woke. His father was sitting stonily, his jaw set as he stared out the window. He turned his head and met Evan’s eyes. “Do you have any ideas about who they were?” his father asked.
Evan shook his head. “None.”
His father studied him for a moment but didn’t ask any more questions, and for that, Evan was grateful. Perhaps his father didn’t want to know the details of what had happened to him. Maybe he was scared to find out. That was fine. Evan didn’t want to tell him anyway. He didn’t want to tell anyone. He and Noelle knew. It was all that mattered.
Finally, too exhausted to keep his eyes open, he slept again, the car rocking him into a chaotic dream in which he relived their escape, only this time making different choices that resulted in terrible outcomes where he watched Noelle die in horrific ways over and over.
His father shook him now and again so that he came awake, choking back a scream. “Shh, son, it’s okay,” his father said. “You’re safe.”
He slept through most of the drive to the border and then across it. He realized that his father had Evan’s passport, but how would they get Noelle across the border? He bolted upright in a panic and turned to look out the back window, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw the three SUVs still trailing them.
However they’d worked it out, she was still with him, just a car away. He slept again.
It was almost morning when Evan opened his eyes, wiping the sleep from his face and sitting up. They were in the parking lot of a police station, the SUV still idling. He was alone. How long had he sat here sleeping?
His head swiveled, taking stock, looking for Noelle. The other cars were parked nearby, a bevy of news vans all around, the logos telling him they were in San Diego. What the hell was happening? His father was just outside the car, talking to a man in a suit. Evan opened the door. “Evan,” his father said, moving forward and wrapping his arm around him as he got out. Cameras flashed, news anchors yelling questions at him, only disconnected words that didn’t form full sentences making it to his ears.
