Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
FRANKIE
It’s as if the clouds have lifted when I wake and I reflect back on an evening that ended extremely well for me. My plan was well executed and now Cassie is my girl I have an enjoyable semester to look forward to.
I wander downstairs to grab some coffee and Ali is already there, checking his phone.
He glances up as I approach.
“I’m arranging some surveillance for the dungeon.”
My mouth curves into a smile because Ali is the practical one in our group and he will be angry at what happened last night.
“I’m ordering some cameras that are small enough to be concealed in every tunnel, entrance and passageway. They should arrive on Monday in time for The Claiming on Friday.”
“It’s a good idea.” I sit beside him, my hands wrapped around my coffee mug and take a deep, satisfying sip.
“Any word on Abigail?”
Ali would have set up the line of communication regarding that and he shakes his head. “I haven’t heard. I’ll check with the girl’s house after breakfast.”
Santi stumbles in bleary-eyed and looking like shit and he groans.
“Damn, what a night. I had fucking nightmares about that place. I’m definitely taking door sentry next time.”
“But you were so good in your role.” I tease him and he nods, a satisfied smile on his face. “I was, I admit that, and I particularly liked the part where you kneeled before me.”
“Idiot.” I roll my eyes. “Where’s Jack?”
“Out running. That guy is a machine.”
Ali snorts. “Rather him than me. Did you know he’s set on the military? Apparently, it’s a family tradition.”
“There’s nothing wrong with family tradition. We all have that cross to bear.”
The guys say nothing because they are aware of my heritage. They asked me once, and I didn’t sugar coat my reply. When I leave Rockwell, it’s to work with my father in the family business. When you are born into the mafia, it’s kind of expected.
We glance up as Jack enters the room and heads straight for the fridge.
He fills a glass with fresh water and chugs it down almost in one.
“Good run?” Santi asks with a slight shake of his head. “You love to punish yourself.”
“It’s good for the soul.” He answers and then asks, “Any news on Abigail?”
“No.” I shrug. “We had better hope she’s safely tucked up in bed, otherwise this place will be crawling with cops before the day is done.”
“I guess.”
He kicks out one of the stools as Ali remarks, “Her father is the governor. It won’t be good for us if she’s missing.”
“She’ll turn up.” Santi shrugs. “I’m guessing she slipped past Ali while his attention was diverted. Come to think of it, maybe she set it up with Susan Harper in advance. You were played, Ali.”
“Impossible.” Ali shrugs. “Despite what happened, we never moved away from the door. She absolutely never came through it.”
Santi groans. “I fucking hate this shit.”
I reach for my phone and tap out a text.
“Who was that?” Ali asks.
“Kennedy. I asked if Abigail was home.”
The phone vibrates and I note the message on the screen.
Sleeping like a baby
“She’s home.” I raise my eyes at the shock on the guy’s faces.
“Are you kidding me?” Santi shakes his head.
“I can’t wait to learn how she did it.”
Another text comes through.
You should get over here
“Kennedy says we should get over there.”
The guys fall silent and I share their concern. Something is off about this and it’s not like Kennedy to be so abrupt.
I nod to the door. “We’ll grab food at the cafeteria after we’ve dropped by Willow Tree house.”
Nobody says a word as we make for the door and as we head to find Abigail, I hope she has a good explanation for what happened.
* * *
Willow Tree house is one of the allocated girls only houses set by the aforementioned willow tree. It’s home to a dozen girls who are all in their second year at Rockwell. I know it well. I’ve fucked so many members of this house I could navigate my way around in the dark and as we step through the familiar door, Kennedy is waiting with a worried expression on her face.
“What’s up?”
She shakes her head and points to the room at the front where the girls chill in front of the television.
We pile in and head for the couch as she closes the door carefully behind her.
She perches on the edge of her seat and whispers, “Abigail wasn’t here when we got home. I wasn’t sure what to do, whether to alert the teacher or not, so I gave it until the morning. As soon as I woke up, I went straight to her room and saw her sleeping in bed.”
“You never heard her come back?” Ali asks, and Kennedy shakes her head.
“No. That’s not uncommon, though. My room is at the top of the house, like yours, Frankie.” She sighs. “Abigail is still sleeping, but something isn’t right.”
“What?” I lean forward and she whispers, “She is still wearing her outfit from last night and it appears she was dragged through the forest judging from the dirt and stains on her skirt and legs. Her face is covered with dirt and she appears to have been crying because the dirt is streaked where her tears would have fallen.”
We are silent as Kennedy’s voice shakes. “Then there’s the blood on her thighs. She’s lying on top of the bed and it trails in a dried river down her legs.”
“But she’s asleep.” I ask, and Kennedy nods.
“Out cold. I tried to shake her awake, but she didn’t even stir. Her breathing is heavy, but she won’t wake up.”
She angles her head to the doorway. “You should come and see for yourself.”
I stand and say to the guys, “Wait here. It won’t look good if we all crowd into her room. I’ll let you know what I find.”
As I follow Kennedy up a similar staircase to the one at our house, she says with concern. “I don’t like it, Frankie. It’s as if she was drugged and then brought here. Somebody must have carried her upstairs and then left. Somebody who was definitely not supposed to be here.”
I share her concern and wonder who could have access because every house has a key that only the inhabitants possess a copy of.
“She must have had the key on her at the time.” I surmise, and Kennedy shrugs.
“Possibly, but it’s still not a nice thought knowing somebody was in here last night who shouldn’t have been.”
“You don’t know that, Kennedy.” I dismiss her fears and as we reach Abigail’s room, she sighs and pushes the door open.
My eyes fall to the bed and I note Abigail sleeping soundly, the rise and fall of her breast demonstrating she is merely asleep.
“Wake up, Abi.” Kennedy shakes her, but aside from a soft moan, Abigail doesn’t open her eyes.
I check for her pulse, which appears normal and as I do, I catch sight of the blood and dirt that is definitely not normal.
“Have you asked if anyone saw anything?”
Kennedy nods. “I asked around some of the girls, but they were attending the royal party and it finished early by all accounts and they were in bed. I also got back earlier than planned.” She grimaces. “I mean for fuck’s sake, Frankie, Amos Sams?”
Despite the situation, I bite back a grin because this is too funny and I wish I had thought of it myself.
She curls her lip in disgust. “That guy needs a serious personality transplant, along with a physical one. He is so creepy it makes me sick just looking at him. You’re a fucking sadist, Frankie, and I will never forgive you for this.”
She shakes her head and then as Abigail stirs, her eyes turn to me and she gasps, “She’s waking up.”
I stand back because if I am the first person Abigail sees when she opens her eyes, it would probably scare the shit out of her and Kennedy takes her hand and whispers with concern, “Abi, honey, it’s Kennedy.”
“Kennedy.” Abigail’s voice is weak and croaky and Kennedy nods to the table set below the window.
“Grab her a glass of water, Frankie. Her lips are dry and she sounds as if she could use a drink.”
I do as she says and as I reach the table, I stare at the red lipstick scrawled along the surface.
One Down
“Kennedy.”
She raises her eyes and I point to the table.
“Explain this to me.”
As she heads across the room, her eyes widen with fear when she sees the words and gasps, “What the hell is that?”
“Do you know what this means?”
“Of course not. Do you?”
“No.” I snap a photo of it and then we turn as Abigail cries out. “Please, no! Let me go!”
She is thrashing around on the bed and Kennedy cries out, “It’s me, Abigail. Kennedy.”
Her eyes open and as the tears fall, she whispers, “Thank God.”
Then she gasps, “Why does it hurt so much?”
“What hurts, honey?” Kennedy’s voice is soft and soothing, and Abigail winces.
“Inside. It hurts so much.”
Fuck. This isn’t good and then Abigail starts screaming and I don’t think she will ever stop.