But he wasn’t a native of Woodstock and hadn’t been prepared for the suspicion that he would face as an outsider.
“I just want to find out who owns the cabin that my father rented a few years ago,” he told yet another resident. “He said he got it from a native fellow. He kept talking about how remote it was. Not even any electricity, just running water pumped by a generator. Very rustic.”
But the woman selling ice cream cones was having none of it. “I don’t know,” she said stubbornly. “Everybody in these parts has somewhere they go. The woods are littered with ‘rustic’ shacks and shanties. Anyone who rents one of those deserves what they get!”
“No, he liked it,” Zachary protested. “I wanted to find the place he stayed… take some pictures…”
The woman just shook her head and continued to scoop ice cream. Zachary and Kenzie cycled through various different stories, trying to find something that would gain the trust of the Woodstock residents.
“They think they’re going to get into some kind of trouble,” Kenzie said. “They’re getting cash and not declaring it as income or they’re afraid you want to sue them. Asking questions is just making people more and more suspicious, no matter what kind of story you have about a relative who came here once and stayed there.”
“Then what are we going to do? If I had the time, we could just surveil the area, watch the main services and wait for Gloria to show up. But we don’t have the time. In the amount of time it would take to find her, Bridget could…”
“Well, then… we’re not looking for a specific cabin. We’re just looking for one we can rent. Somewhere no one will bother us. If someone has something promising, we go take a look. If they say it’s already rented…”
“Then we see who rented it,” Zachary finished, “and if they match Gloria’s and Rhys’s descriptions.”
“And if we happen to find a Native renting out his old shack, one that was old and falling down ten years ago, we take a look at that one for sure. Whether he remembers an old black man coming out here with his grandson ten years ago or not.”
Zachary nodded his agreement. “Do we stay together or split up?”
“Let’s split up… we’ve both got phones and can reach each other if we get a promising lead. Cover twice as much ground.”
“Okay. But if you get a bad vibe from anyone… we get back together. I don’t want you running into any danger alone.”
“Or you,” Kenzie declared. “You’re the one who keeps landing in hospital.”
“Uh… or me,” he agreed.
“And you promise me you won’t go off on your own or do anything stupid. As soon as you get a lead, you let me know.”
Zachary nodded.
“What about calling the authorities?” Kenzie suggested. “Do you think it’s time?”
“When we find out where they are. Right now… if you fill this town full of FBI agents… word is going to get back to Gloria in two seconds. I don’t want to put Rhys or Bridget in danger.”
“Have you messaged Rhys? To see if you can get any details from him? It would be a lot easier if we had some better clues as to where they are.”
“I’ve messaged him, but I haven’t gotten anything back. I’m thinking that if they don’t have any electricity, he might not be able to keep his phone charged. Or they might be out of cell range some of the time. It seems like he can only message me once a day, so I’m thinking that might be when they go into town for something else.”
“Well, we’ll keep our eyes open. I take it you don’t want me to ask the restaurant owners whether they have seen a black boy and his mother…? You have that picture on your phone you could show around.”
“Too dangerous. I can’t risk tipping them off. We have to find out where they are staying. If they come into town and someone says there’s been people asking questions about them… they may take off without going back to get Bridget, and if we don’t know where they’re staying and she’s being kept, then…”
Kenzie nodded, conceding the point. “Then I’m off to see if someone has a cabin I could rent for a couple of days.”
“We need to leave today,” Gloria told Rhys.
Rhys was sitting on his blankets on the floor. He stared at her and shook his head, not understanding.
“We’ve been here long enough,” she told him. “People are going to start to ask questions. It’s a small town. They’re used to tourists coming through for a few days and then leaving again. We can’t stay here forever.”
Rhys looked over at Bridget.
“We’ll leave her here,” Gloria said. “That should make you happy. We’ll leave her here and she’ll be fine. We’ll find another house and start a new life, just you and me.”
Rhys closed his eyes and tried to picture it. How many times over his life had he dreamed of just that? Being able to leave Aunt Robin and his old life behind. He would be like a new person, undamaged, able to talk like anyone else and not plagued by nightmares.
But Gloria had brought him new nightmares. He would never be able to forget the pretty, blond Bridget and how her eyes had become more dull and sunken with each passing day. Her features would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life, just like Grandpa’s face. He’d always seen Aunt Robin as the monster, and his mother as his protector, but that had changed. When Aunt Robin died, Gloria had changed and had taken her place, angry and snapping at Rhys and taking this woman who she saw as a threat. He would never have predicted that his mother would have done those things.
“I think maybe we’ll go south,” Gloria suggested, “settle down somewhere it doesn’t snow. How would you like that? No heavy coats and gloves and traipsing to school through all of that ice and snow.”
Rhys looked away from her. He took out his iPod and tapped through the screens to find a game to play.
“Rhys!” Gloria’s voice was sharp. “Look at me. Don’t ignore me!”
He didn’t look up. Gloria strode across the room toward him. Rhys tensed, bracing himself against her anger, but still didn’t look up at her. Gloria snatched the iPod out of his hand and flung it to the side, making it clatter across the floor. She grabbed his upper arm and shook him.
“I said look at me!”
Rhys did as he was told, his heart beating hard and fast, a lump in his throat.
“I’m doing this for you!” Gloria shouted. “All of this is for you! You think I’m doing it for my own good? I’m doing it to give you a life. You deserve to have a real life!”
Rhys shook his head and blinked out tears. That wasn’t what he wanted. Not if it meant hurting other people and losing his mother. He wanted her to be the woman she’d always been for him.
Gloria shoved Rhys, pushing him over. She turned her back on him, isolating him to emphasize her anger.
Rhys didn’t move for a long time, just lying on the floor where she’d discarded him. She picked up her coil notebook and started to write notes furiously. After her attention had been distracted from him for a while, Rhys reached out for his iPod. It was a few feet out of his reach, so he crawled over to it, then pulled it to him and held it protectively against his body. He stayed there motionless for a long time, just curled up on the floor, watching Gloria. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Bridget shift her position, silently and very slowly. So she was awake, even though she’d pretended to be asleep or unconscious when Gloria had checked on her earlier.
Rhys sat up and moved so that his back was against the wall. He looked down at his iPod. The screen was cracked, two long lines that angled toward each other and joined in a V at the edge. Rhys woke it up with the press of a button and was relieved to see that it still powered on and was readable in spite of the damage.
He wished that Gloria would take him back into town so he could get a wifi connection and see if Zachary had sent him any more messages. He wanted to send Zachary a few words or a picture to make sure he knew where to find them. Zachary had to find them before Gloria decided to lea
ve Woodstock. Rhys didn’t know if his mother planned to do something to Bridget to make sure she couldn’t follow them or give them away, or if she just planned to leave Bridget chained up there to starve to death before someone found her. If Rhys hadn’t been surreptitiously giving Bridget food and water, he was pretty sure she would already be dead.
He had one other option, and that was to try to tether his iPod to Gloria’s new phone. She had given it to him to set it up for her, but he hadn’t had the nerve to piggyback it. If he could connect to it and it had a strong enough signal, he might be able to contact Zachary without going back to town. But he ran the risk of Gloria realizing what he was doing and taking measures to make sure he couldn’t do it again.
He watched her writing in her notebook and tried to decide whether to attempt it.
It was almost lunchtime when Zachary and Kenzie got back together at a rustic-themed diner to compare notes. Zachary ordered a coffee for himself and a sandwich for Kenzie, knowing she would be hungry after their busy morning.
“I’ve got a couple of possibilities,” Kenzie said. “Nothing that immediately felt like ‘this is the one,’ but they fit the profile closely enough.”
Zachary nodded. “Me too.”
“But the trouble is, they either aren’t rented or the person who rented them doesn’t match Gloria’s description. You don’t think she’s working with someone else, do you? A boyfriend…?”
“I don’t think so. Other than Rhys, and he couldn’t pass as an adult. The thing is, she might not be renting it. She might have just found it empty and used it.”
Kenzie nodded. She took a big bite of the sandwich and didn’t say anything else while she chewed.
“I found a couple.” Zachary pulled up the notes he had made on his phone. “They might be the same ones as you found…”
He put the phone on the table and slid it across to Kenzie. Kenzie leaned over it to read the details, nodding.
The phone gave a short vibration. Kenzie looked up at Zachary. “It’s him.”
“Rhys?”
Zachary grabbed the phone and turned it back around to look. The banner announcing Rhys’s message disappeared, and Zachary switched apps to find it. He could see the last message he had sent to Rhys.
We are coming to Woodstock. Where r u staying?
And then Rhys’s reply, a picture that appeared to be a photo he had taken himself rather than a meme or gif available within the app. It was a low angle, showing a wood plank floor and a steel bed frame, with just a piece of Robin sitting on the thin mattress covered with a gray wool blanket.
“Okay, we’re right, it is a cabin,” Zachary said, showing it to Kenzie. “Do you think there is enough for anyone to recognize?”
“Maybe for whoever owns it. But they’re going to be suspicious about why we’re asking.”
Zachary concentrated on the problem, then texted back.
Did Gloria rent it?
The reply came back quickly.
No.
“No,” Kenzie repeated aloud. “Then it could be Old Bear’s cabin. It’s supposed to be empty right now.”
Before they could send anything back to Rhys, another message came in. Another photo Rhys had taken himself. There was a heap of clothes in a corner, difficult to see in the dim lighting. Zachary studied it, trying to make out the details to see what else Rhys was trying to tell him. Obviously, Rhys had to be careful and could not use his flash and attract Gloria’ attention.
Zachary realized it wasn’t a pile of clothes. It was the shape of a woman.
Bridget.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
R
hys deliberately moved slowly. Where was Zachary? Rhys thought Zachary had understood where they were, but maybe he’d gone to the wrong cabin. There had to be dozens of them in the wilderness surrounding Woodstock.
If Zachary had gone to the wrong one, all hope was lost. Rhys was convinced Gloria intended to do something to Bridget before they hit the road. Gloria hadn’t told Rhys so, but Rhys was afraid of what was in the first aid kit Gloria brought with her and kept eyeing as she waited for Rhys to get ready to go.
Gloria had become more and more obsessed with medical matters since Aunt Robin had been diagnosed. She got thick texts out of the library and spent hours researching different therapies and medications that might help Aunt Robin. But as it had turned out, all of her research was for naught, since Aunt Robin had ended up dying even sooner than the doctors had predicted.
“Come on, I told you it’s time to go,” Gloria urged.
Rhys hesitated. He could squeeze a few more minutes out with a trip to the bathroom, but that would also mean leaving Gloria alone with Bridget, and Rhys was worried about what Gloria might do.
He walked to the cabin door with his bag. He opened the door and scanned the clearing for any sign of Zachary or someone who could help him. All was quiet. Rhys offered his bag to his mother with a head-jerk toward the car, then hooked his thumb back toward the bathroom indicating that he wanted to use it before leaving.
Gloria sighed in exasperation and took the bag from him. “Honestly, Rhys. I wanted to be on the road an hour ago!”
He waited until he was sure she was on her way to the car to put their bags inside before heading to the bathroom. Bridget lay in the corner of the cabin, unmoving. Rhys pulled out his iPod as soon as he was through the bathroom door, looking for an update from Zachary. But there was nothing, and with Gloria out at the car, she was too far away for Rhys to piggyback on her signal again.
He filled the cup he had left on the edge of the sink, thinking that he might have enough time to give Bridget one more drink before Gloria returned. But when he opened the door to check her position, his heart jumped. Gloria was bending over Bridget.
“Ma—no!”
Gloria whirled around at the sound of his voice, dropping what was in her hand with a clatter. Her eyes were wild. “Go out to the car, Rhys!”
Rhys shook his head. His mouth moved as he tried to form words again, but his exclamation had drained his speech reserves.
“Go on. Go sit down and get yourself settled. You’ve done everything you need to do to get ready at least twice.”
Rhys couldn’t find any more excuses. But he couldn’t let her do anything to Bridget. He shook his head again, refusing.
Gloria marched across the room to him. Rhys stubbornly stood his ground. She slapped him across the face, the blow so hard it made him see stars. His mother had never before hit him. He could see the shock and horror in her own face at what she had done, but she didn’t apologize.
“Look what you made me do!” Her voice cracked. “You do what I tell you, Rhys. This is important. I know you don’t understand what’s going on, but you need to listen to me. Now go out to the car.”
Rhys shook his head. He held his hand up in front of his face to block her from slapping him again. Gloria grabbed his wrist and wrenched his arm to the side.
“The car!” she insisted.
Rhys’s face throbbed. Hot tears leaked out the corners of his eyes and a lump formed in his throat so big that he could barely breathe. He tried to get words out, but between his brain and the lump in his throat, he knew he couldn’t speak. He grasped her hands. Not violent, like she’d been toward him, but soft and gentle. He lifted each up and kissed it, begging her with his eyes. Gloria was his mother and she knew him almost as well as Grandma, all of his facial expressions and body language. He silently begged her for all he was worth not to hurt Bridget. She wavered.
“Rhys…” she murmured. “I just want to protect you.”
He continued to hold her hands, warm and smooth in his, praying for her to listen.
Finally, Gloria turned toward the outside door. Rhys let her pull her hands out of his and followed her out of the shack. She had nearly reached the car when an authoritative voice shouted over the stillness of the clearing.
“Freeze! Federal agents! Stay where you are!”
Gloria
’s head snapped around to look at Rhys to make sure he was okay. Rhys lifted his hands in surrender. How many times had she lectured him on how to behave if he were ever stopped by the police? How many times had she warned him about the hazards of being a young black man, especially one who couldn’t say ‘yes, sir’ to a policeman? Gloria stared at Rhys for a minute, then mirrored his movement, raising her hands.
The peace of the forest clearing was broken by a swarm of black-uniformed men with big guns, overwhelming the unarmed woman and youth. Rhys kept his body soft, letting them pat him down and move him without resistance. They handcuffed Gloria, but not Rhys. When the all-clear had been called, Zachary entered the clearing.
Rhys let his breath out with a soft puff. Zachary approached him, both hands extended to either hug Rhys or give him a two-handed handshake. But Rhys moved away, taking hold of one of Zachary’s hands and leading him into the cabin. There were already a couple of FBI agents there, bending over Bridget. Zachary rushed over; calling her name, swearing, and apologizing to her all in a jumble. The agents moved out of the way to allow Zachary to see her. One of them had picked up the syringe Gloria had dropped. Rhys retrieved the cup from the bathroom and inserted himself beside Bridget as well. Her eyes were open and she was attempting to smile at Zachary and reassure him. Her lips were cracked and swollen and her eyes deeply sunken. Rhys put the cup into her grasp and Zachary helped steady her shaking hands and raise it to her mouth. He kept the angle low, forcing her to sip it slowly instead of gulping it down.
Bridget licked her lips and cleared her throat. “He’s my hero,” she whispered. “She was going to kill me. Rhys wouldn’t let her kill me.”
Zachary put an arm around Rhys and pulled him close. Tears were streaming down his face.
“Thank you, Rhys. Thank you so much.”
Rhys didn’t try to squirm out of Zachary’s hold. He just let Zachary hold him tight, both of their faces wet with tears.
Chapter Thirty
She was Dying Anyway Page 25