But he’s all alone now and I hate this. I hate feeling like a failure, and the worst of it is, I blame Mom. This is all because of her, because of her job. I thought it was cool and awesome, but it brought those men to our house, and there’s nothing good about any of this.
I hear my door open, and I gasp and throw myself upright. In my room I’d know what to reach for, but here I just look around like a dumbass. All I have to defend myself is a pillow.
But then I realize that it’s Vee. Vee, in a stupidly short nightgown that looks like it was made for a twelve-year-old. She puts her finger to her lips and closes the door behind her, then comes to sit on the bed next to me. I’m hugging the pillow tight, and she puts her arm around me and pulls me closer. It gets smashed between us until I toss it aside.
Vee’s fingers trace the tracks the tears left. Gentle sweeps down my face. “Hey,” she says. “Don’t be sad. You’re gonna be okay.”
“No, I’m not,” I say. I sound ridiculous and teary and stubborn. “Look at us, we’re in some drug dealer’s house, my brother’s missing, and some cult is trying to get us, and I’m not going to be okay, Vee!”
Vee doesn’t answer. She just holds me, and when I finally pull away, I throw myself back down on the bed and curl up into a tight ball of misery. I stare at the clock—an old-fashioned one with hands, probably doesn’t even have an alarm or anything—and wonder where Connor is right now. How scared he is. What we’re going to do about it.
Vee spoons up against me, and she whispers something I don’t really hear, but the soothing warmth of her against my skin makes me stop crying and slowly, slowly drift away.
I wake up slow, smelling food, but when I turn over I’m all alone. Vee isn’t there. For a sweet few seconds I think I’m at home, but then I focus on that stupid clock, and it’s almost seven, and as I sit up I remember everything.
It hurts so bad I can hardly catch my breath.
I slide out of bed and lock the door before I strip off the nightgown and grab fresh clothes out of my backpack. I’m packed again and ready to slip into the hall bathroom in under two minutes, and all my stuff gets done fast there too.
When I open the door, there’s a girl standing there. She’s lean, tall, with a smart sunburned face and freckles, and long, curling dark hair. She doesn’t smile. “Breakfast,” she says, and turns to go. She’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt so faded I can’t figure out what it says. She walks fast. I skip to catch up as I settle my backpack on my shoulder.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Florida,” she says. “You’re Lanny.” Her accent isn’t what I expect. Not Tennessee, for sure.
It hits me a second later. “Are you English?”
We’re already at the end of the hall, and we meet the tall young man who led us here in his car coming around the corner. He pushes Florida out of his way with the ease of an older brother. “She ain’t English,” he tells me. “She just watches a lot of PBS.”
“You shut up, Jesse!” she yells after him, and now her accent has shifted back to rural drawl. “You never let me have any fun!”
Lilah Belldene’s standing in the kitchen when we walk in, and she’s putting out a huge platter of bacon on the long counter. There are staggering amounts of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and several pots of coffee.
Vee and Mom are already here. Dressed and waiting.
Florida says, “Should I get them out plates, Ma?”
Lilah slaps her hand as she reaches for them. “They ain’t staying for breakfast.”
That’s too bad. My stomach rumbles, but Mom turns and heads for the front door. Vee and I follow, and step into the cold morning air. It’s misty and gray, with the sun a pale shadow to the east just sitting on the edge of the hill. A whole football team of Belldenes is heading toward the main house, coming from different buildings situated around the compound. No wonder she didn’t ask us to breakfast.
We get into the SUV and drive to the gate, where one Belldene opens it up for us. I recognize him. Mullet man, from Killing Rock. Seeing him, I shrink back in the seat. It brings back finding Candy up there, and I don’t want that.
Vee rolls down her window and says, “Hey, Olly. You’re out.”
“Yeah,” he says, and looks past her at me. “Thanks for that, girl.” He gives me a grin he probably thinks is pretty charming. I nearly give him the finger.
“Sure,” I say. “Whatever.”
“See you later!” Vee shouts to him as Mom hits the gas and speeds us away. Vee flops back into her seat after waving, and looks at my mom. “Where are we going now?”
“Knoxville,” she says.
I tense up. “But—what about Connor? And Sam? Aren’t we going to get them?”
“Of course we are. But I need leverage, and that means I need Carol. She’s the only one who knows where this compound is really located, and what we’ll be up against when we find it.”
“But how are you going to—”
“Lanny.” She reaches over and takes my hand. Her fingers feel strong, but cold. “Just trust me. I will.”
I hang on to her.
And I try to believe her.
20
CONNOR
When they take Sam away they hit him, and I know Caleb’s doing it to scare me. It would have worked except for how Sam looks at me, like he’s telling me to be strong. I’m not strong. I feel cracked all along the edges. As I watch him being taken off to a low concrete building that looks like a prison, a guy dressed in white starts walking over to me.
It’s weird. I can feel him as he comes closer, like heat. Sun. Something like that. He makes me feel . . . safe. And I know I shouldn’t, obviously I shouldn’t. I remember this feeling because it’s how my dad’s—Melvin Royal’s—voice made me feel when I was little, and when he talked to me on the phone.
All the while Dad was lying to me, planning to kidnap me and use me to hurt Mom, he made me feel just like this.
Safe.
Some people have that talent, I guess. And I already know how dangerous it is to believe it, even for a second.
“Connor,” the man says, like he’s known me all my life. “I’m Father Tom. I know you’re worried and scared, but there’s no reason to be. We’re so happy to have you here. I’m going to introduce you to our church members and get you settled. You’re not a prisoner here. You’re a guest, and, I hope, a friend.”
It sounds stupid, but it’s almost like the whole abduction never happened. Like he’s invited me here. He pats me on the shoulder. He acts like I’m here on a school retreat or something instead of dragged away with a knife to my throat while my mom was fighting to get to me. Like Sam wasn’t just put in some kind of prison.
I need to remember what’s true. Being around him, reality bends. I wish I could do that. Because if I could, I’d make myself bigger, stronger, nobody to screw with. Sam would be free. We’d be home.
Father Tom is still talking, and he’s steering me at a slow walk toward a big main building. It sort of looks like a church, but there’s no steeple or cross or bell, and the windows are just plain clear glass. I’m not sure I ought to go with him.