"Fine," she whispers reluctantly. "I will help you, but I need to know that Ivy won’t come to harm.”
"She is safer with me than anywhere else.”
"That must be why she ran from you in the first place," Hazel hisses.
"We’re running out of time." I nod to the staircase again. "And I'm running out of patience."
Her eyes dart to the keys she dropped on the floor, and she moves woodenly to pick them up. "One more thing." She tilts her chin up defiantly. "How can I trust that you won't give up our location or hand me over if I go with you?"
I consider my words carefully. I am accustomed to taking what I want without regard for the feelings of others. I am a De La Rosa, after all. But some sliver of humanity in me wants her to trust me because she’s my wife's sister, and I know Ivy loves her. It feels strange to acknowledge this truth, particularly because I still don't want to believe it myself, but the longer I am without my wife, the more obvious it becomes.
"You can trust that I won't betray you," I answer stiffly. "Because my wife would never forgive me if I did, and despite what you might think, I… I care about her. I want her home with me where she belongs. That's all I want. And I have no reason to turn you over unless you refuse to help me get her back."
Hazel's face softens just a fraction as she studies me, searching for lies. When she is satisfied I am telling the truth, she offers a small nod.
"Okay. Let me get my son. We'll need to drop him off at school first."
"What is this place?" I ask.
Hazel shifts the car into park and turns off the ignition, staring up at the yellow house that looks just like any other on the street.
I was beginning to think she was driving without any set purpose in mind, intent on fucking with me, before she finally took the exit for Lafayette. From there, she drove the route to this house as if from memory, and watching her now, there is a wistfulness in her features as she studies it. This place is obviously familiar to her.
"This is the house my father bought for his first wife before he had to leave her," she answers solemnly. "I came here before I left The Society. It's in Abel's mother's name, so IVI was never aware of it. Not until now, anyway.”
"Do you have a key?" I ask her as we exit the car and step onto the driveway.
"No, but I know the code to the front door."
I nod and follow her toward the door, but something catches my attention on the driveway. Hazel pauses at the same time I do, peering down at the red fragments of plastic. "What is that?"
I bend down, picking up a piece to examine it as a cold chill settles in my spine. "It looks like a taillight."
"Look at that." Hazel croaks, pointing a shaky finger at a crushed black plastic case.
We both move closer to examine it, and Hazel recognizes it first.
"It's lipstick."
My eyes move over the red smear on the concrete as a sick feeling twists in my gut. For as long as I live, I will never forget that shade of red. It has to be the same. The question is why is it here, smashed in the driveway?
"Do you think something happened here?" Hazel whispers.
"Open the door."
It's the only thing I can say. I can't accept the thoughts swirling the drain of my mind. I can't give those ideas space. Not until we go inside and I see for myself that she isn't here.
Hazel punches in the code, and I grab her by the shoulder to halt her before she turns the knob.
"Let me go first.”
She swallows and nods, stepping behind me as I enter the space. For a moment, I stand there, taking it all in. The silence. The musty odor. The messy contents of a house that hasn't really been lived in for some time.
There aren't any lights on. It's morning, and Ivy would be up by now. But I can't give up that last lingering hope as I stalk through the living area and down the hallway, checking every room. They are all empty. It doesn't stop me from checking under the beds, inside the closets, showers, and any other space she could hide. But every search turns up nothing. Not a single trace of her. Yet I can feel it in my gut that she was here.
"Something bad has happened, hasn't it?" Hazel echoes my own thoughts, her voice trembling. "Something has happened to my sister."
2
Ivy
They’ve removed the bag from over my head, but my wrists are still zip-tied behind my back, and the ties are digging painfully into my flesh. I wonder if it’s to keep me off balance to prevent me from running, but they don’t have to worry about that. My door isn’t locked, but I’m not going out there. I can still hear them, and if I look out of the window of the run-down single-story house they’ve brought me to, I can see their cars on the driveway. They took mine somewhere a few hours ago, I guess to get rid of it. I didn’t even realize Abel had held on to it.
Abel. Did he intend for this to happen like it did? Or did things just go wrong?
My head hurts where the one punched me, and a bruise is forming at my temple. I guess I should be grateful it’s not my eye. My stomach growls. I’m hungry even though I can’t imagine eating right now.
One of the men raises his voice and curses at whoever he’s talking to in the other room. It’s startling. It all seems disorganized as though they didn’t really have a plan, and I’m not sure if that isn’t more dangerous.
I hear a car and get up to go to the window. The room I’m in is around the side, so if I stand at the very edge of the window, I can see a part of the driveway. A light goes on. It’s not very bright, and it must be triggered by motion. I watch a car pull up. It’s an old, unremarkable black car with a muddied license plate at the front. My guess is that’s on purpose.
But when the door opens and I see Abel step out, my breath shudders, and I feel a physical sense of relief. He looks around as he slips the keys into his pocket before the light switches off as he moves to the front of the house.
“About fucking time,” one of the men says loud enough for me to hear.
I go to the door to listen to my brother’s quieter response. I can’t make out his words, but the men speak urgently, voices lowered now.
A few minutes later there is a raised voice again. This one is Abel’s. “Well, I guess it’s going to take a little fucking longer. I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to do as I say. Don’t fucking forget it.”
More muffled sounds, someone curses, and then something falls over. For a moment, I’m worried about my brother, and when I hear footsteps headed toward the bedroom I’m in, I hurry away from the door and watch, heart pounding, as it opens, relieved once again when Abel enters.
“Abel!” My voice quakes.
He takes me in as he closes the door. He looks angry, unkempt, and tired. Coming closer, he grasps my chin in one hand and turns my head to look at the bruise.
“I told you not to give them a hard time,” he says, letting me go.
I rub my chin against my shoulder still feeling his fingers on me, and I don’t know how to answer him. Wild thoughts swim in my head as I remember the last few moments on the driveway. The lipstick I’d found. Abel’s silence when I’d asked him about it.