Head Start (Cedar Tree #7)

by Freya Barker

  I can’t help but feel sickened at what the boy grew up around and was genetically burdened with. But other than giving me a better grasp on why, the information doesn’t change the hate I feel toward the man he became. Deranged, predatory, calculating and narcissistic in his view of himself as some kind of savior. Part of me hopes he succumbs to the injuries he sustained at my hands.

  Soon I have the house back in view. As the dog and I make our way to the guesthouse in the back, I’m thinking it’s not reasonable for me to believe this can all be kept secret from her. She’ll find out. Maybe not immediately but there is no way this kind of twisted tale won’t become fodder for the media. I’d rather she hear it from me than the hyped up, mangled versions the networks and newspapers will likely come up with.

  I don’t see her when I walk in the door, but I can hear water running in the bathroom. The moment I unclip the dog’s leash, he heads to the bathroom door and lies down in front of it.

  “Come here, boy. Let me get you dinner.” I try to coax him into the kitchen and out of the way of the door. Don’t want Kendra to trip over him. It isn’t until I put his food bowl down that he leaves his guard duty. While he eats, I go listen at the bathroom door. The water is still running as it was before but I don’t hear anything else. I try the doorknob and to my surprise it turns freely in my hand. I push the door open, but what I see almost brings me to my knees.

  Kendra

  Why does it feel like my skin is crawling? When I woke up, I wasn’t sure where I was, until Neil spoke and my eyes found him. A sense of calm came over me and for a moment, everything seemed to settle in place. My voice sounded like a stranger’s when I spoke, yet oddly...right. I watched his lips move as he said something about taking the dog. Then they were gone, both Neil and Chaos. And I feel like my world is tilting on its axis as I look at the closed door.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting there, staring at the door when I lean forward and suddenly feel something shift against me. Right. My crutches. And I need to pee. Gritting my teeth against the discomfort and fighting through the fear of suddenly finding myself alone, I manage to get on my feet and wobble unsteadily on my crutches to the bathroom. After taking care of business, I notice the big tub which is looking very inviting. I haven’t had more than sponge baths for over a week and had my hair washed at the sink two days ago. Without thinking, I start running the water. I strip off the shirt and sweats Naomi had brought over, but when I stand up again, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, something I’d managed to avoid so far. It’s like looking at someone else. My face is gaunt, my eyes dull, set deep and circled dark. My hair is flat on one side and sticking out all over on the other. Lips chapped and bruised on the side of my face. Before I can stop myself, my eyes trail lower, but other than some faint bruising, I can’t see anything remarkable, other than the old scars under my breasts. Then I slightly turn my back to the mirror and thick ridges of red, swollen skin rise up in an unidentifiable pattern where he cut me. I’d felt them when the stitches had been removed yesterday, but I hadn’t seen them. I’d made sure nobody else did either and had sent Neil from the room. Again.

  Mesmerized at the sight and the size of my injuries, I try to twist my torso to have a better look when the door opens.

  “Baby,” Neil’s tortured voice sounds from behind me, and I swing around. I almost lose my balance when strong arms slip around me. “Steady now. I’ve got you.” The deep rumble of his voice settles warmly under my skin. I haven’t been able to feel much this past week, both because of the medication and because I’ve been afraid to. But I feel this. His warmth behind me, his arms safely around me, and the press of his lips against my shoulder. It’s as close as I’ve let him come, but now that he’s here, I don’t want him to ever let go.

  “Don’t let go,” I whisper, giving voice to my thoughts.

  “Never,” he softly but firmly returns. When his arms loosen around me, leaving one hand on my hip to steady me, I’m suddenly cold. It’s got to be close to 85 degrees out there, and still goosebumps rise on my skin. Neil reaches around me, turning off the tap. The bath is full and I hadn’t even noticed. “Sit down on the toilet and let me get a bag to tie around your ankle. Don’t want it to get wet.”

  I hold on to the edge of the counter and look at myself again. Nothing has changed from earlier, except my eyes. They looked flat just a few minutes ago—now I can see life there. “Neil!” I call out, my voice still a bit rusty. Heavy footsteps sound before he appears in the door, alarm on his face. “I’m okay,” I quickly tell him. “Do you have your phone on you?”

  His expression changes from concerned to puzzled. “It’s on the counter, do you need someone?”

  “No. I don’t need anyone else. Just the phone please.”

  He’s back in a flash, holding out his phone to me. I scroll through the menu until I find what I want. “Here,” I hand the phone back to him. “I want you to take a picture of my back.” I watch his eyes change through a range of emotions in the mirror. Worry, fear, pride—but they settle on tender.

  “You sure, Pup?” he asks, in a voice that matches the look on his face.

  I am sure. Positive in fact. This has not been me—I have not been myself—but it’s been enough. I look at myself in the mirror. I’ve already given that son of a bitch more than enough of me. He doesn’t get any more. I’m taking it all back.

  “Absolutely.” I find his eyes again in the mirror, showing him my conviction.

  I hear the shutter sounds as he snaps pictures, but I don’t take my eyes off him, hardly believing that whatever age difference between us once meant so much to me. It means nothing. Any other man young or old would likely have faltered at any time during or after this ordeal, but not Neil. He’s been steady and consistent from the start. I’m the one who’s been all over the place, who’s been irrational and unpredictable. Time to let him in all the way.

  He’s put down the phone and is on his knees, taping a bag over my foot. “Join me?” I ask him and this time, he doesn’t ask if I’m sure. With his eyes locked on mine, he gets up and strips down where he stands. “Bring the phone,” I remind him as he helps me settle in the tub, my plastic-wrapped leg hanging over the side. He slides in behind me, keeping distance between his chest and my back, leaving it to me to make myself comfortable against him. The hair on his chest rubs slightly against the cuts on my back, just painful enough to remind me I’m alive, and I settle against him with a deep sigh. “I’m ready,” I tell him, indicating the phone he is holding in one hand, while the other settles around my waist on my stomach.

  One-thumbed, he flicks over the screen until I see the image on my back. A deep outline of wings in my skin with an intricate network of cuts and slices, making up what look to be the feathers. He made it all the way up the left side of my back, from the top of my butt cheek almost to my shoulder blade. I wince remembering the fiery pain each of these cuts caused. It’s brutally beautiful and shocking at the same time. My skin—my body—permanently altered. And I realize that, at some point in time, when I can get my head around it, I will have to take that back too.

  “Are you okay?” Neil puts the phone down on the toilet lid and wraps his other arm around me.

  “No,” I tell him honestly. “But I’m starting to think maybe I will be.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Neil

  Maybe I will be.

  Kendra’s skin against mine, her body wrapped in my arms, her scent in my nostrils and those words from her lips, and all is right in the world. I’d like to freeze this moment and bring it back from time to time to savor.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Last thing I expected was to hear those words from her and my body seizes up. “What do you have to be sorry for?” I ask her, an edge to my voice I can’t disguise. “It’s me who should be sorry for leaving you. I should never have left you. Never.”

  Kendra twists sideways, so both legs are now over the side of the tub, and
she tilts her head back to look at me. Cupping my face in her hand she slowly shakes her head. “No. You’re wrong. I would never have forgiven you if you hadn’t gone after my sister. It’s what I wanted—what I needed from you. I’m saying I’m sorry I scared you. That I hurt you by leaving, but I had no choice; he had Karly. I would do it again, even knowing what was waiting for me. I wouldn’t hesitate for a second. Crazy, right?”

  Now it’s my turn to shake my head. “No. Not crazy at all.” I bend down and lightly touch my lips to hers. She tucks her head in my neck and leans her body against me. And then she speaks.

  “I was so scared. Felt so helpless. He told me to get into the truck bed, and for a minute, I thought that maybe I could do something from there. I was looking for weapons, for anything, but all I could find was a large wood sliver.” A shiver runs through her body before she lifts her head. “I stabbed him with it, you know?”

  I drop my head so our foreheads touch. “Good for you,” I say quietly. Knowing from what Damian has told me that Maryn/Cayman had a large open gash in his cheek, and they’d found the bloodied piece of wood on the side of the trail. Karly had apparently been witness to most of that encounter. That is, until her sister yelled at her to run. I don’t know what Kendra thought my reaction would be, but it’s obviously not what she expected to hear. That’s why when she looks at me slightly confused, I lay it out for her. “You were saving Karly. Even when you were hurt yourself, you took care of her first. You weren’t helpless. You were courageous and incredibly brave to do what you did. So baby, good for you.” I emphasize my words with a light press of my lips against hers.

  “The pain was so bad, Neil. I’ve never felt anything like it.” She snuggles back under my chin and I have to make a concerted effort to keep my breathing regular, even though the rage I feel at what he did to her is almost blinding. “The guilt and the pain, his constant chanting, it was getting to me. I could feel myself slipping away and kept hoping it would be the last time. That I wouldn’t wake up again. I’m so sorry.” I can feel her soft sobs against my chest and they about rip my heart out. Still, I can’t say the trust she is showing me right now doesn’t feel pretty fucking good.

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” I reassure her. Guilt has no place in the emotions she’s living through.

  “He called me his angel. Told me I was his masterpiece, his ultimate test. I didn’t understand any of what he was saying. He even said something about going to a sun dance. None of it made sense to me. I never saw his face, but he was familiar.”

  I know I won’t be able to keep it from her much longer and perhaps while having her relaxed in my arms would be a good time. “Probably because he was familiar to you,” I say hesitantly, and she immediately lifts her head, her eyes searching mine. “Babe, it’s been Lars Cayman all along and the only reason he focused on you is because, according to Gomez, you bear an uncanny similarity to his mother.” Her body goes stiff in my arms and I quickly tell her what I just recently learned about the man, hoping that it may help her realize that his obsession with her was something entirely out of her control.

  “I noticed this time,” she cryptically states.

  “What?”

  “His gait. I could hear the uneven steps on the dirt every time he’d walk toward me. I started focussing on it. That’s what must have made him seem familiar because it sure as hell wasn’t his voice. From what I remember he had a much higher-pitched voice. This guy’s voice was very deep and gravelly. They don’t even sound alike, but his odd gait was familiar.”

  “Given what we know about him now, it’s clear he lived two completely separate lives, one as Lars Cayman, respectable high school teacher, and the other as reclusive artist Casal Maryn. Same person but two apparently different personalities. Gomez never felt good about having to let the guy go after interviewing him in Gallup. He always had suspicions, but we were likely dealing with two separate personalities. His appearance, especially his limp, was not so easy to hide.”

  Kendra goes silent after that and I give her a chance to process while grabbing the shampoo. With soft hands, I wash her hair, and then as much of her body as I can, before noticing another shiver running over Kendra’s skin. Whether it is the topic or the cooling water of the tub, it’s time to get out. I carefully slide her away from me before standing up and helping her out. Then I wrap her gently in a large bath towel, making sure not to chafe the wounds on her back, and sit her down on the toilet seat. Doesn’t take long for me to dry off and lift her in my arms before carrying her to bed, where she curls on her side.

  “I’m going to give Chaos a quick walk before grabbing us something to eat. I’ll be right back.” I step in the bathroom to pull on my clothes and get my boots on, before returning to the bed and handing the remote for the flatscreen hanging over the dresser to Kendra. “Find us a movie to watch,” I tell her, leaning down to kiss her softly. I can feel her eyes following me toward the door, and just as I reach for the door, she pipes up from the bed.

  “Can you tell me again?”

  I turn around to face her. She has a slight blush on her cheeks and her eyes look a little freaked out. Not sure what she’s referring to, I wait her out. “What you said on the phone,” she continues hesitantly, “I’d like to hear it again.”

  It takes me a minute, but then a knowing smile spreads over my face as I stalk back to the bed and sink on my knees beside the mattress so we’re eye to eye. With my right hand, I stroke back a few wet strands from her face as she looks at me with big eyes. Leaving my hand to cup her cheek, I lean in and deepen our eye contact. “I love you, Pup. I hope you believe me when—”

  “Me too,” she says, barely making a sound. “Love you.”

  Kendra

  I can’t believe I said that.

  A quick glance at the clock confirms that it is after midnight. I fell asleep watching some silly movie that apparently tickled Neil’s funny bone because the last I remember when closing my eyes was the soft chuckle reverberating in his chest. He’d come back to bed, as promised, after walking the dog and he came bearing food. A selection of containers—no doubt Emma’s work—filled with chili, peach pie, roasted vegetables and some hummus. Chaos followed him closely and settled on my side of the bed probably hoping for spillage. Fat chance of that, I went for the peach pie. Funny how I had barely eaten as far as I can remember this past week and yet the thought of Emma’s pie made my mouth water. In my defense, I had roasted veggies with hummus for dessert. Neil, of course, finished off what I left in record time, and although he hadn’t said anything, I know he heard my words. If possible, he was even more gentle and attentive with me than before, never without a little smile teasing his lips whenever he looked at me. And those eyes...I could completely forget myself when looking into them. But at some time during the evening, I drifted off and apparently so did Neil although he did manage to turn off the TV at some point.

  It’s dark in the room now, and I’m watching the deep rise and fall of Neil’s substantial chest where my head was resting. Slowly the insecurities and fears start crowding my mind. The man’s chants, his warped words, are humming in my ears making me want to press my hands against my head to block the sound. But then Neil’s voice crowds them out, telling me he loves me. Washing the grimy residue of Lars Cayman’s deranged ramblings away. And then my own declaration, something I never have said to anyone except my mom and sister. The look on his face when I formed them with my lips without really moving air. An irrational fear that somehow giving voice to them would change everything. Ridiculous, because everything had already changed. The feelings were there long before the words formed. Although if our lives had not been thrown into turmoil, I’m not sure when I would’ve been ready to say them out loud. But they had, and it had felt good to be able to release some of my emotions out loud. It’s crowded in my mind and in my heart and I know I will likely need some help processing, not only the mental impact of what happened to me, but also the physical reminders he left
behind.

  “Go back to sleep, Pup.”

  I lift my head to see Neil’s warm eyes on me. Thick-lidded and slightly glazed, the emotion in them unmistakable. Without warning, my eyes fill, and immediately his hand reaches to catch the first tear falling. “You’re safe, baby,” he mumbles, gently stroking his thumb to wipe at the wetness on my cheeks.

  “I know,” I tell him. “That’s why I’m crying. Because I’m safe, but the other women...”

  “Shhh, don’t. They’re doing everything they can to find them. To bring them home to their families.”

  “But Neil, those poor kids, Franka’s kids.” I sniff, thinking about the one woman I feel most responsible for. The one he took after I ditched him at the coffee shop. The only one here in this area who had not yet been found. I couldn’t let my mind rest. Couldn’t allow myself the luxury of sleep if she was still out there somewhere. My mind started running through everything I saw and everything I heard during what seemed like an endless time, and suddenly I freeze. Soon I’ll bring you to sun dance as well.

  “What is it?” Neil immediately reacts.

  “What if he wasn’t talking about an event but a place? He didn’t say ‘I’ll bring to a sun dance as well, he said ‘I’ll bring you to Sundance as well’ as if he was talking about a place instead of an event. And Neil, as well? What if...” Before I have a chance to finish that sentence, Neil is up and stalks out of the bedroom, coming back seconds later with his laptop in hand. He settles back beside me as he enters Sundance in a search engine and pages of companies or restaurants with that name pop up. Then he refines the search by geographic location.