Mad Love (Guns & Ink Book 1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  Then why didn’t he find me? “That’s it? A doctor and a detective?”

  “That’s it,” he promised. I believed him. “But I do think we should consider talking to someone who specializes in your current mind frame.”

  I nodded. “Where’s Klayton?”

  They both looked at each other again. Dad cleared his throat. “I don’t know, honey. But it’s probably not the best for you to focus your attention on him right now. It should be put on you.”

  Inside, I rolled my eyes. Outside, I wasn’t allowed. “He’s the reason I’m here. He kept me safe. He gave me his room, his house. He took care of me.” The onslaught of loss I felt was uncomfortable. I squirmed under their stares.

  Suddenly, my mother gawked at me. “Madison Hart, is that a piercing in your tongue?” She grabbed my jaw and tilted my face. “Open your mouth and show me.”

  I cringed as best I could as both my parents gaped at me in shock. I poked my tongue out, showing them the small crystal piercing Klayton had given me. Memories of his tongue between my thighs were unwelcome and heated, leaving me so uncomfortable I could hardly stand it. I felt trapped between the child they wanted and the woman I felt like around Klayton.

  “Are you out of your mind?” She prodded my tongue. “It’s infected.”

  No, it wasn’t. If it were, Klayton would have done something about it. He’d done nothing but give since I met him. “It’s fine.” I pulled away.

  “What were you thinking?”

  I hadn’t been. Klay did the thinking for me. His choice was exactly what I needed at the time. “I like it.” I didn’t normally defy my parents.

  And they didn’t normally back down.

  “Well, it’s different, I guess.” My father gave me a small smile. “I’ll go give Brando a call.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, honey?” He touched my face, rubbing his thumb over my cheek with a faraway look in his eyes.

  It took everything not to shrink away. “Where’s Grandma?”

  His eyes saddened. “She couldn’t stay here while you weren’t. I just called her. She’ll be here tonight.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She went to a senior living home. We couldn’t take care of her and deal with you.”

  I couldn’t believe them! “You put her in a home?” My grandmother was a well-spirited, strong woman who’d never needed assistance. How could they shove her off in a home?

  “It was her choice. We couldn’t stop her. You don’t understand what it’s been like.” He put his face in his hands. “We thought you were …” He couldn’t finish.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted him too. “I’m not.” I looked them both in the eye, but I thought deep down I was looking myself in the eye. “I got away. It doesn’t feel like I did some days, but I did. Right?”

  Their singsong praises and assurances were enough to send me sobbing again. There were slots of time where I still existed in that prison. The present was a temporary slot of time that waited for the past to come back. Without Klayton, it started to shift sideways. Dad got on the phone and Mom started hovering around me. Dad said the cop, Brando, was glad to hear that I was home safe and he wanted to give me a night to adjust. He’d come and see me bright and early. The scent of fried chicken permeated the house.

  “Dig in,” Mother ordered. “I made your favorite. You’re so skinny.”

  “All cleaned up,” Dad announced, washing his hands in the kitchen sink from cleaning up my puke.

  The table was set with a spread. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a thick, brown gravy.

  “Fruit punch. Your favorite.” Red liquid spilled into my glass. “Let’s eat.” Mom grinned at me, the joy in her eyes so severe I gave her a timid smile back.

  “Klayton doesn’t cook a lot.” I stabbed at my chicken. “He eats out and orders in.” I could picture him now, eating sushi on the couch alone in his place like he’d done before me. There had been something there, a connection I didn’t fully understand, but one I felt regardless of my thoughts. I’d questioned a lot of things about him, and maybe that wasn’t fair of me, but in the face of my feelings without him there to ignite them, there was a dark absence. My parents shared a look again. “What?” I asked.

  “Eat, honey.” Mom jabbed her fork at my untouched plate.

  The light outside the window had dimmed. I blinked at it and then did what my parents asked as they told me about the past couple months. The search parties, the investigations, all about how much everyone prayed and yearned for me to come home. And then they got to Leigh.

  “He’s been in a deep depression.” Mom paused to drink her red wine. “He took a leave from college. He’s not himself since your disappearance.”

  I was sure he wasn’t. “I don’t want to talk about him.” I glared at what was left of my potatoes. Two chicken bones lay like railroad tracks, taking me nowhere.

  “Let’s discuss other things,” Dad said because he knew that the men in my life had been the reason the worse man had taken me.

  “May I be excused?” I lifted my head to meet their gazes. “I’m tired.”

  They looked at each other—had they always done that so often—and then they both nodded encouragingly.

  “You go ahead and rest up. Brando will be here early.” Dad gave my hand a pat, eyes trained on every part of me all at once.

  “Can I put the alarm on?” I gave his hand a squeeze back. “I’ll make sure everything’s locked first.” They didn’t know what else to do but shake their heads yes.

  They both hugged me tightly, and then let me have free range. I locked the front door, top and bottom. I locked the windows, the back door, the garage door, and the side door. I armed the alarm and then went upstairs, locking my bedroom door behind me. He’d know where I was. He’d come looking for me. I kneeled on the bathroom floor and puked up everything I had eaten into the toilet.

  Once empty, I curled up on the floor with Klayton’s dirty shirt, inhaling the part of him that still existed in the smell. I closed my eyes and pretended I was in his bed, counting the minutes, the hours.

  Time faded and throbbed around me, happy to exist as long as I didn’t. There was a distant knock and my father’s muffled voice asking me to wake. I didn’t move. What was the point? I didn’t want to leave my room. It probably wasn’t safe to exist with no way out on the second floor, but he’d have to get up here first. Silence settled momentarily before it was disrupted again. My father had a key to all the rooms. Kids shouldn’t be allowed to lock their doors, he’d always said.

  “Oh, Madison.” He was on his knees by my head, stroking my hair. “How long have you been on the floor?”

  “Not long,” I fibbed, clearing my throat. “I don’t feel good.”

  “Come. Let’s get you in the shower.” He left me to turn it on. “Madison, shower. Brando will be here soon. You have to eat first. You’ll need your strength.”

  Biting back my tears, I did what he told me, waiting for him to leave the room before I disrobed. I eyed my electric razor before powering it on. It still worked. The charge was weak, but I ran it over my legs and armpits anyway, getting rid of the hairs that had managed to grow. There was a time when my vagina would have gotten a shave, but that was only because Leigh didn’t like pubic hair. Klayton hadn’t minded. I closed my eyes as shampoo trailed down my face, washing away the sweat and stress clinging to my skin and hair. Gone was the scent of candy canes, and in its place, was my favorite soap. A peach butter that coated me in the rich, sweet aroma of fruit and left me soft and smooth.

  The sight of my body in my mirrors made me uncomfortable. I turned my back on my bones and dried my hair, finding a spark of comfort knowing where everything was. After I was dressed in whatever I grabbed—in this case, a pair of jeans and a light-yellow long-sleeve shirt—I shuffled over to my bedroom window. The neighbors were outside in their yard playing in the Boulder sunshine. Two boys and a girl, playing baseball. I remembered wh
en they were born. Now they were hitting homeruns.

  “Madison?”

  I blinked at the children. The little girl was running around the bases, one folded cereal box, one toy truck, and two ill-placed couch cushions.

  “Come and eat. Brando’s here. Georgy’s coming home at noon. I want Brando gone before he gets here.”

  “Georgy doesn’t like Brando?” I guessed, cracking a smile. Georgy didn’t like anyone. He had a hard time with children his age and adults alike. He’d only ever gotten along with me.

  “No,” he said simply. “Come, honey. Your eggs are cold.”

  Cold, hot—they’d all become puke. “Yes, sir.” I followed him downstairs and into the kitchen. In the living room, I could hear a deep male voice speaking to my mother. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I instantly didn’t like this. “Dad,” I whispered, staring at the wall.

  He took hold of my hand. “Brando is a cop. He’s a good man. I promise. I would never let anyone around you who would hurt you.”

  I licked my chapped lips, eyeing the wall like I could see the monster on the other side. Taking my fear for granted, he led me to the table and forced me down, taking my fork and putting it in my hand. “Eat, please,” he begged. “You’re so malnourished.”

  The sadness in his voice was the only thing that made me move. I spooned scrambled eggs into my mouth and crunched on the whole-wheat toast. The bacon was more meat than fat, the way I usually liked it. And the coffee was sweetened with condensed milk, the way I’d liked it too. Everything tasted amazing on my tongue. But I felt nothing once it was inside. It would come right back up.

  “Good morning, my beautiful girl.” Mom pressed a long kiss to my cheek and then my hair. “You smell like you again,” she whispered, giving me a long, backward hug I felt in my heart. I turned around in my seat to hug her back, wanting to make the feeling last a little longer. She gave my empty plate a pleased smile. “Brando is here. How do you want him to talk to you? In here at the table? I can make two more sweet coffees? Or would you rather do it in your room?”

  “Here,” I mumbled, not wanting to be with him in a closed room. “Do I have to do this?”

  She started clearing my plates. “Yes, baby. If I could do it for you, I would.” The conviction in her voice shocked me, and I knew she wasn’t only talking about talking to the cops. “Daddy and I are going to give you two some privacy, but we’ll be right in the living room. Is that okay?”

  No, but what choice did I have? “Yes.”

  “More coffee?”

  I looked down guiltily. “With extra condensed milk?”

  She grabbed my chin and lifted it, gazing down at me tenderly. “You can have whatever you want. There’s no need to feel guilty.”

  I begged my eyes not to tear. “Thank you, Mom.”

  She kissed my hair, giving me another one of those severely happy smiles. “Coming right up.”

  I listened intently to the man in the living room as mom brewed fresh coffee and cleared the table. When she set two mugs down, thick and creamy, Dad came in with a giant. My heart dropped to the floor. He was huge! Who invited Paul Bunyan? He was taller than Klayton, way, way over six feet. He had a neat, black beard and wavy, medium length black hair. His suit was tight and black, making him look professional and tall. I gawked up at him in horror.

  When he saw me, a soft, tender smile lifted his lips. “Madison Hart. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” He gave me his hand, but I shrunk away. He immediately realized his mistake, giving me a sad look. “I’m sorry. No more touching. But I am glad to see you. My name is Brando Hawkins, the lead detective assigned to solve your disappearance. I have a lot of questions.”

  I looked around Brando to find the room empty. Sweat broke out across my lower back and palms. “Hi,” I mumbled.

  “I’m going to get settled,” he explained, sitting across from me. He spread out a notebook, a pen, a recording device, and a thick file containing things I knew I didn’t want to know. When he was done, he took a sip of his coffee and groaned. “I love your mother’s coffee.” He gave me a small smile, and then picked up his pen. “First thing first. I’m going to record our conversation. Is that all right with you?”

  “Yes.”

  He clicked the device between us. “I want you to be comfortable. But I will need to know everything. If it takes us a month to get it all out, we’ll take that long. If it becomes too much, I will stop. If you want to skip a topic, we’ll do so. But eventually, for me to close the disappearance case and open another, I’ll have to know everything.”

  I looked down at my coffee. “I don’t want to go back into that room.”

  “Madison,” he said softly. “I’m not there yet. You’re not either. I’m going to start simple. Do you remember the date you were taken?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t remember.”

  “April first,” he said. “You were taken April first.”

  Some joke. “It was during finals.”

  “That’s right. It was. Can you tell me what happened without so many details?”

  “I was coming back from the library that night from studying. It was late. Probably after nine. I was crossing the parking lot for my hall when a car stopped in front of me. The driver rolled down his window and waved me over.” I took a deep breath. “I wasn’t thinking. I was too upset. Normally, I’m careful. But I wasn’t. I went over to his window and he—” I covered my face in my hands. “He asked me where the office was. I told him, but he asked me to repeat myself. But he still didn’t get it. He asked me if I could get in and show him. I wanted to go to bed, so I thought I’d humor him so I could get rid of him. But when I got in, he locked the doors and shoved a cloth in my mouth. He wrestled with me until he had my hands bound with zip ties.” I gagged, but nothing came up. My shaking body racked the table top. “I was so scared. I was so scared. I was so scared.” It wouldn’t stop coming out of me. “Please, no more.”

  But he was determined. “What kind of car was it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But it was a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “What color? How many doors”

  “Gray. It was a dark gray, maybe even silver, with four doors. And it had a dream catcher hanging from the mirror.” It had swayed as he drove.

  “What race was he? Skin color? Eye color? Hair color? Any identifying factors? Tattoos? Clothing?”

  “He was white. I wasn’t allowed to look at his face, so I don’t know what his eyes look like. No tattoos. His hair was kind of light brown, medium, and dirty. He smoked Marlboro Reds. Over and over again in the hotel room.”

  His eyes widened at something. “How old was he, do you think?” His hand wrote everything I said down in shorthand.

  “Late-thirties, maybe. Maybe older. He wasn’t that old, though.”

  He nodded. “Hotel room?”

  “He took me to an old hotel room. It was abandoned. I think. Or it was being renovated. No one was ever there. I’d wait for hours, but I never heard anyone but him.”

  “Where?”

  “Denver.”

  “Close to your college?” He looked ashen.

  “No. Closer to Klayton’s shop. Downtown, maybe. It was outdated, and the lights weren’t working. Or maybe he didn’t want them on. There was blood on the sheets,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. “A lot of blood before I even got into the bed.” I flinched, forcing the memory from my mind.

  “How long would you say he drove? Five minutes? Fifteen?”

  “Fifteen, yeah. It felt like not long and too long.”

  “How did you get away?”

  He skipped over everything that happened inside. I instantly liked him. “He let me use the bathroom once a day. He’d put a gun to my head and let me relieve myself. He smoked, all day, all night. He had this glass ashtray on the table I passed. I snapped. I grabbed it and whirled around, smashing it into his head. He went down instantly. I watched him for
a second, watching the blood pooling around him, and then I got the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He bolted it from the inside and only he had the lock. I dropped his keys and ran. I ran right into a girl named Cat. That’s how I met Klayton.”

  “I want to tell you how brave and smart that was. You were a fighter, and you thought quickly on your feet. It might’ve saved your life, Madison.” He gave me a proud tightlipped smile.

  Might’ve. “But he’ll find me.”

  His eyes darkened, the color of the forest. They were so woodsy and green. “I’ll be here. Every night until we catch him. I promise you that.”

  “You will?” I asked, shocked by his loyalty. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s done. Because you’re right. I don’t want to lie to you. You got away, and my guess is you’re the only one who has. He might come back later. He might not. But we’re not taking any chances. Cops will patrol twenty-four hours a day too.”

  “I’m not the first girl he’s taken, am I?” Cold filled my bones.

  He looked me in the eye. “I don’t know for sure. He was too practiced, too prepared. The blood on the sheets. He’s done it before. There’s been five disappearances from that college in the last five months.”

  My time was up when I smashed the ashtray over his head. The thought hit me like a wall.

  “Who is Cat?”

  “She’s my friend. She helped me. She brought me to Klayton.” It was the first time I’d smiled.

  And he noticed. His eyes turned suspicious. “Who is Klayton? You’ve mentioned him a lot.”

  “He let me stay at his place. That’s where I’ve been. I didn’t want to come back here. Not like this.” I peeked at him, finding his eyes tender. “Klayton took care of me. Bought me clothes, made sure I ate, let me have his room. It’s because of him I’m safe.”

  “Is he the gentleman who brought you home yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s his last name?”

  “Why?” I asked, suspicious too. “Klayton didn’t do anything. He’s not a monster.”

  “I know,” he assured me, and I believed him. “I just want to talk to him, see what he gleaned from you.”