I reached for my hair, which now fell past my shoulders. “Me?”
His cheeks rose and his brown eyes shone. “God, I hated them for what they did to you, but Sara, I loved you so much more. You were so strong. That was the night I fully believed in you. In us. If what they did to you didn’t break you, I knew you’d survive, and I knew I’d stop at nothing to not only complete my assignment but get you out too.”
I remembered that night. “That really was our first time?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’d promised you—it was when you were still unconscious. I promised I’d give you time. I needed to make you believe you were Sara Adams to keep you alive, but what we did in private was different. I swore I’d never force myself on you.” His smile disappeared. “That’s not the way it is with all the men in The Light. I’m on the Assembly. I hear stories.”
My skin crawled as I thought of Brother Abraham’s wife. “Deborah?”
Jacob’s jaw clenched. “Abraham is an ass.” His eyes pleaded. “I never forced you, nor did I ever lie about my feelings.” He ran his hand over his face. “You can hate me forever, and tomorrow we can part ways and never see each other again, but if that happens, I pray you’ll give me the gift of letting me know that you understand why I did everything. And that you know I never meant you harm.”
It was so much, too much. He’d taken too much. I wasn’t ready to give him what he asked, not yet. “What do you mean that tomorrow we could part ways? What’s happening tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is up to you.”
When has anything been up to me?
CHAPTER 11
Dylan
I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed as my phone continued to ring. Each week the same call. Each week the same conversation. As I stared at my screen and read Beverly Montgomery’s name I contemplated hitting ignore.
Ring four.
Ring five.
She’ll just keep calling.
“Hello, Mrs. Montgomery,” I said, trying for my calmest tone. If I’d let it ring one more time it would’ve gone to voice mail. Either she’d have called back or left a message. If she’d left a message, I’d be forced to call her back. It was easier to just talk—like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“Bev,” she corrected. “How many times do I need to ask you to please call me Bev? I’m not interrupting you, am I?”
“No, Bev. I’m clocked out and on my way home.”
“It’s been another week since Stella . . .” Her voice momentarily trailed away. “I just can’t believe it. My baby’s been gone for nearly nine months. Please tell me you’ve learned something new, something that can help.”
I shook my head as I eased my unmarked Charger into early-evening Detroit traffic. “I wish I could. As you know, I’m not on the case.”
“We know that, but you’re on the force. You’re her boyfriend—were.”
I considered correcting her, telling her I wished I were still her boyfriend, but it would only take this conversation the way of many others, down an emotional path I wasn’t up to navigating this evening.
She went on. “Surely they’d let you know . . .” Beverly Montgomery’s words began to crack.
So much for avoiding emotion.
“The truth is that they wouldn’t,” I explained. “I’m not on the missing-persons task force. They can’t tell me every time they learn anything new. Besides, because of Stella’s and my relationship, they’re less likely to tell me anything until they know for sure. They wouldn’t want to get my hopes up.”
“But . . . if they found something, that wouldn’t get your hopes up. If they found her”—this time she couldn’t disguise the audible cry before she whispered—“body.”
“Nothing like that has happened. I promise you, if anything like that is found, you’ll be contacted.”
“It’s strange how grown children live their own lives and as parents we’re OK with that. Days and weeks can go by without speaking, and it’s all right, because it means your children are doing what you raised them to do, to be independent, to be adults, and then in an instant it can all change . . .”
I clenched my teeth as I listened. Stella’s mother had told me once that her therapist said talking to me would be helpful, therapeutic even for her loss. Sometimes the conversations were more upbeat, about Stella’s sister, the one who’d been divorced. She’d recently remarried. Apparently losing a sister—well, having a sister go missing—had made her reevaluate her choices. The man she’d married had been her friend and now they had a child on the way. Beverly was elated at the prospect of being a grandparent. And then she’d think again about Stella and how much she’d enjoy being an aunt. Some conversations were too difficult to continue.
“. . . thank you.”
I’d been listening, but also watching the moving traffic. I didn’t hear why she was thanking me, but didn’t want to ask.
“You’re welcome. I look forward to your calls.”
“I wish . . . well, a lot of things. I remember how excited Stella was that she’d asked you to our house for Christmas. I’m never giving up hope, but I want you to know, we’ll always think of you as part of this family, even if you”—she took a deep breath—“find someone else.”
“I’m not dating, but maybe someday. I’m not ready to give up either.”
“I meant to tell you.” Beverly’s voice filled with a new sense of excitement.
“What?”
“Bernard Cooper called me the other day.”
I felt my grip tighten around the steering wheel. “He did?”
“Yes. It wasn’t much, but since both Stella and Mindy went missing, apparently there’s been an internal investigation at WCJB. They hired some computer forensic guy. You know they never found either one of the girls’ personal laptops, but they’ve been able to uncover deleted files from the television station’s server.”
“They have? What have they learned?”
“Nothing yet. But he was very excited about the possibility of discovering more. I am too. Anything is better than nothing.”
“Please keep me up to date on Bernard’s progress.”
She sighed. “I will. I was afraid he hadn’t told you.”
“We spoke quite a bit when she first . . . but we don’t exactly see eye to eye on everything.”
“I get the feeling that Mr. Cooper feels responsible, like a father who didn’t do all he should have for his children. Both girls’ disappearances have been very difficult on him.”
I was sure they were. He should feel responsible. Sending Stella to Highland Heights. I told her over and over to stay away. She wouldn’t listen. It was when she went to Gabriel Clark’s mansion in Bloomfield Hills that my hands were tied.
Her fate was better than it could have been.
That’s what I told myself as I disconnected the call, made my way into my house in Brush Park, and checked on Fred. He was blissfully unaware of all that had occurred as he swam circles in his little bowl.
“It’s OK, little guy,” I said as I sprinkled betta pellets on top of the water. “The clock’s reset. We won’t need to have that conversation again for another week.”
CHAPTER 12
Jacob/Jacoby
I took Stella’s hand in mine, and at least this time, she didn’t pull away. I couldn’t ask her to go back to the Northern Light. It wasn’t fair. Sitting beside her, I tried to smile. If it was our last time together, maybe, just maybe, she’d have some fond memories of me. “Before we get into tomorrow, would you please tell me about your memory?”
“My memories? Of what?”
“No, your memory. When did it come back?”
She sighed and lay back on the bed. Though her feet were still on the floor, with her head back, her yellow hair fanned around her face, reminding me of a halo. On her neck was the silver cross necklace that I’d put around her neck the night of her first service. Like the wedding ring, she’d worn it consistently since that day. I didn’t
deserve her, and she didn’t deserve this. Scooting up on the bed, she arranged the pillows and leaned against the headboard. As she did she scanned the room.
“What?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I just realized there’s only one bed.”
I stood and walked to the small table near the window and sat in a chair. “You can have it. I can sleep in a chair. I did that for over two weeks.”
She nodded and smiled at me. “Now that makes sense.”
“I promised.”
She patted the bed beside her. “I’m not having sex with you, but you can sleep here.”
“Are you . . . ?”
“Jacob, I’m not sure how much sleep we’ll get. We have a lot to talk about.”
I moved back to the bed. “Your memory?”
“Over a week ago, when you were gone for a few nights. You went to the Eastern . . . Detroit.”
I nodded. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she shook her head. “I was afraid you did. The moment I saw you again, I knew I couldn’t hide it from you. So I didn’t try. When I was with you, I turned Stella off. I had to.”
“What do you mean, you turned her off?”
She turned to face me. “How have you done it? I mean for three years. That’s a long time.”
I stared up at the ceiling. It was one of those bumpy ones, painted, but the white paint had discolored to a faint yellow with time. “You know what?” I said. “I get it. When I first went to the Eastern Light, I had to think about what I said and how I acted, but then, with time, I became Jacob.”
I recalled the earlier training. Women weren’t the only ones to be indoctrinated. It wasn’t called that with men. It was called training—making it sound military or strategic. The first few weeks at the Eastern Light were a boot camp of sorts. It was where the men deemed unfit were weeded out. It was where Father Gabriel’s word became second nature, where The Light’s way of thinking was either embraced or rejected.
Those who rejected it didn’t succeed. They didn’t go on to become Assemblymen. I studied. I listened, and I performed. I couldn’t fail.
I sighed at the memories and went on with my answer. “In the back of my mind I kept my objective, but I didn’t have to think anymore. I was.”
“So with me . . . ?” She left the question open.
There were so many ways I could go. “With you I had time. You were unconscious for a week.”
“Did you really stay with me, or did I imagine that?”
“I stayed with you.” I didn’t want to tell her that Dr. Newton had injured her more between the attack and when I got to her. She didn’t need to know how depraved he was too. When she only nodded, I went on. “So I had time to work through my issues. I talked to you. I confessed the truth about our relationship.”
“That we didn’t have one?”
“No. I said it was new, but I also told you that I’d seen you, and I’d do my damnedest to make you laugh like you had.”
Staring straight ahead, she wiped a tear.
“I’m so sorry.”
Sara shook her head. “The thing is, you did. In that whole fucked-up world, I wasn’t really unhappy. I was at first, but then it felt . . . I don’t know . . . right.” She turned toward me. Her cheeks were dotted with blotchy red patches, the way they were when she cried. “I want to hate you. When my memories first came back, I hoped you were a victim too. That’s what I tried to convince myself. But now, knowing that you knew, that you were part of it . . . I want to hate you.
“The thing is, as Sara I’m so different than I am as Stella. Different, not better or worse. Stella had a career and a fish.” She laughed. “I hope Dylan took care of Fred.”
I doubted that asshole had done anything, but I wouldn’t say that either. “Fred? Was that your fish?”
Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Yes. I feel like I’m two different people. Stella had a fish. Sara wanted a baby.”
“Do you understand why I said no?”
She nodded. “Now I do, but I . . .” She looked down.
“I know what you did. It’s why your memory came back.”
Her gaze snapped back to mine. “You know? How do you know?”
“The drug that kept your memory away was in your birth control medicine. And, well, Raquel told me.”
She nodded with the confirmation of her theory and then huffed. “So much for friendship confidentiality.”
“In all fairness, she didn’t tell me until today.”
“Today?”
“Well, it seems like longer ago than that. After the incident with Brother Timothy, Sister Lilith, and your hair, I worried about leaving you alone, especially since I had to be gone overnight. So one of the times I left, early on after we returned to the community, I bought a burner phone. You know, a disposable one, untraceable?”
She nodded, her eyes wide.
“I took a chance. Elizabeth is too conditioned. I knew I couldn’t ask her to break rules.”
“So you asked Raquel?”
I nodded. “Benjamin knew too. We all prayed that the phone would never need to be used.”
Sara reached for my hand. I rolled my wrist so our palms would touch and our fingers intertwine. “See,” she said, “I’m so mixed up. I hate that it was all a lie, but things like that make it seem real.”
I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I told you that I didn’t lie about my feelings.”
Though she sighed, she didn’t pull her hand away.
“So,” I said, “your memories have been back for over a week, and when you were with me, you were Sara?” She nodded. “This morning, before I left, you told me you loved me.” She nodded again. “And that was a lie?”
“Sara loves Jacob.” She squeezed my hand. “That’s all I can give you.”
It was my turn to nod. “What happened with Thomas?”
She quickly turned toward me. “I told you, nothing.”
“No, I believe that. I’m asking how you ended up with him. Deputy Hill said that you said he took you against your will, but . . . what did the but mean?”
She sighed. “I went for a walk before work, and I saw your truck.”
“My truck?”
“I knew you hadn’t driven it into the community. You were gone. I’d seen Thomas in the community before. I didn’t understand how he did it. Xavier never did, but I took a chance.”
My pulse quickened. “You spoke to him in the community where others may have seen you?”
She shook her head. “No, I made sure that no one was around, and I got in the truck. I hid in the backseat, on the floor under a blanket.”
Though she’d totally fucked up both of our lives, my cheeks rose as I shook my head with newfound admiration. “Damn, you’re brave.”
“It was stupid. I took a chance and it almost cost me more than I was willing to pay.”
I didn’t know how to respond. It had cost both of us, it wasn’t almost.
“I thought I was good until he drove through the gates and then a few minutes later stopped the truck. He knew I was there.” Her eyes opened wide again. “Jacob? I mean Jacoby?”
I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles again. “I’d be OK if we stick with Jacob and Sara. I recently heard something about Sara, and I’m confident Jacob feels the same way.”
“I can’t . . .”
“I’m not asking you to,” I reassured her. “What did you want to ask?”
Her baby-blue eyes held the innocent Sara gaze I’d come to adore. “Are there really polar bears?”
“Yes!” Of all the questions she could have asked, this one made me smile. “I’ve seen them myself, especially out by the landing strip.”
“Then I hope he gets mauled.”
“You don’t need to worry about him.”
“Will you tell me why?”
“I’ll tell you anything. You never need to ask that way again.”
She
nodded.
“I don’t know the details, but the US Marshals took care of him.” When her expression blanked, I realized what that sounded like. “Not as in dead. Your confirmation that he took you against your will gave them probable cause. Deputy Hill guaranteed that Thomas would be lost in the federal system longer than I needed.”
“Longer than you needed? What does that mean?”
“My assignment isn’t over. The FBI needs more time to coordinate all the raids, and there’s more I want to learn. Today was only the second time in nearly three years that I’ve spoken with my handler. Thomas is a weak link. He could have easily talked to Father Gabriel. He had to be silenced.”
“Are you going back? Did I mess everything up?” She sighed, adjusted her pillow, and lay back.
“It’s like I said, it depends on you.” When I looked toward Sara, she was on her side with her knees drawn up. “What is it?”
In a short time, her complexion had paled. With her eyes closed, she shook her head. “I think I’m hungry.”
“Damn, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” I stood. “When did you last eat?”
“Sometime at the marshals’ office. It’s probably the stress too.”
Her forehead glistened with a sheen of perspiration.
“Let me go get you something to eat. It’s kind of late. I can get fast food.”
She nodded. “Thank you. I think that would help.”
“If I leave you alone?” I looked at the phone on the stand near the bed. “I can’t. I can’t leave you alone.”
“I’m not sure I can go with you. I’m suddenly not feeling very well.”
Even if I pulled the phone cord out of the wall, she could always walk next door and borrow someone’s phone. I couldn’t say it, but in reality she too was a weak link.
Looking around, I found plastic cups wrapped in cellophane. Opening one, I filled it with water and brought it back to her. “Here, try drinking some water.” Her beautiful eyes opened as she sat back up.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the cup. Though the water sloshed in her shaky grasp, she smiled. “This reminds me of the clinic.”
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