by Sasha Gold
Her alarm fades but she keeps her gaze on me. I can feel it and I’m sure she’s trying to size me up. She’s trying to assure herself that she’s a good judge of character and can tell if someone’s going to treat her well or not. Who knows what she’s experienced in the other foster homes. Wes and Jane sure don’t. All they know is that she’s been to a bunch of different places.
Her mother taught at a bunch of ritzy, east-coast schools. A professor.
I’m told her mother came all the way from Ireland. When her mom died, Maggie was left with nobody. Wes explained all this when he came to the garage. “We want to give her something she hasn’t had since her mother died. A loving family. And a chance to graduate from high school.”
Neither Wes or Jane can stop talking about how smart she is. Straight A’s.
Maggie has them both snowed, but not me. There’s a reason I’ll never be a foster parent. I’m cynical as hell. Plus, I’ll never marry. I don’t even want a steady girl-friend, much less a wife. Steady sex? Yes. Commitment. Hell no.
What Wes and Jane have is cool, for them. It just wouldn’t work for me. The boys are all right. They’re good kids and I’m sure they’ll turn out fine. If things go as planned they will soon leave the foster system… Wes and Jane want to adopt all four of them.
This girl, though, is a bundle of problems and looks like she wouldn’t think twice about burning my brother’s house to the ground. Maybe that’s a little harsh, but I’m sure she’s trouble and they’re too tender-hearted to do anything about it.
Me, I’m not tender-hearted. Not at all. I’ve been on my own since I was seventeen when my parents were killed by a drunk driver. My twelve-year old sister was in the back seat and died too. I was left alive, barely. Wes never left my side for the two weeks I lay in a hospital bed. Our family went from five to just Wes and me.
I dropped out of school and took over my father’s garage and did my best to help Wes. He’s older than me but he was even more messed-up by my parent’s death than I was. Despite it all he finished college. It took him five years but he did it, graduating with a degree in Accounting. In his final year, he met Jane. She helped him move on from the loss of our parents.
After years of trying to have their own baby Wes and Jane decided to be foster parents. It’s been cool to be part of that. Michael came first, then Thomas and finally Seth and Jimmy. They arrived scared, terrified really, clutching little grocery sacks with all their worldly belongings.
Those boys had rough starts, but their luck turned around the day they got taken in by my sister-in-law. Jane’s funny, a great cook, with a big heart. She’s the only person who calls me by my given name, Tristan. She’s too trusting and naïve, but that just makes me want to protect her, which is why I’m not going to allow this little trouble-maker to fuck things up for her and Wes.
Jane wouldn’t approve of my methods, but that’s okay. She’ll never know what I’ve done. When she asked me to look into the best phone for Maggie, I immediately said, Happy to do it. I didn’t really give a shit what phone Maggie had, so long as I could track it, and so long as Maggie couldn’t deactivate the tracking. I knew Maggie was getting ready to leave. I just didn’t know when. Stealth GPS Tracking. Problem solved.
She wants to go to Vegas? They’d love her there. Little under-aged smart ass. No fucking way. She’s not breaking both Jane’s and Wes’s heart. I just need to make her see things my way.
“Is this the first time you’ve bailed on a foster family,” I ask, keeping my tone light.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not bailing.”
“You think you can handle it out there on your own?”
I wait for an answer but she’s got her arms folded over her chest, looking like a five-year-old with an attitude.
“You seem pretty street-wise, but it can’t be easy. What do you weigh, a hundred pounds? You think you can make it by yourself?”
“My mom died when I was thirteen, and I’ve been in foster care ever since, but just because I had foster parents doesn’t mean I wasn’t on my own. So, yes. Dr. Phil. I can make it just fine on my own. If you’re going to lecture me all the way to Vegas, I’m going to have to bail on you, the first chance I get.”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. Her little sneer makes my blood boil. I bet everyone she meets feels sorry for her. Pity doesn’t help anyone. Mercy doesn’t either.
What helps? Consequences.
I’m going to take her inside my home and give her a hint of what sort of evil lurks out there, just waiting for clueless little girls like her. I’ll scare the hell out of her. She’ll hate me for it, but if it keeps her safe it will be worth the hard feelings.
Totally.
“You plan on letting Jane and Wes you’re doing all right?”
She shrugs.
“Well? Aren’t you at least going to let them know you’re okay.”
“Want me to shoot them a text? Tell them my Uncle Trig is taking me to Vegas?”
I grit my teeth. Clenching my jaw brings a flash of pain that shoots across my skull. Ever since the accident, I’ve had to avoid getting pissed off and tensing my jaw or neck. I let out a deep breath and tilt my head from side to side. The release is gradual and slowly the discomfort ebbs.
“You won’t be able to send a text from here. It’s too remote. I wasn’t suggesting anything, just curious if you care that people would worry about you.”
“I don’t.”
“Right. I’m getting the picture.” I grip the steering wheel with a little more force than I need. “Did you know Jane cried when she found out you were coming to live with them?”
Something behind her eyes shifts and I can tell she has no idea how strongly Jane feels about her. How Jane’s determined to fix Maggie’s life. I wait for the hard look to return to Maggie’s eyes, but it doesn’t. She’s uncertain, second guessing all her great ideas.
“Don’t you want to finish school? Be a professor like your mom?”
She scoffs. “So I can live on ramen noodles anytime the car needs a repair? No thanks.”
Nodding to the dirt road up ahead, I lift my foot from the gas. “That’s my place up ahead. I need to grab a few things.”
She shrugs. “Whatever.”
Whatever… I hate it when kids say that. But I shake it off. The irritation isn’t worth the stab of pain to my skull. Besides, I know how to instruct her on manners. ‘Whatever’ is going to be the first thing she loses from her vocabulary.
Chapter Three
Maggie
I don’t really believe Trig plans to take me anywhere, certainly not to Vegas which is a day and a half of driving. He’s going to take me to his house and try some delay tactic while he gets in touch with Jane and Wes. I’m dumb. I admit it. I didn’t think about him figuring out I was going to make a run for it. I take my phone out and set it on the console. It’s got a tracking app, I’m sure and I don’t want it now that he’s had his interfering hands on it.
Filled with self-loathing, I can’t decide who makes me angrier. Dickhead or myself.
The truck rumbles down the driveway, a rough gravel road filled with ruts and pot holes. He drives the truck like he’s mad at it. I’d like to tell him not to abuse his truck like this but what do I care? The man owns a garage. He should know how to drive a vehicle.
“How did you know I was going to run away?” I have to yell to be heard.
He curls his lip with disdain, like he’s under no obligation to answer my questions. Pulling up to a farmhouse we’re greeted by six thousand dogs. Not really, but the man has a bunch of dogs. The barking is even louder than the damn truck. No wonder the circus monkeys don’t seem to bother him, he probably doesn’t have much hearing left.
A few of the dogs wander over to the truck and I’m not sure I want to get out. They’re seriously huge animals, each with enough hair to make a few more. White and fluffy, they’re kind of sweet looking if they weren’t the size of Shetlands.
“
They won’t hurt you,” Trig says. “They’re herding dogs.”
Eyeing the dogs warily, I slide out of the truck. “What do they have against coyotes?”
“The coyotes harass the newborn calves. Great Pyrenees are bred to protect livestock.”
“You have cattle? You’re a cowboy?”
He huffs a sigh. “I guess you could say I’m a part-time cowboy.”
A few horses graze on the hillside. I see a brief image in my mind of big, growly Trig, riding a horse. But the image quickly disappears. With his tatts and menacing glare, I see him straddling a Harley more easily than a horse. The thought sends a shiver of awareness down my spine.
The house is a sprawling, cute Victorian. I wouldn’t have pictured him living in a place like this. The man is full of surprises. Gingerbread trim and a wraparound porch with rockers make his place look inviting.
Homey.
I would think this guy would have a bachelor pad in town. Not a restored farm house. I love historic homes. They’re quirky and have a feel to them that modern houses don’t have.
“I want to see your place,” I say.
“Planning on stealing something?”
He’s messing with me and I don’t miss a chance to mess with him back. “Maybe.”
“Am I going to have to frisk you before we leave?”
My skin tightens with goosebumps. I can’t even imagine how it would feel to have his strong hands roaming over my body. Trig clearly views me with contempt, but I have to admit he’s handsome. Attractive might be the better word. He’s imposing. Sandy blond hair, blue eyes and a square jaw. His scars make him look dangerous, but in a sort of sexy way. He shaves when he feels like it so most of the time he has a scruff. He’s a dick but I’m not blind.
As I follow him into his house I look around for signs of a girl-friend. If I can slip into his bathroom I could find out so much about him. Sifting through people’s medicine cabinets is pretty enlightening. Find the prescriptions, learn what they treat, and you never see that person the same way again.
Wes and Jane are so boring. Wes takes nothing. Zero. Jane takes something for her thyroid which is why she’s a little on the curvy side. Last year, I took a Human Physiology course on line, so I can tell you her metabolism is fucked, but don’t tell that to Wes. He thinks she’s perfect. Gag.
If I could get into Trig’s bathroom, the first thing I’d look for would be lube and condoms. The idea makes me snicker as I stroll through his living room, three steps behind him. He throws a glare over his shoulder. I don’t think I’m going to be able to sneak away to peruse his medicine cabinet. That’s okay. Maybe I don’t want to think of Trig doing some woman.
I follow him down a narrow hallway. “You live here alone?” Cut to the chase, right?
“No one around for miles. Just me and that’s the way I like it.”
He’s like Shrek. Only not so charming. I stifle a giggle. “Hey, are you going to give me a tour before Jane gets here? I want to see everything.”
“A tour? Okay.”
Pictures of his family hang on the walls in the hallway. It looks like Jane’s had a hand in the decorations. Either that or Trig spends a lot of time on Pinterest. I bite my lip to keep from laughing. He’s not the type to give a shit about making things look pretty. The antiques and rugs spanning the hardwood floors are either from his parents or picked out by Jane.
A picture of Jane and Wes and the boys hangs in the center of the photos. Jane’s eyes shine with pure happiness. Wes has a grin on his face that he gets every night at supper when he looks around the table, fixing his gaze on each of his charges for a moment, before saying Grace.
“You want to see the house or not?” Trig asks.
“Coming.” I turn to follow him.
“We’ll start with the basement.” His tone is soft.
Basement? My steps slow. Who starts a tour of their house in a dank, dark basement? I suppose some people have wine cellars. Somehow, I don’t see Trig drinking much wine.
“The basement? Do you make something down there? Like moonshine?”
“Nope.”
He opens the door to the basement, taking a flashlight from the shelf. When he shines it down the staircase, my breath catches. Something shifts. The dogs aren’t barking anymore and the house is quiet. Silent.
My heart pounds against my chest. I search his face for some indication of what he wants me to do with it. The way the light from the flashlight dances across his features makes my stomach twist with fear.
“Ready?”
I swallow. “For what?”
The hallway is dark, making the staircase leading down to the basement pitch black. It’s a huge, yawning cavern. I’m reminded of my mother who couldn’t watch a Disney without pointing out literary elements. Dark night of the soul, she’d whisper to me in the darkened theater. Refusing the call. Descent into Hell. I can almost hear her soft murmur telling me to pay attention.
“You wanted to see everything,” Trig says. “I want to show you what I have downstairs.”
He keeps his eyes on me. Fear coils inside me, writhing like a snake. I fight the urge to run out of the house and wait for Jane outside, even if it means waiting with his pack of hounds. He’s calling my bluff because he thinks he can intimidate me. Jane or Wes will be here soon enough, so if he wants to play mind games, then he won’t have long. I’m fairly certain.
He takes my elbow. While his hold is firm, it’s not threatening, but just the same, he’s never touched me before. His fingers send zings of awareness up my arm. He turns me so I’m facing the dark stairwell. He puts the flashlight in my hand and starts to act like he’s going to escort me down the stairs, in a way that prevents me from doing anything other than what he wants me to do.
Alarm bells clang but I can’t turn and flee. It’s like a dream where you can’t respond to any of the danger signals, and I’m not even sure if what I’m feeling is a danger signal or if I’m over-reacting. Trig just wants to show me his basement. What could be wrong with that?
He smiles and it’s not a nice smile. What the actual fuck? He’s standing close and the heat from his body warms my skin, making goosebumps erupt. His scent is masculine without any hint of cologne. A shot of pure adrenaline surges through my system. Every muscle in my body tenses. I want to run, stumble down the hallway and throw myself outside. But he’s too close. I’ve missed my chance to escape. All I can do is wait. My mind reels. Nothing makes sense.
“Maggie, what if I was the type of man who hurt women?”
I stay very, very still. Barely breathing.
“There would be no way for you to defend yourself. You want to go to Vegas? Think there might be one or two bad guys there? Or are the men out there all like Wes? Nice guys.”
“Please just let me go.” My voice cracks. I’m desperate. He’s never come across as creepy or dangerous, but clearly, I missed the signs. “I want to go outside to wait for Jane.”
“Jane’s not coming and the door’s locked.”
My breathing is ragged and the sound is amplified in the quiet of the hall. Dust motes swirl. I watch as I wait for him to say something more.
“You and I are going to have a little talk.”
“And then you’ll let me leave?” My voice shakes. The dank air from the basement seems to flow toward me from the darkness below, suffocating me. I have to concentrate to draw each breath. A little talk? I don’t even want to ask what he means by have a talk, I just want to know what the end point is, that he’ll let me go and we’ll forget about this. I’m ready to do anything he says.
“No, I’m not letting you leave. I’m going to sell you to my contact in Colombia.”
“Jesus, this isn’t funny, Trig.” My knees feel like jelly. My chest has an elephant sitting on it and I’m sure I’ve never been so scared in my life.
He dips his head and whispers, “You think this is a joke?”
“You can’t be serious.” I bite my lips and blink my eyes m
adly, trying to keep tears from spilling.
“I’d rough you up a little, tell you about the shit I’d do to your family if you give me trouble, but you don’t have family so that wouldn’t work. I’d think of something though. That’s the type of thing that would happen if I was a bad guy.”
If I was a bad guy…
He’s tipped his hand to me and I’m so overcome with gratitude, I almost thank him. He’s not going to do anything bad, I tell myself. Nothing bad. This will be over in a moment. Part of me, the stupid part, wants to correct him. If I were a bad guy.
But he goes on in a voice that’s so menacing it gives me goose bumps. “Then I’d tie you to a chair – or a bed.”
“I’d scream.”
“Go ahead.”
I can hear the smile in his voice. This guy is all kinds of fucked up and I wish I had the nerve to scream but my gut tells me to stay quiet.
“No one would hear you, Maggie. And when I got tired of it, I’d gag you.”
My heart jackhammers behind my ribs.
“After that,” he goes on casually, “we’d do a few things, I’m sure you can imagine what, and then I’d find a nice fat vein in your arm. Want to know why?”
I shake my head and a small whimper falls from my lips.
“I’d stick you with a needle and give you some shit that you’d hate. At first. Then you’d fucking love it.”
“Trig,” I whisper. “Please, what do you want from me?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I want you to be a bad girl. I can train you, show you all the things my contact likes. And then I’ll ship you off to Costa Rica.”
A huff of air escapes my lungs and in my mind, I replay his words. “Costa Rica?”
“That’s right.”
A voice in my head screams at me to shut my mouth, not to engage this massively messed up man, but I cannot stop myself. “But… a minute ago, you said Colombia.”
He doesn’t respond right away. He’s thinking, wondering how he’ll answer that and I wonder if I should try to knee him. Hard. Trying to summon my nerve, I have to admit I don’t have the courage. I’m ninety percent sure he’s full of shit and this is some scared-straight or tough-love crap he’s conjured up, but there’s a tiny bit of doubt lurking in my mind. He might not want to do the things he’s talking about, but I’m sure he’d have a response to me lashing out.