I nod again. Something about Carson’s horror is seeping into me. All the hairs on my arms stand up and I know, without a single doubt, something is very, very wrong.
The detective pulls his gun out again, tries to push me behind him. I won’t let him. “Did he say anything about what he did with Lily?”
Lily! “What are you talking about?” Carson starts to back up, and I grab two fistfuls of his shirt. “Lily’s with Bren. They’re flying to San Francisco. She’s safe.”
Pity wrinkles Carson’s eyes. “Wicket, they never made the plane. He caught them in Atlanta. At the hotel. Bren was tied up for almost twenty-four hours, and we can’t find Lily.”
Carson tries to untangle my grip. “I have to go inside, Wicket. I need you to stay here.”
Stay here? Like hell I’m staying here. I glare at Carson, but my brain is filled only with Todd. I will kill him again. I will rip him to pieces. My sister! Lily!
I push off Carson’s chest so hard he staggers. “Wicket!”
“He’s in here!” I spin for the house. Carson makes a grab for me, but I shake him off. Does he really think he can catch me after what I’ve just been through?
“He’s this way!” We’re through the kitchen now, into the hallway. “He’s—”
Gone. Todd is gone.
Twenty minutes later, there must be thirty cops on our front lawn, and not one of them will tell me anything more about Lily and what happened. In fact, the only people who will talk to me are the EMTs, but all they want to talk about is how I need to go to the hospital.
“Let go of me!” I hiss at the bigger one. Briefly, we struggle and he does let me go—probably because he doesn’t want to hurt my arm any further. The cut’s heavy bleeding has stopped, but I’m still slowly soaking through the bandage they wrapped around my arm. The ice pack I’m holding against the wound is doing little to stop the swelling. I’m going to need stitches and antibiotics, but I want my sister first.
Where could Todd have taken her?
It’s hard to think with everything going on around us. The front lawn is utter bedlam. Everyone is running around. I rub my hand against my forehead and will my brain to work. Todd couldn’t have gotten very far. He’s injured, and he hasn’t had enough time. He also has Lily, and because he has Lily he would need somewhere quiet, undisturbed . . . convenient.
Carson’s thinking Todd would run, but that’s not the way my foster dad does things. He hid in plain sight for ages. He knows more about hunkering down than he does about escaping. There’s the company office in Atlanta. It would be deserted this time of night. There’s their lake house—but it’s too far away . . . there’s the church.
“Detective!” I jump off the gurney and ignore the EMTs’ swearing. Carson is striding across the front lawn, and I don’t want to lose him. This is my chance—and Lily’s. I can’t screw it up. “Detective Carson!”
He pretends not to hear me, so I grab the hem of his jacket.
“Not now, Wicket. Mrs. Callaway will be here soon.”
“But—”
“Not now!” He dives into a huddled group of police officers, leaving me on the outside. They mutter among themselves and then, like a pack of cheerleaders, they trudge en masse toward the house.
“He’ll be on the road by now, folks,” Carson shouts. “I want those roadblocks up yesterday. I want Lily Tate’s picture on every news channel. He has at least a twenty-minute head start on us. If we don’t close that window, he’ll be across state lines.”
“Unless he never left!” I shout, and wait for Carson—for any of them—to turn around. He has no idea where Lily could be.
But I know.
Furious, I twist around, ready to pitch my ice pack across the yard. And that’s when I see it. Carson’s sedan. With its lights still flashing and its engine still running.
Score.
“Not without me.”
Griff comes up so quietly behind me I don’t even hear him until his breath melts against the back of my neck.
Maybe that’s because, deep down, I was waiting for him.
I turn around, look up at him. “Oh yeah?”
“Not without me,” Griff repeats. I can’t really see his expression, but then again, I don’t have to. I can hear everything he wants to say in his tone. “I can already tell what you’re thinking, Wicked, and you’re not doing it without me.”
Normally, I’d have something to say about Griff’s attitude. It’s arrogant and demanding, and the way he’s pushing even closer into my space should make my hands curve into fists.
“Not without you,” I agree.
We make our way to the car. No one notices.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
.....................................................................
Fairy tales have it right. There are monsters, but in our world the monsters
can’t be killed.
—Page 67 of Tessa Waye’s diary
For the record, driving a stolen cop car in real life isn’t like driving a stolen cop car in the Grand Theft Auto video game. For one, I’m better at Grand Theft Auto. For another . . .
I cut a right turn too close, jumping the sedan over the curb. The car heaves and my tires squeal. Half a second later, we’re righted and Griff is swearing.
Okay, maybe, it is a little like Grand Theft Auto.
“Seriously?” Griff asks, one hand on the dashboard for support.
I give him my best what can you do? expression, even though I have to clench my teeth to do it. My arm is throbbing now.
“Shut off your headlights and pull around to the side,” Griff orders, craning his head to get a better look at the darkened church. “If we see Todd or Lily or anything suspicious we’ll call the police. You aren’t going in there.”
Like hell I’m not. But I don’t bother arguing. I’m glad the parking lot is shadowed and the car’s electronics cast only a dim light or Griff would see my arm, my bruises.
He’d also see the blood. I’m pretty sure my bandage is soaked through now, and I feel a little woozy.
We pull into a space near the side entrance, and I shut the car off. There are a few lights on inside, but I can’t tell if that’s just for security . . . until someone moves. He steps away from the window, backing farther into the building. It’s just a flash of movement, a fissure of momentary black in the window’s yellow light, but it’s enough.
“It’s him. He’s here.” I know it’s Todd. It’s in the way he hitched as he moved, the way he limped. I hurt him, and he’s still feeling it. Good.
I shove open my car door and Griff grabs my bad arm. I nearly buckle.
“What the hell is this?” His fingers move over the bandage, and after examining his fingertips, Griff realizes they’re coated in blood. “What. The. Fuck. Wick?”
“He hurt me.” I lean against the steering wheel and force myself not to puke. “And if he’s willing to hurt me, think about what he’ll do to Lily.”
I push myself upright, trying to decide what to do. Todd knows we’re here now. There’s no element of surprise. He has the upper hand. So how do we get it back?
We don’t.
“I’m calling the cops, Wick.” When Griff stands, he has his cell pinned to one ear. “I told you we’re not going in there. He could hurt you worse. I can’t let you risk it.”
And I can’t risk Lily. I need to think. How am I going to do this? My eyes skip to the car.
As Griff gives our location to the 911 operator, I paw through the backseat. Empty. . . . But then the parking lot lights catch the edge of something.
I bend down. It’s Tessa’s diary.
The notebook must have slid right under the seat. It doesn’t even look like anyone touched it . . . maybe Carson never even knew it was there. Part of me is horrified by the idea. Another, stronger part thinks . . . it’s fitting. Lily was always mine to save. It’s what I do. It’s what I do for all thos
e women who hire me.
I put the diary up on the car’s dash and go around the rear. Inside the trunk, Carson has rain gear, a set of safety vests, and traffic cones. There’s nothing useful. Except for the flares.
Now those we can use.
I collect everything and carry it around to Griff.
“How far away are the police?” I ask.
“Fifteen minutes.”
“We don’t have that much time. Here, take these.” I tumble the flares into Griff’s arms.
“What’re you going to do with these?”
“Even our odds against Todd.” I point to the church’s far end, where a set of shallow stairs descend below the parking lot. “Should be a breaker box over there. Commercial buildings usually keep them on the outside.”
“What?”
“Joe taught me. First step of a successful snatch and grab.”
“You’re going to cut his power?”
“Exactly.” I stalk across the parking lot and hustle down the stairs, each step skidding pain up my arm. It’s worth the effort, though. A breaker box is tucked just behind some ornamental shrubbery. I flip open the small metal door and squint at my options.
Excellent. I have access to everything. So I start pulling. I shut off every light they have, and the whole building plunges into darkness.
Behind me, a sneaker scrapes against the pavement. It’s Griff, and I need to tell him he doesn’t have to come, he doesn’t have to do this, but the objection dies when I turn around. The parking lot lights are behind him, dipping Griff’s face in shadows. I can’t see his expression, but I can see he has my flares . . . and he looks like he’s not moving anywhere without me.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
Somewhere up above us, there’s a solitary scream.
Lily.
It’s all the ready I need. I walk up the steps with far more courage than I ever managed when Todd attacked me. I walk straight into the black and feel like our dad prepared me best for this moment in the dark.
“Shit.” They’re locked. All the doors are locked. While Griff shoves his weight against the rear door, I turn right and press between the wall and bushes until my left hand connects with a window ledge.
“Help me with this.” It takes both of us, but we manage to pull the sliding window open. I dig my toes into the siding and try to kick my way up. “Boost me.”
“Hell no.”
“What cop is going to fit?”
“Carson could.”
“Carson’s not here.”
Griff sighs. “Fuck me,” he groans, and heaves me up. I catch the window ledge with both hands and ease myself in. Seconds later, Griff lands next to me and starts moving for the church’s entrance.
I grab his arm. “Lily first.”
We’ve landed in the kitchen, and briefly, I think we’ve hit the jackpot. Knives, heavy pans? There has to be something.
But no luck.
Hands shaking, I paw through all the cabinets and come up with nothing, absolutely nothing. The knives are locked up. There are no pots, just an old microwave and a dead walk-in freezer. The only things left in the cabinets are paper plates and cups.
Well, that’s no help. I start to slam a cabinet door in frustration and catch myself. The whole church is eerily quiet. Without the white noise of fans and air-conditioning, everything is coming through in surround sound. My breath sounds like a dragon in the dark.
I pull off my new tennis shoes. Another lesson from my dad: Even a squeak can give you away, and I won’t risk it.
Thankfully, there’s a small amount of light coming in from the windows, courtesy of the parking lot lights. It’s not much, but enough for Griff to see what I’m doing. He hesitates, then bends to imitate me. We slide our shoes to the side and stand at the kitchen doorway, hovering like swimmers before the plunge.
“Breathe softly,” I whisper, and I guess I’m telling Griff all the ways to stay safe, but I think, deep down, I’m also reminding myself. “And move carefully. You’ll have to do it by feel at first, but after a while, your eyes will adjust.”
I glance at Griff, expecting to see his profile, but he’s staring at me. “I’ll go first, Wicked. Stay right behind me.”
“I—yeah, okay, fine.” I’m shaking hard now. Worse than ever. I’m not sure if it’s nerves or blood loss, but either way, I’m in no shape to lead.
Griff covers my hand with his. “And once we get Lily, you run like hell.”
I nod, squeeze his hand tighter. “Running will not be a problem.”
“Good,” Griff says, and leads me into the dark.
I had forgotten how time stretches when you’re panicked. Seconds feel like minutes. Minutes feel like hours. Your flight instinct swears you’ve hidden long enough and now is the time to run, but that’s the fastest way to get caught. You have to take your time. I force myself to think, when all I want to do is scream.
Griff and I break apart, covering the downstairs quickly and quietly. There’s no sign of Todd and Lily anywhere. No sniffling from the direction of the pews, no smothered gasps from any of the alcoves. That leaves one alternative: the second-floor offices.
Griff disagrees. “He’s too smart to go up there,” he whispers. The door leading to the upper floors is at our fingertips, and Griff keeps pulling me back. “There’s only one set of stairs, one way to escape. He’d never pin himself down that way.”
“Unless he’s not planning on escaping.” I step forward, resisting Griff. “Suppose Lily and Todd aren’t leaving there alive. He has nothing left to lose anymore, Griff. Everyone knows.”
Griff’s hold slackens and I pitch forward, feeling my way up the staircase as he follows closely behind. We emerge in a small alcove where the choir would sit, and I wait while Griff slides around me, taking the lead. For a moment, it looks like another dead end.
Until we see the catwalk across the first-floor congregation room. Bordered by handrails, it leads across the open space below and heads straight to a single door that has the barest hint of light around it.
Flashlight. They’re there, inside the office.
My relief tastes like a sob, and I want to shout with joy.
Until I hear Lily’s. Begging.
Hushed and panicked and pleading. I can feel the words more than I can hear them, and next to me, Griff stiffens.
Oh God, Lily!
If Todd kills her now, it won’t matter that the police know,. But what do I do? There are two of us, but Todd could still have his knife, and now he has a hostage. My sister.
“The flares,” I hiss, grabbing for Griff. “Throw them over the side.”
I can’t see Griff’s face, but I can hear his breath hitch and hold. He’s confused, and I can’t speak any louder to explain.
“The flares,” I repeat.
Then, suddenly, there’s a click and slide. Another rustle, and something passes between us as Griff ignites the first fuse. Light explodes, illuminating us both. We look like we’re on fire.
Until Griff pitches it.
The flare arcs in a lazy line across the congregation seats, falling behind the pulpit, into some curtains. Griff adds a second one to it, but this time, he throws long and it strikes the stained-glass windows. Sparks explode, and ahead of us, the door flings open.
A man appears. Somehow, he’s darker than the dark, and when he moves forward, he seems to slither. Until his stride catches.
Todd. I’m already flat against the wall, but I press myself even closer. The very sight of him makes me want to crawl out of my skin, start screaming, and never stop.
Todd dashes by without noticing us, his flashlight bouncing light down the stairwell. As soon as I hear him hit the floor below, I fling myself toward the office door.
Inside, there’s a little light coming through the window overlooking the parking lot. It’s not much, but it gilds a few surfaces. Desk . . . shelves . . . storage boxes . . .
My sister!
“Wick!”
Griff and I fall on her, hands outstretched and grabbing. My fingers connect with something rough and tight.
Rope. He’s tied her up. I wiggle my fingers underneath the knot at Lily’s wrists, try to pry it loose. Have to get her free. Have to get going before he returns.
“Wick,” Lily whispers through tears. “I’m so sorry about everything. I didn’t know. I didn’t even think—”
“Shh. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay! It’s never going to be okay. I thought—I thought—” Lily gulps, fresh tears staining the backs of my wrists as I yank one knot free. “I believed in him.”
I use both hands to frame my sister’s face, and for the first time, I’m grateful for the dark because I can feel my blood smear across her cheeks, mingle with her tears. “You were right to believe in him, Lily. Not everyone is a monster. Maybe if I spent less time suspecting everyone, I would be able to see real evil when it’s right in front of me.”
Lily goes still, and for the time being, her tears stop. I keep working on the ropes. “But none of that matters, Lil, because we’re going to escape.”
Except we’re not, and I know it. The ropes won’t budge. After the first knot, the rest won’t loosen. My fingers keep fumbling. They’re going numb—most of me is going numb—the blood loss is slowing me down. I’m not going to save her, and I have to save her.
“Take her.” I push Lily toward Griff, tuck his free arm around her shoulders. “She can’t run. You’ll have to carry her and I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”
Griff growls. “Not without you.”
“Without her, there is no me.”
In the half-dead light, I watch Griff’s pained expression. “You can’t ask me to do this, Wick,” he whispers. “You can’t ask me to leave you.”
“I’m not.” An unholy shriek of rage erupts from downstairs. Todd. He knows. He’s coming back.
And there’s only one way out of here.
I shudder. “I’m not asking you to leave me, Griff. I’m asking you to save my sister.” We can’t just leave. He’ll catch us on the stairs.
Griff looks at me, and even if I don’t live to see him ever again, even if Todd cuts me until there is nothing left to cut, I will remember this: Griff didn’t hesitate. He pulls Lily close and says, “What do you want me to do?”
Find Me Page 20