by Ciara Shayee
With a sort of sick fascination, Indie tried to shove the pain in her foot to the back of her mind; something she’d become adept at. She edged closer to the hallway, shuddering as she slipped into the corridor leading to the study at the back of the house. The boss was in there yelling at someone. It went against all of her instincts to move closer, but she ignored the urge to scarper, pushing forward another few steps.
Her heart lurched when his tirade continued, his voice booming as usual even through the solid door.
“No. It’s not happening! I’ve spent my whole life working for this family and I won’t let two spoilt brats ruin it by running off! Security here is tighter than ever; there’s no way they’d get off this ranch without my say-so. I’d kill them both, and the brat for good measure, before I let them get away. Besides, I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t just move them somewhere else. There are too many eyes here.”
Indie’s lungs constricted. “Is he…” she whispered, already knowing in her heart of hearts that he was referring to her and Grace. And Marley… ‘the brat’. It could only be them, couldn’t it?
Of course, they’d always known security was tight, though hearing it and thinking it were two completely different things. Just small things, like the distance between the ranch and Billings, the nearest city which was still more than an hour away by car; the way there were no electronic devices allowed anywhere near the girls, and no money was left in the house except the occasional few dollars here and there that they managed to squirrel away for their eventual escape…all of these things made it clear that there was no way for the girls to get off the ranch by themselves.
They were trapped.
And even if they tried to make their escape on foot? There were cameras stationed around the ranch house exterior as well as on the walls of the barn. Indie knew the boss had screens in his study; she’d spent a lot of time in there, after all. It was highly likely he had them elsewhere, too, because he sometimes punished her for things that happened when he was away. He always had his cell with him so Indie was fairly confident he could see the screens through it.
A million terrifying scenarios began to fly through Indie’s mind, her heart racing as her stomach churned. Bile worked its way up her throat; she began to tremble.
He was never going to let them get away.
Not ever.
She was going to spend the rest of her life here, on this soul-destroying ranch with random punishments bruising her skin and breaking her bones until she couldn’t take any more. Or, even more petrifying, he was going to move them to somewhere unfamiliar—away from prying eyes, away from their only friend in the world. And then what?
What would happen to Grace? To Marley?
It felt as though someone had poured a bucket of ice cold water over her then stabbed her right in the heart.
Nausea had her in its tight grip. Tears sprang to her stormy, ocean-tinted eyes. All Indie could think of was Grace and Marley, both upstairs with no idea what their future held.
Whoever the boss had been yelling at had apparently hung up, because even he’d gone quiet. Battling shivers that wracked her entire body, Indie clung to the wooden railing on the stairs and used it to make it up to her bedroom. When she burst into the room, she found Grace and Marley fast asleep side-by-side, their arms entwined, hair a mish-mash of auburn and chocolate, their chests rising in synchronicity.
The sound of their breathing usually soothed Indie; not this time. Her heart thundered away without reprieve. Her eyes flitted anxiously around the room, returning to Grace and Marley every few seconds before finally finding the bright moon outside. From her side of the glass, everything suddenly seemed to be closing in on her. The air became heavy, crushing her chest and sucking all the oxygen from the room. Her skin crawled, an itch burning her feet as she stood in the centre of her own personal hell.
Her eyes caught the twelve notches carved into the side of the dresser—one for each year of captivity.
Over the ringing in her ears and the thundering of her heart, Indie heard booted footsteps clomping up the stairs. She darted back to the door, shoving one of the smaller dressers in front of it before twisting the key with fumbling fingers. With bated breath she waited, stock-still.
Her body was a giant knot of fear when there was an audible pause in his gait.
Right. Outside. The door.
The steps resumed a second later, but to Indie it felt like a lifetime. She breathed long and low, the sound reeking of relief. For a horrifying moment, she’d thought he’d heard her downstairs and had come to deliver her punishment. There was no doubt in her mind that if he did discover she’d been eavesdropping, there was only a minimal chance she’d make it out of the study alive.
The thought chilled her to the bone.
~ oOo ~
The hours passed with excruciating hesitation. It was almost as if it knew the dawning day, which bore a significance Indie solidly ignored each and every year, would bring turmoil.
Indie paced, restless. Grace’s sleep was fitful. Perhaps she sensed Indie’s anxiety even while unconscious.
Marley fidgeted, not waking but alarming Indie every hour or so with keening cries that tapered off with a few caresses of her soft hair.
On the other side of the wall, Ryan barely managed to get a couple hours of solid sleep. Not only was his injured leg bothering him, but the other ranch hands had all set off on the supply run late in the afternoon; he was struggling to adjust to the unsettling quiet. The silence was loud without Jesse’s bear-like snoring or Paul’s fidgeting and creaky bed across the hall.
Even the horses out in the barn were skittish, spooking at every sound. Charlie and Violet hissed at one another before stalking off into the pale dawn with their long, feline tails swishing angrily.
And in the master bedroom, Mr. Smith slept peacefully, completely unaware that it would be for the last time.
A new dawn was breaking.
cHAPTER FIVE
Grace hummed, stretching out like a cat with her arms overhead and toes pointed beneath the cover. The cool air in the room chilled her feet when they slipped from the protection of the duvet, so she quickly tucked them back under. With a huff of sleepy annoyance, she turned her head on the pillow, blinking her eyes into focus so she could see if Indie was awake yet. She was all-too-aware the day would be difficult for her, even though she’d had always preferred to act as though the date held no significance—as though it weren’t her beloved dad’s birthday.
But she wasn’t there.
“Indie?” Something akin to fear snaked into her gut as Grace shot upright. Her eyes darted around the room. She finally found her leaning against the wall across the room. Indie was staring blankly out of the window, Marley draped over her chest with her bunny squashed between their bodies.
“Indie? Are you okay?”
Her question remained unanswered and Indie showed no signs of hearing her, so Grace clambered unsteadily from the bed and untangled her feet from the covers. Assuming something outside had unsettled her, Grace followed her unseeing gaze, eyeing the barn lit up by the early morning light. The snow was finally all gone, the clouds drifting off toward the mountains while the first rays of sun started to shine upon the ranch. There was a definite air of spring outside.
Inside, however, the energy shifted. It set Grace on edge as she waited for Indie to show some sign of acknowledgement; she was scaring her.
“Are you ready?”
Grace’s eyes widened at the sound of Indie’s scratchy, monotone voice. She gulped.
“Grace, are you ready?”
Grace’s heartbeat seemed to bounce around the room. Loud and quick, her breaths were shallow as she tried to absorb Indie’s words and their possible connotations.
“It’s time,” Indie murmured.
Bright shafts of light filtered through the naked panes to light Indie’s and Grace’s faces as their eyes met. Grace’s were more hopeful than they’d ever been, even a
s they filled and overflowed with tears. Never had she wanted to read Indie’s mind as much as she did at that moment; the moment she’d been waiting for, for over twelve years.
Are you ready?
The words tumbled around Grace’s head. Was she ready? How could she tell? And if she wasn’t…should she say so?
Grace didn’t think she could. She sucked in a breath. “Y-yes. I’m ready.”
Indie nodded, breathing deeply. “You pack up the essentials, I’m gonna go get a few things from downstairs. I’ll be as quick as I can. Don’t leave this room until I come for you, okay?”
Within minutes of waking, Grace found herself in an alternate reality; one in which she was getting the thing she most longed for.
Escape.
It was a word she and Indie had never allowed themselves to say, so when Indie carefully transferred a still-sleeping Marley to her arms, Grace felt the adrenaline kick in.
With not a second to waste, she carefully settled Marley on the bed, changed out of her pyjamas into a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt, then pulled two duffel bags from beneath the bed to fill with things they might need. Over the years, they’d managed to sneak tins and packets of long-life food to their room, stashing it under loose floorboards and in the back of the wardrobe for a day they could only dream of. For the day they might need to fend for themselves while they tried to get to safety. That day was here now, so Grace filled one of the bags with food before moving onto the other. Underwear went in, followed by a few t-shirts, pairs of jeans, and the essential toiletries. Marley’s tatty blanket went in next with a couple of hand towels and one large towel.
In her haste to get dressed, Grace spotted a glinting silver locket sitting on top of the cabinet. With teary eyes and shaky hands, she clasped it around her neck before hurrying around the room so that when Indie returned, they’d be ready to go. Despite not having a clue what she had planned, Grace trusted Indie implicitly. After dreaming of this day for over a decade, there was no way she wanted to be the one to delay it.
Downstairs, Indie took a steadying breath before using the pilfered spare key to unlock the heavy black door to the forbidden room. The study.
The dark, wood-panelled walls held secrets and horrific memories. On the coffee table in the centre of the room sat a half-empty bottle of amber liquid, an empty glass on its side inches away. The faint smell of liquor scented the room along with aged books and treated wood. Indie spotted an open notebook on the coffee table, the edges stained by drops of the spilled bourbon, but that wasn’t her goal.
Her goal was the large desk on the other side of the burgundy leather sofa.
Her feet carried her with feline grace to the rear, where the drawers were located. It was then that she really saw just how sure of himself the boss was; the drawers were unlocked. Clearly, he believed the locked study door was all the deterrent necessary, even though the spare key hadn’t been too difficult to locate sitting on top of his bedside nightstand.
For others, maybe that locked door would have been enough of a deterrent. But for Indie? This was her chance.
Perhaps her only chance.
She’d watched him drive away an hour ago, so she was well aware it was a now or never situation.
If he checked his cameras and there happened to be one in the study, if he caught her snooping…God only knew what he’d do to her. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Only a miracle would save her then, and she knew it.
With her heart pounding and her mouth as dry as sandpaper, Indie frantically rummaged through the papers littering the top of the desk, then began slamming the drawers open to check those, too. The task was harder than imagined because she didn’t know what, exactly, to look for. Some proof that she and Grace weren’t his, maybe.
A photo…a letter…anything. It was all she allowed herself to hope for.
“Come on, come on, come on…” she breathed, slamming yet another drawer shut after a fruitless search.
About ready to give up and just take their chances running, Indie glanced up. A wayward beam of reflected light caught her eye. It looked like the latch of a box, but it was partially hidden by a book so she couldn’t quite tell without getting closer. After quickly checking the keyring on the desk, Indie again found herself stunned at the audacity of her tormentor; sitting innocently beside the key to the study was a tiny, silver key. It was too small to belong to a door, and looked likely to fit a safety deposit box or a safe of some sort.
Inhaling hard, Indie stepped around the desk and reached above her head for the wooden box. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she slid the key into the slot, twisting it on an exhale that physically hurt. The muted click of the lock disengaging made her stomach churn.
Something about this box gave her chills. She had a feeling about it, and it wasn’t at all pleasant.
A few seconds later, none of that mattered.
As soon as Indie lifted the lid all the air rushed from her lungs in one great, big whoosh. It was everything she could have hoped for. Staring back at her with wide, smiling eyes was the photo of herself, Grace, and Archie that was used in the campaign to find them. Beneath it were paper clippings, snapshots printed from a computer which had clearly been taken from newspaper websites, a wrinkled copy of the ‘MISSING’ poster that littered Sussex for months after the abduction, and a couple of clear CD cases with blank discs inside.
Angry tears burned Indie’s eyes.
All these years he’d been more than aware of what he’d been doing to them and their families, yet he’d kept them apart; kept them imprisoned. The most recent clipping was at the top, and through blurry eyes Indie could see the date at the top of the article.
February 7th, 2015. The ten year anniversary of their abduction. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the accompanying picture. Not yet.
Knowing he’d monitored their grieving families, that he’d been watching from afar and documenting the search, lit a hateful match in Indie’s heart. One which would never be extinguished.
She’d never been so furious. With the situation, with him, and with the authorities for not being able to find her, Grace, and Marley. She was incandescent with rage at everyone else for believing his lies and the façade he’d created.
Her stomach rolled. Pain threatened to overtake her mind. Fear, betrayal, and agonising fury worked together to pull her apart.
Then, she heard Grace’s cries in her mind. She heard her sobbing for the loss of their homes, their families and friends, and Indie knew she needed to hold herself together for just a little while longer. Just until they were out of there.
Until they were free.
Freedom was something Marley had never experienced. She’d never felt absolute freedom, the ability to be spoilt and cherished, to have cuddles with her family. She’d never been to nursery, visited the park, or felt the wind in her hair when she got to experience a roundabout for the first time. She’d had none of that.
But she would. Indie was determined to give her all that and more.
Forcing her body upright, Indie removed the contents of the box and swiped a plastic folder from the shelf before tucking the papers inside and sliding it into the front of her trousers, so she’d still have the use of her hands. After shoving the box back into place, she grabbed the keys and turned to leave.
A dark, intimidating figure stopped her in her tracks.
“And where do you think you are going?”
No! No, not him, not now.
Indie began to pant, her hands trembling. She didn’t hear his truck. Surely, she should have? A quick glance toward the window showed the vehicle parked right out in the distance; a tiny dot on the horizon just before the bend in the hills that led to the open road she craved.
“Answer me!” he bellowed.
Indie jumped. Steeled for a fight, with the faces of Grace and Marley at the forefront of her mind, Indie breathed deeply to stop herself from fainting. She stood her ground. For the first time in
twelve years, she forced her body into a rigid stance that wouldn’t bely her fear.
She wouldn’t be cowed. Not this time.
Garrett Smith stood in the doorway, thick arms crossed over his broad chest. His feet were set shoulder-width apart as one dark grey eyebrow lifted. The large vein in his neck twitched ominously. “Well?” he snarled.
It’s time to be strong, Indie. For Grace. For Marley. For yourself.
“Get out of my way.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said,” Indie heaved in a shaky lungful of air, “get out of my way. This is over.”
Adrenaline, anger, and a shot of much-needed courage pumped through her bloodstream and fought back the fear snapping at her heels. This stance, the way he arranged his body and his expression, was sickeningly familiar. The sight of his hand rhythmically clenching and unclenching against his arm set her teeth on edge. The fine hairs at the back of Indie’s neck stood on end as she fought to keep her eyes locked with his small, ice-cold hazel irises. There was no warmth there; just his selfish need to be in control.
To be feared, and to own.
Two hearts raced, but for very different reasons.
“And who says it’s over, Indie?”
An icy fist squeezed her chest. He took a step forward.
“The way I see it, you’re still the same child you always have been. The same child you were twelve years ago. Weak.”
Another step closer.
“Pathetic.”
Another.
“Useless.”
He hit on every self-criticism she’d ever had. It had always killed Indie that she hadn’t been able to protect herself and Grace all those years ago. A little voice in the back of her head insisted you were eight years old; defenceless children. That’s why he chose you.
His thin lips pulled up into an evil sneer. “You and Grace aren’t going anywhere, and you know it.”
It didn’t escape her attention that he didn’t mention Marley; he rarely did. He didn’t acknowledge her existence at all, unless he absolutely had to.