by Zoey Parker
“Heather, you aren’t looking so well,” my dad’s voice said, mock concern etched into every word.
“Why are you doing this, Dad? Why are you working with Caleb?” I asked.
“The real question,” he said, as he stepped back so Caleb could push me into the room, “is why you are working against us? We are your family, Heather. We care about you more than anyone else. We only want what is best for you.”
Hearing the lies I’d believed for so long pour from my father’s mouth made me feel sick. He couldn’t care about me and still stand in front of me with a smile on his face while a gun was pointed at my back.
I pointed to my stomach. “This is my family now. This baby is my flesh and blood. If you want me to work with you, then you are going to have to accept that.”
He lowered himself into one of three metal fold-out chairs, and I wondered whether he’d brought them to the warehouse especially for this meeting because, otherwise, the room was empty. Wood shelves lined the walls, but aside from an empty cardboard box and years of dust, they were bare.
“The hospital called me yesterday,” he said, his hands folded across his knee. “Apparently, you were admitted to the ER.”
“How did you—”
“If you really want me out of your personal business, you should change your emergency contact and get your own health insurance,” he said, not waiting for me to finish. “Anyway, they said you had a seizure, and they needed your medical history. Apparently, the person who brought you in—who I can only assume was Killian—didn’t have much useful information for them. He didn’t know you were allergic to Penicillin, for example, and he had no idea if you had a history of seizures. Is that the person into whose hands you want to trust your life? Over your brother and me? Someone who doesn’t even know you well enough to know whether you’re epileptic or not?”
“At least I know Killian isn’t a murderer. Can you say the same about your partner in crime? Do you really believe Caleb is telling you the truth?” I asked, using the only move I had left: driving a wedge between them. “I read his journals. I saw his entire plan. You weren’t there the night Niall was killed because Caleb sent you a message. He pretended to be Killian and called you off.”
Behind me, Caleb snorted. “This is absurd.”
“Is it?” I asked, turning around to face him, the gun now pointed at my chest. “It seems to me that anyone who is willing to hold their own sister at gunpoint is a pretty loose cannon.”
“It seems to me that any sister who is willing to throw her own brother under the bus for her baby daddy isn’t a real sister,” he replied, his smile slipping into a snarl.
“Enough,” Dad said, making us both jump. “I won’t stand here and let you two talk to one another like that.”
“He has a gun to my back, and you’re worried about what he’s saying to me. Dad, are you joking?” I asked, almost laughing at the absurdity of it all.
“I said that’s enough,” he repeated, his voice low but threatening, reminding me of when we were kids, poking each other’s arms and pulling hair in the back seat. But back then, my biggest fear was that I’d be grounded. Now, a whole new world of horror was opening up before me. “Besides, none of this will matter soon enough. Things will go back to the way they used to be.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, staring at my dad, terror gripping my chest. I turned back to Caleb, even though I knew it was useless. “What does he mean?”
“The doctor said your body is having a hard time with the pregnancy. Don’t you understand what that means? It means that fate has intervened. You will lose this baby, and we will forget this happened,” Dad said, his face smooth and spiritual like he’d just returned from a year-long meditation.
“That’s not what the doctor said.” I felt like I was talking to a brick wall for all the impact my words were having. Still, I tried. “The doctor said I was stressed. I just needed to relax, and everything could turn out fine.”
“Yes,” Dad said, his face growing long and somber. “I’ve prepared for that possibility, as well. If nature doesn’t run its course, then I will be forced to step in.”
“What do you—”
The words died on my lips as he reached into his front pocket and pulled out a small bottle of pills. He shook them, the pills inside rattling around like a horrific maraca.
“What are those?” I croaked, though I feared I already knew the answer.
He sighed, put the pills back in his pocket, and sat down in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “A solution to your problem.”
“No!” I shouted. “Those are a solution to your problem. My problem is the two of you. I’m an adult. I can do what I please, and that includes having this baby. You can’t control me forever.”
“I’m not trying to control you, Heather. I’m trying to make sure you don’t make a horrible mistake.”
“Dad, Caleb killed someone! That is a mistake. That is a royal, massive, life-shattering mistake. This baby? This baby is a miracle. It’s the only good thing in my life, and if you take it away from me, I will never speak to you again. I will go to the police. I’ll turn Caleb in. I’ll turn you in for murdering my baby. You’ll both go to prison, and I’ll never see you again.”
The words were coming out too fast. I could feel my breath leaving me, saw the black creeping around the edges of my vision. The room went fuzzy, and my thoughts were whirlpools, drawing me in and pulling me around and around until I didn’t know which way was up.
I don’t know who caught me when I fell, or if anyone did, but my knees buckled under my weight just as the world went dark.
Chapter Twelve
Killian
“It doesn’t make any sense. Kevin Rourke is my friend and has been for years. Why would he want to do anything to hurt Niall?” Dad asked.
As soon as the Rourkes had come up in conversation, Dad dismissed the enforcers, telling them to wait in another room. Since then, he’d repeated the same questions over and over, and each time my patience ran a bit shorter. I didn’t know how many more times I could explain everything to him.
“I’m not sure Kevin knew anything about what Caleb was planning. It may have just been Caleb acting alone,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.
Dad leaned back in his chair, his lips pulled to one side. At that moment, I was struck by how much he looked like Niall. Everyone was always saying that. Since Niall was born, it was non-stop. Someone was always pointing out the obvious fact that he looked like dad.
I never exactly saw it, but only because I knew their faces so well. Where Niall’s face was long and angular, Dad’s was broader at the cheekbones. Where Dad’s lips turned down at the corners, leaving him with a permafrown, Niall’s resting face was a smile. Now, though, with his mouth puckered in the corner of his face, his eyes wide and searching, I could see it. And to be honest, it scared me. Would I one day lose the intimate knowledge I had of Niall’s face? Would he and Dad just blend together in my memory?
“And Caleb was angry because Niall got Heather pregnant?” he asked, eyebrows pulled together.
I sighed. “I’m not sure if he knew at the time that Heather was pregnant, but yes, he did know they were sleeping together.”
“And why would that make him so angry?”
I banged my fist on the table and then held it there, forcing my frustration into the wood. “Because he’s a lunatic, Dad. I don’t know. Heather told me the Rourkes don’t like us. She said her dad explicitly told her she could never date Niall or me.”
Dad waved his hand at me, dismissing what I was saying before I even finished. “That’s ridiculous. That’s where this whole story falls apart. Kevin Rourke works to protect us. If he hated us so much, why would he do that?”
“You sign the checks. You know how much he gets paid. It’s not like he could leave and find another job that would pay him to workout and beat people up. People do a lot of things they don’t want to for money. You know th
at.”
Dad bobbed his head from side to side, considering my point. “Okay, ignoring everything else, for now, you’re sure Heather is pregnant?”
I nodded.
“And you’re sure it’s Niall’s?”
I nodded again. “Niall told me himself the day he died. He wanted to take care of that child. And Heather doesn’t have much reason to lie. She knew how dangerous it could be for her and the baby if her dad found out the baby was Niall’s.”
Dad leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs the way Niall and I used to as kids before he’d yell at us and tell us we were going to fall and break out necks. All of a sudden, he thundered forward, the chair banging back down onto all four legs and he rose to his feet.
“Okay, then. Let me call Caleb.”
He was reaching for his phone by the time the words sunk in, and I had to lunge across the table to knock it from his hands.
“What? No!” I shouted. “You can’t just call him.”
He gave me a warning look, one I recognized well from my teenage years, as he bent down to pick his phone up off the ground.
“You’re lucky the screen isn’t shattered,” he said, inspecting it. “And what exactly do you propose we do? I can’t do anything until I hear his side of the story.”
“His side of the story is a lie,” I shouted. “Heather found the proof in his bedroom. We just need to get ahold of those journals, then you’ll have all of the answers right in front of you. Then we can act on what we know without him growing suspicious.”
He was still holding the phone in his hand, finger poised to dial a number. “What if I call Kevin? You said you don’t think he knew about any of this?”
I groaned. “No, I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.”
“Okay,” he said, setting the phone down on the table and pressing his palms together. “I’ll call him and ask him to come over so I can question him one more time about what happened the night Niall died. I won’t mention Caleb or tip him off in any way as to your suspicions. I just want to try and clear his name.”
“You didn’t try to clear my name,” I mumbled, though I wished I could draw the words back in the moment I’d said them.
He looked at me, his eyes faraway as if he were looking at a photograph rather than a flesh and blood person standing in front of him. Then, he carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I’ll call Kevin. It’s a place to start, at least.”
Just as he began punching in the number, my phone went off. I checked it, hoping it was Heather, but found myself disappointed to see Declan’s name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hey, man,” he said, his voice rasping and out of breath. “Where are you right now?”
“At my dad’s. Why?”
“No shit? How did that happen?”
Just as I began to answer, he cut me off.
“I’m sorry, there actually isn’t any time. Caleb has Heather.”
My entire body froze, anger and terror and adrenaline pulsing through each limb. “What do you mean Caleb has Heather?”
“I mean he has her, man. I saw her walking down the street, so I did what you asked, and I kept an eye on her. She got into a car in front of her house, but she was being real weird about it, like she didn’t want anyone to see her. But then I saw Caleb come around the side of the house and get in the car, but he had a gun in his hand. Then, she pulled out and drove away. I followed them; they’re in the storage warehouse in the back corner of the compound near all of the empty houses.”
“How long ago did you see this?”
“Like, ten or fifteen minutes ago, maybe. I would have called sooner, but my phone was dead. I had to run home and charge—”
I hung up on him, planning to apologize later.
“The Rourkes have Heather,” I said, though I knew Dad had already overheard that as he was staring at me, listening to the conversation.
“Okay, and why is that a problem?” he asked, the phone still balanced in his palm.
Then I remembered he’d only heard my side. “Caleb had a gun. He forced her to go with him.”
I could see him mulling it over, the crease in his forehead prominent as he considered all of the options.
“You run this compound,” I reminded him. “You have a say in what goes on around here. Plus, Heather is carrying your grandchild. This is a family matter. We have to do something.”
Without responding, he pushed a button on his phone and brought it to his ear.
“Hey, Kevin,” he said, his words coming out casual, no hint of worry or alarm to be found. “Are you and Caleb free for a bit? I’d like to talk with you both about—”
“Oh, you’re not,” he said, looking at me, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Well, when you guys get back to the compound, could you give me a call?”
A pause.
“Right. Yeah, that sounds great. Thanks a lot. Bye.”
Before he’d even hung up the phone, I was pacing back and forth across the dining room, my hand running nervously through my hair. “We have to do something.”
“Calm down,” Dad said, walking over and placing a hand on my shoulder. He’d done the same thing a million times, but at that moment, the normalcy of it was bizarre. For so long, things between us had been fractured and felt too broken to ever be put back together, but in that one gesture, our relationship slipped a tiny bit back into alignment. “You don’t think they’d really hurt her, do you?”
“The baby,” I said. “Heather told me her dad wanted her to have an abortion. For all we know, he could have hired some crack job doctor to come in and do a secret abortion. She could be on the operating table right now.”
Gruesome images flashed through my mind, and I tried to push them away, not allowing myself to let my imagination run wild.
“How long ago did Declan see them?” Dad asked.
“Ten or fifteen minutes,” I said. “It has probably been twenty minutes by now though.”
“Then we have to assume she is still okay. They couldn’t have done anything drastic in twenty minutes.”
“But every minute we stand here—”
“I know,” he said. “I know, but we can’t just barge in there and confront them.”
“Why not?” I cried. “They’ve kidnapped Heather, we have no idea what they could be doing to her, and they work for you. It seems like that is exactly what we should do.”
“They are enforcers, Killian,” Dad said. “They are the men we hire to protect us. Don’t you think they could outshoot us and outfight us at every turn?”
He made a good point, though I didn’t want to admit it. Flashbacks of Niall falling to the ground flooded my thoughts, his body being riddled with bullets. Each bullet had hit him perfectly in the chest, even though I couldn’t see the shooter anywhere. If that had been Caleb, his aim was impeccable.
“Maybe we can talk them down,” I said. “Maybe if we show up at the warehouse, we can confront them, take Heather, and get out without anything getting violent.”
Dad bit his top lip and shook his head, his eyebrows pulled together. “I don’t know, Killian. It’s a risk.”
“Standing here is a risk,” I said, trying to keep the emotion from my voice. I didn’t want him to think I was making decisions purely with my heart, though I couldn’t be sure I wasn’t. “Every minute Heather is alone with them is a risk. It’s our only option.”
After a long time, he finally nodded and turned towards the cabinet in the corner of the room. He unlocked the top middle drawer with a small metal key on his key ring, and quickly pulled out two handguns and sat them on the table. When I didn’t move, he gestured for me to take one.
“Let’s go.”
We were in front of the warehouse within three minutes, though it felt like much longer, Knowing Heather was inside the building, just beyond the gray metal walls, but I still couldn’t get to her, was infuriating.
“What’s our plan of action?” I asked, a nervous
feeling buzzing through my chest.
“Well, we could—” Dad stopped and nudged me in the arm. He was looking towards the building, a smile on his face, but I watched him reach slowly for the handgun in the center console. I followed his eyes and saw Caleb Rourke walking towards us.
“Never mind,” I mumbled. “I guess we’re going to wing it.”
I hadn’t anticipated how angry seeing Caleb would make me. It had been months since I’d seen him, and I certainly hadn’t laid eyes on him since learning he was Niall’s killer, so seeing him lope across the parking lot as if he didn’t have a care in the world nearly sent me over the edge.