11. June
JUNE
Iwake up stiff and exhausted, Hattie still asleep beside me, her cute mouth hanging open, drool staining her pillow, and I start trying to convince myself yesterday was a nightmare.
There’s no way I got married.
Rafe didn’t find us.
A man wasn’t murdered in my house while trying to kidnap me.
I’m not trapped in a mansion in the middle of the Jersey pine barrens.
Except as the sun rises and the windows glow brighter, I can’t deny my situation.
“Mommy?” Hattie yawns and curls into me before sitting straight up. “I’m hungry.”
That’s my little monster. She goes from a sleepy little angel to a straight-up beast instantly.
There’s no easing into the day with her.
“Come on, let’s go brush your teeth and find something to eat.”
Hattie chats happily as we go into the hall, find the bathroom, and open a new toothbrush for her.
There’s even children’s toothpaste, the cotton-candy-tasting stuff she likes.
I have to marvel at the way Hattie doesn’t bat an eye, doesn’t drop a step, simply accepts that we’re in this new house and on vacation without so much as a complaint.
She’s always been like that. Sometimes I think I’ve been parenting on easy mode.
Except there’s no such thing as easy when it comes to little kids.
Just varying shades of hard as hell.
The house is massive and quiet. I consider going to Rafe’s room but decide against it. Steeling myself, I hold Hattie’s hand as she talks on and on about her favorite magical unicorns and which dinosaurs she thinks should get married.
Stegosaurus and velociraptor, obviously.
We walk down the steps and I pause midway to listen, but there’s no sound from anywhere.
It’s spooky, actually.
There are dozens of rooms, all the doors shut. I try one at random, but it’s locked.
I don’t try any others for fear that I’ll find a bunch of dead bodies inside.
Don’t need to scare Hattie this early in the morning.
“Here we go,” I say as I drift back into a huge, industrial-style kitchen.
“This place is so big!!” Hattie runs off, hands battering across every available surface.
“Hold on, sweetie, go slow.” I brace myself for a mess but gaze around with grudging admiration.
It’s an incredible space. Everything gleams. There are pots and pans of all sizes plus tons of room to cook. I poke my head into a massive walk-in refrigerator and find piles of fresh vegetables, meats, eggs, and milks.
“Mommy! Look!”
I jump out, prepared to defend my daughter, but only find an older man in a white jacket laughing as he juggles potatoes.
“Sorry, ma’am, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Byron, the cook.” He snatches a potato from the air and bends down with a serious frown. “You must be Hattie. How would you like hashbrowns for breakfast, young lady?”
She looks back at me with pure wonder in her eyes. “Can I please?”
“No, it’s okay, we can cook?—“
“Nonsense.” Byron gets to work. “I have one job, and it’s making meals. Would you rather I sat around all day, bored out of my mind? No, you wouldn’t do that to me!”
“Mommy, we wouldn’t!” Hattie squeals, clapping her hands.
I reluctantly let Byron make breakfast. He talks Hattie through the process as he does it and I even ask him a few leading questions about the house and where we are and how long he’s worked here. But he deftly sidesteps them all, giving me exactly no information.
“Please, there has to be something you can say,” I whisper as he plates Hattie’s meal. My daughter kicks her feet happily and digs in. “Anything about the grounds, the area around here?—“
He glances at me, round face tugged down as he wipes his forehead. He opens his mouth and I think he’s about to say something?—
“Hollandaise sauce. That’s what we need! Fresh hollandaise.”
I drink coffee, accept cereal, and get out of there the second Hattie’s satisfied.
It’s hard keeping a brave face for her. But my mind’s a messy whirl of emotions, and I continually circle back to one ugly fact:
I have to get the hell out of here.
None of this is legal. The marriage sure as heck wasn’t and Rafe can’t keep me prisoner. Sure, a private chef is nice, but that doesn’t make up for the nightmare he’s putting me through.
It’s a lovely morning. Birds chirp in nearby trees. A massive wall looms in the distance, penning in a gorgeously manicured lawn. Men lurk at the edges of my vision, keeping their respectful distance. When Hattie asks, I say they work here and that’s enough for her.
She doesn’t need to know they’re guards.
Keeping us in as much as everyone else out.
We wander away from the main structure. There’s a pool, a hot tub, a basketball court, tennis courts, and a volleyball pit filled with sand. Hattie runs through it laughing wildly, but I keep her going, away and away, down to the wall.
Fifteen feet tall made of smooth, slick stone, with no gaps to climb, and little decorative spikes at the top that gleam. Sharp, I’m betting.
There has to be some way through. I let Hattie chatter on as we walk, pretending I’m taking her around for a simple stroll.
I believe Rafe when he says the outside world is dangerous.
He left me alone six years ago; something must’ve changed for him to drag us into his life now.
But I’m also positive that if I don’t get away soon, I’ll be trapped with him forever.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
I jump, so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn’t noticed a man approach from the house. He stands a few feet off, watching intently.
This guard’s different from the others. He’s not in all black fatigues. His hair’s long, pulled into a loose half-bun, and white scars cover his left cheek. He has no gun or any obvious weapons.
“We’re just out for a walk,” I say as calmly as I can.
But I don’t like the way this man’s looking at me.
“My name is Nunzio Flores. I’m the captain of Rafe’s guard. I thought I’d introduce myself.”
“Hello, Nunzio.” I nudge Hattie. “Be polite.”
“I’m Harriet. You can call me Hattie.” She holds onto my leg, peering at him.
Nunzio’s expression is hard, like he’s angry about something. He takes another step closer. “You should know, you aren’t allowed down by the wall. It’s for your own safety.”
“Safety? What does he mean, Mommy?”
I ignore Hattie. “I thought it wouldn’t be an issue.”
“I’m telling you it is. Stay near the house where we can see you. I won’t ask again.” Nunzio’s very still and it’s unnerving. My heart races and my mouth goes dry. This is the first time I’ve truly been afraid that someone might hurt us since coming here.
“Okay, we’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Do as you’re told.” He turns his back to me. “Don’t make me say it again, Mrs. Corvino. Every inch of these grounds has cameras, in case you were wondering.”
Nunzio strolls back to the house.
“He’s weird,” Hattie whispers when he’s gone.
“Yeah, baby, but we should listen. Come on, let’s go back.” I hold her hand and steer her toward the house.
That last comment sticks with me.
Cameras are everywhere.
I hadn’t thought about that, but it makes sense.
Enormous, spike-covered walls, multiple armed guards, and surveillance technology.
Dread and terror fill me as Hattie begs me to let her go swimming.
There’s no way I’m getting out of here.
I can’t give up. I can’t roll over and accept this.
But what am I going to do?
How am I going to get my daughter out of this place?