Away From the Dark

  I swallowed my response: Jacob might have lied to me, but he wasn’t depraved.

  Why did I think this was a good idea?

  When Thomas reached for my arm, I pulled away. “I can walk.”

  He snickered. “For now.”

  When I stood he told me to walk in front of him. As we made our way through the length of the pole barn, I scanned each area we passed: the garage, the long hallway, and doors to offices and workshops. Each area confirmed my fear: we were indeed alone. In the hangar, the final, largest area, I saw Father Gabriel’s stunning plane. Though months ago I’d only felt it, by all the windows, I knew it had to be the one with the soft leather seats. That meant Jacob had the smaller jet, the one that took only one pilot.

  That meant Micah could still arrive any minute. I tried to think of a way to stall, but when Thomas cleared his throat and pointed to a door, I made my way in that direction.

  As we stepped back outside into the late-morning sunshine, a cool breeze blew through my hair, causing it to swirl around my face. Fearful the change in temperature would be visible, I crossed my arms over my chest.

  We’d exited the building all the way at the other end from the living quarters. Squinting against the brightness, I saw our destination. On the tarmac was a small white plane with a red stripe, and large letters and numbers on the tail. Unlike any of the planes Jacob flew, this one had a single propeller.

  Thomas opened the plane’s back door. I presumed that on his way to the Northern Light the open area of the fuselage had been filled with supplies. Now, with it empty, he unfolded a seat and tilted his head.

  Come on, Sara . . . Stella . . . do this. It’s your only chance to get away.

  Inhaling, I climbed aboard and sat in a seat very similar to one in Jacob’s truck. There weren’t even any fancy straps, just normal-looking seat belts. Before I could latch mine, Thomas’s large hand reached across me, pulled the belt, and buckled it tight. Once I was secure, he allowed his hand to graze my lap and smiled.

  “Three and a half hours.” He winked. “You might want to get your rest. You’re going to need it.”

  Not if I put this knife in your artery first, asshole!

  CHAPTER 8

  Sara/Stella

  Thomas had told me to sleep, but as we flew over Alaska with the sun streaming down, my nerves were strung so tight there was no way that was possible. Besides that, each time the plane changed altitude, I was certain I’d vomit. I’d even searched for some kind of bag but found none. Fear of what Thomas would do if I threw up all over his plane was the main motivation keeping my breakfast where it belonged.

  All I could think about was getting free. It didn’t matter that through the windows and below was some of the most majestic scenery I’d ever seen. I’d always imagined Alaska covered in snow; however, at the Northern Light we never got much snow. It wasn’t because it didn’t get cold enough. It was that the latitude was so far north there was rarely enough moisture. Mindlessly I noticed that the farther south we flew, toward Fairbanks, the more the landscape below was covered with deep greens, rolling browns, and crystal-clear lakes. I debated my options as the beautiful blue sky I was used to seeing filled ominously with clouds.

  The engine and propeller’s loud roar made it impossible for Thomas and me to speak. Before we’d taken off, he’d placed earphones over my ears, but unlike his, mine didn’t have a microphone. I wasn’t sure whether he could speak to me. If he could, he hadn’t. Maybe he thought I really would sleep.

  As I peered up toward the front of the plane, I saw Thomas’s short hair and shoulders from around the seat. I sadly remembered the first time I’d asked Jacob to take me with him on his flights. At that time I’d wanted to be with him. However, now that I was away from the Northern Light and my perspective was different, I reasoned that I neither wanted to see Jacob again nor would allow myself to think about what he would do if he ever found me. Fear turned to indignation at the thought of his possible correction.

  With each mile I concentrated not on the man I’d left behind or the one flying the plane, but on the one who would help me. I thought about Dylan.

  I recalled everything about him, from his vibrant blue eyes to his toned muscles—everything except his phone number. It had been programmed into my phone. I tried to envision the screen. I recalled the sound of his distinctive ring, yet I couldn’t visualize the number. My only choice would be to call the Detroit Police Department. After all, I should be able to find their number with a quick online search.

  All I needed to do was slip away for a few minutes and borrow someone’s phone. I didn’t imagine that it would be easy, since I was being flown by a madman who’d already struck me, causing my cheek to swell. But if I succeeded, the payoff would be worth it.

  I would hear Dylan’s voice.

  He would know I was alive.

  A small smile crept across my face with the knowledge that the man I’d imagined while I was without sight was real. At the same time, the realization hurt. If only I’d listened to his warnings about Highland Heights. One of the first things I’d do once we were together again would be to apologize for the heartache I’d undoubtedly put him through.

  As urban sprawl began to appear below us, I assumed we were nearing our destination. In the distance were more mountains, but beneath us a flat city began to materialize. Slowly the buildings began getting closer together. Though Fairbanks was the biggest interior city in Alaska, I didn’t suspect that Thomas would land his small plane at the Fairbanks International Airport. Since he was Xavier’s replacement, I wondered whether he flew extensively for Father Gabriel. If he did, he probably flew out of a private airstrip. I prayed it wouldn’t be like the one in Bloomfield Hills, that instead it would be more public. To have a chance to get away, I needed people around.

  Thoughts of what my future held caused my hands to ball into fists and my nails to bite into my moistening palms. My investigator’s mind filled with the possibilities Thomas had in store. Each scenario was worse than the last, and none of them included my ability to place that call to DPD.

  Believe in yourself.

  The words came back to me. I couldn’t project too far ahead; instead I needed to look at my situation in steps. Getting away from Thomas had to be my first priority.

  As our altitude began to decrease, I crossed my legs and slowly lifted the hem of my jeans. With my seat directly behind Thomas’s, I hoped he couldn’t see what I was doing. I also hoped that since he was speaking on his headset, his attention was elsewhere. Lifting the cuff, I slid my hand down inside my boot. The handle of the knife was against my ankle and the sheathed blade was near my foot, but without unzipping my boot, I couldn’t quite reach the knife.

  “Sara.”

  I jumped at the sound of Thomas’s voice through the earphones and quickly lowered my boot. I lifted my eyes to the front of the plane, and our gaze met in a rearview-type mirror.

  “Don’t try to talk. I can’t hear you, so listen.”

  I pressed my lips together and nodded. In front of him were windows and gadgets. Casually I lowered the leg of my jeans, thankful he hadn’t seemed to notice.

  “This airport is small,” he said, “but I don’t want you making a scene. If you do, I’ll be glad to return you to Father Gabriel, but that’s not happening until I’m thoroughly done with you.”

  Fighting the urge to vomit, I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

  He turned his head toward the side window as he flipped a switch and began talking to someone else. Just like that, he’d spun my world, warning me about a future I’d already imagined.

  Clenching my fists, I concentrated on my second objective. It was to get in contact with Dylan. I knew that if I could reach him, my story wouldn’t end like that of MistiLace from my Internet search. Besides, it wasn’t as if I could get to the Fairbanks International Airport and fly home to Detroit, even if I wanted to. I didn’t have any identification. The TSA wouldn’t allow me to tr
avel. I needed the help of the police. Dylan could help me with that.

  As the plane touched down, I willed my fist to open and looked at my fingers. Hell, forget about identification, I didn’t even have fingerprints.

  The small plane bounced as Thomas brought us to a stop near the hangar, and I glanced around. This hangar didn’t even seem as big as the one at the Northern Light. This one had only two runways going in opposite directions, a large paved area, and the hangar. An old chain-link fence surrounded the entire compound. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, waited, and contemplated my knife. It would have to wait. I feared that I couldn’t reach it without bringing my movements to his attention. If there was any chance of being successful with it, it had to be a surprise.

  Taking off his headphones, Thomas leaned to his side and craned his neck. With a disgusting toothy grin, he said, “Welcome to your new home.”

  Removing my headphones, I replied, “I know what you think about women in The Light, but you’re wrong. Father Gabriel won’t let this go unpunished. You stole me from the Northern Light.”

  I was playing with fire, but I had to try. Through the last few days I’d gotten better at lying, something Sara or any other woman of The Light would never do. Now it was time to go for broke.

  “It was a test,” I went on, “a test designed by Father Gabriel, and you failed. He does care about me. I’m the wife of an Assemblyman. I didn’t want to leave. I said what he told me to say. It was for The Light. You’re new. Father Gabriel was testing your response. You failed.”

  With each of my phrases, Thomas’s confident grin dimmed as the color faded from his ruddy cheeks. “You’re lying. You’re lying to save your ass.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and turned toward the window. “You can either take me back and suck up to Father Gabriel or you can let me go and I’ll contact my husband.”

  He’d unbuckled his seat belt and was fully turned toward me in his seat. “How the fuck are you supposed to do that? You people don’t have phones.”

  I lifted my chin confidently. “The chosen men do. I’ve been told how to reach my husband.” This was it. It was all or nothing. “Besides, he’s a pilot. He’ll come get me.”

  Thomas’s shoulders relaxed and he shook his head. “Bitch, you had me going for a minute. I’m going to enjoy tanning your—”

  “What?” I asked incredulously. “My husband is a pilot.”

  “No way, I heard how you yelled for Micah.”

  I shook my head. “Not Brother Micah. I’m Jacob’s wife.” I fumbled for my necklace, pulling it from beneath my sweater. “See this necklace? It’s only worn by the chosen. Jacob’s on the Assembly and Father Gabriel’s pilot!”

  “Fuck!”

  When he opened his door, I quickly unbuckled my seat belt and scooted toward the other side of the plane. My heart beat in double time as I fumbled with the handle. My efforts were in vain, though; it was locked. My blue eyes grew as big as saucers when Thomas peered through the window, undoubtedly knowing I’d wanted to escape. My mind was a blur. I prayed to God and Father Gabriel for a miracle I didn’t deserve.

  Just as Thomas began to open my door, out of nowhere two men in dark jackets with badges came running forward. The front door of the plane was still open, and through the wind I could hear raised voices. The men were yelling at Thomas, and one had a gun drawn.

  I stared in disbelief as Thomas forgot about me and spun in their direction. There was a split second when his body twitched in indecision. He might have considered running, but just as fast, he lifted his hands in the air. Between the wind and my blood rushing in my ears, it was as if the rest of the world were on mute. I couldn’t make out their words. Instead, it was as if I were watching a silent film and praying the good guys would win.

  I sat statuesque as one of the men secured Thomas’s hands behind his back and led him away. Maybe if I remained still, they wouldn’t know I was here. And then the other man in a dark jacket looked through my window. When he nodded, I knew my wish wouldn’t come true.

  Opening the door, he asked, “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding and replied, “A-are you the police?”

  “No, ma’am, US Marshals.” He offered me his hand.

  I stepped from the plane, contemplating which story I should lead with: I was taken against my will almost a year ago, or I was taken earlier today. “Thank you,” I said softly, forcing myself to look into the older gentleman’s eyes.

  “Ma’am, what happened to your cheek?”

  I lowered my eyes. “It was him.”

  The marshal’s jaw clenched as he reached for his phone. “Excuse me, I need to make this call.”

  I stared momentarily at his phone, then nodded and wrapped my arms around my body as the wind blew my hair around my face. While the marshal spoke quietly, I turned completely around and took in the small private tarmac. It wasn’t the way I’d planned it, but I didn’t care.

  I was finally free.

  Relief flooded my system and a renegade tear slid down my cheek.

  It was over. It was really over.

  I was no longer trapped in someone else’s life in the circumpolar North. I was alive, with a US Marshal, in the city of Fairbanks.

  When he finished his call, the marshal turned back my way and offered me his hand to shake. “Ma’am, my name is Deputy Hill.”

  Willing the inner voice, the one I’d worked hard to suppress, the one I now knew was the real me—Stella—to emerge, I trepidatiously accepted his hand. “Thank you, Deputy Hill, may I please use your phone?”

  I supposed I should have introduced myself, but I wasn’t thinking straight. With my first objective accomplished, I needed to call Dylan.

  Deputy Hill’s dark aviators reflected the afternoon sun as he glanced from his phone to my face. “Let’s get you to the safety of the station first. You’ve had a traumatic experience.” If he only knew. “We have a female marshal who can assure your well-being and then we can progress.”

  The cloak of freedom that I’d lost nearly a year ago weighed heavily on my shoulders. At the same time relief overwhelmed me. My tense muscles gave way, causing me to stumble.

  Deputy Hill reached for my elbow. “Are you all right? Can you walk?”

  Sucking my lower lip between my teeth, I nodded. “I’m just so relieved. I was frightened of what he was going to do.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we received a tip and have been waiting for his arrival.”

  “A tip?” I asked, more than slightly concerned. “From whom?”

  Had it been The Light? Had they known I would be with him?

  “Ma’am, the important thing is that you’re safe.” Deputy Hill continued to speak as he led me to a dark, unmarked SUV and helped me into the backseat.

  Once he was in the driver’s seat and we began to pull away, I asked, “What happened to Thomas?”

  “My partner took him. We thought by that shiner you’re sporting you’d prefer not to ride in the same vehicle.”

  My fingers fluttered near my eye as I leaned back against the seat. “Thank you. Once we get to the station, I need to make a call.”

  “Did Mr. Hutchinson take you against your will?”

  “Mr. Hutchinson?” I asked.

  The deputy’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “The man who was with you, Thomas Hutchinson.”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “But?” he repeated.

  I shook my head again. “Please, once I make a call I can explain everything.”

  “Yes, ma’am. After we get to the station and get your statement.”

  I settled back and watched the city streets. There were more people out and about in the community at the Northern Light than I saw on these urban streets. As we drove I marveled at the world I used to take for granted. Stores and fast-food restaurants clustered at each intersection. I’d forgotten how normal the dark was. It wasn’t scary and unknown like The Light had to
ld me. Instead, it was comfortingly familiar.

  The US Marshals’ station was small, reminding me more of a house than a police station. Deputy Hill pulled onto the gravel lot, mostly filled with SUVs. As soon as he parked, he opened my door and helped me out. It wasn’t until we began walking that the rubbing against the outside of my foot reminded me of my knife. I thought about confessing that I had it, until he asked whether I’d like anything to eat or drink.

  Suddenly the thought of food monopolized my thoughts. I hadn’t eaten since I’d cooked breakfast for Jacob. “What time is it?”

  As we entered the building Deputy Hill looked up at a clock hanging above the empty front desk. “It’s nearly four.”

  The clock was large, round and plain, like my first memory of the dark. Despite my feeling weak from hunger, it made me grin. “Thank you, I’d love something to eat.”

  Below the clock was a large circular sign that read DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE, UNITED STATES MARSHAL. The US Marshals must not be very busy in Fairbanks. I remembered a Detroit police station, from the few times I’d gone there for work or to visit Dylan. It was always bustling with activity. This office seemed abandoned in comparison.

  Deputy Hill walked me down a hall, opened a door, and ushered me over the threshold. “Please have a seat. I’ll get you something to eat. There’s a restroom across the hall, and in a few minutes Deputy Stevens, the female officer I told you about, will be in to talk with you.”

  “Thank you,” I replied as I sat. Before the door closed, I asked, “Will Deputy Stevens be taking my statement? I’d like to make that call.”

  “It will be just a few minutes.”

  The door closed, and I sighed. I glanced around the stereotypical interrogation room, seeing the pale walls, tile floor, and metal table with four chairs. There weren’t any windows to the outside, but one wall contained a large mirror I was relatively certain was actually a one-way window. From my side of the glass, I saw only my own muted reflection. Though the colors didn’t seem right, I could tell that my eye was getting worse.