A Girl Undone

by Catherine Linka

  Deeps caught my eye and winked, and I realized he’d gone to bat for me. “Thank you,” I said, forcing my lips into a smile.

  “It’s safe to open the hatch,” he said.

  Dad ran toward me, and I leaped into his arms.

  “Oh, Avie. Thank God, you’re safe.” Dad crushed me to him and I held on tight.

  “Dad, I missed you so much.”

  “The news, those pictures of the shootout. I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “I know. It was awful.”

  He stroked my hair. “My girl, my precious girl. I’m so sorry.”

  I was done being angry with him. Hawkins had screwed us both over, and Dad had tried to get me free, but nobody controls Hawkins.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I said. “Everything turned into such a disaster, and I wanted to let you know I was alive, but I couldn’t.”

  We held each other for another minute while Dusty bounced around our feet. When Dad released me, it seemed as if he couldn’t bear to pull away. I lifted Dusty into my arms and rubbed my face against her fur. Dad ruffled my hair.

  “You and Dusty are wearing the same haircut.”

  His eyes were pinched, and I knew he was forcing himself not to ask why. “It’ll grow out.”

  Gerard waited on the terrace, wearing a dress shirt as if I was a special guest. Gerard, who’d guessed I would run, who’d covered for me with my bodyguard, and who’d sneaked me money.

  I walked up so we were just an arm’s length apart. I could sense Gerard wanting to reach for me, but touching me was forbidden in his employment contract. Then Dad took Dusty from my arms. “It’s okay, Gerard. I would never fire you over a hug.”

  Gerard leaned down and wrapped me awkwardly in his arms. I hugged him back, conscious of how stiffly he held me against his tall, slender body. There was so much we couldn’t say aloud, because it would tip Dad off to how he’d helped me, so we just mumbled how glad we were to see each other.

  I tried to push back the shakiness, to keep the tears gathering inside me from spilling out. But when Gerard said, “How about some cinnamon toast?” it hit me that home is about small things that the people who love you remember. “Yeah,” I said, my lip starting to tremble, “that would be really nice.”

  Ho shooed us toward the French doors. “We should get inside. We don’t want your neighbor to be tempted to send photos of you to the tabloids.”

  Gerard set up a tray for Dad and me in the library. As he shut the door, I heard him invite Ho and Deeps to help themselves to coffee in the kitchen.

  Dusty curled beside me on the couch, her head on my leg. Dad pulled his chair close. His skin was pale, almost ashen, the way he got from spending too much time in the lab. He looked so old. “I tried using my contacts in Washington to find out what’s happening in your investigation,” he said, “but I’ve been frozen out.”

  “It’s okay. Hawkins is getting the charges dropped.”

  “That’s great! What a relief!”

  “Yeah. It’s a big relief.”

  “But how did he accomplish that? It couldn’t have been easy.”

  I couldn’t look Dad in the eyes, couldn’t tell him what I’d done. “He pulled some strings.”

  “Well, he must have some powerful allies. I’m glad to know Jessop’s looking after your interests.”

  “Dad, this is Jessop we’re talking about. He’s looking after his interests.”

  Dad hung his head. “I swear I tried to break your Contract, Avie. I even tried to force him out.”

  “I know,” I said quietly.

  Dad looked up. His sagging shoulders made my heart ache.

  “Yates told me how you tried to buy out my Contract. How you tried to bring in other investors and even offered to leave Biocure. The fact you did that meant a lot to me.”

  “Is Jessop treating you decently?”

  I knew the truth would break Dad’s heart. He’d blame himself for failing to get me free. “So far,” I lied.

  We sat, not speaking for a moment. I got the feeling Dad wanted to believe me, but didn’t, and yet he didn’t want to force me to tell him what was really going on.

  “How’s Dayla?” I said. “I saw you in that interview.”

  “She’s fine. Excited about the baby.”

  “That’s good.” Dayla’d been through so much, being locked up in Fetal Fed, and losing the guy she really loved. She deserved some happiness.

  “Her new husband came with her.”

  A feeling of sadness washed over me. “What’s he like?”

  “He seems like a decent young man, hardworking—”

  “But I thought—”

  “Yes, originally she was Contracted to the father, but for some reason that changed.”

  “So how’s Dayla doing in Montana? I mean, I can’t imagine her living on a ranch.”

  Dad reached for my hand. “Avie, can you tell me what happened in Las Vegas with Sparrow? And who was that woman, Margaret Stanton, you got mixed up with?”

  I wanted to tell Dad the truth. I was tired of lying, and Dad would understand why I’d done what I did. And I wanted to share with him what I’d learned—about myself, and the bizarre things going on in the country.

  “Dad, I can’t tell you everything; I wish I could, so please don’t ask me a lot of questions.”

  He held my hand while I told him about Maggie, and how she was an ex-lawyer, gathering evidence against the Paternalists. I connected the dots the media had publicized, but I didn’t fill in the blanks that could put Dad in danger as I revealed the true story of Sparrow’s suicide, me broadcasting her suicide video, and the federal agents chasing Maggie and me to Idaho. I’d just started to describe Yates finding me when Dad said, “Yates told me about what happened in Salvation.”

  “You talked to him?” Dad hadn’t had a conversation with Yates in years. “When?”

  “A few days ago. I drove up to Atwater Penitentiary to see him. I hoped he could give me a clue as to where you were.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s healing. He told me about the trek up the mountain, and how you pulled him out of that tree. You saved his life—and many others, it sounds like.”

  Dad wanted to make me into a hero, but I didn’t feel like one, not after what I’d just done to save my own life. “Yates saved me as much as I saved him. He’s a good person, Dad. I just wish you could see that. I’d never have made it up the mountain if it wasn’t for him.”

  “Hey, calm down. It’s okay. I know you think I don’t like him and that was why I kept you two apart, but that wasn’t it.”

  “Then why did you keep us apart?”

  “When his father Contracted Becca, I finally learned the truth about his gambling problem. I had to put distance between our families. I couldn’t be friends with my business partner, if there was a chance he’d do something that could harm the company. Then when Roik warned me that Yates was attracted to you, I felt I had to put a stop to it.”

  I stroked Dusty’s ear, trying to take in what Dad had told me.

  “Yates has more than proven himself to me, Avie. I understand what you see in him.”

  I love him, Dad, I wanted to say, but what good would that do? “Do you think they’ll let him go? Since they dropped the charges against me, won’t they drop them against Yates, too?”

  “I don’t know, honey. I suspect Jessop Hawkins likes having Yates right where he is, but I offered to help Yates if I could.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.”

  Dad tried to get me to tell him where I’d been and who I’d been with since I left Yates. “It’s better if I don’t,” I said.

  “Ah, someone you’d like to protect.”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  The hour and a half went too quickly. Gerard came in before I was ready. “Mr. Ho would like to know if there’s anything you’d like to take with you?”

  “How about my freedo
m?”

  “Not so loud,” Dad murmured.

  “Sorry.”

  “What about Dusty? Do you think Jessop would agree to you having her?”

  Hawkins wouldn’t tolerate fur on his pristine floor, and he’d freak over her barking. “She couldn’t go outside, Dad. She could get bitten by a snake.” I got up from the couch. “I’m going to check my room.”

  “Honey.” The tone of Dad’s voice stopped me. “They went through your bedroom while you were gone.”

  “You mean Hawkins’ Retrievers?”

  “No, the FBI.”

  I flew up the stairs. Dad wasn’t kidding when he said they went through my room. It looked like a psycho had had an episode there.

  I walked carefully over the ripped carpet. The agents had torn out sections of wallboard, leaving the wiring and dirty pink insulation exposed.

  My bureau and desk were cleared off, and Mom’s DVDs were missing from my bookcase. I guessed Roik had my laptop, because he’d traded Yates my photo files for his motorcycle when I disappeared.

  My closet was in even worse shape than the room. Every panel of wallboard was cut open. My clothes and shoes were piled on the floor amid the wreckage of hangers and flattened shoe boxes. I dropped to my knees and picked up one of the pumps I wore to Dayla’s Sweet Sixteen. The satin-covered heel looked like it had been smashed with a hammer. “What the— Did some jerk think I hid secrets in here?”

  I spied a torn scrap of sparkly wrapping paper and carefully slid it out from the wreckage. I smoothed the unicorn’s crumpled horn. Oh no. They didn’t.

  I dove into the pile, tossing clothes out of the way, searching for the box where I’d kept Mom’s letters, the one covered in glittery pink unicorn paper. My hand closed around the lid, which I tossed aside, and a moment later I found the remains of the bottom.

  “Dad! Dad!”

  I flung armfuls of clothes out of the way, looking for even a scrap of the lavender-colored paper Mom loved to write on.

  I love you. I love you. I love you. Mom had covered two sides of a page, writing it over and over in every color before she died. I love you.

  “Avie, what happened? What’s going on?” Dad crouched beside me, his eyes scanning the mess.

  “They took Mom’s letters. I can’t believe they took her letters! Why would anybody do that?”

  Dad squeezed my shoulder. “It will be okay. Our lawyers recorded everything they took. We’ll get Mom’s letters back, I promise.”

  I stared at him, thinking how naïve Dad was to believe that. He didn’t know what these guys were capable of.

  Dad gave me a hand up and I went around my room for the last time. I thought we’d walk downstairs together, but he disappeared, once again leaving me for some work crisis.

  At least we had our hour and a half.

  But when I got to the bottom of the stairs, Dad came out of the library, holding a small stack of purple envelopes. “Your mother didn’t only write letters for your birthday.” He pressed them into my hand. “I think she’d want you to have these now.”

  My eyes filled, seeing my name in Mom’s exuberant green scrawl. “Thanks, Dad.”

  He nodded, and I saw Dad fight to control himself as Ho appeared behind him. “We shouldn’t keep Mr. Hawkins waiting.”

  “Yes, of course,” Dad answered.

  I slipped the letters inside my shirt, making sure Ho saw. They were mine, and Ho needed to know that he and Hawkins weren’t going to get a glimpse of them without a fight.

  Deeps waited by the helicopter as Dad walked me out, his arm across my shoulders. “Is there anything you’d like me to tell Yates, if I go back to Atwater?”

  “Tell him—” What? Nothing I could say would make a difference. Love couldn’t save us. It wasn’t the escape. Love couldn’t always slip free of the knot. “Tell Yates that I love him, and I’m sorry, but I have to marry Jessop Hawkins.”

  Dad shook his head. “Damn it, Avie, I’m sorry. I wish I knew a way out of this.”

  “Yeah, well, there isn’t any.” I felt my throat tighten. Yates had to understand. He had to know that this marriage wasn’t my choice.

  I climbed into the helicopter, and Dusty leaped up on the metal step, trying to follow. “No. Get down,” I told her, nudging her off, but she came right back. I shoved her off again, harder this time, but she circled the step, darting away from Deeps before she tried again. My eyes filled, and she turned into a fuzzy white blur. “You can’t come!”

  Gerard walked over and scooped her up, and then carried her into the house.

  I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and waved to Dad. This was the first time I could remember that he didn’t rush off after saying good-bye to me. Today he stayed out on the terrace, and waved until we were out of sight.

  27

  Deeps flew us back to Hawkins’ compound, but this time he followed the Pacific Coast Highway. The fog had lifted over Malibu, revealing the miles-long line of beach houses holding on to the narrow strip of land between the highway and the ocean.

  I was on my way to my new life as Mrs. Jessop Hawkins. How was I going to survive him? Moment by moment, I guessed, of me trying to stay on his good side.

  Down below, a few surfers were still riding the late-morning waves. Yates used to surf this spot, I remembered, even though Zuma Beach was better. I dug in my pocket for a tissue.

  Yates would never be free again to surf here with his friends. Hawkins wouldn’t want Yates freed. No, Hawkins would do everything he could to eliminate even the slightest chance that Yates could reappear in my life. And Fletcher? He’d never agree to let Yates go. Not after everything Yates had witnessed.

  Tell Yates that I love him, and I’m sorry, but I have to marry Jessop Hawkins.

  Yates had to understand. He had to. I had no choice. We were both imprisoned, only in different ways.

  We flew past Pepperdine University, and the houses thinned out. “How soon until we arrive at the compound?” Ho asked.

  “Six minutes.”

  “Good, I’ll let Mr. Hawkins know.”

  I stared out at the last few miles of freedom. I would never call Hawkins’ compound home. Home wasn’t where you were locked up against your will.

  We were more than a mile away, when I saw a line of cars and news vans, snaking up the coast. As we got closer, I realized they were parked along the compound fence.

  “What’s going on?” I said into my headset.

  “Your homecoming,” Ho answered. “You are returning to your fiancé, grateful and relieved to be back from your ordeal.”

  Now I got why I had the parka. I had to pretend this was the moment of my big return to civilization and safety, and my reunion with the man of my dreams.

  Vans with KTLA-5 and other news station logos clogged the road, equipment sprouting from their roofs like ray guns. Oh God, look at them.

  Someone must have paid off the electric company, I thought, counting at least thirty Department of Water and Power trucks with big orange buckets on telescopic arms, and men standing in them, huge videocameras on their shoulders. The cameras were trained on Hawkins’ landing pad like weapons on a target.

  The manhunt for me was over. And now we were going to act like my being called a terrorist was all a big misunderstanding.

  My heart pounded, seeing the hundreds of men awaiting my arrival.

  A dozen reporters must have made the A List, because they and their crews jostled for space at the edge of the landing pad. Deeps circled closer, and Ho was texting furiously, but Hawkins hadn’t emerged from the house.

  “What am I supposed to do when we land?”

  Ho turned to me and spoke into his headset. “Put your hat on. Oh, and if I were you, I’d make sure everyone saw how happy I was to be reunited with my fiancé.”

  I tugged the knit hat over my blond hair.

  “Pull it down over your eyebrows, too,” Deeps added.

  I pulled the hat down even more and crammed loose strands up under it. Deep
s must have a reason for saying that. “Will I have to answer any questions?”

  “No,” Ho replied. “Jessop will say a few words, then I will read a prepared statement.”

  My heartbeat echoed the chop-chop-chop-chop of the rotors. Why was I nervous? It wasn’t like anyone would try and shoot me. Or—“Deeps, all these reporters, is this safe?”

  “See the yellow jackets? They’re security.” A squad of men in chrome-yellow jackets walked the walls along the compound, and more guarded the landing pad.

  Deeps touched down and the rotors stopped. Ho dragged two fingers down his face.

  Cry. I got it.

  Hawkins appeared, and the cameramen surged forward. The hired security guys moved down the line, pushing them back. I climbed down on the landing pad into an eruption of voices shouting out my name. “Aveline! Avie! Over here, Avie!”

  Hawkins walked toward me, his arms outstretched, relief carefully choreographed on his face. I ran to him, exaggerating my limp, and threw myself into his arms and buried my face in his chest. The musky scent of his cologne and the feel of his body against mine made my stomach heave, and I had to fight the urge to shove him away. Keep it together. You can’t show how you really feel.

  The cameras let loose a machine-gun fire of clicking as Hawkins held me. “Nicely done,” he whispered into my hair.

  Hawkins cradled me under his arm, and we walked to the podium. I kept my face pressed against his chest, trying to dodge the cameras. “Today I am a happy man,” he announced, “owing to the return of my dearest Aveline. I ask that you respect our need for privacy, and I thank you for sharing this joyous occasion.”

  Hawkins guided me down the stairs until we were out of sight, then he stopped to listen to Ho read his statement.

  “After the terrifying shootout with federal agents in Salvation, Idaho, Aveline Reveare feared for her life. Thanks to the help of the media, Aveline was able to reach out to her fiancé, Jessop Hawkins, and request assistance to return home. Aveline is not charged with any crime at this time, and our lawyers anticipate that she will be cleared of any suggestion of wrongdoing. She sustained minor injuries during her ordeal, and after a brief period of recuperation, we anticipate that she will join Candidate Hawkins on the campaign trail. I will take questions.”