by Mia Sheridan
Dreamboat’s head came up, lips parting, but for a moment he simply blinked at her. “What?”
“I have to.” Kandace squinted off behind him for a moment before meeting his eyes. “I have proof,” she told him. “I think they did something to your mother, to Georgia’s mother, and to Mason’s. I don’t think they left of their own will.”
He blinked again, his forehead creasing as he shook his head. “Why?”
“I don’t know exactly, but with what I have, there will be an investigation. People will be questioned. You’ll be taken away from Lilith House.”
With those words his gaze snapped to hers, but what she was telling him seemed to have rendered him mute. “Listen, Dreamboat, you know they’re abusing us here. I believe they abused your mother too.”
He looked down, two spots appearing high on his cheekbones. He looked ashamed and Kandace wondered if he remembered being in the room with her as she was being raped or not. Her own shame spiraled inside her. If he didn’t . . . she preferred to leave it that way. When she spoke next, she gentled her voice. “I think the town is in on it, or at least its officials. They have to be. And they’re getting away with it.” She reached out and put her hand on top of his where it lay on his knee. His gaze went to it, thick eyelashes creating dark crescent moons on his cheeks. She heard movement somewhere nearby, the snap of a twig or the crunch of a leaf and though they both looked in the same direction from which it’d come, each looked away after a moment of silence.
For several minutes he didn’t say a thing. He appeared deeply conflicted. When he looked up at her, she saw that there wasn’t only uncertainty in his gaze, but fear. “I found an old trunk in the basement,” he said.
“A trunk?” she asked, confused.
He nodded. “It was behind a portion of wall in one of the smaller storage areas. I was . . . looking for other hidden panels like the ones that lead to the crawl spaces and I found it.”
“Okay,” she said, confused.
He swallowed and then he told her about what he’d found inside it. He told her the story of Taluta and Narcisa and the testimonies they’d left in a hidden trunk behind a secret wall.
“Holy God,” she breathed. “Ms. Wykes . . . she says a demon native roams these woods.”
He paused, seeming to consider what he was about to say. “I’ve heard the drums,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I don’t know what it is, but I’ve seen the shadow of . . . something.” His eyes bored into her. “And if he seeks vengeance, he has a right to it.”
Kandace shivered, her eyes moving to the dark forest beyond.
“I know what you’re talking about,” he said, grabbing her attention once again. “The abuse you mentioned. I know what they do at Lilith House.” He looked down again, embarrassment filling his handsome young face. “They tell us it’s God’s will and that fallen ones must be redeemed.”
Redeemed? Was that what they called rape and torture these days?
“But . . .” he said, shaking his head. “I read Taluta’s story, and Narcisa’s and . . . we read the Bible, God’s word . . .” His brow dipped, his frown deepening as he rubbed at his temple. “The things written in the Bible don’t match up with what they tell us God desires. It’s like . . . they got it all wrong. It’s like, they don’t understand.”
Oh, Dreamboat.
“They did,” she whispered. “They did get it all wrong.” And so had she. She’d gotten it all wrong too. Her baby kicked again and she adjusted her body to hide the movement of her midsection. She’d thought she was strong, brave, invincible, but she’d been no such thing. Recently, as she’d lain in bed at night, she tried to figure out the exact moment when everything went wrong. The hour that, if she’d made a different choice, she wouldn’t have ended up where she was. And just the night before, she had. It was her mother’s sixth wedding day, when the judge had become her stepfather. She’d been upset, angry, and so she’d decided to go to a party with a guy she knew was bad news in every sense of the phrase. She hadn’t cared. That day, she relished the idea of letting him bring her down in whatever way he might. Scarlett had called her as she was heading out the door—she’d known it was her mother’s wedding day and she’d called to see how Kandace was doing. Whatever she’d heard in her voice, whatever she’d sensed about Kandace’s mood, she’d asked her to come over and visit.
But visiting Scarlett was too safe and offered no promise of self-destruction. And so, she’d said no. She’d said no, and that night she’d tried cocaine for the first time, which led to theft and rampant promiscuity and other behaviors she didn’t want to think about at the moment. That was the night she’d veered crazily off course.
That was the hour it all went wrong.
But if she’d said yes to Scarlett . . . if she’d gone to her instead of to that party . . . she would have left better, not worse. Because Scarlett had loved her. Not because she was family. Not because she had to. No, she’d loved her as a friend, without strings or obligation. She’d found her worthy. She’d hoped Kandace would see in herself what Scarlett had seen in her.
When she escaped, she was going to tell Scarlett that her words had carried her through so much. She was going to try to be the person Scarlett believed she could be. In the meantime, Kandace was going to hold on to that moment like a promise.
They had both been quiet for the last few minutes, each lost in his and her own thoughts. When Kandace looked up at him, she smiled. In some inexplicable way, he reminded her of Scarlett. They both had the same deeply sensitive heart, the same steady presence, the same overt trustworthiness. “I’ve got this friend, Dreamboat, and she’s just your age. If I can arrange it, I’m going to make sure you meet. I think you’d get along. She’s brave like you. I act brave, but it’s a show. You and this friend of mine? You’re the real deal.”
He offered her a small, confused smile, but it quickly dwindled. “You’re brave too, Kandace. What do you need me to do to help you escape?”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Scarlett pulled up in front of Millie’s house, getting out of the car and beginning to walk toward the front door when she spotted the woman pushing a stroller toward her on the opposite side of the sidewalk. The woman smiled and Scarlett looked closer, realizing that the stroller she was pushing was for a special needs child, and the boy sitting in it—who looked to be a pre-teen—was clearly disabled.
“If you’re going to visit Vicky Schmidt, she won’t be home. She attends a church meeting every Thursday at five. We usually take our walk a little earlier and we see her leaving.” She smiled, ruffling the boy’s hair. He craned his neck, his mouth opening as he gazed at his mother with clear adoration.
“Oh, thank you,” Scarlett said, changing direction and walking toward her. “Do you, by chance, live in the blue house a few blocks over?”
“Yes. Do I know you?”
“No. I’m Scarlett Lattimore. We, um, moved to town very recently. Millie babysits my daughter, Haddie, and she mentioned you.”
“Welcome to town. I’m Dotty and this is Roger.”
Scarlett smiled down at the boy whose arms were folded inward, head slanted, tongue protruding through the same open-mouthed smile. He was obviously non-verbal. “Hi, Roger.” When she looked at his mother, she said, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry in person. Millie told me Haddie made Roger scream. I don’t know what came over my daughter that would cause her to upset him like that. She’s usually kind and very accepting—”
“Oh, Ms. Lattimore.” Dotty laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think Millie understood. Haddie didn’t upset Roger.” She ran a hand over her son’s brown hair again. “He does that when he’s excited or . . . overcome with happiness.” Her smile widened. “It’s loud, and can be disconcerting if you don’t know him well, but it’s joyful. Haddie didn’t hurt him. Far from it. Whatever your daughter said made him overwhelmingly happy.”
Scarlett blinked in stunned wonder, her spirit lifting to hear what this m
other was telling her. “Oh, I see.” She let out a breath, putting her hand over her heart. “I can’t tell you how relieved that makes me feel.” Oh, Haddie, I’m sorry I doubted you. Again.
Dotty gave her another grin. “I’d like to know what it was Haddie said so we can repeat it. Daily. He so rarely has a reaction like that. It was precious to me.” She gazed down at her child. “Roger is a handful some days, but he’s a gift.” She met Scarlett’s eyes. “He was taken, you know, a few days after his birth.” She swallowed, obviously reliving the memory.
“Taken?” Scarlett whispered.
“By a wild animal. I was napping and my husband was with him in our backyard. They’d said he needed sunlight . . . for his jaundice. He only turned away for a moment, but when he turned back, Roger was gone. The sheriff never could quite figure out what it was. There were no tracks . . . nothing. But . . . there had been other abductions like it in Farrow. Animals take babies sometimes, you know, just like they take cats and small dogs. Especially when they’re hungry.”
“Oh my God,” Scarlett said, putting her hand over her heart to imagine the horror of a moment like that for a new mother. The pictures that must have come to mind. The absolute torture she must have experienced.
“But he was found. Obviously.”
Dotty bobbed her head. “Yes. A hunter out near Lilith House heard an infant wailing. When he investigated, he found Roger, cold but unharmed in the little shed behind the property. It was like God Himself had delivered him to safety.” Her gaze became distant. “Like I said, there had been animal abductions before, but they seemed to stop after that.” Her eyes came back into focus and she looked at Scarlett, smiling. “Anyway,” she said, “despite the challenges, I don’t take a moment for granted.”
“No, of course not,” Scarlett murmured, gazing at the boy.
A wild animal took him. She could believe in the possibility.
But if so, what kind of creature returned him?
Maybe Dotty didn’t care. She had her boy back and that was all that mattered. Scarlett mustered a smile for her. “I’ll have to ask Haddie what she said to Roger so I can let you know. It was so nice to meet you both.”
“Yes, I’d love that. And likewise. See you around town.”
Scarlett turned, watching as Dotty pushed her son’s modified stroller away, returning to her car. She took a moment to shake off the unsettled feeling that crawled under her skin at the mere thought of a baby being taken by a wild animal. But she couldn’t ponder on that, not now when there were critical and urgent questions that needed to be asked.
Whatever your daughter said made him overwhelmingly happy.
Scarlett took a moment to let herself enjoy the relief flowing through her spirit on that front, at least. Haddie hadn’t been cruel. On the contrary, she’d brought the boy joy. She’d said something that elicited such a strong reaction from him, he hadn’t been able to contain his elation.
Scarlett started her car. The worry that clouded her mind returned as she pictured Millie in her mind, recalled the moment she’d stood watching her from the hall, the surety that had filled her heart.
How could it be true though? How?
You might be imagining things, Scarlett.
Yes, it’d been an overwhelming few days. Her mind could very well be playing tricks on her. She remembered losing her dad when she was just a little girl. She remembered how after his death, she saw him everywhere. In the man walking on the sidewalk as their car drove by. In the profile of the cashier at the grocery store right before he fully turned her way. She suspected it was a common phenomenon when you lost a person. And for all intents and purposes, she had just experienced the loss of Kandi all over again. But she had to find out if there was any merit to the feeling that had gripped her just an hour before. She had to speak to Millie’s mother. Immediately. This could not wait. She owed it to Kandi.
Scarlett pulled up at the church, her heart sinking when she noticed that there were only a few cars in the lot, Vicky’s not one of them. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. Six thirty-seven. Damn. If the meeting had lasted an hour, then everyone, including Vicky, would be gone by now. She got out of her car, walking toward the building. Likely, she’d passed Vicky as she headed for home, and Scarlett would have to drive back to her house if she wanted to speak with her. But first, she’d check inside the building just to make sure.
She pulled the green door open, the scent of incense meeting her nose, the cool solemnity that all churches seemed to hold greeting her. At first, she thought the room was empty, but then she spotted a woman sitting in one of the pews, head bent forward in prayer. Just as Scarlett noticed her, the woman turned toward her. Vicky Schmidt.
A look of surprise came over Vicky’s face as she stood, turning toward Scarlett.
“I didn’t see your car in the lot,” Scarlett said as she approached.
Vicky shook her head. “I got a ride with Sister Madge. My car’s in the shop.” Her brow dipped. “Is Millie okay?”
“Yes. Millie is fine. No, she’s more than fine, Vicky. She’s so lovely, and Haddie is so lucky to have her caring for her.”
“Oh, well. Thank you. She’s always been a happy child. Highly spirited, if you know what I mean.”
Highly spirited. Like her mother? A lump formed in Scarlett’s throat and she swallowed around it.
“I came to ask you something and”—she bit her lip, glancing to the side—“I understand that this might sound odd and . . . personal, but . . . I have to know.”
Vicky frowned. “Okay.”
“Millie said you and your late husband had her later in life. But . . . was she actually adopted?”
Vicky’s gaze flickered with surprise, two spots of color rising in her cheeks. “I’m sorry?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Scarlett came closer, watching Vicky’s face. “Millie looks very much like someone I once knew. The body they found in the woods two days ago, Kandace Thompson? She delivered a baby before she died.” She paused, her voice lowering to a mere whisper. “I’m wondering if that baby was Millie.”
Vicky let out a small gasp, sinking down into the pew. Scarlett’s heartbeat quickened as she came around the bench to sit next to the woman.
Vicky gripped the back of the pew in front of her. For several weighty moments, she stared up at Christ, hanging on the crucifix at the front of the church. “We tried so hard to have a baby,” she finally whispered brokenly.
Scarlett stilled, a silent moan rising inside. She’d been right. Oh, Kandi, oh my God, what happened?
“Year after year after year. I wondered what I was being punished for.” She looked down, her hands twisting in her lap. “Then one winter this tiny baby was left on our porch, the umbilical cord still attached.” She looked at Scarlett, tears glittering in her eyes. “Like an answer to our prayers.” She looked down again, her voice growing stronger. “I knew it belonged to one of those girls. It must. And I knew what happened to children born at Lilith House. But that tiny, tiny baby, she appeared perfect. No mark of sin.”
Horror settled in Scarlett’s stomach, Camden’s story rushing through her mind.
“Someone had taken her from there, they’d left her on our doorstep rather than leaving her in the woods or keeping her hidden behind its walls.”
Scarlett fisted her hands, her nails digging into the tender flesh of her palms. They’d known. They’d all known.
“I stayed in for months and when I came out, I had the baby. She was still so very small. No one doubted she was a newborn. I told them all we were too nervous to tell of my pregnancy after our many losses. My husband went along with it, God rest his soul.” She did the sign of the cross. “He was a decent man.”
Scarlett’s mind raced, and acid burned her throat. That phrase . . . he was a decent man. She’d heard it before in connection with Mr. Schmidt. She’d read it in Narcisa’s letter: Mr. Schmidt tried to save my baby. He has a spark of d
ecency in him, but the others are too powerful.
Had Narcisa, once a midwife, delivered Kandi’s baby as she lay dying? And then—very old herself and unable to care for a newborn—delivered it to the one decent person she knew of in Farrow? A small sound came up Scarlett’s throat, born of shock and horror. “Narcisa,” Scarlett breathed.
Vicky’s gaze darted to her and then away. “I suspect, yes. I’d secretly bought oils and herbs for fertility from her. The church wouldn’t have supported that sort of medicine, but I did it anyway. I was desperate, so I sinned.” The last words emerged as a mere croak, her cheeks coloring in shame.
“We have to tell, Vicky.” She reached out, putting her hand on hers where it rested on the pew. Her skin was cold and papery. “Millie, she has family, people who deserve to know she exists.” That Kandace lived on in the eyes of her child.
Vicky looked down where Scarlett’s hand covered hers. “Yes. They should know. Amelia’s people. I’m sick.” She looked back up, her eyes on Christ again. “I have cancer. Perhaps I’ve been punished after all. Perhaps we all have.”
A noise sounded and Scarlett looked up to see Sister Madge standing near a side door. Her expression was somber, eyes filled with sadness as she looked at Vicky. “I told her,” she said to Sister Madge.
The old nun approached, such blatant sorrow in her eyes that Scarlett’s chest squeezed. “Yes, dear. You had to. You saved that little girl. You did right by her, and now you must do right by her again. We all must repent for the roles we played.”
Scarlett watched the nun, a breath of relief ghosting from her lips. Although her overwhelming emotion at the moment was shock, she also felt a modicum of breathless triumph. Hope. Millie, Kandi’s daughter, could very well be the key to bringing the truth to light. And that truth involved Camden.
“I believe, Victoria, that we must call the police. Immediately. All of this, it’s gone on far too long.” She turned her head, looking at Jesus as Vicky had done, joining her hands in prayer. “Forgive us, Father,” she whispered mournfully. “Oh, please forgive us.”