In the Dark: A Thrilling Romantic Suspense Novel (The Dark Series Book 1)

by Danah Logan

  What?

  I thought he was angry, but instead, he believes he failed me? I’m at a loss. The fluttery feeling in my belly is back, but instead of trying to decipher the stir, I attempt to reassure him. "You were a child. There is no way you could’ve done anything, even if you’d been there."

  He nods but still sounds dejected. "I can’t help it."

  He resembles a little boy, and I act on instinct. I reach over and grab the hand closest to me from the steering wheel, interlacing our fingers. Rhys’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but he doesn’t look away from the road. All the tension leaves his body, and he squeezes my hand back. He may not have been the one taken, but I understand more and more that his life changed that day as well. We’re in this together, no matter what I’ve been telling myself.

  After we cleared the air, Rhys is more relaxed, and the crease between his brows has disappeared. He connected his phone to the car a little while ago, and one of his favorite rock playlists replaced the radio. The uncomfortable tension is gone, and I lean my head back, watching the landscape pass by. I didn’t realize how wound tight I was myself and suddenly feel completely worn out. I let the music fill my brain and block everything else out. I pretend to be a regular girl on a road trip. Just for a little while, I want to forget about all the chaos and questions in my life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  We’re about an hour out of Santa Rosa, and I’m a wreck. Again. My earlier relaxation is gone, including the girl from this morning that was ready to take this whole disaster of a life head-on. It’s like she stayed behind somewhere along the way.

  I can’t stop flipping my fingers against my thumb. Back and forth, back and forth. It’s a tic I’ve had forever and a tell for everyone who knows me. Rhys has already asked three times if I’m okay, and I think if I hear the question one more time, I may lose it. I grind my teeth together.

  "Should we go straight to the hospital or wait until the morning?"

  Oh, thank God he’s not asking if I’m okay again.

  However, his new question turns my stomach to knots. I peer at my watch. It’ll be close to five by the time we get there.

  "Let’s give it a shot," I say before I lose my barely existing courage.

  We arrive at the hospital that was listed on my discharge papers at ten to five. It’s not huge but larger than I anticipated for a place like Santa Rosa.

  I’m so close to potentially getting answers.

  But when I climb out of the Defender, I’m a mess. The need for answers that has kept me going for the last two-plus weeks has exited, and a sour taste in my mouth makes it hard to swallow. Do I really want to know? What if I’m making a mistake? Maybe I should’ve waited longer? Should I have talked to Heather and Tristen after all?

  I’m convinced any shrink would diagnose me with some type of mental instability at this point. Though, would that be a surprise for someone who was kidnapped and had her memory erased? I can’t keep track of all my contradicting emotions, let alone keep them in check. I go from betrayal and anger to rage, to feeling safe, to fear and anxiety, to happiness, to uncertainty, back to anger, and now...dread.

  What am I doing here?

  Saliva is pooling in my mouth, which accompanies the nausea and cold sweats that started when we left the interstate ten minutes ago. Is this what a panic attack feels like? My breathing is erratic. Yup, I’m having a panic attack. All I can think is so much for no longer being the victim. Who am I kidding? I’m six years old.

  Oh God, I’m going to pass out.

  I’m next to the car, staring at the pavement, as the black spots appear in my vision. I brace myself for the impact with the ground, but instead, I find myself in a bear hug. My face is pressed against soft fabric.

  I inhale deeply. Rhys! One arm is wrapped around my waist, the other holds the back of my head; I’m held immobile.

  When did he get so strong?

  His voice tells me to breathe, and I do as I’m told. In, out, in, out.

  The nausea slowly subsides, and I lift my arms to return the embrace.

  "There you are, babe. You scared me there for a minute."

  Babe?

  That’s the second time. Whatever. I’m safe.

  We stand like this in the middle of the parking lot for several minutes until I’m back in control. I should be embarrassed by my breakdown, but as if Rhys can read my thoughts, he leans back so he can look me in the eyes, and all I see is understanding.

  "You and me, remember?" he whispers, and I nod.

  Without another word, he starts walking toward the entrance, and I fall in step beside him. That’s it. He knew what I needed, and as soon as it was over, it was time to move on. I marvel at how he does that time and time again—after years of being apart.

  We step through the rotating door into the foyer, and I stop abruptly. "Where do we go?"

  Rhys turns toward me. "I figured we’d start with patient services or the admin department, whatever it’s called in a hospital."

  That makes sense. "Okay."

  He navigates us to the correct door before I can search for a map of this maze. I raise my eyebrows at him as we step off the second-floor escalator opposite two glass doors, but he just shrugs as if to say I did my research.

  With shaking hands, I push through, and Rhys murmurs from behind, "I’ll be back here if you need me."

  By the time I glance over my shoulder, he’s leaning against the wall next to the door. His arms are crossed over his chest, and one foot is up against the wall. He isn’t wearing anything special, just a gray hoodie, faded blue jeans, and his worn black Frye Bowery Chelsea boots he bought years ago. However, his entire posture emanates confidence and strength. I’ve seen this abrupt change in him many times from afar in school. This is why the entire school puts him on a pedestal and follows his every command. He knows how to take over a situation, and currently, he’s giving me the strength to do this on my own. Some of my old confidence returns as I slowly move into the room.

  A lone woman in her late twenties sits at one of the four desks. She glances up, and I immediately see that the last thing she wants to do so close to the end of her day is deal with me.

  My mouth goes dry as I approach her desk hesitantly. "Excuse me?"

  She looks up again, and up close, I can see that she is probably in her early thirties, not twenties. She has wavy red hair which is styled immaculately. So are her makeup and manicured nails. She doesn’t belong in a hospital. I glance at her nametag. Nina Farley should be in an ad for shampoo or some sort of beauty product, but not here.

  When she waits for me to continue, I clear my throat. "Hi, uh...I’m looking for a nurse who signed my discharge papers ten years ago. I, um...I want to thank her for everything that she did for me back then."

  Yeah, that sounds like utter bullshit even to my ears, and Nina is not dumb. Her eyes flick back and forth between Rhys and me.

  Her tone is cool when she says, "That is confidential. We don’t give out employee information."

  I rub my upper arms and fight the urge to find Rhys in the back. I can do this. "I don’t need information on her. I know her name. I just want to talk to her." I’m not asking for her social security number, just to tell me where to find my nurse.

  For a second, I think Nina will help me, but then her gaze flickers to the clock on the side wall, and she repeats again, "I’m sorry, I can’t help you."

  I’m dismissed. "Please, I—"

  I’m ready to plead when two hands land on my shoulder. "Thank you for your time."

  What? I turn my head to argue with Rhys, but his expression leaves no room for negotiation. Without another word, he places a hand on my lower back and steers me out into the hallway.

  My eyes start to gloss over. We’ve wasted three days in the car for nothing. We’re back to square one. Here comes the waterfall.

  I’m so tired of crying.

  I guide Lilly toward the food court I saw on the map I studied during
our quick lunch stop this afternoon. This outcome was a possibility, but nothing had prepared me for the defeat on her face.

  She doesn’t say anything and lets me lead her to a booth. The bright-red linoleum upholstery and yellow tables are out of place for a hospital. Someone either tried to make this place bright and happy and failed miserably, or they stole the furniture from the McDonalds down the street. Either way, the whole vibe is fucking disturbing.

  Lilly stares at her hands, and I grab us two waters and a Coke before settling into the seat across from her.

  We sit like this for half an hour. She’s in her head, and I wait. There is no point in forcing a conversation. She’s dealing.

  Our relationship has changed in the last twenty-four hours. It’s grown beyond what it used to be—before I turned into an asshole on her. I don’t know what we are or what she feels toward me, but my urge to protect her has reached a new high. The strong and confident fighter let me see her vulnerability last night. She asked for my comfort. Even when I first stopped talking to her, she never let me see how much I had hurt her. Her recalling her memory immediately caused a red haze to form over my eyes. How could anyone have done this to an innocent child? And she wanted me. Me! Her words were like continuous front kicks in the gut. She’s right; there was nothing I could’ve done, but still—what would you feel if the girl you love tells you that shit? I need to do something to help her—or at least try.

  After she still hasn’t said anything thirty minutes later, I come to a decision. "Be right back."

  I make out a small nod from her and add, "Keep your phone on you, okay?"

  Another head bob.

  Okay then.

  I leave the food court and walk back to the department we left earlier. The lights are off, and the doors are locked. So much for giving that another try.

  Next, I head to the emergency department. Thankfully, it’s a slow evening. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have found anyone to talk to. I approach a younger nurse in blue scrubs that comes out of the nurses’ station.

  "Excuse me?"

  Her eyes are glued to a piece of paper in one hand, and she’s scribbling on it with the other. How people can do that while walking amazes me. I can’t write one freaking word without a stable surface underneath. When she realizes I’m talking to her, her eyebrows shoot up, and she slowly scans me up and down. Yup, I’m aware of the effect I have on females, which was another reason I approached her instead of the older nurse that’s on her heels. No, I’m not arrogant. It’s just how it’s always been. It’s not like I use it to my advantage—well, except for maybe right now.

  "Can I help you?"

  Deep breath. "Yes, uh..."—I glance at her embroidered nametag—"Beth, hi. My name is Rhys McGuire. I was wondering if I could ask you a quick question?" Do I need to give her my name? Nope. But I learned a long time ago that when you want to gain something from a conversation, bringing it to a personal level helps. Having an attorney for a mother has taught me a trick or two.

  "Is this regarding a patient?" Her tone is wary, and the older nurse is now right behind Beth. I focus on Beth and try to be as charming, yet not creepy, as possible.

  "No, well—actually yes. You see, my sister was in this hospital a long time ago, and we came here to talk to the nurse that took care of her back then. It’s a long story, but my sister doesn’t remember much from that time, and we just found out the nurse’s name, and we wanted to talk to her." I’m rambling. "Her name is Madeline Cross—the nurse, not my sister—anyway, do you know her? I tried the patient services place on the second floor, but they’re closed."

  No need to tell her they already said no.

  Both nurses’ eyes resemble manholes; neither probably expected me to deliver such a speech. The older nurse stares at me but clears her throat to give Beth a hint.

  Beth jumps at the sound. "Oh, uh..." She turns around and locks eyes with the other woman before she faces me again. "I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with that name. I’ve only been here for two years and..." She trails off when understanding hits that she shouldn’t even have told me that.

  Well, fuck, but it was worth a try. I thank her and turn back the way I came. I don’t want to leave Lilly alone for too long, otherwise, I would scour more units and ask around. They’d probably kick me out at some point, but I’d do anything to help my girl.

  Lilly is still in her seat when I slide into the red clown bench across from her.

  "Are you hungry?"

  She glances at the wall behind me, and her eyebrows knit together. "Is that clock right?"

  "Plus or minus a few minutes, yeah."

  "I’ve been sitting here for that long? Why didn’t you say anything?" She sounds incredulous.

  "Because you needed time to collect yourself."

  Her cheeks turn pink. "Oh."

  She’s adorable when she’s embarrassed, and I have to press my lips together not to make a comment about how stunning she looks.

  Not the time or place, horndog.

  "Let’s eat and then find a place to crash. We’ll regroup tomorrow."

  We go to the hot bar, and I can’t stop staring as Lilly puts the most random shit on her plate. A scoop of mac and cheese, three Brussels sprouts, a pancake that looks like it’s been sitting there for about twelve hours, a few leaves of lettuce, and a grape. One grape. I’m about to make a dumb joke when I bite my tongue. If she wants to eat that, who am I to judge? After the day she’s had, she can do what she wants, and I will cheer her on, imaginary pom-poms and all.

  We’ve just finished, and I put my fork down when a swarm of nurses in different color scrubs comes from every direction and descends on the food court.

  What the ever-loving—?

  Lilly sees my expression and barks out a laugh. It’s the first genuine laugh I hear from her today. At least I’ve accomplished that tonight.

  "It’s probably shift change." She smirks, plopping the lone grape in her mouth.

  I playfully smack my forehead at my stupidity when a shadow falls over our table.

  I turn and face a wall of blue. My gaze travels upward, and I meet the eyes of the older nurse from the emergency department.

  Lilly’s gaze flickers from me to the woman and back.

  Without a word, the nurse, whose nametag reads Margery, hands me a folded piece of paper.

  Uh.

  I slowly grab the note, and right before she turns to leave, she scans Lilly up and down. Her whole expression softens.

  "You’ve grown into a beautiful woman."

  With that, she’s gone.

  Lilly’s mouth hangs open, and I’m mirroring her stunned expression, trying to comprehend what just happened. My hand is still suspended mid-air when Lilly plucks the note out of my hand. Her motion is so quick I can’t even react. Instead, my hand hangs there empty.

  Slowly, she unfolds the paper. Once. Twice. I see her eyes scan the words, and then her hands fly to her mouth as she drops it. I snatch it up before it can land on her remaining mac and cheese.

  Tears are pooling in her eyes, and she whispers, "What did you do?"

  Huh?

  Finally, I look at the note in my hand.

  Madeline Cross

  Angelwood Medical Center

  Saint Louis

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rhys doesn’t say anything. He folds the paper back up and tucks it in his pocket. After he cleans up our table and returns the trays to their station, he stops next to me, holding out his hand. I’m in a daze, unable to move. What. Just. Happened?

  When I don’t make a move, he takes charge, grasps my hand, and pulls me out of the booth. Rhys only lets go of my hand when he deposits me into the passenger seat of the Defender and takes his place behind the wheel. His hand is back in mine as soon as we pull out of the parking spot.

  I glance over, unsure what to make of all this. I’m so confused. How did this woman find us? All I can come up with is that Rhys did something when he disappeared for a wh
ile.

  We check into a hotel, one of those chain places with free Wi-Fi and breakfast. I don’t pay attention to the name as Rhys handles all the logistics. The room is nicer than the motels from the last few nights. The beds have crisp white sheets. There is a double seater couch under the window on the far wall, and a big flat-screen TV across from the beds that is positioned on top of two adjoining dressers.

  He leads me to the bed by the couch and gestures for me to sit. He still hasn’t said a word and just plops down across from me.

  His elbows are resting on his thighs, and he rubs his hand over his face before finally looking at me. I mean, really looking at me. "We did it, Cal." His voice is low.

  It feels weird to talk out loud after so much silence, and my question is no more than a whisper. "What did you do?"

  He tells me about how he went to the ER, and how he left empty-handed, how he wanted to help me because he saw how upset I was. He didn’t think twice about the nurse that showed up at our table until...well, until she showed up at the table.

  Rhys’s flight out of the hospital had me so distracted that I haven’t thought about what this note means for us—for me. There’s actually a chance to get answers.

  "So, uh...this is good, right? Why are you acting so weird?" It should be good news, but his strange behavior also is starting to scare me.

  His next words are more to himself. "It is, yeah. We know where to find Madeline Cross, but we also made your presence known. I guess, um...I guess my parents’ paranoia has rubbed off on me. I just have this weird feeling."

  We lock eyes, and that sends a chill through my entire body. He is really worried.

  Did we make a mistake?

  Our evening routine is completed in silence. We’re both deep in thought, and Rhys is already in his bed when I walk out of the bathroom. He’s turned toward my side, the white comforter pulled up to his ears and his eyes closed. His facial features are tense, a clear indicator that he’s awake.