by S. Massery
We stepped outside. It was just as hot and still out here as it was in my bedroom. The night wasn’t silent—not like the house. Quiet, yes, but there was life out here.
Not like in there.
“I don’t understand,” I told her, climbing into the car. At ten—almost eleven—I was just a hair shy of sitting in the front seat. Not that I minded in this particular instance. I took as much distance as I could get away with.
She tucked both our bags in the trunk, then slid into the driver’s seat. “You don’t understand what?”
How is Margo going to find me if I leave?
“You’re going to stay with family,” she said in an even tone.
I leaned forward against my seatbelt. “What about you?”
She met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “There are some things I need to take care of, Caleb. Finding someone to get the blood out of the carpet, for one. The sooner we can sell that godforsaken house, the better off we’ll be.”
White-hot fear flashed through me.
“No!” I yelled. “We can’t go!”
She ignored me.
“Mom! You can’t just—we need to stay! Margo—”
“Do not speak her name,” Mom hissed. She slammed on the brakes, jerking the car to the side of the road. She twisted around, pinching my chin. Her long nails dug into my skin. “She’s dead to us.”
“Just like Dad?” I managed.
Mom stared at me for a moment. “Didn’t you ever love him? Do you not get it? He isn’t coming back. This isn’t a dream you can wake up from, Caleb. Things won’t go back to how they were. And I sure as hell will not trap myself in Rose Hill while the rest of the world keeps turning.”
I did love him, but he screamed. Threw things. Instilled terror into us.
Us. Like Margo was sitting beside me.
I understood what Mom was saying. In Rose Hill, only bad things happened. She wanted a new chance at life.
But I didn’t. I wanted things back to normal.
I rubbed the bracelet on my wrist absently. I should’ve removed it and thrown it away, but the hate Mom kept insisting on wasn’t there. It wasn’t Margo’s fault. It was her dad’s fault.
“Silly boy,” Mom said. “You think she didn’t have a hand in this?”
Had I spoken out loud?
She exhaled, disgust crawling across her features.
“You’ll learn. You can’t trust a Wolfe.”
3
Margo
Some people come back from unconsciousness slowly, one sense at a time. Hearing, smell, taste. Drifting out of a slumber-like state peacefully.
Not me.
I rush into awareness like I’m bursting from underwater, gasping for air.
And the next thing to hit me?
Memories.
They burn through my mind, one after another, a flipbook of information.
It hurts. I cry out as I relive it.
Someone grabs my arm, threading their fingers through mine. They squeeze my hand, but I’m inconsolable. The truth is blinding, but I finally have answers.
I remember.
4
Caleb
I curl my fingers into the black hat on my lap. It’s hard not to critique Eli’s driving, because we’ve been going in circles for hours. Literally and figuratively.
Eli pried the entire story out of me, piece by piece. At some points, I let information go willingly. But others… He slowed the truck, and out my secrets came.
They float between us, suffocating me.
“So your folks hate Margo because of something her dad did.”
“Basically.”
“And your mom just… left.”
I sigh. “She went upstate. To some sort of… I don’t know. She called it a grieving retreat, but I’m pretty sure it was a resort.”
“Oh, Lydia.” Eli scowls. “And meanwhile, you were being used as a punching bag for your uncle.”
“He’s a twisted fucker,” I mutter.
“Karma will get him.” He’s confident in that assessment, but he’s wrong. Rich men don’t often bow to fate. They’re the exception to the rule.
My phone beeps.
Matt: Got it. Call me.
I flash the screen at Eli and dial Matt’s number.
Without saying hello, he says, “I found her location. Or, last known location. There’s no way to know if she’s still there, since her phone is off, but—”
“An address,” I snap.
“Easy, man, I was getting to that. You know the old bunkers on Columbus?”
Eli scoffs. “Who would take her there?”
Matt pauses. “I didn’t know you had company.”
“It’s Eli. Just get on with it.” I rub at my face. I feel as helpless as ten-year-old Caleb, letting someone else find Margo.
“I think she’s there. It makes sense when I analyze the data, you know? Her last cell ping was actually pretty close to that—which doesn’t make sense—but then her phone went off. And it’s the only remote place in the area. Plus, I hacked into a satellite, and it’s showing that there’s a car parked outside one of the barns.” He clears his throat. “So, yeah. I’d start there.”
“Fuck,” Eli says after I hang up. “What if we actually find her?”
“What?”
“The detective seems to think you’re involved, so…”
I lurch. “Oh my god, I didn’t even think to ask about her foster dad. She’s going to kill me.”
The truck speeds up, flying out of Rose Hill and toward a sort of no-man’s-land between there and Stone Ridge. Rumor has it this area is haunted, but every story is different. Some say the owner of the bunkers went crazy and locked people in, convinced it was the end of the world. Others are convinced we had a cult on our hands, and it was mass suicide.
Eli turns onto a gravel road. The bunkers are in the distance, the roof of a storage barn just visible over the hill. It’s swampy, dark muddy water on either side of the road. Feeble stalks poke out, waving in the wind.
He stops the truck just shy of the top of the hill. “What if they’re there?”
I laugh. “You’re asking me this now?”
“I mean, they could be armed.”
“That’s not stopping me.”
He sighs. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”
We crest the hill.
Nothing.
A barn and a low concrete building, and a whole lot of nada. Matt said there would be a car here, but this place looks abandoned.
“Fuck!” I yell.
“Chill out.” Eli pulls his truck around and puts it in park. “She could still be in there.”
I shove all my emotions down. I can’t afford to be hopeful or nervous or… terrified. We’re going to be smart about this. Logic over emotions. I want to burst into the buildings, scream her name, get her back. But that might get all of us killed.
What are the chances her kidnappers left her alone?
I find the folded knife he keeps in his glove box and flip it open. “You check the bunker. I’ll take the barn.”
We hop out and split up. The barn is old. It creaks and rattles in the wind. There’s a chain on the sliding doors, so I circle around. If someone got her in here…
I discover a door in the back. The knob is locked, but that’s easier to deal with than a chained sliding door. I take a step back and kick.
It flies open, banging against the wall.
This door leads into what appears to be an old office. There’s a desk in the corner, heavily tilting to one side. Thick dust covers everything. I creep through the door, into the main part of the barn. My eyes go to the hay stacked along one wall. The debris on the dirt floor.
And then…
“Margo!” I yell, sprinting for her.
She’s on the ground. On her side.
Her hair covers her face, and her hands are bound in front of her with duct tape. Her ankles are bound, too.
I fall to my knees
in front of her, slowly pushing the hair from her face. Her eyes are closed. There’s a gash on her head, the blood sticky. It must’ve ran for some time, because it’s everywhere. All down her face, neck, soaked up in her shirt.
No jacket.
No shoes.
“Margo,” I whisper, rolling her onto her back.
She groans.
My heart jumps. She’s alive. That’s all the confirmation I need.
I pick her up, making sure her head is cradled on my chest, and head for the door. I’m a mix of emotions: furious at Unknown, if they were behind her abduction or simply taking credit for it. And so damn happy that I found Margo. In one piece.
I almost crash into Eli in the doorway.
“I got nothing—holy shit, you found her.” Eli stares at her. “What happened?”
I grunt. If I think about her injuries—I’m sure there are more than just the gash on her head—I’ll see red. So instead, I focus on the truck.
“Let’s hope it was just the car accident and not… something else.”
Eli hauls open the back door for me. I climb in without releasing her, holding her close.
“Turn up the heat,” I order. “She’s freezing.”
He complies, and then we’re on our way. He meets my gaze in the mirror. “Hospital, I’m assuming?”
“No shit.”
I spend the drive stroking Margo’s hair, willing her to wake up. Her face is peaceful—minus the blood—and she could pass for sleeping. Except her skin is chilled. Some asshole abducted her and left her in a breezy barn without a jacket or her shoes.
I’m going to kill them.
“You don’t think your family was behind this, do you?”
I tug at the tape on Margo’s wrists. “We’ve been operating under the assumption that Unknown is our age.”
He grunts. “Does she have her phone on her?”
I shift her, feeling her pockets. “Nope.”
“How’s she doing?”
“It’d be great if you could drive faster.”
Eli’s already driving like a maniac, but at this point, I wish we had my speedy little car instead of his massive truck. I’m not a doctor, but Margo being unconscious isn’t a good sign.
It’s a really fucking bad one.
“We’re here, we’re here,” he calls, bumping down the drive toward the emergency room.
As soon as the truck stops moving, I fling the door open and jump out, keeping Margo tight against my chest so she doesn’t bounce.
He follows me inside.
I should’ve taken the tape off her arms and legs.
A nurse rushes toward me. “What happened?”
“I—she was abducted. I found her.”
Chaos. She instructs me to set her on a gurney, and a doctor leans over her. They shuffle me backward, but the doctor’s gaze stays on me.
“This is the missing girl?” he asks.
I nod woodenly. “She was in a car accident.”
“Sit down, son,” the doctor orders. “We’ll take good care of her.”
The original nurse leads me to a chair in the waiting room. “Is that your truck?”
“No, mine,” Eli says. “I’ll go… move it…”
“It’s in the way of the ambulance bay,” she explains. “There’s a parking—”
“I know.”
He leaves, and I’m reminded that he was just doing this not too long ago. Different state, different circumstances… same fucked-up feeling going into a hospital gives you.
He’s not going to be back for a while.
I hunch lower and eye the people going in and out of the ER. Margo’s behind a locked door. Just when I had her in my arms again…
Eli’s dad bursts into the waiting room, gaze swinging around before he finds me. He’s usually a composed man, but right now…
Ah.
Detective Masters is right behind him.
“His goal is to make a scene,” Mr. Black says. “He can’t do anything. He has no evidence.”
I stand. “What’s going on?”
Mr. Black stops in front of me. “He wants to bring you down to the station for questioning. He thinks you—it doesn’t matter. It’s best if we go. He’s threatening to get an arrest warrant if you don’t go amicably—bunch of bullshit, if you ask me, but it’s harder to scrub that from your record. I’ll follow you there.”
“Mr. Asher,” Detective Masters calls. He’s got a gleam in his eye like he’s about to enjoy this next part.
I wish I knew what I did in our ten-minute interview to make such an impression.
“You’re going to come down to the station with me. We need to have a little chat.”
I stiffen. They’re going to take me away from the hospital. And what will be the first thing Margo sees? Someone who doesn’t give a fuck about her? Her social worker, or worse, the detective himself.
“I can’t right now,” I tell them. “Margo will wake up soon.”
“Now, Caleb, I doubt Margo would want to hear that you refused to help on her case.” He smirks. “Just imagine how hurt she might be by that information.”
“Come on, son,” Mr. Black whispers.
I stare at him for a moment, then turn back to the detective. “Fine.”
He guides me by the arm out of the hospital.
Lenora almost runs head-first into us at the sliding doors. “Caleb! D-Detective Masters!” Her attention bounces back and forth. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Just have a few questions for Mr. Asher, here,” the detective says.
I would very much like to punch him in the face.
Break his nose, maybe.
“But—”
“We’ve got to get going.” He sounds apologetic. “I’ll be in touch once Margo is awake.”
She nods, scanning my face, then steps to the side.
He hauls me outside, and his grip gets firmer. “Like that little show, did you, boy? You have a grim look on your pretty face. Heh. Not used to getting caught, more like.”
I say nothing.
He puts me in the back of his car, his hand heavy on the back of my head.
He hasn’t arrested me, but it sure feels like he’s about to cart me off and lock me away. My mind jumps ahead to the implications, and what my uncle would do when he finds out, then circles back to Margo.
Ah, well. This wouldn’t be the first thing the Asher family has covered up.
Margo
I wake up much the same as I did last time: violently.
My body jackknifes, pain crashing through me. It goes straight to my head, and so do my hands.
Someone rushes in. “Margo, Margo, calm down. You’re in the hospital.”
Stars burst behind my eyelids, but I recognize Lenora’s voice. She eases me back, muttering about the lights. A second later, everything in my peripherals goes dim. I lower my fingers away from my eyes and blink.
It still hurts, but not nearly as bad.
Lenora hovers at the side of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. “I was so worried. I’m not allowed to tell you—”
A nurse comes in, followed quickly by a doctor. The doctor introduced himself, but I can’t focus on his words. I’m too busy eyeing the expression on my foster mother’s face… and trying to decipher it.
“You have a concussion,” the doctor says. I missed his name. “Expect headaches, maybe memory fragments.” He clears his throat. “There’s a detective outside who wants to speak with you.”
I widen my eyes. “Wait. You’re not going to tell me how I got here?”
He takes a step closer, sliding his hand into mine and squeezing. “Try to remember. Close your eyes.”
A nurse says, “You shouldn’t—”
“Leave us for a moment,” the doctor orders.
He notices I’m ignoring his directions and staring at Lenora. Her gaze has been on the floor, but now it flips up and crashes into mine.
“Can you give us a moment, Mrs. Jenkin
s?”
She flinches. “Yes, yes. But the detective can’t come in until her case worker gets here. She’s a minor.”
She leaves, and it’s almost like she was never here to begin with.
“Just us now,” he says. “So I want you to take a deep breath and think of the last thing you remember. Don’t say it out loud. Liz was right, I shouldn’t be helping.”
I grip his hand tighter. “What if I don’t want to remember?”
“We all grapple with ugly things. It’s how we respond that’s our true defining moment.”
Slowly, I close my eyes.
Last thing I remember…
Dad.
He said he was arrested for killing Caleb’s dad. Took a plea deal… but he said he was innocent. There’s truth buried in there. I was desperate to find it.
You still are.
Outside, into Robert’s waiting arms.
It was snowing.
His car. Driving, talking, and then—
I flinch, squeezing the doctor’s hand. “Car accident,” I whisper, blinking. “But… why does that warrant a detective?”
“Keep going,” he urges.
“First—is Robert okay?”
He doesn’t hesitate to say, “He’s in the Intensive Care Unit. His lung collapsed. Few broken ribs. It was touch and go for a while, but he’ll probably be moved to a regular room tomorrow morning.”
I bite my lip. The metallic taste of blood blooms across my tongue.
“Keep going,” the doctor urges. “Don’t focus on that.”
I shut my eyes and relive the car being hit. Going into a ditch and flipping over. Robert’s arm banded across my chest, trying to keep me safe.
And when the dust settled…
Someone pulled me out. Away. But instead of helping me, they were taking me away.
They knocked me out, and when I woke up…
I was in a barn. It was drafty, ice-cold. Two people argued. My head hurt spectacularly. My whole body did. And then…
Shit.