Half swimming, half walking, he continued on, but the creek was too shallow for him to submerge his head. Dripping, he came out the other side and climbed the bank. As he dug his toes into the ground, a strange shift took place. Loreena squinted, not trusting her eyes. The land on the other side of the creek seemed to lift and turn, like the page of a book. Frank didn’t notice, hands in the dirt as he struggled to the top of the rise. Still the landscape moved higher, folding back over Loreena’s head, until she covered it with her arms and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she was back on the sidewalk outside the wooden gate.
Frank stood next to her. He looked at his pants. They were dry, as were his hands and his shirt. His gaze traveled to the front door of the house.
“Oh, no.” He tried to walk away, but took only a couple steps before he could go no further. “What the hell?”
The front door crashed open and Arlen came running out. “You can’t hide, you bum! Might as well come face me!”
Frank pulled at his leg, but couldn’t get it to move.
“Ha, there you are!” The boy came through the gate, aiming the gun at him. “Better run!”
Frank looked up at Loreena. “Get me out of here.”
Loreena avoided his gaze and glanced at the boy, and then around at the quiet neighborhood. This was where it had all started for Frank—the one moment that had led to his criminal dealings and his takeover of the Grizzly Riders and her kidnapping and so much more she wasn’t even aware of. If he was to have any hope of finding redemption, this was where his journey would have to end, or begin again. She thought of telling him as much. Instead, she reached out and tousled Arlen’s hair, and then turned her back and walked away.
“Loreena, wait. I can make a deal with you!”
“Sorrier than shit, just like Dad says.” Arlen fired the gun, soaking his brother’s shirt. “Pantywaist! Big, squishy marshmallow!”
“Loreena!”
The sun was the color of butterscotch, a candy orb settling near the horizon. Loreena walked, hardly feeling her legs moving underneath her, and let her eyes absorb the light. Inside she was empty, drained, and Frank’s calls no longer registered. For the first time in what felt like months, she didn’t have to fear what he might do next, or worry which of her loved ones he would use against her. No longer would she or Dominic or Saul or even Shawn be pawns in his demented games, for it was finally over, and what might happen tomorrow or the day after no longer mattered. Dominic was alive, Frank was dead, and she had just taken her last soul to Hell.
18
Loreena awoke to the sound of her name. Her back ached and her feet were cold. Underneath her palm she felt the cement sidewalk, pebbles sticking to her skin. Her shirt smelled of sweat and stretched out over her torso, her hair in knots. The brightness of the sunlight surprised her, for it had been so long since she had awoken to actually see the morning. Blinking rapidly, she lifted her head, and the buildings across the street came into focus. “Lee’s” was the first word she read, the letters bold and arched across the glass, a red-white-and-blue-striped barbershop sign twisting around at the corner.
Pressing her hands into the sidewalk, she sat up. Images came at her in full color, sunlight glinting in yellow stars off the glass windows, the rays catching the chrome on the parked cars. Black streetlamps brought a sort of sophisticated nature to the street, an American flag extending from the corner of the building and waving in the breeze on her right. Beyond, on the next block, a large clock above the bank sign said it was nine fifteen. Outside the café next door, three round tables awaited the first customers.
Loreena stood up and looked both ways, but like the night before, the town was lifeless, and she saw not another living soul. Even the air was still.
“Hello?”
The streets echoed her call. She walked, just to move, and told herself she would find someone. There had to be others. But even as this thought crossed her mind, she didn’t believe it. Perhaps it was possible someone else existed here, but it seemed unlikely, particularly since the space was so limited and extended no farther than the creek where Frank had been turned back the day before. Still, she kept walking, determined to try the creek for herself. Maybe that’s where she would find her way back to the cabin.
She had gone one block when she realized that someone had always called her back before—her uncle, Shawn, Saul. With Dominic, the men in the bar had torn them apart early, but every other time someone had been there. Could she get back on her own? The thought had never occurred to her that she might be stuck, that without an ally on the other side, there was no link between the two worlds. She had passed an entire night in Frank’s Hell, but who knew how long that might be in the mountain cabin? Surely Dominic would call to her when he thought it was safe. When the cabin fell quiet and he no longer had to worry about alerting Frank to her presence, he would realize she had succeeded and call her back.
Unless something had happened to him. Unless whatever was wrong with him had gotten worse. Or unless…she paused.
Unless Raymond had returned.
She stood on the sidewalk, thinking. It seemed strange he hadn’t called to her already. The more she thought, the more she worried that something had gone wrong. What would Raymond do, should he arrive and find Frank dead?
Several minutes passed before she realized she was standing in front of a dress shop. Helpless to do anything else, she stepped up and peered in the window. Beautiful dresses hung on mannequins in the front, racks behind them full of gowns in various colors and styles. Loreena pressed her nose against the glass and absently tried the doorknob.
It yielded. A small bell rang overhead.
“Hello?”
Nobody answered. No attendants, no cashiers. Half the store contained wedding dresses, all white but in various styles, some with long trains, some cut below the knee, some with lace, others with poofy sleeves. On the other side, to her left, were just as many formal dresses in myriad colors, bright yellow and grass green and deep blue and candy red. Never before had Loreena seen so many ruffles, gathers, silk folds, and lace sleeves. In the distance, along the left wall, one dress caught her eye. A faceless mannequin wore it, her body a simple female shape with no features. The dress was a long purple gown, the same dark shade as her mother’s roses, strapless, shirred at the waist, and draped with an extra fold off the right hip.
She crossed the store and touched the cool fabric with tentative fingers, the folds gathered layer upon layer. She wanted to scoop them up and bring them all around her like bubbles in a bath. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the new dress smell, and then lifted the hanger and scanned the store for a fitting room.
On the opposite wall, three seven-foot-tall mirrors had been placed at shallow angles to one another. Soft white lights extended over the top to shine on a white-carpeted pedestal in front. Loreena walked over to it, pressed the bodice against her breasts, stepped up and looked at her own reflection.
The image she saw she didn’t recognize. The sensation was so strange she lifted her hand and waved, just to see the mirror image wave back. That girl had bags under her eyes and dirt on her cheeks, and her hair was tangled on the right side of her head in a giant knot that would take at least an hour to comb out. Her clothes didn’t fit her body. The shirt hung low and wide, much too baggy, the pants barely clinging to her waist. Her brown eyes looked sunken and tired, her skin the muddy sand color of someone unwashed. Overall, she couldn’t weigh more than one hundred and fifteen pounds, yet she stood tall, about five foot seven, with a skinny face and narrow chin. The lips, though. In the fleshy mounds of her mouth, she could see her mother’s lips.
The dress didn’t belong on her, but on a much prettier girl. Loreena stepped off the pedestal and hooked the hanger on the nearest rack, lovingly caressing the material one more time.
Loreena!
She looked up. Someone was calling. Had someone found them in the cabin? She started to walk out, b
ut then glanced back. The person in the mirror met her gaze. She paused, watching. As dirty as she was, she wasn’t a monster, this girl. There existed in her eyes no blackness, only a deep weariness and a dark fear. With shame Loreena studied the image, but with some admiration too, for the smooth, high forehead; the slim, feminine neck; and the steady, determined gaze. Stepping closer, she opened her hand and reached out to touch the mirror, and then brought her other hand around and did the same, until both were pressed against the glass, all ten fingers splayed. Standing there, she waited, watching. Somehow she expected a black ooze to flow out of the lines in her skin, or a blood-red sweat to come upon the glass, but though she stood for many minutes unmoving, nothing unusual happened, and when she withdrew her hands, all that remained on the mirror were a few faint and very human fingerprints.
Loreena, you can’t stay there. Come back.
Her head jerked and she left the mirror, walking toward the front door.
That was Dominic.
I know where you are. You’re in the wrong place. Come back to me.
His voice sounded weak, nearly a whisper. Weaving in and out of the racks, Loreena reached the exit. She hesitated a moment, looking back at the pretty dresses, the purple one nearly hidden, and then grabbed the doorknob, twisted, and pushed.
The bell rang.
________
Shadows surrounded her like snakes encircling her body. Loreena scraped at the air, trying to tear down the black curtain that had fallen over her eyes. The sunlight, the colors, the textures were all gone. Only blackness remained, interminable blackness she could not escape. She was nine years old again and screaming.
“Loreena, it’s all right. It’s Shawn. You’re back.”
Her hands found his shoulders. “Shawn?”
“It’s okay. The FBI is here. It’s all right.”
“Where’s Dominic?”
“He’s okay. Can you sit up?”
Her elbow hit a mattress and then her wrist thumped the floor as Shawn braced her against the bed. On her right, she touched still flesh and jerked her hand back.
“It’s Frank. He’s dead. Here.” Shawn put something into her hands.
Her gloves. The gloves she’d left in Dominic’s prison room. They were stiff and hard with old sweat. She threw them away.
“They’re your gloves,” Shawn said.
“I know.”
He helped her up, then, and when she regained her feet she swayed, feeling sick to her stomach. “Where’s Dominic?”
“Outside. The helicopter is coming.”
“Helicopter?”
“To take him to the hospital. Come on. You’re going, too.”
Loreena had her hand out, trying to grasp hold of something, and she finally felt the doorframe. Shawn was taking her out of Frank’s room. In the distance she heard the thud-a-thud of the blades cutting the air. As she stepped onto the linoleum that marked the kitchen area, her shoe slipped. She nearly fell, but Shawn held on under her arm until she stood upright again.
“It’s okay,” Shawn said. “He’s gone. You’re safe now.”
He was talking about Frank, but Loreena wasn’t thinking of him. Frank had gone somewhere he could never hurt anyone again, but the darkness, this world, and what awaited her now filled her with fear. It was over, the whole thing, over. What would happen now? Would her uncle ever forgive her?
Shawn tugged on her arm. Loreena pulled back. His grip softened and she kept going backward until she broke his hold and stood against the wall. The wood paneling angled into her spine, her legs too tired to hold her up.
“Here, here.” Shawn caught her just as she was sinking to the floor, her arms crossed over her chest. “Wayne, some help here!”
Another pair of booted steps came into the cabin, and then Loreena felt herself being lifted off the floor by four hands; hands clinging to her arms and lifting under her thighs, biceps pushing up against her shoulders. Hands restraining her again, as they had so many times before. She screamed and wrenched her body away, landed on her feet, and ran, full speed, straight into the wall.
Mrs. Markos would want her to eat the chocolate cream pie. The woman’s voice prattled on in Loreena’s ears, interrupted now and then by the smoker’s hack. I made it for you, she would say, and expect Loreena to eat it, and the thought of eating one more piece of pie made her sick to her stomach.
She turned in the bed, expecting to feel the lace under her fingers. The pillow had a strange scent, a strong disinfectant rather than the flowery detergent fragrance she had grown accustomed to. She was on her left shoulder, facing the window, but there was no softer glow from the sun. As she gradually moved from the lost world of sleep to a greater sense of being awake, other things entered her awareness, like the cold metal railing at the side of the bed and the fact that her neck hurt, and then the lightness of the blankets, her body chilled and vulnerable to the harsh, dry air. She stirred, pulling the sheet up to her chin. Her eyes shot open. There was no lace. No holes to poke her fingers through. Only smooth, cotton fabric.
“Loreena?”
The lighter shadow returned, but on the other side, her right side. The sun, she reasoned, was coming from a different direction.
“Hey, kid. You in there?”
Her head came off the pillow.
“Uncle?”
“Are you okay?”
She sat up, arms out. “Uncle?”
He moved into them, his shoulders under her hands, his firm, broad shoulders, and then his body next to hers, his arms around her, his shirt collar stiff against her ear.
“Uncle! I’m so sorry.” She closed her eyes, tears wetting her cheeks, and held tightly to him, afraid he would disappear, but then she smelled the sandalwood from the sanctuary candles on his hair, and felt the warmth of his embrace, and though she was unable to stop crying, she started to laugh at the same time. He spoke with his soothing cello voice, telling her it would be okay, that everything was all right now, and he was not going to leave her. It was over, and soon they would be home again, safe, back in their house, and she could sleep in her own room, in her own bed, and play the piano and the organ, and it would be all right.
Loreena clung to him, laying her cheek against his shoulder. He rubbed her back up and down, patting her, and she stayed in his arms like a child, unashamed, inhaling his scent and focusing on his voice and feeling the thick fabric of his jacket under her palms.
Uncle Don released the lever and let the railing down, and then cupped his hand on the side of Loreena’s face. With his thumb he pulled stray strands of her hair away from her eyes. For a while they just stayed that way, until finally he released her, pulled a chair up behind him, and sat down next to the bed. She kept hold of his left arm, afraid to let go. From the noises around her, the ticking radiator by the wall, the rolling carts, and the whispered voices on the other side of the room, Loreena knew she was in the hospital. She vaguely remembered Shawn telling her that’s where they were going. What city she could only guess, but she assumed Boise, as certainly there were no hospitals in the mountains where they had found her.
Uncle Don sat quietly, his breathing steady and easy, his calming presence slowly bringing her back to the feeling of home, before everything had been turned upside down. As the minutes slipped by, a clock over her head ticking out the seconds, she remembered the last time she and her uncle had spoken. She finally let go of his arm and let her hands settle back into her lap. He helped her with the bed so it would support her in a sitting position, stacking pillows behind her back and even taking off his jacket and bundling it behind her for extra support. Soon she could sit fairly comfortably. Pulling the sheet and single blanket up to her waist, she took them into her hands.
“Did Shawn tell you what happened?” She spoke in soft tones, aware of the other people in the room. Three, from what she could tell: her patient roommate and two friends.
“Some of it.” Her uncle matched her volume. “On the phone, and here, when you
arrived.”
“Then you know. That I was taken.”
“Yes.”
She looked down. “I was afraid you would think I just went away, and never called you, or didn’t care or something…”
Out in the hallway a family passed by, a young girl telling her mother about a picture she had painted, how she had gotten the paint all over her hands, and yet it had washed off clean. See?
“I knew something was wrong,” Uncle Don said. “I went to the police. At first they wouldn’t help me, and I didn’t know what else to do. After a few days, they declared you missing.”
“Crystal never came to you?”
“Crystal?”
Loreena fell quiet. It was no surprise the girl hadn’t tried to help her. Still, Loreena felt a hot anger in her belly. If Crystal had done anything, even given the police an anonymous tip, she might have been rescued so much earlier. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?”
It was like her uncle to go to the simpler things, but this time she was grateful. She didn’t really want to talk about the rest, about everything that had happened. Much better to focus on food.
“I think so,” she said. “What time is it?”
“Evening. Little after six.”
“What day?”
“October seventh.”
October! It had been near the beginning of September when Dominic drove her to Kelley. “Dominic. He’s here too, right?”
“Next door, actually.”
“Is he okay?”
“They say he will be.”
Loreena sat up straight. “Can we go see him now?”
He waited a minute before answering. Loreena thought he must have so many questions, so many things that had been stirring in his mind for the last several weeks, but she didn’t want to get into it. One day they would take hours to discuss it all, maybe. For now, she just wanted to assure herself that Dominic was okay.
Her uncle supported her as she got out of the bed. The two friends were encouraging her roommate. The doctor had said he could go home tomorrow. Only one more day of hospital food. When Loreena stood on the cold floor, Uncle Don handed her a heavy coat. She paused, smelling the sharp scent of newness on the fabric.
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