by E. K. Blair
“THE CELL NUMBER is coming up blank. It must be a burner phone,” Lachlan tells me, and it makes sense that she would be using a disposable under the circumstances of her dead husband and all the lies. “Maybe the police would be able to bypass the blocks. I mean, the calls are going through a cell tower, perhaps they can track that.”
“No cops,” I order. “The call was choppy, cutting in and out, so they have to be somewhere secluded. I’m almost home though, how far are you?”
“Half an hour.”
I hang up, and when I arrive at the house, I take my time heading up the drive, looking around for any clues. My black roadster is parked in front of the fountain, and when I get out of my SUV, I walk over to check the door to find it’s still unlocked. The car is empty aside from the suitcase I find when I pop open the trunk.
Once inside, I head straight to the library to see the furniture slightly disheveled from the altercation I witnessed on the surveillance. I look around, stomach twisting, heart thudding, questions brewing. Setting the suitcase onto the couch, I start digging through it and realize that she went back to the Water Lily to retrieve the rest of her belongings.
As I’m rummaging through her clothes, my hand hits something hard. Grabbing the object, I pull it out, and the moment I catch sight of it, a chill takes over me. My fingers shake as I hold the picture frame and stare down into my own eyes looking up at me.
Where did she get this?
Unlatching the back of the frame, I take the photo out to see if anything is written on the back to find there is:
Declan
6 years old
I’m sitting by the small pond that was on the land of the home I grew up in. I’m staring up at the camera, smiling. The water is filled with lotus blooms, the blooms my mum loved so much. I remember how much she enjoyed that pond. She would sit along the bank with her legs hanging over the edge, just as I’m doing in the picture. She’d laugh in the sun’s edge of spring, skimming her painted toes on the water’s surface, calling out to me, her voice delicate and loving, “Sit with me, sweetie. Dip your toes in.” And I did.
The water was cold that day as we sat together among the fragrant lotus flowers. Her face is still so vivid in my head, flawless and milky. She was beautiful, with long brown hair that she would pin up in a bun around the house, but when she was in the gardens or by the pond, she would let it down.
My eyes close to bear the ache in my chest. The memories hurt, and the visions only remind me of what I allowed to be taken from me. I shake the past away, forever weak to let myself think about my mum for too long before I’m reminded of the coward I am.
Reality comes back into play when Lachlan calls from the gate. I let him in and stash the photo back inside Elizabeth’s bag, still confused about where she got it and why she has it. But I push the thought aside when Lachlan walks into the room and tosses his jacket over the back of one of the chairs.
“He was in this room with her,” I blurt out. “I pulled up the security cameras. He had a gun, smashed it into her head, knocking her out before he taped her up and threw her in the trunk of his car.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters in disbelief. “Where’s the computer? I want to get a look.”
Grabbing the laptop, I log in and pull up the footage to show him. He takes the computer and sits at the desk in the corner of the room. I pour two fingers of Scotch and throw it back quickly, not even caring to respect the smoky flavors because I just need it to take the edge off before I completely go ballistic.
“Where’s the gate cam?” he asks, and I walk over to show him the particular camera he’s wanting.
I watch over his shoulder as he clicks to zoom in on something, which I didn’t think to do because I swear to God, I’m losing all sense of focus.
“There it is,” he says as he grabs a pen and jots down the license plate number.
“Christ, I’m a fucking idiot.”
“Not as much as this fucker,” he counters and then grabs his cell. “Try to relax. We’ll find her. Let me make a couple calls while I grab a cup of coffee from the kitchen.”
I nod and walk over to the couch and take a seat, but the moment I do, I hear a buzzing coming from Lachlan’s jacket. Curiosity piques, and I go over to find another cell in one of the pockets. With no name flashing on the screen, I accept the call and stay silent.
“Baby, are you there?” a woman says, and it takes me a few seconds to connect the voice in my head.
“Camilla?”
There’s a moment of silence before my father’s girlfriend questions in return, “Declan?”
“Why are you calling Lachlan?” I ask, but she quickly pivots, saying, “How have you been? Your father and I haven’t heard from you since you—”
“How do you know Lachlan?” I question, cutting her off mid-sentence.
“Umm, well . . . ” she stumbles. “Maybe you should . . . you should probably ask Lachlan.”
“I’m asking you.”
There’s no immediate response, but it isn’t long before she releases a sigh and reveals, “Your father is in a little trouble. I wanted to call you and tell you this sooner, but your father insisted that I refrain. You know how stubborn he is.”
“Stop the shit, Camilla. How do you know Lachlan?”
“It’s a rental,” Lachlan announces when he rushes back into the room, and in the same second, Camilla hangs up, disconnecting the call.
“What the fuck is this?” I question as I hold up the cell.
He’s collected and calm, responding, “My personal cell.”
“And that is . . . ?” I question, eyeing the cell in his hand.
“My work phone.”
“So tell me then, why is my father’s girlfriend calling your personal cell? And why, when I asked her how she knows you, did she choke like a cheap whore giving head?”
“Camilla’s an old friend. Don’t worry; your father knows that. You probably just caught her off guard when you answered the phone.”
His composure makes me second-guess whatever suspicions I have, but she called him baby, and I can’t ignore that, but I also can’t waste time right now. I’ll have to deal with this shit later as I draw my attention back to what he said about the car.
“McKinnon,” Lachlan adds. “Relax, okay? We’re going to find her.”
“I’ll relax when she’s back in this house. Tell me, what did you find out?”
“I’m waiting on a call from the rental company. Seems, whoever this guy is, he wasn’t aware that the car has a tracking device in it that the company installs on all the vehicles.”
“What about the police?”
“The minimum wage kid who took the call was an easy payoff,” he tells me.
Grabbing her bag, I say, “I’m going to check her room. I’ll be down shortly.”
“Sure thing.”
Heading upstairs, I walk into the guest room I put Elizabeth in since bringing her home with me earlier this week. I set the bag down and sit on the edge of the bed. When I look over to the nightstand, I see a pair of pearl earrings along with a necklace that catches my attention. I pick up the thin silver chain and stare at the small charm that hangs from it—a lotus.
How could a woman who is so dead inside be so sentimental?
This girl is incredibly damaged. To wrap my mind around her psychotic thoughts and deranged actions would be a wasted effort because there’s no way to make sense of it all. The trauma that a person has to endure to get to the state of mental instability that she’s in is gut-wrenching to think about. Everything she’s told me about her childhood, everything she went through, is morbidly sickening. If I had to walk around holding on to what she does, I’m not sure I could live with myself.
Her past has molded her into a monster. But to look into her eyes as deeply as I find myself doing, there’s something innocent inside of her. She’s very much like a child in many ways; I see it in small glimpses. It’s almost as if she hit pause and stoppe
d living when she lost her dad. Like she’s somehow stuck because the life she was thrown into was too heinous that she never let go of the childlike beliefs that the world is a good place filled with good people. You would never know it unless you found yourself in the core of her. She knows how ugly life is, but there’s a little girl inside of her that hasn’t given up just yet.
I’m helpless sitting here, not knowing where she is or what that fucker is going to do to her or has done to her. Never have I wanted to save someone as much as I did when I believed her to be Nina. I would’ve done anything for her, and I did. My love for her was so strong that I never thought twice about turning myself into a monster too—for her.
As much as I hate her, as much as I want to hurt her, as much as I wish I’d never met her, I can’t walk away from someone I love so deeply that she’s in my marrow.
The girl is crazy and out of her mind, and for wanting her, I am too. Nothing can deny the force that pulls me to her, even in my most wretched thoughts, I’m still drawn to her.
“McKinnon!” Lachlan shouts. “Get your ass down here. Let’s go!”
Flying down the stairs, I ask, “What is it?”
“She’s in Edinburgh. The location of the car isn’t a pinpoint, but it’s close enough.”
“One second,” I tell him before rushing up to my bedroom to grab my gun.
Energy powers through me like lightning as I move quickly through the house, and when I make it outside and jump into Lachlan’s SUV, my heart races out of control.
“Talk to me. Where is she?”
He hands me the phone with the map open, and suddenly, my surge of optimism that we might know where she is morphs into dread.
“There’s no way. It’s too populated,” I say.
“It’s all we have to work off of. That’s where the car is.”
“That may be where the car is, but there is no way that’s where he’s got her,” I tell him as I look at a map of downtown Edinburgh.
“Who’re you calling?” he asks when I pull out my phone.
“Her. He’s got her phone.”
After one ring, the call connects, but there’s nothing but silence.
“Tell me where you are.”
My demand is met with a sinister laugh from this dick fuck, before he responds, “Now why would I tell you that?”
“I have the money you asked for,” I lie.
“Very good, but I don’t want to touch it. I’ll give you the account information you’re to wire the money into. Once I get verification the money has been transferred, I’ll text you the location of wherever I decide to drop the bitch off.”
“I want to talk to her first.”
“I don’t know if she’s in the mood to talk right now.”
“I don’t give a fuck!” I shout. “Put her on the phone or the deal is off. I can take or leave the bitch, so it’s up to you!” My words, fallacies.
Silence spans before he responds, “I don’t think so. You see, I don’t give a shit what you feel for the girl. I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I wanted to use her as leverage, but she isn’t the only leverage I have on you.”
“And what’s that?”
His next words drain my veins and then fill them with icy fear.
“Bennett Vanderwal.”
Fuck.
“WHAT DID HE say?” I ask timidly after hearing Richard tell Declan that if he couldn’t use me as leverage that he would use Bennett.
“Looks like you were telling me the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
“Seems Declan doesn’t give a shit about you.”
I knew it. I knew that if forced for an answer that I would never be it. And now I sit here, half-naked, beaten, and raped as the last of my heart incinerates into ash.
Go ahead and take a breath now because I’m finally ready to be blown into nothingness.
I now know my lies truly destroyed what I never wanted them to. I knew Declan was conflicted, I felt it in his push and pull, but I hoped there was a piece of him that still wanted me regardless of all my sins.
So I close my eyes, and green meets blue as Declan looks at me the way he did back in Chicago. He will never look at me with adoration as he once did. I ruined it for both of us. Now I’m left with this pain, ripping inside of me. It isn’t the pain of heartbreak though, because I’ve already lost that. My heart no longer exists. And it can’t be my soul, because I’m without that too.
But it’s real, the pain I feel. It comes from somewhere inside of me, a place I never knew I had, and it hurts deep. Hurts in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s so unbearable my body can’t fight it, so it shuts down on me. I’m lifeless, flesh and bone, the weakened muscle inside my chest beating slowly, pumping what I pray is venom into my veins.
I don’t want this anymore.
“What if he’s lying to you?”
Keeping my eyes closed because just hearing his voice is enough to console me, I lie down with my head in Pike’s lap, and he places a soothing hand gently over my swollen face.
“He’s not,” I whisper to him in response. “My destruction went far beyond the capacity of forgiveness.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hear Richard’s voice bark, but I shut it out and focus entirely on Pike.
Pike is all I want right now. He’s the constant that’s always been in my life. He never turns away from me, never stops comforting me, never stops caring for and loving me.
My face scrunches in despair as I try so hard to hold myself together. “I can’t stop missing you.”
“I can’t stop missing you either.”
Battling with my emotions causes my body to tremble, and I know Pike feels it when he says, “You wanna play a game?”
I nod. “You can pick this time.”
“How about breakfast foods?”
“Okay.” Pike and I always used to play this word game when we were kids and I was locked up in the closet. It was his way of distracting me from my awful reality. We’d play this game for hours in the middle of the night while he sat on the opposite side of the door. And in this moment, in his death, he never fails to take care of me. “Pancake,” I say, playing my first word.
“English muffin.”
“NutriGrain bar.”
“Rice Krispies.”
We continue to play our words while he runs his fingers through my hair, careful to not hurt the tender scab that still remains on the back of my head. I never open my eyes, and eventually, before declaring a winner, I drift to sleep.
COLD METAL PRODDING my face wakes me up. My tired eyes come into focus as I jerk my head away from Richard’s gun. I look at him, his face pale and his hair messy, as if he’s been anxiously running his hands through it. He’s jittery, kneeling beside me, and I have no clue if something happened while I was asleep to cause his shift in demeanor.
“Have I given you the impression that I’m one to be toyed with?” he says with a tight jaw, pissed.
I shake my head, and he snaps, “Then where the fuck is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“I will put a bullet in your head the same way I did the McKinnon woman. I swear to God, I will.”
“I won’t fight you,” I tell him calmly. “You want to kill me? Then kill me.”
He grabs my tattered shirt and shakes me, losing control while he screams in aggravation, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“If you wanted me to fight, you picked the wrong girl. There’s nothing for me to fight for.”
He shakes his head, confounded, and then clues in, saying, “So you don’t give a shit what happens to you? I could do whatever I wanted with you, and you’d let me?”
“You can’t possibly hurt me; I’m already dead,” I tell him, the sound of my own voice creeping me out with its eerie tone. “But first,” I add, “Fill in the blanks.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Cal. What does he have to do with the guns?”
“He was my washer,” he tells me freely, taking a deep breath and sitting next to me with his back against the wall. “Cal used to push the money through a random laundromat he acquired for the sole purpose of covering the money trail. But I later found out he was being greedy and filtering some of the money into an offshore account that was linked to him. That’s when I taught him his first lesson in loyalty and killed his precious wife. He never stole from me again.”
His words turn the venom of my heart into the blood of life. Just because Declan doesn’t give a shit about me doesn’t change my love for him, but I hide my shift. I’m like a machine when I continue my quest for clarity. “And Bennett?”
“Bennett was a man who trusted too easily, which made him my perfect asset. His father actually worked with yours.”
“What?” I ask in shock.
“I always suspected bad blood between the two, then it became apparent when he put the authorities on Steve. I didn’t know this until after Steve was already locked up, but apparently when Bennett came home one day talking some nonsense about how he thought your father was hurting you, that’s when he saw his chance to get your dad out of the game.”
My hands tingle in fury as I listen to his admissions. I can’t even see straight as my desire to kill that piece of shit sparks to life. This man, my fucking father-in-law, was yet another man who had a hand in my father’s death and the destruction of my life.
“Later, when Bennett was older and acquired his first production plant, his father convinced him to partner with me. We knew it would serve as a better cover for laundering the money. Bennett trusted me as a longtime family friend, took the advice of his father, and the rest is history, until you came along and fucked everything up with your stupid charade.”
I sit in silence, trying with everything I have to control the anger exploding within me as I process what I’ve just heard, realizing that all of us are linked in one way or another. There was a time I was the one in control and able to manipulate people into my puppets, but I know now I was never in control because I never truly knew the cast of characters I lured my way into.
“But I will admit,” he continues, “I’m impressed with your efforts, even though you failed miserably.”