Stockholm

by Leigh Lennon

  “In your dreams, you worthless piece of shit,” she refuted, and again, he only smiled. It never stopped even when the worst words spewed from her mouth. How can I make myself hate this man?

  Later, in the kitchen, Nolan reached for the juice over her shoulder, but if she was to wager a guess, it was to test her. He sat down, his grin never faltering. “Mikayla, is there anything I can do to make you happier? Well, besides letting you go?” The hunger in his voice would bring her cheeks to a bright pink flush. She never denied he was attractive, but as she’d said so many times, so was Ted Bundy. It was a phrase she’d continue to say as a steadfast approach to contend with the array of emotions he stirred within her.

  “You could go to hell and leave me a car to drive out of here is what you could really do, asshole.” She needed to be able to avoid the restlessness he stirred with just one slow perusal of her body. This somehow comforted her while it physically unsettled her at the same time.

  He laughed. “You are certainly a spirited little thing.”

  “I never claimed I was full of rainbows and unicorns, you fucking jackelope,” she raised her voice just a little, still shooting daggers at him.

  This time, he didn’t laugh but looked wounded. Buttering his toast, he mentioned, “Mikayla, have you thought of a name I can call you besides your American name?”

  She’d never pick one, especially that god-awful name he suggested the first day: Colette. It made her skin crawl. She was not sure whether it was the name or that the suggestion came from him. “Nope!” she said with a hiss of anger.

  In his quick reply, he didn’t seem surprised. “Okay, I will make a deal with you.” When she didn’t answer, he continued to speak. “I’ll give you a break from me tomorrow, and I’ll keep myself scarce. All you have to do is reveal something private about yourself.”

  “You won’t force a stupid conversation on me for a whole day or make me walk in the frozen fucking winter tundra?” she asked, almost curiously as her vocabulary had changed to include so many curse words with her time in captivity.

  “Yes,” he agreed, and she wanted to smack his arrogant smirk off his face.

  “Make it forty-eight hours and you have yourself a deal,” she replied.

  Continuing to wear that arrogant smirk, he said, “Well, I have a negotiator on my hands. Who would have known?” This was his return banter. “Okay, you have yourself a deal, but it can’t be an artificial answer, and I will have the final word if it was deep enough. I want to understand you better, so it just can’t be something like you started your period at thirteen.”

  She nodded, and they ate in silence for a while as her mind raced. He watched her as she tried to pick just the right event. Without an introduction concerning the subject matter, she began to speak. “Mom always had a hard time when we’d go back to school after a whole summer home. She loved being a mom. I guess all moms do, but my friends’ moms would say, ‘I can’t wait to get my brats back in school.’ Not my mom, she would cry. Anyway, to kick off the back-to-school season, she started this annual yes day. She spent one day with each of us, and we would choose what we did with her for the entire day, and if I wanted a milkshake for breakfast, she’d always reply, ‘yes.’ Anything went, and it was fun. Then after the individual yes days, we had a family yes day where my dad couldn’t say no to us. It was the best.” With puffy eyes, tears poured down her cheeks, and she didn’t attempt to hide them. Her voice was scratchy and she could barely ask, “Is that good enough?”

  Staring so deep into her soul, he wiped those tears from her face. “Yes, that’s good, very good. Thanks for sharing with me.”

  Still unable to stop the tears, she declared, “Okay, a deal is a deal. Silence from you for forty-eight hours.”

  “If you need me, please come find me,” Nolan said.

  “I won’t need you, that’s for sure, and I was twelve, by the way.”

  Giving her a blank look, he asked, “What? You were twelve for what?”

  “When I started my period, dumbass,” she said, walking away from him, in the hopes that she’d left him speechless.

  Two days away from Nolan was heavenly or so she’d told herself. In that time, she’d evaluated the weirdness that had invaded her when his body was too close. She needed to get it out of her system, and since Nolan seemed true to his word, she’d taken the time to explore those feelings.

  I’m just sexually frustrated. I miss Ethan. It was what she’d told herself one night when she’d woke to visions of Nolan taking her from behind. What the fuck? I’ve never, I would never!

  Lying in bed, she worked her fingers under the hem of her panties. Finding the area on her clit, she took her other hand and worked two fingers inside her to her G-spot; that was normally easy for her to come when she was on her own and horny. Not that she’d been with very many men; the man who had abused her for years made sure of that. Bringing herself to a climax was never as satisfying, but it allowed her to release some pent-up frustration. She’d play with herself, thinking of Ethan, and as she did, she’d prove Nolan was nothing in her mind.

  Continuing to rub the top of her clit, she remembered the last time she’d made love to Ethan. He was hot, gorgeous, and generous; not dark. He was everything bright in her world.

  The more she tried, the more frustrated she became. Her mind wandered to Nolan, wondering what was under his shirt, and in ten seconds, she came. It was a mind-numbing orgasm. Coming back to reality, she cursed, understanding she was up the proverbial creek without a fucking paddle.

  Libby

  She couldn’t believe her ears. After only three weeks of her daughter missing, the Bellingham police had pulled Fallon Frasier from the case. “Libby, I may not be able to work it, but I will still be investigating it on my own, and if we get a small clue or lead, that is all it’ll take to re-open it.”

  Her daughter was out of her reach, and the further Mikayla got from her, the further were the hopes that she’d ever return. Fallon continued, “The truth of the matter is that she has vanished into thin air and not one clue indicates foul play. In my superior’s eyes, it’s as if she voluntarily walked away from her life. I know it’s hard to hear, and I don’t believe this for one second, but I can’t go to them on a hunch. I’m so very sorry.”

  She wept as if she was given the news that her baby’s body had been found, but in her eyes, this was worse. She’d never know what happened to her baby, the girl she nursed day and night for two years because she wouldn’t take a bottle. She ate a little bit of baby food, enough to appease her pediatrician but most of Mikayla’s source of nutrients for twenty-four months was Libby’s own body.

  She’d do it all over again in a heartbeat; she’d never take back those nights of nursing and the endless hours she ended up in the rocking chair sleeping upright. Those hard times were what strengthened the bond between mother and daughter.

  Taylor

  After the authorities dropped the Mikayla Miller case, the news stations abandoned the story like yesterday’s wash. For some reason, it was still fresh in her mind, and it continued to rule her life.

  With the fear, she’d also become a recluse at school. Her friends, in which for Taylor were many, had given up on trying to get her to leave the safety of her house or school itself. Where she used to go out every day at lunch with her friends, she now spent the majority of her free time in the library looking up information concerning the Miller kidnapping.

  One day, when her boyfriend couldn’t find her at lunch, he sought her out and asked, “Tay, this makes no sense. I’m in competition with a missing girl for your affection. Do you know how wrong this is?”

  “Phillip, I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” she replied, grabbing his hand. Even she didn’t understand the full obsession with Mikayla Miller.

  She cared for Phillip, even possibly loved him and didn’t want to break up, but she wasn’t going to drop something that had become so core to her existence.

  Phillip s
poke with her about their plans for college in hopes she’d follow him to Seattle and the University of Washington, he told her, “Babe, they have a great journalism program.” Knowing her so well, he knew that was her dream.

  She looked at him and continued, “I’ve changed my mind, and I’m going into teaching.”

  “Teaching? You don’t like kids, Tay? I’m confused.” When she didn’t say anything, he pressed her, “Tay, answer me. Why would you want to teach? I mean, they make awful money, and again, you probably need to like kids. It really needs to be a passion, and I don’t see that in you.”

  She looked down at her newspaper with a small story on page seven about the Miller case. He ripped the paper from her. “Let me guess, Mikayla Miller was an education major?”

  She attempted to take the paper back when Phillip slammed it down before her. “This has got to stop, Taylor! Really, this is scaring me.”

  That didn’t stop her, though. She hadn’t read the entire story yet, but put it down to avoid a fight with Phillip. It didn’t work because by the end of the day, Phillip had broken up with her.

  8

  Present

  Within a few weeks of the letter

  Colette

  Pacing the one spot in front of her sofa, Maribel didn’t sit. “Are you serious? I mean, I understand, but fuck, Cole, there is so much to lose for all of us, but they’ll point it back to Lucas.” Maribel was almost in tears.

  “You are right, and there are so many variables to think about. I mean, I have a passport, but I’m not sure I want to cross the border. For all intents and purposes, I’m Colette Dubroise, Canadian citizen. Born in Calgary, May 1st, 1984. You know I love my man to have aged two extra years,” she said with a small laugh, though Maribel had heard that joke too many times to find it funny. If she had to venture a guess, Maribel also teetered between furious anger and motherly understanding. “Okay, bad joke, I know. Anyway, Colette Dubroise has never been in the United States.”

  “How about a letter? Write her another letter. Be careful like you were before. Luke is always going to the States. We will have him send it via mail this time. Explain to your mom what happened. Tell her why you left. Maybe she’s ready to see what has been in front of her this whole time and why you had to leave.” She delivered her pleas with urgency.

  “Maybe but I feel it needs to be more personal, plus there are innocent people who he can hurt too, and I can’t chance it. And my mom will think David brainwashed me.”

  Maribel gave her the same look she had for the past eight years, since finding out the secret concerning her previous life. “Well, in a way, David sort of has, Cole.” It was the same phrase she’d repeated to her for the past eight years too.

  It angered her to no end when Maribel’s opinions of David were lower than dirt. “Bell.” With a downturned mouth and rotating her body at an angle to avoid her sister-in-law, she allowed contempt to claim her voice when she snapped, “You know I love him.”

  “I don’t doubt that. I’m just saying, of course, your mom would see it differently.”

  She had to confide in one person regarding her double life, and when Maribel married into the family ten years ago, shortly after she and David had wed, the bond she’d forged with Maribel was almost closer than the bond she had with her mom. She clicked with Maribel in every way; however, they were two completely different people. She was punctual, but Maribel ran on Maribel time.

  Colette wore expensive clothing. David insisted on only the best for his wife with designer clothes, and although Lucas didn’t make the kind of money a doctor did, Maribel and Lucas lived extraordinarily sufficient. However, Maribel refused to wear dresses or slacks. She loved jeans and boots and looked as if she was the reincarnated version of Janis Joplin, just without the raspy voice strumming out the lyrics of “Me and Bobby McGee.”

  Mikayla needed to talk to one other person about her life before David. Lucas knew the truth, but David wanted her to decide if Maribel was trustworthy enough to confide in with such a deep-seated secret.

  When she was pregnant with Elizabeth, they sat down for dinner with Lucas and Maribel as they had so many other times in her life. However, Maribel could tell by everyone’s demeanor that they were about to delve into a very serious conversation.

  Maribel joked, trying to break the ice, and said, “Okay, who went missing?” It was weird to Colette that the saying was normally who died, but Maribel changed it so casually, and her own face distorted to that of a ghost.

  Lucas began as he said, “Honey, Cole and David have something to tell you, and I know about it. You are going to think I was being dishonest with you, but it was not my story to tell.”

  Maribel looked at her and David and then back at Lucas. “You all are freaking me the fuck out.” Maribel’s language reverted to that of a sailor when she was scared.

  She began to tell her sister-in-law about her life with another name; growing up in a different town, and hell, in a different country. Just twelve hours away from them all, she led a life without the rest of her family in it. Then she started to explain the transformation to Colette when she met and truly understood David.

  “I don’t understand, Cole. Your family sounds like the people you’ve always wanted. Why would you abandon them?”

  David took over the story and explained her life on the farm, starting his own narrative from the ending of Mikayla Miller and rationalizing how he’d abducted her. Sharing the reason with her, he revealed his protective nature because of past relationships; Maribel sat slack-jawed and speechless. Suddenly, Maribel looked at Lucas, knowing his connection to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and asked, “You helped her become Colette?”

  He nodded briefly, but she knew her husband’s relationship with his brother too well. He would do anything for David. Maribel quietly excused herself from the table, grabbing the keys from her purse, and left all three in the dining room without another word.

  Maribel was gone for a week. Lucas couldn’t reach her. Her parents confirmed she was safe, but that was all. In the week, Colette physically recoiled at the burden they had placed on Lucas when she became a new person.

  A week later, Maribel showed up on her doorstep when she knew David would be at work. Colette was sick with worry and emotionally distraught with the transformation of her body with the upcoming birth of Elizabeth. She was never so happy to see someone in her life.

  Grabbing onto her as though Maribel was about to vanish, she screeched, “Maribel, holy hell! We’ve been so worried about you.”

  She didn’t say anything to Colette at first. They just stood there as she cried from relief. Finally, after five minutes of standing in the doorway, Maribel said, “You know there is a clinical diagnosis for what David did to you, right?”

  “Maribel, I went willingly,” Colette insisted, unable to look Maribel in the face; instead, she just stared aimlessly at the engagement ring David had given her a few years earlier.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday, Cole. You know what he did was wrong.”

  “But I love him more than life itself.”

  “And that brings me back to my original question. You know there is a diagnosis for what happened with the two of you, right?”

  “Yes, Bell, of course, I’ve heard about it. I’m here of my own accord.” She never wanted to utter those two words; it sounded so dirty and made it more real. She always had a decision in this, and she truly believed he would have let her go.

  Maribel walked past her. “You need to sit.” Grabbing her by the hand, Maribel brought Colette to the couch. “You know how mad I am at Lucas. He allowed this.”

  “He didn’t want to help us, not at first, but after losing Evangeline, which nearly destroyed David and Lucas, Lucas couldn’t watch David lose another person he loved. But you must believe me; he wouldn’t have helped us if I didn’t beg him. I convinced him, Bell.”

  “I don’t care. I read a book recently that bothered me.” Maribel went on and on abou
t this story, sharing every detail of the plot with her. Every time the two of them had a deep conversation about something, Maribel would get her information from the exorbitant amount of reading she’d done. She’d always start a sentence with, “I read a book recently …”

  She continued her statement. “It really affected me that someone could be influenced like that poor girl was, and as I always do, I lash out my feelings at Lucas. He stood there as I mentioned this diagnosis and didn’t say a word, knowing my best friend and his sister-in-law had succumbed to this very thing.” Maribel’s voice was borderline yelling and shaky at best while tears stained her face.

  It was odd to Colette that they had never mentioned what diagnosis they were talking about; however, it wasn’t hard to figure it out. “You act as if I wasn’t a willing participant.”

  Her voice became elevated, and Maribel yelled, “But you weren’t, Colette, or whatever I should call you.”

  “You need to call me Cole as you always have. I’m Colette. That other person doesn’t exist anymore, Bell. This is very important, do you understand?”

  “Of course, I do. For fucking crying out loud, my husband is part of this. Shit, now I am.” She stood, walking back and forth, wearing the carpet beneath her clogs.

  “They can never prove I was under duress, Bell. I would never claim that, and if asked, I would say I left to start a new life.”

  “Would your parents ever believe this?”

  “My mom never would. It’s why I chose David over my family.” But she didn’t reveal the other reasons she stayed. She wasn’t ready to expose every dirty secret. Not yet, anyway.

  Maribel sat across from her, silently thinking about her next couple of sentences. She breathed in the air around her as if the house in which David lived was polluting her. “You know, I can never get over this. I’m not saying we’re done. You are my friend and family, but I can’t look at David the same ever again. He has put my husband in danger, and I still can’t wrap my head around how he has corrupted you.” Maribel stood still with a trembling chin. “I’m not sure how to get past this, Cole. You and me, we are okay because I think of you as a victim.” When those words came out Maribel’s mouth, Colette’s manner changed.