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

by Danah Logan

  How does that explain it. Whatever.

  We start the first movie late in the afternoon, and after Blade II, Rhys says he needs a break. He wants to shower and change before we keep going, which is fine with me. I showered this morning before we left, so while he is in the bathroom, I put on my PJs and resume my position on the couch.

  Rhys is taking forever, and after checking my social media and sending Denielle a "Happy New Year’s Eve" text, I move over to the small table where we left the pizza we ordered earlier.

  I bite into another piece when I realize he has opened the bathroom door to let some of the steam out. Through the opening, I see him in front of the sink. Shirtless. His blue-and-green plaid pajama pants riding low on his trim hips. My mouth stops chewing, and I can’t avert my eyes. Is it warm in here? He is washing his face, and with every move, the muscles in his broad back flex. I get glimpses of his incredibly toned arms moving back and forth, scrubbing his face, and my lips part, heart pounding in my chest. Holy—has he always been this, uh...defined? I drop the pizza and rub my suddenly sweaty palms against my flannel pants.

  Oh great, now I have grease stains on my pants.

  I look up at the precise moment that Rhys turns toward the door and pulls a fresh navy t-shirt over his head. My eyes trail his chest down to his abs, and I gulp, choking on the pizza I forgot was still in my mouth.

  The way his taut muscles move with every motion, I can’t take my eyes off of him. Once his head is through the opening, he pulls the rest of the fabric over his body, and I jerk myself around. I can barely control my rapid breathing.

  What is going on?

  He’s my bro—adopted brother. This is all kinds of wrong.

  Rhys walks through the door, and I quickly stuff more pizza in my mouth, afraid if I have to talk, my voice will betray me.

  He drops his dirty clothes on top of the suitcase and then comes over to get another slice himself. When he leans over me, our arms brush against each other, and my entire body stiffens. I hold my breath as his clean scent causes a whole new wave of sweat to pool in my palms.

  Please don’t let him notice anything.

  But Rhys just grabs his pizza and walks back to the couch. "You coming?"

  I keep my eyes trained on the tabletop and finish chewing. "Mm-hmm."

  The entire next movie, I am so distracted by my physical reaction that I pay zero attention. Rhys busies himself, reciting Hannibal as expected, and since I know it by heart, I can answer and comment on any question as soon as I glance at the screen.

  We watch until right before midnight, then switch to the New Year’s countdown, and toast with our water bottles. Rhys leans over and gives me a tight hug that lingers a little longer than just regular friends. But we have history—a lot of history. I tell myself that it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

  Thankfully, my body doesn’t have a mind of its own this time, and when he releases me, I’m finally able to relax. We’re done right before 1:30 a.m. I stumble to my bed and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.

  I wake up before Lilly. I glance at her sleeping form, covers pulled almost over her head.

  Best New Year ever!

  I meant what I said in the car; the partying is not me—never has been. It’s fun, sure, and in the beginning, it was a vice to numb myself. A way to not deal with my feelings toward Lilly or the guilt that consumed me for treating her like shit. As time went on, I realized the numbing only worked temporarily. Once it wore off, everything came flooding back tenfold, and I felt worse than before, because then it was not just my head that was messed up. About a year ago, I quit the extra stuff for good. Some days, I still use the parties and my social status as an excuse to get piss-drunk and forget, but the majority of the time, I fake it—not that anyone notices. Well, Wes does catch on at times. He gives me the squint-eye when I hold the same beer for three hours, but I simply mirror his expression. Within seconds, he’s back to charming his way into the pants of the next chick who glances in his direction.

  I don’t like the person I have become to maintain the secret—both secrets, my parents’ and mine—allowing Kat to parade us around as if we are the perfect couple, feeding into the fucking pretense she loves so much, and just nodding when some guy tells me how lucky I am to bag Katherine Rosenfield. I just want to respond with, "Have at it," but I can’t. People see what they want to see: a smoking-hot cheerleader that’s at the top of the high school food chain and her athlete boyfriend. Not once in two years has Kat asked me how I’m doing—not once. And again, I just play along. I don’t call her out on it. My life is a big. Fat. Farce.

  Until now, that is. Now that Lilly knows, I can finally be myself, even if it’s just with her. But that’s all that counts. And if she ends up telling Denielle and Wes the truth, I don’t have to put up a front with them anymore, either. Maybe Den will stop with the death glares. I’m a selfish prick for hoping. The reason we’re here is to find answers for Lilly. It’s her life, her past, and her future. Her safety.

  I shake myself out of the depressing mood. We had a great evening. I hadn’t enjoyed myself that much in a long time, and using New Year’s as an excuse, I gave in to my urge to be close to her.

  We’ll make it through this trip and then figure out where to go from there.

  Lilly stirs around nine-thirty. I’ve been scrolling through my social media for the past hour but don’t see anything worth mentioning. Kat is enjoying the Florida sun. Wes posts almost hourly videos of himself attempting some snowboarding stunt—most of them failing. They are the usual Christmas break updates.

  I also check Lilly’s account, but there is nothing to see. Mom and Dad have gone through rigorous security measures. All the family accounts—if they even exist—are locked down. The audience is strictly controlled, and my parents regularly check that there are no pictures of Lilly anywhere. And I mean regularly. They use Dad’s military career and now contractor position as the main reason for their cyber paranoia, but in truth, it’s all about keeping Lilly hidden. I wonder if she’s caught on to that yet.

  Lilly eventually opens her eyes and squints. We didn’t close the blackout curtains, and the window is facing east. Once her eyes have adjusted, she gives me a sleepy, "Good morning."

  My worries are forgotten. "Morning yourself."

  "How long have you been up?"

  "Not long."

  She sees my phone in my hand. "Anything I should know?"

  "No, same old." I place my phone on the nightstand.

  Lilly lets her head plop back onto the pillow, and I add, "Maybe we can swing by the hospital and at least figure out when Madeline is working."

  That makes Lilly perch herself up on one elbow. "You think they will tell us?"

  I shrug. "Let’s try. We’ll have to come up with a less questionable reason, though."

  After calling home—on speakerphone—and wishing Mom and Dad a Happy New Year with some more fake stories about what Wes and Den are up to, we take our time getting ready and hit the road after we find an open Starbucks to load up on caffeine.

  It’s early afternoon when we arrive at Angelwood Medical Center. It’s small, no more than three floors, which hopefully works to our advantage this time.

  We walk through the double doors, and Lilly’s pinkie brushes against mine. I see her stiffen for a fraction of a second, but she composes herself quickly. That was...weird. She’s probably on edge about Madeline.

  The center is built around an atrium with lots of planters and bright, comfortable sitting areas, which gives the whole place an almost welcoming feel. Definitely not like a hospital. There is a small reception area straight ahead. The hallway to the left leads to the emergency department, based on the layout I saw when we parked. The right side seems to be offices, maybe administration.

  We approach the desk manned by an elderly woman whose nametag reads Maria Adelstein. Her graying hair is tied in a bun at the back of her neck, and she is dressed impeccably in a crisp, white blo
use. I let Lilly take the lead and stand slightly back.

  "Hi. Happy New Year."

  Maria Adelstein genuinely smiles at us. She doesn’t seem to mind being here on New Year’s Day at all. "Hello, and Happy New Year. How can I help you?"

  Lilly takes a deep breath. "I’m looking for Madeline Cross, but I’m not sure if she’s working today. We’re just passing through and wanted to say hi. I can’t remember which station she is at now."

  Complete bullshit, but we figured if we make it personal, it’ll be less suspicious.

  The woman places both hands on her heart. "Oh my, how wonderful. Young people nowadays rarely take the time to visit anyone in person with all that technology. In my day, we visited all the time." She sounds like she’s talking about the early nineteen hundreds. I worry she’s launching into a whole story, but then she continues, "We are such a small hospital. I know pretty much everyone’s schedule." She beams at us.

  Lilly glances over her shoulder at me, and I can see the relief in her eyes.

  When she faces forward again, Maria says, "Maddie is such a wonderful nurse, especially with the kids. Everyone loves her. She is currently out for the holiday, but she is working the night shift tomorrow evening."

  Lilly reaches back and takes my hand. Her touch is like a jumpstart for my pulse. I squeeze her hand in an attempt to let her know I’m here for her.

  Maria watches our exchange closely and gushes, "You are such a sweet couple."

  Lilly lets go of my hand immediately and stammers, "Oh, uh...no. We’re just friends."

  Ouch. I try to hide my disappointment, despite feeling as if I were just sucker punched.

  But Maria just winks at us. "If you say so."

  She gives us instructions to come back here at eight p.m. tomorrow, and she will let the evening receptionist know to provide us with directions to Madeline’s station.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  We arrive at the hospital a little after eight, and the night receptionist directs us to the east wing of the second floor. It’s the longest elevator ride in the history of elevator rides. When was this thing made? I envision someone manually pulling us up. I start flicking my thumb against my fingers again, and Rhys gives me a knowing sideways glance but remains mute.

  The number on the display finally switches from one to two, the doors open, and my stomach contracts into a tight ball. We find a middle-aged woman at the nurses’ station, and I hesitantly approach her. Is she Madeline?

  "Excuse me?" My voice sounds weak.

  She looks up from her computer. "Yes?"

  I take a breath and try to steady my voice. If I sound like Minnie Mouse on helium, no one will believe I’m here to pay a visit to an old family friend. "I’m looking for Madeline Cross. We were told we could find her here."

  The nurse scans me up and down. She’s skeptical, but then she points to the right and says, "Why don’t you head over to the family room? I’ll let her know you are here. What’s your name?"

  "Lilly McGuire."

  The woman nods and starts talking into a walkie-talkie-looking thing pinned to her scrubs. We’re dismissed. I turn and head in the direction she pointed.

  The family room doesn’t look like a hospital either—a waiting area, yes, but not a hospital. It contains similar planters to the ones downstairs with two beige couches positioned in an L along two walls. Under the window is a small shelf with various books and magazines. It’s cozy.

  I sit down on the farthest couch, and Rhys lowers himself onto the other one. His ankle is crossed over his knee, and his arms are spread over the back of the couch, radiating calm and relaxation. I’m pretty sure that it’s for my benefit. For a while, it works, but after thirty minutes, I can’t sit still anymore and start pacing. Rhys remains still the entire time, which eventually starts feeding into my restlessness.

  Another fifteen minutes later, I am ready to go back to the nurses’ station. Maybe she didn’t tell Madeline we’re here after all. I start for the door when it swings open, and I come face to face with a woman in her mid-forties. She’s petite with a heart-shaped face, wearing light-green scrubs. Her short blonde hair is tied in a ponytail, and she wears little makeup. Her eyes are exhausted.

  "I’m sorry, I was held up and—" Madeline’s gaze sweeps the room, and when she locks on mine, she stops in her tracks. Her eyes grow wide, and neither of us looks away. I remember her! An immediate sense of peace fills me. I trusted this woman. Tears start to well up, and her expression mirrors mine.

  "You were such a beautiful little girl, but you have grown up into a stunning young woman," she whispers in awe.

  My hands fly to my mouth, and I can’t contain the sniffle that has bubbled up inside of me. Rhys is now directly behind me. I feel his presence without turning, and he murmurs, "You okay?"

  I nod but talk to Madeline, "I remember you."

  My ears register a sharp intake of breath, but I can’t distinguish if it comes from Rhys or Madeline.

  "Why don’t we sit down?" She gestures toward the couches.

  I take the couch Rhys previously occupied, and he sits down beside me. He resumes the same position as before, arm spread behind me, but this time, it’s not calmness that comes over me in waves—it’s protectiveness. Whatever this woman is going to tell us, he’ll make sure I’m safe. I fight the urge to lean back into his arm.

  Madeline takes the other couch. "How did you find me?"

  I expected that question, so I hold out the copy of the discharge form I found in Tristen’s office. She glances down and hands it back. "That was a very long time ago. Where did you get this?"

  I glance at Rhys, and even though his face is expressionless, he gives me the slightest of nods. This is my show until I need him to take the stage.

  I talk mostly to my hands folded in my lap. "A few weeks ago, I started remembering...that something happened to me. At first, I thought I was going crazy, but Rhys told me the truth—or, well...what he knew happened."

  This is the first time Madeline focuses on Rhys. She studies him for what feels like an eternity. "You’re Heather and Tristen’s son."

  Rhys’s expression briefly turns into shock, but he smoothes his features out immediately and drawls, "You know my parents?"

  I’m stunned by how his cool-and-collected persona just snaps into place. I haven’t seen that side of him up close since he walked into my room three weeks ago. He’s been one hundred percent himself when he and I are together. He’s mastered putting on a show for people; he lets them see what he wants them to see. At this moment, he’s the alpha who runs the show. And it works.

  Madeline moves her head up and down. "I met them briefly when they arrived at the hospital." She looks at me again. "You also called out his name at night." After a pause, she amends, "During your nightmares."

  I did?

  My breathing becomes erratic, and words won’t form. Rhys studies me for a second and takes over, giving me the time to collect myself. It’s like we rehearsed this, but he simply knows.

  "I told Lilly everything I remember. But I was young, and my parents never told me any details. That’s why we’re here. We found the discharge paper in my parents’ office. Whoever took Lilly is still doing it, and we found information that Lilly was the first. Why was her name never released?"

  Madeline takes a deep breath. "That is a lot of questions. Do your parents know you’re here?"

  "No." His voice is hard and determined.

  "I see." She pauses. "I’m not sure I should be talking to you."

  My head snaps up. "What? No! I have to know what happened to me. I’ve been lied to for ten years. I have the right—" Madeline holds up her hands, and I stop.

  "Yes. Yes, you do. I figured that one day this would come back to haunt me, and I guess the day has come." Then, she smiles tightly and says, "Just let me tell my co-worker that I’ll be taking my break early."

  We’re face to face with Madeline. The whole situation is surreal. I can see how Lilly is
trying to remain in control of her emotions. I’m having a hard time myself. When she whispered, "I remember you," my heart went into overdrive.

  While Madeline is gone, Lilly starts pacing again. It was easy to have my shit together toward the nurse, to portray the arrogant jock. She’s a stranger, and the other persona is second nature to me. But watching Lilly walk the length of the room over and over makes me feel helpless.

  "Cal?"

  "Mm-hmm?" She increases her speed.

  "What can I do?"

  That makes her halt, and she turns, confused. "Huh?"

  I don’t want to fuck this up. Changing positions so my elbows rest on my thighs and my hands are clasped together, I look up at her. "I feel pretty helpless here. What do you need from me?"

  Her mouth forms an O.

  I almost chuckle at her surprised expression but can remain serious. "I just want to do the right thing."

  Her features soften, and she smiles. When she walks over, sits down, and covers my clasped hands with hers, I’m the one who does the O.

  "You’re doing exactly what I need. You’re here."

  Without thinking, I pull one hand out and flip the other palm side up. Lilly doesn’t hesitate to intertwine our fingers, and the familiarity of this motion makes my heart skip a beat. She sits and holds my gaze when Madeline comes in.

  If the nurse thinks anything about our position, she doesn’t give it away. She settles back on the other couch, and Lilly and I straighten up. Lilly angles herself toward Madeline and pulls her hand out of mine but doesn’t move away. Our legs still touch.

  The woman sitting across from us is clearly having an internal struggle. Her lips are pressed in a hard line, and she keeps picking at the hem of her scrubs. Finally, she looks at both of us several times before settling on Lilly. "Some of what I’m going to tell you may not be easy to hear. Are you sure?"