Reckoning (30 page)

“No. You look great. Really,” Lovell says, trying, and failing, to sound sincere. Using one arm, I push myself up straighter and run my fingers through my hair. The scent of smoke and ash wafts up my nose. I pull my hand away, assaulted by memories. Lovell continues to look at me, as if he is aware of my thoughts.

“Lovell’s been great,” my mom says, placing her hand on his arm. “He’s been here every day, you know. Checking on you, making sure you’re doing OK. And he’s been taking care of the house.
And
Alecto.”

I smile gratefully. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Something in the back of my brain belatedly picks up on what my mom just said. Something about it isn’t right. But my brain is too fuzzy. I can’t grasp it.

Lovell shrugs and steps to the window as if uncomfortable with the praise. “It was no big deal. I’m just glad I was able to help.”

My mom looks at him, smiling tremulously. “We owe him…a great deal.” Her voice cracks and tears fill her eyes. “More than we can ever hope to repay.” She wipes at her cheeks.

I glance at Lovell, my mind reeling with questions, but he keeps his gaze fixed on the parking lot outside, arms crossed on his chest. Reaching for my mom’s hand, I squeeze it tightly.

Clearing her throat, Mom looks up and smiles. “He’s not the only visitor you’ve had, you know. Rick has been here checking on you every day, too.”

“Really?” A rush of happiness sweeps over me. Rick has been here. Every day. Lovell shifted by the window.

The thing that my brain has been feebly grappling with suddenly clicks into place. “Wait a minute. You said
every day?
How long have I been here, anyway?”

My mom hesitates before answering. “Five days.”

“
Five days?
You’re joking, right?” How could I have lost five days? And not have any memory of it? “Was I like, unconscious, or in a coma, or something?”

Dad shakes his head. “No, not really. It was just like you were asleep. I mean,
really
, deeply, asleep. The doctors didn’t know what to make of it. You were fine in every way – physically, neurologically – it was just that your body didn’t want to wake up. Or your mind.”

“Dr. Klaasen thinks it was probably just a reaction to shock,” my mom says. “And that you would wake up when you were ready.”

I stare at her in disbelief. I can feel Lovell’s gaze on me, but I ignore it, struggling to make sense of the fact that I’ve lost five days – nearly an entire week – of my life. A dim memory floats at the back of my mind. Something to do with water. And darkness. My gaze shifts to Lovell, but he looks away, adjusting the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.

“I can’t believe it,” I murmur. “It was just last night…” I stop, not wanting to say it. Not wanting to relive it.

My mom clears her throat hesitantly, as if unsure how to proceed. Glancing at my dad, she asks, “Kat, honey, how much do you remember?”

How much do I remember
? As if I can forget any of it. It is all there. Every detail. In vibrant, living colors, replaying in a continuous loop through my head.

“I remember…” I start to say, just as Lovell moves from the window to the end of the bed. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and looks at me closely, his eyes giving me unspoken instruction.

“…walking back from the park with Rachel,” I finish slowly, hoping that sounds better to them than it does to me. I look at Lovell, hoping for clues, but he just smiles. I know I’m missing something. But what? “Then we were going to go back to the house to just hang out for a while before she had to go home.” Remembering the little pink box with the tiny red bow, a tear rolls down my cheek. “She made some earrings for me.”

Lovell moves forward, brushing his hand across my arm. Reaching for a chair, he sits down, resting his elbows on his knees.

The four walls of the hospital room fade and I’m back in the house. Staring at the spot where Rachel had just stood. The glow of neon green. Aratus’ menacing glare. The noise and explosions. Lovell carrying me outside. The rushed conversation. The wailing of sirens. The crackle of flames. Shaking with terror. Nodding in anguished agreement. Then Lovell’s hand on my neck. And darkness.

I look at my mom and dad. “I don’t remember anything after that,” I lie. “What happened? How did I end up here?”

Then she begins talking.

I leave the hospital the next morning, my hair still damp from the shower. I shampooed twice, but I can still smell the smoke. My mom makes light conversation as my dad drives, talking about work, the weather, things she spots through the window. All of it insubstantial and meaningless. The hospital building grows smaller and smaller behind us. The sky is unusually overcast, heavy gray clouds obscuring the sun. It seems appropriate. Leaning my head back, I watch the cars pass, counting the red ones for no other reason than it keeps me from thinking.

I’ve counted to twenty-eight by the time we get home. We go inside and I tell my mom I want to take another shower. A long, hot one. Then just rest in my room for a while. She smiles and nods, but I can see the worry in her eyes. Reached out with one arm, I hug her. She holds on for a moment before releasing me.

“I’ll bring you a tuna sandwich later,” she says. “Or we could get Chinese, if you’d like that better?”

“No, a sandwich would be great, Mom. Thanks.” I head to my room and undress, gently removing my arm from the sling. Slipping into a bathrobe, I head to the bathroom, softly closing the door behind me. I turn on the shower, letting the warm steam fill the room before and stepping beneath the hot spray. As the water washes over me, I let go, sobbing silently. Tears stream down my face, washed away by the water, both disappearing in a steady stream down the drain. Misery and fatigue overtake me and I lean against the tiled wall for support.

Everything my mom told me at the hospital is a lie. But I can’t correct her. I can’t tell her what really happened. So I corroborated what I could, and let her believe.

Based upon Lovell’s testimony, the police believe that two unknown men grabbed Rachel and I as we were walking back from the park, taking us to the abandoned house at the end of the street. But we’d fought. Which explained my dislocated shoulder, multiple bruises, and myriad cuts and scrapes. I’d managed to get free long enough to make it out to an old shed in the backyard. Kicking my way through the rotting wood door, I’d found old pieces of metal pipe that I’d used to defend myself. At this point, Lovell had been walking back from the library and heard the noise and screams coming from the backyard. Jumping the fence, he had managed to subdue my attacker, knocking him unconscious. He had then gone inside the house, intent on helping Rachel. But he was too late and only managed to get a fleeting glimpse through the front window of a dark-haired man shoving what appeared to be an unconscious Rachel into a car. He had immediately called the police, but was unable to tell them anything other than the car was a small four-door sedan, either silver or light blue, and it had headed south. Lovell had then gone back outside, but the other man had disappeared also, regaining consciousness long enough to slip out the back gate, unnoticed. Lovell had provided descriptions of the two men, but there was little to go on. Blood had been found on the pipe not belonging to either Rachel or me, and the police were hoping to use the DNA to track the kidnappers.

The only thing the police and fire investigators hadn’t been able to figure out was the cause of the fire and an explanation for what some had described as a small explosion. Lovell had stated that he saw smoke coming from the side of the house, followed by flames that quickly ignited the old wood. He’d heard something that sounded like a loud pop, but he was sure there hadn’t been any kind of explosion, small or otherwise, although he couldn’t swear to it due to the frantic activity that was taking place. There was evidence to suggest that the kidnappers had been squatting in the house, and a poorly extinguished cigarette may have started the fire.

That was the story. I just nodded mutely and agreed, mumbling short answers to the detective who questioned me later.

Suddenly I’m angry. Filled with an inexpressible fury that evaporates my tears. I want to scream. Scream so hard it tears my vocal cords. I want to punch, hit, destroy. Bracing myself against the wall, I force myself to take a deep breath. Repeating and repeating until the red blaze burning through me cools to a few hot cinders. Reaching out, I grab the shampoo bottle and squeeze some onto my head with one hand. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I feverishly rub it into a foaming lather, resolving to get rid of the smell of smoke and ashes. Rinsing, I do the same with the conditioner, then stand under the steady stream of water until it grows cold.

Rachel. Lovell. Me. The house. Lies and truth twist and turn, wrapping around each other, tighter and tighter, until my head pounds from the tension. I wish I could find a way to erase it from my memory. To deny it ever happened. Just like I used to. But the time for denial is over.

My world has changed. Totally and completely. Nothing will ever be the same.

Sitting at my desk, I stare at Lovell’s house. It has been three weeks. Twenty-one days. Five hundred four hours. Thirty thousand two hundred forty minutes. Each one gnawing at me relentlessly. Preventing me from sleeping, eating, functioning. The bruises have faded; the cuts have healed. My shoulder is mending, although it still aches, sending out sharp reminders if I move too quickly. I’ve refused the painkillers because they just make the nightmares worse. A part of me welcomes the pain. Penance for what I’ve done.

I spoke with Rick, once. A brief conversation over the phone. He’d pleaded to see me, but I’d refused. I’m not ready to see or talk to anyone yet. I haven’t spoken with Lovell since the hospital. All I want is to be alone.

Rachel is gone
.

Gone.

Gone

Gone.

The words echo over and over in my head. The horrible reality envelopes me like a black cloud that no light can penetrate. It slices through me like a knife, the pain just as sharp as the night she disappeared. And it’s my fault. If I had listened to Lovell, believed what he told me, I could have protected her. Prevented any of it from happening. But I didn’t. I had denied and suppressed and refused to accept any of it. Just like I always have.

Lovell said I had a choice. Do I? Can I put a stop to it? Or is it only a matter of time before I disappear, too. Because Aratus will come back for me. Of that much I am sure. This isn’t the end.

I stand and walk to my dresser, picking up the pink box. Opening it, I tip the earrings into my hand, staring at the blue stones.

“They’re blue chalcedony. For protection.”

Oh, Rachel. If only you’d known.

I slip them into my ears and gaze at my reflection in the mirror. The shadow of her hovers behind me. Her arm around my shoulders, pressing her head to mine the night of Rick’s party.

“
You look beautiful.”

I brush my bangs aside, exposing my eyes. They glow with green intensity and a hard light that wasn’t there before. A sound escapes my throat, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, my fingers tracing the hollow of my cheekbones. I’ve lost weight and now I actually have cheekbones. I remember looking into the mirror three months ago and thinking I’d give anything to look older.

Well, I’ve gotten my wish.

I pick up the seraphinite stone, watching the silver patterns shift and change.

“I saw it and just thought of you.”

I stare into the mirror, Rachel’s words from scattered conversations floating back to me.

“What is with that house, anyway…it’s so creepy.”

“You can talk to me…you might think I wouldn’t understand…but I promise I would.”

“You can tell me. Anything.”

“I noticed it was getting kind of dark and misty.”

What had Rachel known? Had she seen things she was afraid to talk about, too? Or was it all just coincidence?

Maybe I’m not the only one who kept secrets.

A tear rolls down my cheek. I think about Rick and his words to me a few weeks ago. Making my own vow, I say, “I’ll make it right, Rachel. I promise.”

And then something shifts inside of me. A hard, cold resolves starts to take shape. There is a lot I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. From here on out, I will be in control. And to do that, I need to be honest. Starting with myself.

Reaching for my phone, I quickly dial a number.

He answers on the second ring. “Kat? Thank God. I’ve been so worried. How are you?” His voice washes over me and I feel a faint crack in the ice that has been gripping my heart.

“Hey, Rick. Um…I really need to talk.”

“Sure. What’s up?” I can hear the unease in his voice, as if he’s unsure what I will say next.

“Not over the phone. Can you pick me up in…an hour? I’d really like to go back up to that place with the great view, if that’s OK.”

“Yeah, totally. Is everything OK?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then. Thanks.” I end the call, wondering if anything will ever be OK again.

Stepping outside, I walk over to Lovell’s house and ring the bell. When he opens the door, I don’t bother with a greeting. “Is Rachel dead?” I tense, waiting for his answer.