Wild Sky

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “Hey.”

  I jumped at the sound of Milo’s voice and turned to see him standing in the doorway. He must’ve come in right behind me. He was still wearing the same shirt he’d had on during our trip to Adventure City—and I immediately hated myself both for noticing that and for the rush of relief it gave me.

  “Hey.” I tried to sound casual as I sat down on the sofa next to Garrett. My action made it impossible for Milo to kiss me hello. That was far better than my standing there awkwardly, like an idiot, because my boyfriend still didn’t want to touch me.

  “Update!” Dana came striding out from the hallway that led to the wing of the house where Cal had his wheelchair-accessible suite. It had once been the master bedroom and bath, but before they’d moved in, his parents had had it redone for him, while they’d taken over the rooms up on the second floor.

  Dana’s hair was still wet from a shower, which really wasn’t that strange. She and Milo frequently used Calvin’s bathroom to clean up, since they often camped out or squatted in abandoned buildings without any running water.

  And yet…

  “Milo first.” Dana was acting like…Dana. All sharply efficient and down-to-business. But I couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t quite looking me in the eye. And? She seemed…dare I say it…? Happy? Well, maybe not. But certainly happy-ish.

  “Our John Doe from the Sav’A’Buck remains at the hospital, under guard,” Milo reported as Calvin quietly joined us, rolling into the playroom. He also failed to meet my gaze. But he definitely looked happy. And yeah, Cal’s default emotion was joyful and upbeat, but this was a quieter, deeper sense of contentment—like all was right with his world, despite the battles we continued to fight.

  “No word on when he’ll be released,” Milo continued. But then he glanced at me and cleared his throat. “As far as Rochelle…she started texting me about a half hour ago. Can’t wait. That kind of thing.”

  Rochelle and Milo. Texting. In advance of their date. I breathed. Inhale. Exhale.

  Dana turned to Garrett. “Your turn, G.”

  “Nice to see you again, too,” he grumbled. He sat up and stretched his arms over his head. “Yeah, um, about forty-five minutes ago, hot, blond Ashley snapped out of her coma, staggered into the bathroom, peed like a racehorse for about ten minutes straight, and then left.” He yawned. “Rochelle started moving around right after that. She went upstairs. There’s been no sign of her since.”

  Dana nodded to Milo. “Text Rochelle and tell her that your car broke down, so she’s gonna have to meet you at the restaurant. That way you won’t have to pick her up—it’ll limit your time alone with her and keep you out in public.”

  I shook my head because being in public wasn’t going to stop a Destiny addict from jokering. The danger Milo was putting himself into was reduced only minimally. And then there was the other danger—that Rochelle was going to jump my boyfriend.

  “I’m doing one better than that,” Milo told Dana with another look over at me, his phone already out. “I’ve already texted her that I’m tied up at work. I’ve told her that I’m doing a construction job up in Palm River. I said I still want to have dinner, but that I need her to meet me at a restaurant up there, instead of here in Coconut Key.” He glanced over at me again. “That buys us a solid half hour of drive time each way, along with however long she waits before she realizes she’s been stood up.”

  Stood up, as in Milo wasn’t actually going out on a date with Rochelle, which meant that not only was he not going to go face-to-face with a psychotic Destiny addict, but he also wasn’t going to have to play kissy face—or worse—with Ms. Elderly Grabby-Hands.

  Oh, thank goodness. I didn’t realize that I’d said it aloud until Milo looked over at me and said, “You didn’t seriously think I was going to…?” His words were sharper than I’d ever heard from him, and they were tinged with uncharacteristic impatience and annoyance.

  He didn’t wait for me to babble some inept apology or excuse, because that was what I’d thought. Instead he just reached across the coffee table, holding out his hand to me.

  I took it without really thinking, and our connection snapped on and my head nearly snapped back from the power of Milo’s emotions. He was usually so even-keeled and calm, but this was like stepping out of the house into one of those Florida late-afternoon thunderstorms where it rains sideways from the force of the wind.

  He wasn’t presenting me with complete sentences, but through and under and alongside of his raging annoyance with me, I felt the magnitude of his sheer disgust for Rochelle. And yes, he’d kissed her—let her kiss him, really—but he’d hated it and absolutely did not want to do it again. Never, never, never.

  Well, how was I supposed to know, I tried to say, but my words were drowned out by a wave of something strange that instantly vanished as Milo abruptly pulled his hand away.

  “Thanks a lot for your faith in me,” he muttered tightly, and I realized that what I’d felt was hurt—I’d badly hurt Milo’s feelings with my mistrust.

  I should’ve felt better—knowing both that Milo wasn’t going to put himself into danger and that he didn’t secretly want to make out with Rochelle. But that icky feeling in the pit of my stomach remained. I should have trusted him. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  But Milo just shook his head. “I need the name of a nice restaurant in Palm River,” he said as he sat down on the couch, way on the other side of Garrett. “I haven’t had a chance to do an Internet search, so…hit me with one.”

  “The Strand.” Garrett, Calvin, and I all said it at exactly the same time.

  “It’s upscale, on the water,” I added. “She’ll know where it is.” Kinda the way all three of us Coconut Key—that is, rich—kids knew where it was. Why did that make me so uncomfortable?

  “The Strand,” Milo repeated as he typed it into his text to Rochelle. “Thanks.”

  I glanced over at Dana and Cal—who were now whispering to each other in the corner of the room. Cal touched Dana’s arm and said something quietly, and she laughed.

  Dana and Cal.

  Who would’ve thought?

  Garrett didn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, he had been led to believe, for quite some time now, that Cal and Dana were an item. As far as he knew, they’d been dating for a while.

  It was kinda cool actually. Like life imitating art, instead of the other way around.

  “Text is sent,” Milo said as he set his cell phone down on the table. “I told her to come as soon as she could. At seven, I’ll text her again, telling her I won’t get there ’til seven thirty, which’ll buy us even more time.” He pried free one of the now-cold remaining pizza slices and took a bite.

  “Good,” Dana replied, turning her attention to the task at hand. “As soon as she leaves her house, we’ll head over there.”

  I caught Cal studying Dana, adoration pooling in his eyes. I couldn’t help but feel a little envious. I wanted Milo to look at me the same way that Cal was gazing at Dana. We’d had that—once. But things felt way different now, and I was at least partly to blame. If not totally. Except, no. Even though the secret that Milo was keeping from me apparently wasn’t that he had the hots for a D-addict, he was still the one who kept pulling away and avoiding contact.

  “You can heat that, you know, in the microwave?” I told Milo, feeling more annoyed than I should have by his cold-pizza consumption. “It doesn’t have to suck.”

  He shook his head, not meeting my gaze. “I’m good.”

  “Look!” Garrett exclaimed. “Guys!” He pointed to the TV screen.

  Rochelle was on the move. She’d entered into the frame of the kitchen-cam, her eyes focused down at her phone as she sashayed across the floor in a tight black dress and sky-high heels. Before opening the fridge door, Rochelle typed something into her cell and then set it on the countertop.

  Almo
st instantaneously, Milo’s phone vibrated.

  “What’s it say?” Dana asked as Milo used his pizza-grease-free pinkie finger to unlock his phone and read her message.

  He looked flustered as he stuttered, “Just that she’s getting ready and…she’ll be leaving soon.” He tried to pick up his phone, but he was too late.

  Garrett had already grabbed it. “Oh, come on,” he said. “Share, share! Ooh, she wrote, Almost ready to leave, the Strand is perfect, lots of dark corners.” He scrolled up through the chain of text messages. “Ho-ho-holy sharing! Dude! She texted you a bath pic? Whoa! Check this out!”

  I didn’t want to see it, but Garrett shoved Milo’s phone right in my face, and yup. There was Rochelle in all her glory. She’d sent Milo a naked selfie. The woman was pure class.

  “Listen to this,” Garrett chortled. “Wish you were here, XOXO!” He looked at Milo. “She sends you this, and all you send her back is a smiley face?”

  Milo just shook his head as he grimly ate his pizza.

  In her kitchen, Rochelle had grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and a glass from the cabinet, but she picked up her phone when it chimed.

  “I just sent her a panting dog emoticon,” Garrett said. “She’ll like that better.”

  Sure enough, Rochelle smiled as she typed a response with both of her thumbs.

  “Dana.” Milo spoke sharply, and Dana and Cal both turned their focus toward the TV, where while Rochelle texted back to what she thought was Milo’s emoticon, her glass of wine poured itself. The bottle just elevated, the cork came out with a pop, and the liquid splashed into the waiting glass.

  “Her powers are increasing,” Dana said.

  “Oh-my-God-oh-my-God,” Garrett said, still focused on Milo’s phone. “She says, Bathroom or parking lot, your choice, sweet thing.” He laughed.

  “Ew!” I was most definitely not amused.

  “Can’t wait, Mistress Nasty,” Garrett said as he typed.

  On Cal’s TV, Rochelle checked her phone and gave what could only be described as an evil-queen smile. She chugged her wine, then grabbed her purse and keys, and exited the kitchen.

  From the flower-cam in the living room, we heard the front door close with a solid bang.

  Cal’s house was maybe ten minutes away from Rochelle’s beach house. Five, if we really hauled ass.

  “Ladies and gentlemen?” Dana said. “It’s go time.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Click!

  The dead bolt on the door opened easily despite Dana’s lack of a key.

  “Dude.” Garrett was clearly impressed by her fine-motor telekinesis skills.

  Cal nodded proudly and smiled at Dana, who stayed on task, focusing now on the easier lock on the doorknob.

  I looked around the big room that, up ’til now, I’d only seen via the oddly placed flower-cam.

  It was half playroom, half home gym. A treadmill and an elliptical were in one corner, along with a rack of free weights. In another corner was a pool table. Over here, near the closet door, was a small sitting area with a chess set and several tall bookshelves filled with everything from heavy medical guides to bestselling paperback beach reads.

  The ceiling was high, with three hanging fans that moved lazily overhead.

  “Got it,” Dana announced and pulled open the unlocked closet door.

  Milo, who was right beside me, chewed on his gum with an almost violent intensity. I could hear his ragged breathing as we all got our first look inside. But the space was dark, and it was difficult to see.

  Then there was a noise from the shadows. It sounded like a whimper.

  “Someone’s in there!” Milo stepped forward, past Dana and directly into the closet. The quiver in his own voice was hard to miss.

  The whimper became a very clear “No! Don’t! Stay back!”—and it was definitely coming from a girl.

  Milo backed up fast. “No one’s going to hurt you,” he said.

  “Jilly?” Dana called out. “Let’s get some light in here,” she ordered, and Garrett quickly slapped on the switch for the overheads.

  The light shone into the small closet space.

  It was uncanny. The narrow space, the heavy door, the darkness… I gasped, instantly brought back to that nightmare I’d had the other night—the one with the horrible man and the belt.

  In the corner of this closet sat a fully dressed girl, huddled on the floor as she hugged her knees to her chest. She’d buried her face into her legs, and only her eyes were visible as she stared, horrified, up at us through her matted hair.

  Her matted pink-streaked hair.

  “Jilly!” Garrett exclaimed. “You’re alive! You’re okay. You’re—Are you okay?” I’d never heard Garrett sound so genuinely concerned for anyone or anything.

  “Don’t come in! You can’t come in!” She lifted her head, her eyes wild in a face that was pale and gaunt. Remains of thick, black liner were smudged around her eyes and streaked down her cheeks, like a bad Halloween makeup job for a character listed in the movie credits as Girl in Danger. “You shouldn’t be here! If she comes home…”

  “She won’t.” I tried to reassure her, knowing that she was Rochelle. “She’s out—for at least another hour.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Jilly looked from me to Dana to Cal to Milo, finally landing on Garrett. “What have you done, you fucking idiot?”

  She was terrified—that much was clear despite the tough-as-nails attitude—and Garrett tried to reassure her. He leaned into the closet. “Jilly. These are friends. We’re here to help you.” He reached out his hand. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

  Jilly started to shake as she shrank away from him, and her eyes welled with tears. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” She looked like a wild animal cornered by predators.

  I exchanged a look with Dana. What had Rochelle done to her?

  “Give her a second,” Cal suggested, although he sounded just as clueless as I felt.

  Milo was less patient. He put a hand on Garrett’s shoulder and leaned around him so that he could make eye contact with the girl. “Jilly. We need to get you out of here. We’re going to take you somewhere safe. Far away from your mother.”

  “She’s not my mother!” Jilly exclaimed fiercely, and several books from that nearby set of shelves fell onto the playroom floor with a thwack. Cal and I both jumped—particularly when one of the larger books skittered across the floor and crashed into the side of Cal’s wheelchair. It looked like a medical journal—the word Phlebotomy was on the cover.

  “Whoa,” Cal said.

  “Your aunt then,” Dana said. She turned to Garrett. “Get this girl some food. She’s starving. Go into the kitchen, see what you can find.”

  “She’s not my aunt,” the girl said as Garrett dashed away. “She’s not my sister either! She’s a monster!” From deep inside the closet, we all heard another thump, and this time Jilly was the one who jumped. “Now look what you made me do!” She stared at us with those giant, crazy, accusatory eyes. “Get out! Get out! Just go—now! I don’t need your stupid help!”

  But Dana was staring into the closet. “What’s back there?” she asked, reaching in to feel along the wall.

  I thought about the man with the belt from my dream. “Who’s back there?”

  “Nothing!” Jilly insisted. “No one!”

  “Cal,” Dana said. He’d already gotten out his cell phone and turned on the flashlight app. But as he handed it to Dana, he looked at me, and I knew what he was thinking. If this girl got too worked up, there would be flying objects everywhere, maybe not just books next time. And we weren’t exactly doing the greatest job at calming her down.

  “There’s another door back here,” Dana announced.

  “You can’t go in there!” Jilly shouted, and more books fell off the shelf.

&
nbsp; “Yeah, actually I can,” Dana said coolly as she did just that—unlocking the hidden door as easily as she had the closet deadbolt and the doorknob. The door opened in and she went into what looked like a larger room. “Is there a light in here?”

  Meanwhile, Milo had gone into the closet and knelt down next to the girl, trying to calm her down. “Jilly. We have to get you out of here. I know this is gonna sound crazy, but we think it’s possible that Rochelle is going to try to sell you to some really bad people.”

  She laughed in his face as Dana found one of those strings hanging down from an overhead lightbulb and pulled it on. We all squinted in the sudden brightness.

  “Holy shit,” I heard Dana say, but I couldn’t see what was in there.

  “You think Rochelle is going to sell me?” Jilly repeated what Milo had said as Garrett came back from the kitchen with a bag of candy and a shriveled apple. “I wish. But she’s not gonna do that. As long as she owns me, she’s gonna use me—until she uses me up.”

  I looked at Cal; Cal looked at me.

  “What does that mean?” Garrett said what we were thinking.

  “I wish she’d just get it over with!” Jilly said bitterly.

  Milo was focused on the same word that had stopped us. “She owns you?”

  Dana, meanwhile, had emerged from the room behind the closet. She was carrying a hospital plasma bag filled with what looked like blood and an already-prepped syringe—similar to the ones we’d seen this morning when Rochelle and Ashley had injected D into their perfect bodies.

  “This was in the fridge,” she said. “There’s a whole lab setup back there. Rudimentary, but…it’s a Destiny lab. A home D-lab. Right here.”

  “Rochelle owns you?” Milo asked Jilly again.

  The girl raised her head in pointy-chinned defiance. “She paid good money for me. Signed a contract. I signed it, too. So yeah. She absolutely owns me.” She turned to Dana. “And yes. She cooks Destiny back there. With my blood. These days, everyone’s doing it. So put that back—it’s precious—and lock both of these doors. And then get. The hell. Out!”