Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I stare at them, my pulse hammering so hard I can barely focus.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I manage, each word its own sentence.
My voice is thin and shredded as I plead with them.
“I don’t have anything. I don’t know anything.
I swear to you, whatever you’re looking for…
I don’t have it. It must’ve been someone else, someone I worked with.
But it’s been two years. Obviously, they aren’t looking into it. ”
“They are, Astrid,” Pierce tells me, his voice quick, irritated. “That’s the point, isn’t it? Cases take years to build. We have friendly faces on the force. In various departments. On judges’ benches. We hear about problems long before they take root.”
“Now, think,” Preston insists. “If you love Simon, you’ll think. Maybe you moved it. Maybe you don’t even remember. But you had it.”
“But… I…” Tears well in my eyes, turning both of the men into watercolor paintings. “I didn’t. I swear to you. I’d do anything for Simon. I don’t have it. I don’t even know what it is. I’m not lying. This is all a mistake. It has to be.”
Pierce sighs, as if I’m a stubborn child refusing to own up to a broken vase. He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Astrid, you’re not helping yourself. I was certain you’d be smarter than this. We all hoped you would be.”
We. All of them. Not just Pierce, Rachelle, and Preston, but the rest of the Mornings too, aside from Simon. It’s a hard smack to the cheek. Of course they were in on it. Even Marlie…who had to know what she was sending me to find in this room, right?
I don’t want to believe it, but how can I not?
Everything I believed about this family, about my place in it, has been just a dream I’ll never reach. No matter how hard I tried, how much I gave up, they were never going to welcome me. Keep me.
I was never going to belong.
I back up until my spine hits the wall of screens. They hum behind me, warm, relentless, and watching.
How much have they seen already? How many private moments weren’t actually private? Not just in our bedroom or the guest house. Everywhere. My mind drifts to the night before the rehearsal when I snuck downstairs and overheard Preston and Vic. When I eavesdropped on Rachelle, Pierce, and Simon.
After a long pause, Preston says, “If this is how you want to play it, fine. You’ll have to stay here.
We’ll check the rest of your things. And we’ll keep checking until we find what we’re looking for.
If you remember something—good. If not, well, you’ll be safe in here until Simon’s gone. And then we’ll put you on a plane.”
My stomach plummets.
Taking a step back, Pierce squeezes something within his pocket. A remote, probably. The door pops open.
I don’t wait.
I lunge for the opening, shoving past them.
They don’t see it coming, but it takes only seconds for them to react. I run, and they grab. Four hands latch onto my arms, shoving me backward into the room. I hit the ground with a heavy thud, an electrifying ache coursing through me.
Pierce grabs at the door. With just seconds to spare, I open my mouth, and let out a wail with all my might.
Hoping.
Praying he hears me.
He pulls the door shut in a snap. The latch clicks into place, and I’m left alone with the flickering, buzzing lights, the roaring air, and the screens full of freedom I may never see again.
I’m trapped if I can’t come up with a plan.
“No,” I choke out, pushing to my feet despite the raw tenderness spreading through my butt and hips. I pound my hands against the door, shove my shoulder into it. “No, no! Please, no! No!”
Despite my pleas, it doesn’t budge. I scream until my throat burns as angrily as everything else inside me, until it feels like I’ve permanently damaged my vocal cords.
No footsteps come.
No voices answer.
No one hears me.
I’m alone with the screens, with my questions. Should I have let it go? Should I have lied to them, given them something I could pretend was right long enough to buy my freedom?
I press my forehead against the cold metal of the door. My breath fogs the surface.
Panic claws at my chest, my thoughts racing in my mind like a carnival ride.
I’m alone in all of this. Counting on Simon to realize something’s wrong when his entire family will assure him it isn’t. They’ll throw me away like trash, lock me up like I’m disposable.
And he might not realize it until it’s too late.
How many people will he call? How long will he search before he gives up? Will the doctors wherever I’m being sent listen to me? Will they believe me? How is any of this happening? How could they do this to me? After everything I’ve done for them.
I shove the thoughts out of my mind. No. I refuse to go there. I can’t. I can’t give in without a fight. That is not who I am.
I cross the room slowly, hobbling. My hand brushes my aching hips, my sore bottom.
Then—I freeze.
Lights flash in my mind.
My phone.
My phone.
My phone.
My breath stills. I’ve gotten so used to not having one, I nearly forgot I put it in my pocket earlier.
And they didn’t search me. Didn’t think to. It’s one small mercy, but it’s enough.
My hands shake violently as I pull my phone out of my back pocket to check the screen. I fell hard earlier. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was broken, but to my relief, it’s unaffected by my fall.
I hold the button down on the side for longer this time, waiting for it to power up.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Silently, I beg for it to have enough battery. I have no idea what it was at when they stole it.
My screen lights up, a photo of Simon and me at the lake last summer.
There’s four percent battery.
Two bars of service.
Please, please, please.
In my list of recent calls, I tap Simon’s name.
The phone rings. Once, twice, three times. My heart sinks.
“Come on…” I beg, my voice cracking. “Please answer. Please…”
Four rings.
I squeeze my eyes closed. “Simon…”
Five.
A tear trails my cheek.
“Hello?”
My eyes rip open. It’s real. It’s him—his warm, familiar voice. Something in me worried I’d never hear it again.
I choke out a sob, everything bubbling up in me at once, overflowing my eyes. “Simon, please. Please come to the bedroom beside your parents’ room. The one in the back. First floor. Please. I’m locked in the closet. They—Preston and your dad, they?—”
“Astr—?” His voice sharpens, cutting out slightly. “Wha— —ou say? Prest— me you left. You’re…you—here?”
“They lied,” I sob. My knees give out beneath me, and I drop into the seat. “Please. Back bedroom. Back bedroom.” I repeat the words, hoping they’ll come through the line somehow. Hoping he’ll understand. “I’m here.”
His voice is clear this time. “I’m coming.”
The line cuts out.
When I glance down, my phone has died.
The air feels electric, buzzing with fear and hope and disbelief all tangled together like necklace chains in a drawer—impossible to separate.
I brace myself in the painful silence, watching the screens. He appears in the hallway upstairs within seconds and darts down the stairs.
Twenty seconds.
Thirty.
He’s on the first floor, heading my way. I pray no one stops him. This is my last hope.
He’s moving faster. Faster, still.
I watch as he enters the bedroom, disappearing from sight. All that’s left to do is wait in excruciating silence. And so, I do.
Every moment I can’t see him burns me somewhere deep in my chest.
Then—a voice just outside the door. Low, but urgent. Distant, yet so close.
“Astrid?” He sounds confused, wary. “Astrid? Are you there?”
A sob tears out of me, and I pound my hands against the door again. “Yes! Yes, I’m here!”
The door rattles. He curses under his breath. “It’s locked. I need to go?—”
“No! No, please don’t leave me. Please, Simon. Please, stay with me. I can’t—” I clutch my throat, panic clawing its way back up.
There’s the sound of something rattling against the metal of the latch. “I think I’ve— Watch out?—”
I scramble back just as the door opens, ragged breaths tearing from my lungs.
This is real. He’s here.
His eyes land on me through the crack, and he shoves it wider, every emotion warring on his perfect face.
He stands in the doorway, chest heaving, hair mussed, panic blazing in his eyes. He takes one look around the room—at the screens, the stacks of hard drives, at me—and his expression shatters.
“What the hell…” he whispers, taking a step into the room.
I don’t give him time to process. I throw myself at him, and he catches me immediately, pulling my body tight against his chest. His arms wrap around me like he’s not sure if he’s keeping me from falling or the other way around.
He presses his forehead to mine, unblinking, like he’s afraid to lose sight of me for even a second. “Are you okay? I was so scared. I didn’t know who to call. I tried Sara and Erin, but they hadn’t heard from you.”
I kiss his lips, his face. “I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m okay.” I need it to be true.
He hugs me again, his face turned up toward the sky. Then he pulls back, staring at me. “Tell me what happened. You were cutting out on the phone. What is this place?”
I shake my head. I don’t even know where to start. “Can we just go please?”
He hesitates for only a moment but seems to want to be out of here as badly as I do. We dart from the room, then through the closet and bedroom. The light is brighter here, after just hours away from it. It hurts my eyes, my skin.
Outside, the hallway is silent. His hand grips mine tighter as we reach the stairs, and I lean my body into his.
An unspoken plea.
An unspoken promise.
We’re going to be okay.