Chapter 35
thirty-five
Tell Greta we’ve got Alice. She’s alive. We’re bringing her in.
Greta had been in Walker and Johanna’s kitchen when the call came through. Standing by the coffeepot, pouring her millionth cup of coffee while Bear made noises about her getting some rest.
He didn’t understand that she couldn’t. Not while knowing with absolute certainty that Alice was out there.
The radio had crackled, and Evander had spoken the three most beautiful sentences she’d ever heard.
Sentences that should have made sense together but hadn’t at first. Not while her brain was still catching up with the fact that the bones they’d found on Evander’s property weren’t Alice’s, that she’d stood beside a grave and buried someone else’s remains, that for fifteen years her sister had been alive and just a few miles up the mountain, and she hadn’t known.
Fifteen years.
Three weeks since they’d lowered a casket.
Two weeks since Greta had stood on a granite shelf and screamed until her voice broke.
Tell Greta we’ve got Alice. She’s alive. We’re bringing her in.
Now she stood on the porch steps, both hands gripping the railing hard enough to make the wood creak. Her breath came in short pulls that didn’t feel like they were bringing in any air, and her chest had gone tight with a pressure that threatened to crack her ribs.
The palomino was the first thing she saw.
Sundance. Sunny. Jonah’s horse.
Carrying him and a woman with pale copper hair.
She moved before she realized it. One foot off the porch step, then the other, but Bear caught her arm.
“Wait,” he said. “Greta, wait. Look.”
She wanted to whirl on him and knock his hand away, but she didn’t. Instead, she sucked in a calming breath and followed his gaze.
The woman wore Jonah’s coat over a tattered and dirty white nightgown.
It hung too large on her frame, the sleeves covering her hands completely.
Her feet were bare, ankles caked with mud.
She was collapsed in on herself, curled up against Jonah’s chest, gaze darting around like a prey animal surrounded by predators.
“She’s terrified,” Bear added softly. “You can see it from here. If you run at her—”
“I know.” The words came out rough. She made herself stop, made herself take a step back up onto the porch. “I know.”
But knowing it didn’t stop the pull. Her sister was thirty yards away, and Greta was standing still when every cell in her body was screaming to move, to run, to cross the distance between them in a single bound.
Alice was so thin. So small. Her face was half-hidden by hair that had once been a vibrant copper but now hung lank, streaked silver, and darkened by dirt.
Her skin was pale with that sickly yellow undertone that came from living without sunlight.
Her wrists were ringed with angry red marks that Greta immediately understood had come from restraints.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen years in a basement.
Fifteen years marking days on a wall.
Fifteen years of believing no one was coming for her.
Greta had to lock her knees to keep standing.
She watched as Jonah dismounted first, keeping one hand on the reins, his movements deliberately slow. He reached up with his free hand, palm open, and waited. Alice stared at it for a long moment before placing her hand in his. When her feet touched the ground, her legs buckled immediately.
Jonah caught her, his arms supporting her weight without comment. Alice leaned into him, her body trembling visibly even from where Greta stood. The nightgown hung off her frame, making her look even smaller than she was.
Greta’s throat tightened. Her sister had always been petite, but now she looked fragile enough to break. The Alice in Greta’s memory had been vibrant, laughing, with eyes that sparkled with mischief. This woman seemed folded in on herself, her shoulders hunched, her gaze fixed on the ground.
“Easy now,” Jonah said, his voice carrying across the yard. “We’ll get you inside.”
Alice shook her head, a small movement that made her wince. She pointed toward Sunny, her fingers trembling.
“You want to stay with her?” Jonah asked.
Alice nodded.
“That’s fine. We can stay right here.”
Greta’s fingernails dug into her palms. Every instinct screamed at her to rush forward, to wrap her sister in her arms, to say all the words she’d been holding for half her life.
But she’d spent enough time with traumatized animals to recognize the look in Alice’s eyes—that skittish, cornered expression that meant any sudden movement would send her bolting.
Bear’s hand settled on her lower back. “Take your time,” he murmured. “She’s not going anywhere.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She took a careful step down from the porch, then another. Alice didn’t look up from stroking Sunny’s neck, but her body tensed, shoulders drawing tighter.
“Alice,” Greta said softly.
Her sister’s head snapped up. Those eyes—the same pale green Greta saw in the mirror every day—widened, filling with a mixture of shock and terror. She took a stumbling step backward, colliding with Sunny’s flank. The mare shifted her weight but didn’t move away.
“Hey,” Jonah said, his voice gentle. “It’s okay. This is your sister. Greta. Remember?”
Alice stared at Greta, her breath coming in short, audible gasps. Recognition flickered across her face, followed immediately by something that looked like disbelief.
Greta stopped moving, keeping a careful distance between them. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said, her voice catching on the words. “I just... I’ve missed you so much.”
Alice’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her hand moved to her throat, fingers pressing against the skin as if checking that it was still there.
“You can’t speak?”
Alice shook her head, a single tear tracking down her dirt-streaked cheek.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. You know I talk enough for the both of us.”
Something close to a smile touched Alice’s lips.
Greta took another cautious step forward, then another, until only ten feet separated them. “I’ve been looking for you every day since you disappeared. I never stopped.”
Alice’s shoulders trembled. She looked from Greta to Jonah, then back again, as if trying to reconcile what she was seeing with what she’d believed for fifteen years.
“Can I come closer?” Greta asked.
Alice gripped Sunny’s mane like it was the only thing tethering her to this reality. For a long moment, she didn’t move, didn’t respond. Then, so slowly Greta almost missed it, she nodded.
Greta closed the distance between them, stopping when only an arm’s length remained. Up close, the damage was even more apparent—the gauntness of her sister’s face, the dark circles under her eyes, the way her collarbones protruded above the neckline of the nightgown.
And those ashy-white streaks in her hair.
Tears flooded Greta’s eyes as she held out her hand. “I’m so sorry, Alice. So, so sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”
Alice hesitated, then extended her right hand and set it in Greta’s. Her skin was cold, her fingers trembling.
The contact broke open Greta’s chest. Fifteen years of searching, of hoping, of grieving—all of it crashed into her at once. Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she kept her voice steady through sheer force of will.
“You’re safe now. I promise. No one will ever hurt you again.”
Alice’s eyes filled with tears that mirrored Greta’s. Her mouth moved, forming words that made no sound. Frustration crossed her face, and she pressed her free hand to her throat again.
“Hey.” She squeezed her sister’s hand gently. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ve got all the time in the world now.”
Alice returned the squeeze with surprising strength. Her lips moved again, and this time Greta recognized the shape of them forming her name.
“I’m here. I’m right here.”
Alice took a step forward, then another, her legs unsteady beneath her. Then she was moving, crossing those final inches between them, and collapsing into Greta’s arms.
The impact knocked Greta back a step, but she caught her sister’s weight easily and wrapped her arms around the fragile frame.
Alice buried her face against Greta’s shoulder, her body shaking with silent sobs.
Greta held her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other splayed across her shoulder blades.
“I’ve got you,” Greta murmured into her sister’s hair. “I’ve got you.”
She didn’t know how long she stood there holding her sister. Long enough for the cold to settle into her bones. Long enough for Bear to come down off the porch and stand at her back, not touching her, just there.
She lifted her eyes over Alice’s shoulder and found Evander across the yard. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
He nodded and turned away, already walking toward the trees with Tilly at his heel.
He didn’t look back.
Alice’s body suddenly went rigid against her, drawing her attention back.
Greta drew away slightly and followed Alice’s wide-eyed gaze to Bear. “It’s okay. That’s Bear. He’s mine.”
He’s mine. The words came out before she’d thought them through, but… yeah, they were true.
They had been true for longer than she’d let herself admit.
Alice’s eyes bugged, and she made a big gesture with her hands.
Greta laughed and swiped at the tears still streaking down her face. “I know,” she said. “I know he’s massive.”
Alice made the gesture again. Bigger this time. Both hands. And it was the most Alice thing Greta had seen in fifteen years. Since that last morning when Greta had rolled her eyes at her sister’s dramatics over the breakfast table, and Alice had flicked a piece of toast at her face.
Her sister was in there.
Alice was still in there.