“You’re really going to go to the police?” She asked, wide-eyed. “You’re willing to throw your father under the bus?”
“I can’t think of any other solutions.” I put the papers back in the manila envelope and started walking back toward the entrance.
“Let’s go this way. It’s faster,” she said, walking in the opposite direction, typing on her phone as I followed. “I just don’t know about my mom, you know?”
“What don’t you know? You saw the exchange between her and Lana.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s guilty of anything.” She glanced at me, opening the side door that led to one of the tunnels. I walked in first, and she followed behind me, our feet tapping on the stairs as we walked down at the same pace.
“So you think she’s innocent?”
“I think she was probably jealous, but I can’t imagine just handing this over and letting her take the fall for that.”
“But it could be what saves Lana,” I argued. “If she’s still alive.”
The halls were dark, a sign of no people walking through them, which wasn’t uncommon on a Sunday afternoon. The overhead lights flickered when they sensed our approach, buzzing as they illuminated over us. Unlike in the past, when I’d been nervous about walking these halls, I felt no fear. The adrenaline overrode my sense of everything else, even direction. I was following Hailey, hoping she knew where the hell we were going as we spoke. We took a right turn at the end of the tunnel and were met with another dark set of stairs. The lights flickered on as we approached and we ran up, Hailey ahead of me. She opened the door and stepped out, holding it for me.
Once outside, two things happened simultaneously: I tried to assess where we were and realized we were nowhere near the streets and that the exit had led us to the entrance of the woods. The other thing I registered was that Deacon was there, smile on his face as he looked at me right before he whacked me on the side of the head with a shovel.
Chapter 42
I was floating.
No.
Falling.
Moving.
Swaying.
My head felt like someone was pounding on it from the inside and out. I groaned. Or maybe someone else did. My movements weren’t my own. My body rocked back and forth. Someone was carrying me. As I tried to peel my eyes open, I could see the trees above me, the sun peeking through the branches. I focused on the sounds of crunching on scattered leaves and branches beneath us. The person carrying me was wearing boots. I opened my eyes wider. Deacon. Deacon was carrying me. I tried to scream, but it came out a groan.
“Pretty doll.” He looked down at me and smiled.
I shook my head, the dreadful thought of him doing something to me sending a jolt through me. I moved my body, tried to thrash in his arms so that he’d drop me, but he held on tighter. I realized, the moment I tried to lift my arms, that they were tied. My feet were tied as well. I stood no chance. Not with the massive headache and disorientation I felt. Not without knowledge of where we were going or even a voice to ask. My tongue felt like dead weight in my mouth. Where was Hailey? Where the hell was Hailey? I looked around, my eyes moving to and fro, but saw nothing. I focused on the crunching beneath us, trying to figure out if someone else was walking with us, but couldn’t tell. Why would Hailey let Deacon do this to me? So that I didn’t go to the cops about her mother? Jesus. She could have asked me not to say anything to them. She could’ve not brought this information to me in the first place. The swaying was lulling me to sleep. The swaying and the headache and the heaviness of my eyes. I shut them, my head hitting Deacon’s chest with the movement. He smelled like farm animals and mechanic. It was the last thing I thought of before I completely passed out again.
Chapter 43
I awoke to the sound of two female voices. Hailey. Hailey and Ella? I tried to make out what they were saying in their hushed whispers and quick chatter. The sun was setting now. I could barely see the trees above my head. I’d been set down though, no longer in Deacon’s arms.
“Hailey.” My voice was scratchy and weak.
They stopped talking. I heard the sound of boots pounding into the fallen leaves and branches as someone walked up to me, then saw Hailey as she crouched beside me.
“You want to know why I’m doing this,” Hailey said.
“Hailey.” I wheezed.
Fuck. I hadn’t needed my inhaler in a long time, but my chest felt tight and knowing I didn’t have it on me made me feel eager for it.
“Why don’t I give you the run-down?”
“Hailey, I don’t like this.” The voice came from the person she’d been talking to.
It was a soft, melodic sound that shook, and vibrated inside me when I realized it was not Ella. I fought to look at the person. Hailey acknowledged my curiosity and put a hand beneath my neck, lifting me slightly, gently. Lana came into view. Lana. Alive. She wasn’t dirty. She wore jeans and a cashmere coat. Her hands seemed to be tied, but other than that, she looked fine. Lana was alive. She hadn’t jumped. What the hell had my brother seen?
“You’re alive,” I choked out.
“Of course she’s alive.”
“Hailey, I don’t like this,” Lana repeated, tears in her eyes.
I hadn’t known Lana on a personal level, but she’d always been kind to me. The Lana standing here was a contradiction of the high school Lana, popular and bright. She was a contradiction to the naked, naughty Lana I’d seen in pictures at The Lab. This Lana was frightened, and off. Something was wrong with her, but I couldn’t pick up what. Was she drugged? Maybe. A loud thump made me turn away from Lana, toward where Deacon stood. He was wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket, a shovel in his hands before he started digging. My eyes widened. A strangled noise built in my throat. I coughed again and it seemed to go on forever. I felt like the dirt beneath me was weighing down on my chest. Was Hailey planning on killing me? Burying my body? Or was that what she was doing to Lana?
“What are you going to do?” My voice shook, a slight wheeze escaping me.
“Maybe you can use your investigative skills to put two and two together,” Hailey said. I looked at her as she lowered my head. She touched my temple. “You’re bleeding pretty bad.”
“You’re going to kill me,” I whispered.
“It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I was a little girl,” she said, her brows furrowing as if she almost felt sad about admitting it.
“Hailey. Please.” I shook my head. We didn’t know each other when we were kids. She was losing her mind.
“Our father should have paid attention to me,” she said with a tsk. “But instead, he was busy doting on you, his little princess. Little princess with the hip clothes and lavish birthday parties.”
My head was spinning. It took me a moment to wrap my head around her words. Our father. It struck me at once. I jerked back and looked at her, really looked at her, then shook my head. She couldn’t be. It was implausible. How would my father have . . . she was the same age as Lincoln. He couldn’t have . . . could he? Couldn’t he? Bile rose in my throat. I started coughing, then choking on it. I needed my inhaler.