by PJ Sharon
Brinn started to cry in earnest. When her mother knelt to the floor at her feet and hugged her, she crumbled. After a few minutes, Brinn regained her composure, taking a handful of tissues from the box her father handed to her.
"Can you tell us where you've been all this time, Sweetheart?" Her mother released her and sat back in the chair, plucking a few tissues from the box for herself.
Brinn looked at Justin and then down at her hands. "I’ve been in the mountains, far north of the city. I can't really remember much about how I got there, but I knew I couldn’t come back." Her eyes filled with tears of sorrow. "I...I thought you were dead."
Her father leaned in closer. "Why would you think that?"
Brinn began to fidget again. She glanced furtively from face to face. "The man who took me...said you died in an accident. He said that no one else wanted me and that I was...his. When you didn’t come for me…" She swallowed hard and then let her face fall into her hands, streams of tears wetting her palms. How could she tell them what happened? Torn pieces of memories were all she had. And even those were more than she could bear.
Her mother moved to sit beside her. She stroked Brinn’s hair and crooned soft reassurances in her ear. "It's all right, Briana. I’m so sorry, baby. We tried for so long to find you.” She brushed the hair from Brinn’s face, a look of such sorrow in her eyes that Brinn felt her own heart breaking. “You don't have to tell us everything now. There’ll be plenty of time for that later. You’re home and you’re safe. That's all that matters."
She turned to Justin. "We can't thank you enough, Mr. Spencer.” She glanced from Brinn to Justin. “Maybe you'd like to stay for lunch." Not waiting for an answer, she turned her attention back to her daughter. "You look so thin. You must be starving. I can’t imagine what you’ve been eating."
Wanting to ease her mother’s worry, Brinn answered, "I like lots of things: berries, violet greens, wild asparagus. Sometimes I eat peaches from the orchards, and I love nuts and seeds." She stopped and stared at the wide-eyed expressions on her parent's faces and added quickly, "But I like cheeseburgers and French fries too. Oh, and chocolate shakes—as long as I drink them slowly." Their faces relaxed and everyone was suddenly smiling, the tension draining from the moment.
"Well, I think we can manage something you'll like," Her mother said, taking Brinn by the hand. “Of course, you’ll be staying with us, won’t you?” She darted a look at her husband who acknowledged with a smile and a nod.
Brinn’s stomach lurched. They wanted her. They wanted her to stay. Her heart squeezed as she thought of Kitty and the cabin. “I’ll stay...for now,” she answered.
Her mother smiled and led her out of the living room toward a long hallway, leaving the two men behind. Brinn glanced back at Justin and frowned. His betrayal might not have been intentional, but how could she know for sure? Apprehension seeped into her bones. Would she be safe now that she was home? Or was it already too late for that?
∞∞∞
Justin’s heart swelled with relief to see Brinn and her mother reunited. John Hathaway stood, crossed the room, and offered him a hand. "I don't know how we can ever repay you, Justin. You have given us a miracle." The two men shook hands and John cleared his throat, looking after his daughter as she disappeared down the hall. "I just wish I knew how the press got a hold of the story so fast."
Justin cringed internally and then met the man's suspicious gaze. "I'm afraid that's my fault, Sir. I work for Real Life Magazine and I called my editor this morning to let her know what was going on. I asked her to hold the story, but she must have gone ahead and contacted the media anyway. I'm really sorry."
John’s face grew stern and he rubbed his forehead. "It was going to come out anyway. I'll have to hold a press conference and give some type of statement. With my position at the D.A.'s office, and everything we’ve done to try to find her over the years, Briana's return is bound to be high profile." He shook his head. "I just hope the monster that took her is dead and gone by now. I'd hate to think what he might do if he's still out there and finds out she’s alive."
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.” Justin stared down the empty hall. Brinn had good reason to be terrified. If the man who took her had any idea that the girl in the news was the same girl he'd left for dead in the mountains, he would do whatever was necessary to make sure she couldn't identify him. Justin let out a slow breath, the knot in his gut tightening a notch. By bringing her home, he had put her life in grave danger.
John squared his shoulders. “We’ll just have to find him first.”
∞∞∞
Brinn’s mother led her up the stairs and down the hall to a large, brightly lit room with soft pink walls and dark wood trim. "I redecorated this room just a few years ago, but I saved most of your things. I kept your bed in here,” she said, running her hand over the downy bedspread and fluffing the pillows. “Your clothes and toys and things are in the room above the garage if you want to look through them once you're settled.” Her mother crossed the room, pulled back the drapes, let the room fill with light, and spun to face her daughter.
“Oh, Briana, I can’t believe you’re really here. I thought I'd never see you again. We tried so hard to find you. You have to know, your father and I never gave up looking for you.” She crossed her arms, holding herself tight and covering a choked sob that escaped. “It’s not right...you were so close all this time and we couldn’t find you." Her mother began to cry again. She turned her back and swiped at the tears.
"I've really been all right. Please don’t cry."
When her mother turned, a sad smile appeared. She stepped in close and took Brinn’s hand. She pushed a length of dark hair over one ear. “You are so grown up and beautiful.”
Brinn shied away from the compliment, pulling her hand back uncomfortably. She suddenly felt drained and confused. The intense emotion and excitement of the day weighed heavily on her shoulders. She didn’t know these people. And why would Justin tell all those reporters about her? Didn’t he understand how hard this all would be? She shook off the doubts and sense of betrayal that tightened her chest. She had to focus on the future. This was her family now. And they wanted her.
Brinn’s discomfort must have been noticeable. Her mother broke the silence. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”
Relieved, Brinn nodded and followed her mother out of the room, glancing over her shoulder one last time at the bed she would sleep in for the first time in over ten years.
The house was huge and airy, surrounded by woods, flower beds, and pathways. Every room had windows that allowed for lovely views of the natural landscape. Brinn stared out a large picture window overlooking a finely groomed back yard. She had a feeling something wasn’t right. Something was missing—a swing-set. That was it. A memory flashed in her mind. She was climbing a tree in the yard...and then her mother was pushing her on the swing...higher and higher...laughing...
"I forgot how wonderful it was here."
As she stared out the window, her mother stepped close behind her and rested a warm hand on her shoulder. "You loved it here once. I hope you will again. Welcome home, Briana."
She turned to face her mother. "I’m Brinn now, Mama. Briana is who I used to be."
"I'm so sorry...Brinn." Her mother’s blue eyes glistened with more tears, her hand quivering on Brinn’s arm. "I'm so sorry I lost you. And that we couldn't save you," she whispered.
Brinn swallowed the flood of emotion and looked down at her feet, "I used to think it happened because I did something wrong—that I was bad. I should have been smarter...stronger." Brinn held back the tears that threatened to surface again. "I blamed myself for a long time, and then I... blamed you and Daddy for letting him take me.”
Brinn touched her mother’s lips before the woman could respond. “But then I realized that the only person to blame was the man who took me away.” Her stomach churned with disgust. “I still see him in my dreams.” She dropped her gaze
to the floor again as she said softly, “Sometimes I fear my next breath, as if he might appear and take it from me." She didn’t want to hurt or worry her mother, but Brinn couldn’t help the torrent of feelings that poured to the surface.
Soft, warm hands framed Brinn’s face, "When you’re ready to talk about what happened, I’ll be here to listen. If you choose to help bring this man to justice, your father and I will support and protect you, Brinn. But if you don't want to pursue this, we will understand. Whatever happens, you must believe that none of this was your fault."
The words washed over her in an unexpected wave of peace. Maybe everything would be all right. She was home. Her parents wouldn't let anything bad happen to her again.
And there was Justin. She refused to believe she could have been so wrong about him. Regardless of his motives, he’d made it clear that he cared for her well-being. But after what happened today with the reporters, she needed to reconsider trusting him so completely. She didn’t need him. She’d been taking care of herself for most of her life. She’d be fine with, or without, his help. All the same, her heart ached with doubt. She’d so hoped he would be someone she could trust and believe in.
She pressed her lips together and firmed her chin. There was only one way she would ever be able to escape the fear and mistrust that had ruled her life for so long.
“There’s a lot I don’t remember, but if you bring me a sketch pad I think I can draw the man’s face."
Chapter 19
Return from the Grave
"NO! NO, NO, NO, NO, NOOO!" Roy Stockman glared at the magazine rack, his rage barely contained. He had seen the news and her father's press conference but wasn’t certain until now. He grabbed the magazine off the rack and gaped at the cover picture, a slender girl of about eighteen with long black hair and sharp blue eyes. "It can't be." He swore and mumbled under his breath, drawing unwanted attention from onlookers and store clerks.
He purchased the magazine, left the store, and drove home to an old farmhouse on the outskirts of town, away from inquisitive eyes and nosy neighbors. The place was falling apart but he didn't care; it suited his needs. How in hell had the girl survived? He didn't really have to ask. She was different from the others. She’d never been completely broken.
Now she was back and he couldn't let her start talking. If she talked to the cops about him and what he'd done, it would cost him everything. Batting a fly from in front of his face, he settled onto a hard kitchen chair and lit a cigarette. The smoke snaked through the dimly lit room, streaks of afternoon sunlight streaming in thin strips through the dusty blinds.
He thumbed through the article in Real Life Magazine. The girl had survived the elements in the Northwest High Country eating plants and catching fish bare-handed. He laughed out loud; entertained by a sense of pride in the one he'd called his own so long ago. I made her strong, he mused. She never would have survived if I hadn't thickened her skin.
There was nothing in the article about how the girl had come to be on the mountain. Could it be that she’d forced herself to forget him? More likely, she was just waiting to betray him. Either way, she had to die.
He exhaled a stream of smoke that clouded the lovely face of the young girl sitting on top of a large boulder, cross-legged and smiling. He closed the magazine and studied the front cover. Her blue eyes glared triumphantly back at him. A chilling rage crept through him.
She had run, and that was not allowed. He would find her and she would be punished. A niggle of excitement curled into his gut at the thought of a hunt. His fingers itched with the idea of taking her again.
He noted the credit for the story went to a Justin Spencer, who promised weekly installments of the girl's experiences. He could use that to track her movements. Yes, he would watch and wait, and when the time was right, he would have her again. He'd never taken one this old, but she was just a stick of a girl. It will be easy, he concluded, as he traced the outline of her face on the page.
A soft whimper from down the hall drew his attention. A smile slid into place. He’d have to make room for another houseguest.
Chapter 20
Truth Be Told
Despite the steamy heat of June in the South, the large house was constantly kept cool by the air-conditioning—an amenity Brinn wasn’t sure she could fully appreciate. The chill that resided deep in her bones seemed impossible to escape.
The only relief seemed to come when she’d found the blessing of a hot shower. Each time she stepped under the torrents of prickling hot water that turned her skin rosy pink, and then as red as an azalea blossom, she basked in the feeling of warmth that seeped into her body—standing there long after any possible speck of dirt could remain. The smell of grime and the feel of dirtiness she’d carried for so long sank in swirls down the drain beneath her feet. She was left with a feeling of freshness that brought soothing relief to her soul.
Having a soft mattress with clean sheets was a close second. In spite of all the comforts of her new home, she was restless and spent as much time as possible out of doors. When she wandered the woods behind the house, she found interesting plants to add to meals, and decorated every dish with edible pansies, nasturtium or citrus blossoms. She sat for hours on the boulder that edged the woods, enjoying the shade and reading books from her parents’ vast library—all the while trying to ignore the two plainclothes guards that patrolled the property. Even the beautiful surroundings couldn’t make her forget that her life was not yet her own.
If her freedom felt tenuous, at least she was well dressed. Simply by picking pictures off the computer screen, within a few days her closet and dresser were filled with dozens of new outfits. Brinn never imagined there were so many types of shoes, shorts, blouses, and underwear. And even though she still preferred her boots or bare feet, she had to admit that sneakers were very comfortable. Her mother seemed determined to make up for all the things Brinn had never had. The clothes were nice, but most importantly, she had her family back.
In a short few weeks, her ribs no longer felt hard and hollow, thanks to the abundance of available food. The refrigerator and cupboards seemed to have an endless supply of new and interesting meals right at her fingertips. She was beginning to feel at home, despite the underlying fear that continued to keep her up at night staring out at the dark woods, waiting and watching. Her life on the mountain and the safety she felt there drifted further away as the days passed.
The police had interviewed her several times, but she’d only remembered the first name, Roy, and had only been able to describe the house he’d kept her in since it was where she’d spent most of her time. He hadn’t let her out often. After repeated attempts to draw a picture of her captor, she gave up, brought to tears of frustration. Even the police sketch artist had not been able to stir her memory with questions about his features. The face that haunted her dreams was now a blank, dark, shadow.
Whenever her parents asked about the man who had taken her from Piedmont Park on that hot August day ten years before, she disappeared inside herself.
If you ever tell, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill everyone you love.
She wanted him caught, but his voice in her head came back sharp and clear. He would know if she told. She’d worked so hard to block out his presence in her mind. The memories were returning in flashes and nightmares, yet the features of his face eluded her.
Whatever information she’d given, it wasn’t enough. The investigation was stalled and Brinn’s father was getting impatient. He kept pushing her to remember more details. He needed her help to identify the man and put him away. Her mother, in contrast, held her and told her it was okay. She didn’t have to talk about it if she wasn’t ready. The therapist, Dr. Carlson, said it would take time. She recommended that Brinn see her once or twice a week for a little while. Maybe it would help to talk to someone who wasn’t family.
When her mother had to return to work as Chief of Pediatric Oncology, Brinn could see the struggle in her eyes. Her parents
had tried to hire a full-time bodyguard, but Brinn refused. The perimeter guards were bad enough. Uniformed officers knew to keep a subtle distance from the house but cruisers would pass by the house every hour. To appease her parents, Brinn agreed to keep the security system activated whenever she was home alone.
∞∞∞
"Are you sure Justin is coming over today? Will you be all right here alone until he comes?" Her mother fretted and fussed, not wanting to let Brinn out of her sight. Her parents had given her a cell phone with their work and private numbers programmed in, so she could reach them anytime, anywhere. “Make sure you lock the doors and set the alarm.”
"Yes, Mama, I'll be fine. I won't be alone for long. Justin will be here by lunchtime." She grinned and kissed her mother’s cheek. Calling her “Mama” was getting easier, but it made her feel like a child, and she did it more for her mother’s benefit. The name never failed to bring a happy smile to the woman’s face. As much as she was enjoying getting to know her parents again, Brinn felt suffocated and lost. She missed the freedom of the mountains.
Being with Justin was entirely different. It had taken a few days, but his repeated apologies and genuine look of contrition were enough to make her realize he hadn’t intended her harm. He’d made a terrible mistake and was determined to make it up to her.
“You forgive him because that’s what friends do.” Talking with Abby had reminded her how important friendship was. She too, had begged forgiveness for her terrible error in judgment. Brinn didn’t want to lose her two closest friends because of stubbornly holding on to mistrust. And Justin was a true friend. At least that’s what her heart kept saying.