by Ragan, T. R.
Sawyer shut the door and locked it. Shivering, she looked at the time. It wasn’t yet five in the morning. “You never returned my calls.”
He was staring at the wall with the stickers and string and notes plastered everywhere when he said, “I lost my phone somewhere in British Columbia.”
Dumbest excuse she’d ever heard in her life.
Raccoon meowed from his hiding place beneath the couch, most likely traumatized by her screams. Her heart still raced, thumping hard against her ribs.
Derek was here, standing in her living room. She quietly pinched herself. This wasn’t a dream.
Their gazes locked.
He looked as if he might be searching for the right words before he said, “I had no idea you had called me. I didn’t get your texts until an hour ago when I got home and restored messages on a new phone. I just finished listening and reading all thirteen of them before coming straight here.”
“Thirteen. No way. It couldn’t have been that many.”
“Thirteen,” he repeated. “I counted.”
She crossed her arms. “You should have given me a chance to explain before running away.”
“You’re right. I should have. I handled the whole thing like a jerk.”
Satisfied with his answer, she asked, “You were in British Columbia?”
He nodded.
“Alone?”
“No.”
Her chest tightened.
“You were there with me every step of the way.”
She walked toward him and circled her arms around his waist, her head resting against his chest. She could tell by the stiffness of his body that he didn’t know what to make of her wrapping her arms around him. Not once, but twice.
When he sighed, his warm breath moved the hair on top of her head.
“I heard you scream,” he said.
“A nightmare,” she said, her voice muffled within his chest.
He held her tighter.
She could hear the beat of his heart. “Maybe an outspoken girl with anxiety and a seminormal guy with a few issues of his own could make it work,” she said.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think out there in the wilderness, and I think it’s worth a shot.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
While Harper waited for the computer to boot up, she recognized the wooded area on the television where the reporter was standing, picked up the remote, and turned up the volume.
“This is Rachel Denning with Channel 10 News, reporting from Pollock Pines. Placerville Police have identified the body found in the woods near Barrett Pass Road as Myles Davenport, the man abducted in the parking lot of Green Meadows High School, where he was attending his ten-year high school reunion. An investigation is underway.”
Harper turned the TV off and made her way to the computer. The Crew had agreed to check in at noon.
Three men in six weeks, she thought. All connected to the Black Wigs.
Brad Vicente.
Otto Radley.
Myles Davenport.
One without a penis. One missing. And one dead.
With the kids at school and Nate still in Montana, nothing felt right, her world shadowy and gray. Sending Ella off to school after everything that had happened seemed wrong. But she’d thought it best to play it cool, didn’t want her daughter going through life fearful of strangers.
More than anything, she wished Nate was home. He’d been gone for over a week. She missed him. As soon as The Crew finished dealing with Cleo’s frat boys, they could destroy any evidence that their group ever existed. And then, if it wasn’t too late, she would find a way to make things right between her and Nate. He was a good man, and he deserved to know the truth. If she was lucky, he would stand by her.
She logged on to their private group.
CLEO: Everyone is accounted for except Bug.
Harper cringed at the thought that Bug might have left the country.
LILY: Let’s give her another five minutes.
HARPER: They found and identified QB’s body.
CLEO: Bummer. I was hoping all the forest critters would have made a meal out of him.
PSYCHO: I don’t have a lot of time. What’s the plan, Cleo?
CLEO: The plan is to wait for Bug.
PSYCHO: Jesus. Just tell me the plan, or I’m out of here. Bug can read about it later.
CLEO: You’re not the leader of the pack, Psycho, so quit acting like you’re the one in charge.
LILY: No arguing. We’re all busy and tired. Let’s get on with this.
CLEO: Who votes that we wait for Bug?
MALICE: I think Bug may have left the country.
For the next thirty seconds, Harper stared at the blinking cursor.
CLEO: I seriously hope that isn’t true.
PSYCHO: Agree. Malice, who told you this?
MALICE: Bug told me she planned to get a new identity and leave the country after we finished. Don’t shoot the messenger.
CLEO: The messenger should have told us before now!
Harper typed an answer and then deleted it. She would give everyone time to calm down.
CLEO: My life has been turned upside down. I was bait for Lily and then again for Psycho when it was time to lure Otto Radley to the park. And now you bastards want to quit.
PSYCHO: I’m not quitting.
MALICE: I’m here until the end.
LILY: Take a breath. There are four of us left. We don’t need Bug. We’re here for you, Cleo.
After agreeing to talk again in a few days, Harper signed off.
She reflected on the past year when she’d first joined with these women because of one common denominator—rape.
They were survivors and victims, their lives plagued by PTSD, thoughts of suicide, distrust, and always looking over their shoulders. She was proud of The Crew for taking control and setting out to remind these rapists that their actions had consequences.
Harper took a breath.
She had killed a man.
Her father was dead.
She was not sorry. No regrets.
For a blink of an eye, she’d lost herself. But she was back, and she was stronger than ever.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Sawyer’s first stop of the day was Paige Owens’s house.
She knocked and waited.
Last time she was here, she’d been greeted with disdain. This time when the door opened, Mrs. Owens invited her inside, ushered Sawyer into the living room, and asked her to have a seat while they waited for her daughter.
“Paige told me that you two met and have been sharing information on the missing girls.”
Sawyer nodded, hoping she wasn’t getting Paige into trouble. The changes in Mrs. Owens’s appearance were mind-boggling. Her hair was combed back tight and rolled into a bun. The fear and anger etched into her face and the dark circles under her eyes were gone. The look on her face appeared to be a joyful one. “Stay right here,” the woman said. “I have something for you.”
The interior of the house had a very calming vibe. There were candles and succulents on the tables and windowsills. A diffuser dispensed a rosemary scent into the air, and a large rubber tree plant reached for the sun coming through the windows.
Mrs. Owens returned, carrying a small black box tied with a gold ribbon. “This is for you,” she said.
Sawyer blushed as she took the box.
“Go ahead and open it,” Paige told her as she entered the room.
Sawyer untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was a pretty purple rock.
“It’s an amethyst,” Paige told her.
“Place it high on a bookcase or shelf,” Mrs. Owens said. “The amethyst will emit a spiritually protective light into the space.”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Mrs. Owens rested both hands over her heart and said, “I can’t explain it and I don’t want to embarrass Paige, but I knew the exact moment you found that girl. I felt it right here.” She patted her
chest. “She’s not the only one you saved.” Mrs. Owens struggled to contain her emotions.
Paige put an arm around her mom’s shoulders. “Everything is going to be okay now.”
Mrs. Owens nodded as she used a tissue to wipe her eyes.
“We’re going to go visit Riley Addison,” Paige told her mom. “I’ll be back within the hour.”
Paige sat in the passenger seat of Sawyer’s car as they drove to Riley Addison’s house.
Yesterday, Sawyer had gotten a call from Riley’s mom, asking her to visit despite the media circus outside their home. Sawyer had asked her if it was okay if she brought Paige Owens, explaining that without Paige’s help she never would have found Riley. Sawyer thought it would be good for Riley to have someone closer to her age to confide in when she was having a bad day or feeling scared or confused. Riley’s mom had agreed wholeheartedly.
On their way, Sawyer asked Paige how things were going.
“Great. For the first time in years, I saw my mom smile.”
“She looked happy,” Sawyer said.
“Mind if I ask you a question about the woman who took Riley?”
“Go ahead.”
“She had to be fairly clever to get away with everything she did, but why do you think she wore that sweater after all these years?”
Sawyer had wondered the same thing and even asked Melony Pershing’s ex-husband about it. “Apparently her mother gave the sweater to her when she was about the age you are now.”
“I read that she was abused by her mother, so why would she care?”
“That’s a good question, but I don’t have the answer.”
“I’ve decided to go into police work after I graduate from college,” Paige said. “I haven’t told Mom yet.”
“You’ll make a fine police officer.” Paige Owens was smart and resourceful, and she’d played a big part in helping find Riley Addison. It was a miracle that they’d found her alive.
For fifteen minutes they talked about what it would take to be a great police officer.
By the time they arrived at their destination and Sawyer parked the car, they had agreed that communication, compassion, and integrity were at the top of the list.
The white-and-gray house was one story with an oversize garage.
Patrick Addison opened the door before Sawyer could knock. He looked different. Happy.
He ushered them inside. The last time Sawyer had visited, the house had been quiet, weighed down by grief. Not any longer. The house was filled with balloons and flowers. A colorful “Welcome Home” sign hung from the ceiling in the front entry. The dining room table was covered with baked goods.
Mr. Addison’s eyes sparkled, and his smile was wide as he introduced them to his wife, a petite woman with wavy brown hair and green eyes who was still recovering from her accident. She wore a neck brace and her eyes and nose were black and blue. The cast on her arm was covered with colorful drawings and signatures. But she was standing, and she happily led them to another room.
“We’ve set Riley up on the couch in the living room,” Mrs. Addison said in a quiet voice. “She doesn’t want to be anywhere near a bed or enclosed in a room. All the lights were left on last night, and her brother slept in a cot next to her.”
Riley looked away from the television when they entered the room. She smiled and sat up taller. “Thanks for coming,” she said.
“It’s good to see you,” Sawyer told her. “I brought a friend with me—Paige Owens.”
Riley looked at Paige and said, “Mom told me all about you.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you too,” Paige said.
Sawyer left the two girls alone and made her way back to the kitchen to talk with Mr. and Mrs. Addison. They all took a seat at a small round table.
Sawyer reached into her bag and handed Mrs. Addison the file. Inside was all the information Sawyer had gathered on the woman who had taken Riley.
As Mrs. Addison read through Sawyer’s notes, Mr. Addison clasped his hands on the table and said, “I wish I knew what to say to you. I’ve written you two letters before tearing them up. I can’t seem to find a way to express my gratitude for what you’ve done for us. We’ve been through hell, but because of you we can now begin to dig our way out. You brought light to our world . . . a world that had grown dark very quickly.”
“We were lucky,” Sawyer said.
Mrs. Addison closed the file and joined the conversation. “We know a little about what you’ve been through, and we wanted you to know that we’re here for you if you ever need anything at all.” She handed Sawyer her business card. “It takes tremendous courage to reach out for help,” Mrs. Addison told her. “But if there is ever anything you need, anything at all, please call.”
Sawyer didn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you.” Everything they had said warmed her heart, and yet she still resisted opening up to people. Even when she met with therapists in the past, she’d held back because deep down she saw opening up to a stranger as a weakness. Therapy meant digging deep into the psyche and bringing forth painful memories. Emotional honesty was difficult. Maybe someday, though, she could find a way to speak her truths and continue to rebuild herself, one day at a time.
Although she and her sisters had a ways to go as far as healing, Sawyer had begun to realize that it had never been Harper’s responsibility to take care of her and Aria. Not then and not now.
Little steps, Sawyer thought.
She was making progress.
She would continue to work on her fear of being touched. Physical closeness had always been uncomfortable for Sawyer, but recently she’d found herself relishing in the joy of holding someone close. She’d experienced it with Aria, Ella, Riley, and then with Derek when he showed up unexpectedly.
Things were definitely improving.
She could feel it.
She was getting better.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Out of Her Mind is my fifteenth thriller. What a fun and wild ride! Many thanks to the amazing team at Thomas & Mercer, Liz Pearsons, Charlotte Herscher, Amy Tannenbaum, Sarah Shaw, The Jane Rotrosen Agency, Brittany Ragan, Brian McDougle, Morgan Ragan, and Cathy Katz.
For those curious readers out there, Mr. Baguette, the cockatiel mentioned in the Sawyer Brooks series, takes after my daughter’s real-life cockatiel by the same name, and he is adorable.
Lastly, a big shout-out and thank-you to Lisa Gardner, one of my absolute favorite writers of all time, the author whose work inspired me to start writing thrillers, for giving me a fabulous quote for Don’t Make a Sound! A pinch-me moment I will not forget.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2014 Morgan Ragan
T.R. Ragan is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of the first book in the Sawyer Brooks series, Don’t Make a Sound; the Faith McMann trilogy (Furious, Outrage, and Wrath); the Lizzy Gardner series (Abducted, Dead Weight, A Dark Mind, Obsessed, Almost Dead, and Evil Never Dies); and the Jessie Cole novels (Her Last Day, Deadly Recall, Deranged, and Buried Deep). In addition to thrillers, she writes medieval time-travel tales, contemporary romance, and romantic suspense as Theresa Ragan. She has sold more than three million books since her debut novel appeared in 2011. An avid traveler, her wanderings have led her to China, Thailand, and Nepal. Theresa and her husband, Joe, have four children and live in Sacramento, California. To learn more, visit her website at www.theresaragan.com.