He shook his head. “First, she needs to heal. I’ve contacted Marianne. The plane is heading here and then back to Chicago tonight.”
“What the fuck?” My volume rose. “I’m not leaving without Lorna.”
“We don’t know where she is,” Sparrow answered.
“But we might,” Mason said, looking at me, his tone filled with optimism. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we don’t know exactly, but we should be closer. Reid, you have the satellite images of the ranch recording?”
The fog of worry and sleeplessness began to dissipate with my brother-in-law’s question. “Yes.”
“So we have the last forty-eight hours of every acre?”
Energy similar to that brought on by much-needed nutrients surged through my bloodstream. “Fuck yes. We might be able to see the vehicle that brought Araneae onto the edge of the property. That information will get us closer to Lorna.”
“Reid, I’m not leaving Montana to leave Lorna,” Sparrow clarified. “I’m getting my wife and child back to Chicago. According to Garrett, the same minor incidents that prompted us to leave are still happening there, but here” —he motioned around— “is too far from medical treatment.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m not asking or even fucking suggesting you make a choice between Lorna and Sparrow. I did that once. I won’t do it again. I get it. I fucking get it because my wife is upstairs suffering first- and second-degree burns, dehydration, possible infection from the insect bites and various cuts and bruises on her hands and feet, with God knows what drugs in her system that may or may not be affecting my child. At this moment” —his hand went through his already-unruly hair— “I have to choose her.”
I nodded. “I understand.” I did. “My wife could be suffering all the same ailments. I, however, don’t have a child to worry about.” I turned to Patrick and Madeline, now standing together near the kitchen counter. “You two do. You have a child back in Chicago and one on the way. You should go back to Chicago too.”
Patrick stood taller, but before he commented, his blue-eyed gaze went to Madeline as he spoke to her. “He’s right.”
Instead of answering her husband, she took a few steps until she was right before me. “Ruby is safe. We know that. I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
I reached for her hand and feigned a smile. I was about to say I was fine staying by myself. Her priority was to Ruby and the child she is carrying.
Before I could, Mason spoke, “He won’t be alone. Laurel and I are staying.”
“Laurel would be safer in Chicago,” Sparrow said. “We all have reason to believe she was the target.”
“We’ll keep five of the capos,” Mason said, not opening the subject up for discussion. “Reid and I have reconfigured the security. The satellite images are waiting. We’ll follow the leads we have.” He looked at his wife and forced a grin. “Doc is strong and smart. She’ll help us.”
“Laurel, the offer stands?” Sparrow asked.
Laurel reached for Mason’s arm. “I respectfully decline. First and foremost, my place is with Mason, and if he’s okay with me staying here and helping in any way to find Lorna, I will. Besides, I can run programs on Araneae’s toxicology screening and anything else you need from here.” Her smile bloomed. “And we both know that these two could use a hand.”
Sparrow’s gaze went to Mason’s who nodded. “Fine, Patrick, check in with Marianne. It will take her a couple hours to get the plane ready, get the crew together, and make it here. Let her know who will be on the flight. Also, I want Renita or someone Renita trusts with her life on the plane to fly back with us. Once we’re to Chicago, I’m fucking turning the tower into an obstetrics ward.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I believed I saw Madeline roll her eyes. When I turned toward her, she smiled and reached for Patrick’s arm. “I would have stayed.”
I poured more water in my glass. “Sometimes what’s best is not always the same for everyone. Honestly, I’ll feel better about you and little Reid being back in Chicago.”
Madeline’s eyes went to her husband.
“Shouldn’t we at least pretend his name is Patrick?” Patrick asked.
“We wouldn’t need to pretend at all if you’d tell us,” Laurel joked, easing a bit of the tension.
I lifted the glass of water as a bit of a toast. “Safe travels. We don’t need any other concerns. Please let us know when you’re back in Chicago and in the tower. Mason and I” —I looked at my sister-in-law— “and Laurel will be here, doing what we do best. Before you know it, we’ll be back in Chicago with Lorna.”
Sparrow took a step toward Mason and me. “I’m fucking holding you to that. I need you all back in Chicago.” His gaze went around the kitchen. “We all need you back.”
“If Araneae remembers anything...” I said.
“You’ll be the first one I call.”
Moving around the others, I made my way to the archway leading to the living room on my way to Mason and Laurel’s office. The sun shone beyond the large windows as if it was midday, but it wasn’t. Night was approaching. Dusk was near.
From the kitchen I heard Laurel ask Sparrow what she could get Araneae in the way of food or drink. My mind went to the satellite images, not listening for his answer.
Mason followed a step behind me. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t thought of the images, but he was right. We should be able to find video of Araneae being left near the property line. The satellite didn’t cut off at the end of the property. We could see for a few miles in all directions.
Mason and I were partway down the corridor, when Sparrow stopped us. “Hey.” We both turned as he came closer. “Don’t go off half-cocked.”
Mason grinned. “You know me better than that.”
“That’s why I’m worried. I’m not stupid.”
“No one—” I began.
“Your security system,” Sparrow interrupted. “I know it’s the best because the best minds I know created it. The kidnappers took two women in a planned operation. That points to Laurel as their target. Now, with whatever drug was given to Araneae, this is all pointing toward...” He looked directly at Mason. “Are you going to say it—to me—or are you going to keep trying to hide it, talking all quiet and private and shit?”
“The Order,” Mason said, his jaw clenched. “I don’t want to fucking say it because I don’t want to believe it. You were there, Sparrow. You were there in the room. We made a deal.”
“Don’t even fucking think about going to them alone.”
“He won’t,” I said.
Sparrow’s eyes closed and opened. “Find Lorna. Get her home where she belongs. Then fill me in on everything you know. I’ll support you. Don’t do anything behind my back.”
Mason’s neck straightened. “Lorna is our first priority.”
“Keep me up to date on every damn thing.”
“We will,” I said.
Mason and I were silent as we walked the rest of the way down the long hallway, and Sparrow went the other direction. Once we were inside the office, we both sighed.
“First things first,” I said, sitting in front of the computer I’d deemed as mine. “Give me five minutes and I’ll have the satellite images.”
Lorna
Though my head was on the pillow of the lower bunk, the incessant ringing refused to stop. It went on and on, much like a fire alarm, the one with the flashing lights and horrible sound. I covered my head with the other pillow, yet it wouldn’t still. It wouldn’t even dull.
My eyes barely opened.
The strobing light continued.
It had been going on for what could be days, weeks...My ability to rationally think was lost to the noise and flashing.
It began the morning the woman came to demand my answer.
“Your time is up,” she’d said, entering the then-silent room.
A step behind her, Jet carried a tray. I didn’t know its contents, yet I wanted it. I needed it. The food in t
he interrogation room had been my last meal.
She sneered. “Come on, Lorna. This is your chance to be someone, to make a difference. Do we save your friend? Do we let her live?”
I am someone.
It was a voice in my head. I didn’t say it aloud, but I clung to its meaning.
I was.
Someone.
“Yes, she lives,” I answered.
“So your choice is Laurel. She’s the one who will suffer.”
I shook my head. “No, I won’t give you an answer to that. Neither one of them should suffer. Both should live.”
She turned and nodded to Jet who left with the tray. “You disappoint me, Lorna Pierce.”
“My name is Lorna Murray.”
“Born a no one and doomed to die the same. I suppose that’s your choice.” She turned on her heels, leaving me alone.
Nearly a minute later, Jet returned. He no longer carried the tray. Instinctively, I took a step back, preparing for his abuse such as before. Perhaps it would be a punishment for my answer.
I stood straighter, finding strength.
Fuck them.
I wouldn’t sell out my friends, no matter what he did.
My concentration was on his face, his expression. I didn’t see what he had in his grasp. The tiny object didn’t register.
Until it did.
A small syringe.
“No, wait,” I pleaded. “What is that?”
More steps backward.
I backed away until there was nowhere to go. Trapped between the concrete blocks and this muscular tall man, I did what I could do. I fought.
A knee to his groin.
The heel of my hand to his nose.
Those were the moves Mason taught me long ago.
In all my thirty-five years, I’d never used one of his self-defense maneuvers. There was never the need.
As soon as I delivered the kick to his groin, I knew it was ineffective. I was too short to make a full impact.
The heel of my hand hit hard, causing blood to spew as Jet took a staggering step backward.
I did what I could do.
I ran.
The open door was right before me.
My forward momentum reversed as my scalp screamed out in pain. With a fist full of my hair, he pulled me backward before shoving me. I had just enough time to catch myself with my hands as I landed face-first upon the concrete floor. Jet’s weight landed on top of me, expelling the air from my lungs and pushing my hips into the hard floor. Warmth oozed down my scalp and neck.
It took a few seconds to realize it was his blood saturating my hair as he held my arm in place and injected the contents of the syringe.
“Bitch,” he spewed in my ear. “I should fuck you.”
Though I used all my strength, he was stronger. I kicked and twisted, yet he rolled me to my back with ease. Straddling my waist, he pinned my wrists above my head, holding them with one of his hands. Evil and hatred emanated from his gaze as he wiped the blood coming from his nose. I had no idea what I’d done to deserve the loathing he displayed. Maybe nothing. Maybe simply by being.
“Stop,” I screamed as loud as I could.
“Would you rather take me in your ass?” His lips curled in a menacing sneer. “Say the word, bitch, and I’ll roll you back over.”
My heart raged against my breastbone, and white spots appeared before my eyes. I continued to scream, uncertain if anyone could hear or care.
As he gripped the waist of my pants, I thrashed as much as possible. At the same time, I searched for moisture, conjuring up all the saliva I could, and spat in his face.
My head reeled as his hand contacted my cheek.
I gasped for breath as I continued to fight.
The blows continued.
Sometime during the assault, he’d freed my hands. I could use them to shield my face, yet I couldn’t get free. A punch slammed into my stomach seconds before he grabbed my waistbands and pulled down my pants and panties in one fluid movement.
I screamed again, kicking as he reached for his belt and loosened the buckle.
“I’m so sorry, Reid.” It was my thought as I faced reality.
I couldn’t fight anymore. There was no place for me to go.
It was at that moment I heard Jet’s name.
His jaw tightened, the cords in his neck pulling taut, as his gaze went from me to over my head.
In hindsight, I should have done something, anything, but my energy was gone.
Jet fastened his buckle and stood. Before he was fully erect, he leaned over and spat.
I closed my eyes as his saliva and whatever else he’d conjured forward landed upon my face, combining with his blood.
Breathing heavily, I lay frozen upon the floor until the door closed.
During the ordeal I hadn’t cried.
I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t, but that was before.
As I reached for my panties and slacks still on my ankles, the tears came. The sheer terror combined with humiliation and exhaustion. My entire body trembled to the point of convulsions. Now fully clothed, I crawled toward the bunk bed and wiped my face with the blanket. Then up to my knees, I folded my arms and lowered my head to the bunk, uncertain if I had the energy to stand.
My eyes closed as sobs resonated from my chest and then it began.
The small room filled with the awful high-pitched squeal as the light above was lost to flashing coming from a small casing high above. I searched for reasons—perhaps the building was on fire.
No one came.
Over time, I made my way to the small sink and washed the blood and spit from my battered face. I tenderly touched the swollen flesh. My eyelids, cheeks, and lips were all enlarged and sore to the touch. I leaned forward, fighting dizziness, and washed the blood that I could from my hair. My scalp too was painful. Finally, I climbed back into the bed and covered my head.
With my eyes covered and closed, the strobing light was diminished, yet nothing could lessen the ear-piercing squeal.
The screech didn’t stop.
It hadn’t.
I was uncertain of how much time had come and gone.
My only source of water was the faucet on the small sink.
Food was gone.
Araneae was gone.
The woman was gone.
Even Jet was gone.
I was trapped in a gray box as the light strobed, as the alarm continued its scream.
I tried to sleep. I prayed to sleep.
There were moments, I couldn’t be certain of how long, that reality slipped away and I was somewhere else.
Were they dreams?
Were they wishes?
Was it the afterlife?
I couldn’t be sure, but as time dragged on in this incessant hell, I also prayed for that.
If I stopped drinking water, would death come sooner?
Thoughts were difficult to link together.
Rational thought left me as I slid deeper and deeper into despair.
Memories returned of my life.
Maybe I was dying. They say that your life flashes before your eyes.
My memories weren’t a flash, but a slow slideshow.
Not every scene was pretty or worth recalling.
I had the sensation of motion.
The ringing finally ended, or my mind had snapped and my hearing was gone.
My swollen eyelids painfully fluttered with the sense that I was no longer alone.
When my eyes focused, the gray room was gone.
I stared up at the sky churning with clouds.
This wasn’t real, but maybe it was the peace that came with death.
Yet with time, the dream or hallucination became realer. The ground beneath my battered body gained substance. My fingernails clawed into the packed dirt. Nerve endings came to life with the sensation of a million ants, their small legs scurrying over my skin and bites.
Bites.
I hurried to stand, my sore muscles scream
ing as I brushed my legs and arms. Whether real or imaginary, I could feel their presence on my skin. I ripped my shirt from my body and then my pants. I’d tried so hard to keep my clothes on, and now I wanted them off. My body ached as I danced the primal dance of ridding my body of unwanted visitors.
Once I had cleared them away, the world seemed clearer. The clouds continued to build, obscuring a star-peppered dark sky. The cool air kissed my skin as I shook out my top and again pulled it over my head.
And then as the fabric came away from my eyes, like the ripping of a veil, I saw her.
With the hard ground assaulting my tender feet, I moved toward the figure.
“Araneae?”
Was she real or part of this nightmare?
As I drew closer, I was certain that whoever she was, she was of the female persuasion.
I peered all around at the sky, open land, and dried grass. The howl of carnivorous creatures floated through the night. “Where are we?”
The person didn’t answer.
She didn’t speak.
Her knees were drawn up to her chin as she leaned in the darkness against a large rock. A new breeze blew my hair and skirted over my bare legs. I crossed my arms over my chest and took a small step toward her.
Every movement hurt.
Every inch of my body ached.
Pressing my lips together and trying not to limp, I made my way to the woman and laid my hand on her bony knee. “Are you all right?”
A cloud shifted high above. The terrain around us illuminated with eerie blue moonlight.
“Hello,” I tried once more.
Her skinny arms surrounding her bony knees appeared skeletal-like. Her hands gripping her legs were frail. Even in the blue light, I could make out the veins and bones through flesh that was too thin. This woman needed food.
“I can help you.”
I couldn’t. I didn’t know where we were, but I wanted to help her.
She turned toward me.
As her face came into view, I gasped.
Though her hair was a ghostly pale shade of red, her sunken eyes were a vibrant green.
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