Wild Sky

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “And you’re both on the same page?” I asked.

  “Thank God we’ve moved from pizza to books. And yes, same page. Same paragraph, in fact. But no, I’m not telling you anything else about anything, other than the fact that the page we are both on, together, completely, is wonderful and great—and that I might be a tiny bit in love with absolutely everything about her.”

  I smiled. “I know exactly how you feel.”

  “Wait.” Cal narrowed his eyes. “If you try to steal my woman, I will unleash the full fury on you, with superfast lightning speed!”

  I laughed. “What I meant was that I know how you feel because that’s how I feel about Milo.”

  Cal nodded, his eyes still narrowed, as he played out the joke with a little I’m watching you hand gesture.

  “Bottom line?” he continued, his tone still light. “If this Destiny crap ends up killing me, it’s not like I haven’t done pretty much everything I’ve ever wanted to do.”

  My heart lodged in my throat. “Except live happily ever after with the girl of your dreams, who really doesn’t care whether you walk or roll, as long as you’re alive,” I pointed out.

  “So why is it then,” Cal said, suddenly quiet and intense, “that you’re trying to kill me?”

  I didn’t know what to say to that—in fact, the expression on his face took me aback. But then it was gone or maybe I’d imagined it, because he smiled with his regular warm Calvin smile as he added, “That’s what detox is all about, right? Stopping my heart? You guys kill me and then bring me back, allegedly Destiny free?”

  “I guess so,” I said.

  “Although my chances of surviving are zero point zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero one,” he said.

  “That’s way too many zeros,” I said.

  “Any zero is way too many,” Cal pointed out. “These odds are not good, but I know you, and you’ve got to cling to hope, so go big and cling with your clingingest clingosity. But you also need to know that whatever happens, I love you, and I don’t blame you for this. It wasn’t your fault that I got injected. It wasn’t Dana’s fault; it wasn’t even Jilly’s—if it’s anyone’s, it’s Rochelle’s for cooking Destiny in her closet.”

  I nodded, trying hard not to cry.

  “But I meant what I said before,” Cal continued. “I love feeling like this. I feel healthy, I feel good, nothing hurts, and God, I really love walking. I’m in control; I’m still me; I’m still okay, so promise me you won’t let Morgan kill me too soon, a’ight? Because I think that’s really what his procedure is. It’s a kind of…what’s it called? Assisted suicide. I agree to do it, knowing that I’mma die, but that at least I won’t die ugly, all jokering and nasty-ass sociopathic—killing you guys, too.”

  I shook my head. “You’re wrong. It’s your only chance to live!”

  Cal chuckled quietly. “You still have hope that the detox will work. That’s kind of adorable, and whoa, that came out a little asshole-ish, but I didn’t mean it that way. I really do appreciate it. I just don’t think it’s very realistic and… Look, I better get back.” He bounced on his toes, once, twice, three times, and said, “I’ll wait here while you go inside. Don’t want to freak your moms out by walking you to the door.”

  “Yeah, we definitely don’t want that,” I agreed, and as I walked up my driveway and then up the stairs to my front stoop, I glanced back to see Calvin doing a little dance on the sidewalk.

  “It will work,” I called to him as I unlocked my front door. “I know it.”

  He shrugged expansively. “And I know it won’t. You’re not the only one who knows things like that. Not anymore.” He sent me a salute before turning and running back to his house.

  “Sky? Is that you?” Mom called as I locked the door behind me.

  I resisted the urge to call back, No, it’s a serial killer. “Yup,” I said instead as I wiped my eyes and braced myself for an hour or so of pretending that my life was normal.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I’m assuming you have the money you owe me in cash, in small bills,” Morgan said quietly to me the next morning as I sat between him and Garrett in the waiting room of an obstetrician’s office, on the eastern edge of Coconut Key, out past the interstate.

  The fact that we were meeting Sasha in the medical office of a doctor who specialized in delivering babies had created some confusion when we’d first walked in—not just for us, but for the receptionist, too.

  “Are you here for your first prenatal appointment?” she’d chirped as we’d approached the front desk, looking expectantly from Morgan to Garrett and adding, “With the baby’s father…?”

  Garrett and I had responded with loudly exclaimed horror. I’d shouted Omigod no! He’d shouted I’m not the father! I swear I’m not! Morgan stayed calm and leaned in to say quietly that we were here to see Sasha. He then led us over to a line of chairs where we all sat down to wait.

  I realized then that we were here because Sasha’s parents weren’t comfortable giving out the address where they were staying, not even to me. With the enormous media coverage of Sasha’s disappearance and the false murder accusations hurled at her father, they were all still in hiding from the press.

  And then, of course, there was the need to keep Sasha safe from future abductions. We didn’t talk openly about that or the fact that the little girl was a Greater-Than, but I’d stressed to Sasha’s mom—over and over again on that day Cal and I had brought Sasha home—that it was vital the Rodriguezes kept Sasha hidden.

  It was actually kind of nice to know that I’d been taken very seriously. Because no one would expect to find Sasha here.

  I swore under my breath at Morgan’s mention of payment. “I knew I forgot something. Dana has the money. I’m sure. It’s just that, in the chaos, with everything happening with Calvin—”

  “The deal that Calvin and I agreed to, via email,” Morgan said coolly, “was cash in my hand, half in advance”—he held out his right hand—“and half”—he held out his left hand—“at the meeting with Sasha.”

  Both hands were noticeably empty.

  “Plus there’s the matter of the money you owe me for last night,” Morgan added. “I didn’t push it because of the ‘chaos.’” He made air quotes around the word.

  I glanced over at Garrett, who was staring in horrified fascination at the posters on the wall depicting the female reproductive system, as well as the cutaways that showed a baby in various stages of development in an ever-expanding womb. Sex ed had been banned for years in most schools. And although the Academy still covered the very basics of human reproduction in honors biology, I was pretty sure Garrett wasn’t in that class. It was possible he was getting his very first look at a uterus.

  I nudged him. “Dana has the money, right?”

  “What? I don’t know,” he said.

  “The money from the other day,” I reminded him, “when you pawned all that stuff from your attic…?”

  “I’m pretty sure we used the last of the cash,” Garrett said very unhelpfully, “to buy that GPS tracking device that Milo wanted.”

  “What GPS tracking device?” I frowned. Nobody had told me anything about any GPS tracking device.

  Garrett shrugged. “Do I look like I know? All I know is Milo asked and Dana handed it over, saying something about how that was it, that our stash of cash was gone.”

  “This doesn’t sound at all reassuring,” Morgan said.

  “We’ll get the money,” I told him. “I’m sure, when there’s time, Dana and Garrett’ll make another pawn-shop run.”

  “Nah, we stripped the attic,” Garrett contradicted me. “We even cleaned out the closets—but things like ski boots and baseball bats don’t bring in more than a few bucks at most. That sucked. But anyway, my house is done. We take anything more, and my dad’ll hit me with his shit stick when he gets home.”
r />   Morgan sighed heavily.

  “We’ll get you the money,” I told him. “I promise.”

  “Your promise won’t mean much after that bounty hunter catches up with you,” the G-T pointed out. But he didn’t get up and walk away.

  And Garrett leaned forward and said, “That’s not gonna happen as long as I’m around.”

  Garrett’s proclamation surprised me—that was probably the nicest thing I’d ever heard him say—but Morgan didn’t blink. In fact, he mocked the other boy. “Yeah, look at how that worked out for your friend Jilly. Good job keeping her safe, Normie.”

  Garrett’s face flushed. “At least I have friends, even though they’re weirdos and freaks. I don’t go around making people pay for things that should be done for free.”

  Now was probably not the best time to remind Garrett that he’d enlisted Calvin’s and my help via blackmail—and that Dana had also blackmailed me.

  Morgan shot back with “Talk to me after all your friends die. Let’s see how eager you’ll be to make new ones, so you can watch them die, too. It’s no fucking fun, and I don’t need more of that, no fucking thank you!”

  A very pregnant lady had come in while we were sitting there, and she now looked up from her magazine in alarm at all those exploding f-bombs.

  I realized that Morgan and Garrett were glaring at each other, bristling across me, so I sat forward, hands up, and loudly said, “The paternity test will end this argument once and for all,” and the woman quickly turned away, clearly embarrassed for me. More quietly I said, “For Sasha’s sake, let’s not make a scene, okay?”

  Both boys sat back, arms tightly folded across their chests, as I thought about the strange fact that Garrett McDouche considered me to be his friend, and that Morgan didn’t because in his world, friends always died. Of course, that made me think of Calvin and then Dana, and then the fact that we were here today because Dana hoped that her little sister, Lacey, hadn’t died, but instead had been abducted and imprisoned by horrible people for close to ten years.

  And I suddenly had a flash of memory of Sasha’s terrified face when we’d found her in that decrepit barn in Alabama. She’d been horribly traumatized by just a few weeks of captivity on a Destiny farm.

  What would a girl be like who’d been imprisoned for nearly a decade?

  “I can feel you getting tense,” Morgan said to me. “Look, I’m already here, so I’m not going to leave. We’ll work out a payment plan, but I have to warn you, the interest rate is going to be high.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I think.”

  “When we go into the room with Sasha,” he continued, “I’m going to need you to keep your angst to a dull roar. I know you haven’t seen the girl in some time, but truth is, if she’s struggling with PTSD, she might not look too good. Try not to react to that, okay? If you let yourself get upset, you’ll create static and make it harder for me to connect with her. Also, she’s a little kid, so if you stay calm, she’ll stay calm. And that’s important, too. Last thing we need is for her to go ballistic and make her mother kick us out.”

  I nodded, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out in a rush. What he was asking was easier said than done. My heart was already pounding.

  Morgan leaned closer to me. “Just…focus on the mantra that your boyfriend always repeats to you. What is it?” He closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated. Then he opened them and smiled at me. “Still thoughts.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked, but he didn’t answer, because here came Sasha’s mother, Carmen, out of the door that led to the exam rooms in the back. I barely had time to stand up before I was enveloped in a wonderful-smelling hug of pure love and affection.

  She greeted me half in Spanish, peppered with terms of endearment and words and phrases I didn’t know, but also a very clear “I thank God every minute of every day that you were there to help my Sasha when she called you from that awful place!”

  That was our official story. That Sasha had escaped from her kidnappers by herself, and all Cal and I had done was drive eight hours to pick her up and then eight hours back to bring her home—after she’d had the presence of mind to call Calvin’s cell phone to ask for help.

  “Where is Calvin?” Carmen asked, looking from me to Garrett to Morgan, who’d also stood up.

  “Oh, he’s, um…” I started. I swallowed hard, thinking about the real reason Cal couldn’t be here right now.

  Morgan said, “Cal’s a little under the weather. It’s nothing to worry about, but he didn’t want to expose Sasha to his germs—or his negative energy.”

  Carmen was nodding. “Tell him I hope he feels better,” she said. “But it’s just as good. Sasha is still very frightened of strange people—men in particular. I think it’s best that Sky goes in alone.”

  “Oh, but…” I said as my hopes dissolved.

  Morgan cut me off. “That’s smart,” he said. “It’s best to be careful.” He held out his hand. “I’m John. I’m a ‘friend’ of Skylar’s.” He didn’t put emphasis on the word friend, but after that last conversation, I could hear his invisible air quotes.

  “I own a service dog,” Morgan continued as he held on to Carmen’s hand. “A dachshund named Morgan. He’s waiting out in the car. Sky was hoping to bring him in with her. He’s very gentle and sweet. In fact, he’s great with little girls.”

  “Dachshunds are Sasha’s favorite!” Carmen turned to me, clearly thrilled. “Sky, you are so thoughtful. By all means, bring the dog.” Back to Morgan, “Is it okay if it’s just the dog, if you wait outside?”

  “Of course,” he said. “We’ll go get him.”

  “Wait,” Garrett said, clearly confused. “A dog…? What? We don’t have—Ow!”

  I’d stepped on his toe—hard. “I’ll be right back,” I told Sasha’s mom, as Morgan and I pulled Garrett out the door to the parking lot.

  ————

  “Still thoughts,” the little dog in my arms reminded me in a whisper as we followed Sasha’s mom to a door labeled “Birthing Room Two.”

  Apparently, Morgan didn’t have to shape-shift into a pit bull. Apparently, he could turn himself into any breed of dog—or any type of animal for that matter. And no, it wasn’t an accident that he was now a dachshund—Sasha’s favorite. He’d pulled that info from Carmen’s head when he’d shaken her hand.

  As for Garrett? His face as Morgan got into the backseat of his car, and then as I reached in to pull this incredibly adorable little dog out from the pile of clothing had been nothing compared to his face when the dog said, “There’s a tagged collar and a service-dog vest in my messenger bag. Size small for both, I think.”

  It was very clear that Morgan had come here prepared to be shut out as a human—but not in his dog form.

  “This is crazy shit,” Garrett had said. “I need a nap.”

  We left him in the car and went back inside where Carmen greeted Morgan with more Spanish endearments and a barrage of kisses on top of his now-little doggy head. I saw his tail wag—it was impossible to not love Sasha’s mom.

  She led us into a room that was larger than I expected. It was set up like a living room, with sofas and chairs that were slouchy and comfortable, and with regular lighting instead of the traditional doctor’s office fluorescent panels overhead. And yes, there was a hospital bed in the corner, but it was behind a curtain—clearly only meant to be used at the very end of the natural birthing process.

  The room was dim compared to the brightness of the hallway, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. But I saw the small figure curled up on that big couch. And I recognized that face immediately.

  Sasha. She had her favorite teddy bear with her—the one with the chewed-up nose. She was holding tightly to him, and her posture reminded me a little bit of the way Jilly had sat hunched in the closet when we’d found her yesterday.

&
nbsp; Rochelle hadn’t gone into the closet after she’d gotten home from her non-date without Milo—we’d monitored her via our cameras—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in there right now, tormenting the girl or bleeding her dry.

  “Still thoughts,” the little dog whispered to me again.

  But I was worried. Worried about Jilly, worried about Calvin, worried that we were somehow going to make things worse for Sasha—worried, worried, worried.

  As we went into that room, I could smell Sasha’s fear. It lingered in the air, a pungent, fishy odor. She’d been anxious about being left here alone. And she was anxious about who might be coming in the door.

  Her mother couldn’t smell the fish but knew enough to allay her daughter’s nervousness. “Look who’s here!” Carmen announced gaily.

  “Skylar!” As soon as Sasha saw me, she put down her bear and bounded off the sofa, crashing into me and wrapping her arms around my waist. “Skylar, it’s you!”

  “It’s me!” I said as Morgan jumped from my arms and onto the cushions of the couch, so I could hug the little girl back just as tightly.

  He managed to give me an Oh no you don’t look, despite his dog-face, so I worked as hard as I could to keep my tears from escaping.

  Sasha held on to me for another long moment. Then she let go a little, enough to gaze up at me and smile. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  She looked weary and worn. And her body felt thin—too thin, even for her slight frame. But her hair was beginning to grow back again, enough so that, as her smile grew wider, I couldn’t help but compare her current look to that of a tiny female elf.

  Sasha’s kidnappers had done many terrible things to all of the little girls we’d rescued. And, whether it was to stop an outbreak of lice or simply to dehumanize their tiny prisoners, their captors had shaved their heads. When we’d rescued Sasha, she’d been barely recognizable.

  Now, standing in front of me, I was able to spot a glimpse of the girl I’d babysat so many months before. But even the trip from the sofa had been too much for her. She was breathless and clammy as I led her gently back to the couch.