“We’ve been to the house, but no one’s home. We have an officer parked on the street waiting to see if they show up.”

  “Okay, good. But where are they? I assumed he’d at least come home first.”

  “We were there within ten minutes of getting your wife’s call.”

  “Ex-wife.”

  “Ex-wife. Okay. So, what’s your relation to …” She looks at her notepad. “… Nicole, is it?”

  “Yes, her name is Nicole, but we were calling her Briana to hide her from her ex. He’s a very violent person. He’s been abusing her for years. She hadn’t left her house for almost three years before we met her.”

  “Your ex-wife mentioned something about a baseball going through their window.”

  “Yes, that’s how we met her. My son saw her and her face scared him, so I went over to try and smooth things over. That’s when I found her on the ground in the living room with broken ribs, split lip, the works. There were officers in the hospital who tried to get her to give them the story, but she refused.”

  The officer shakes her head. “Typical. Okay, I’ll have more questions for you soon, but for now this will work. Can you just quick give me a description of what she was wearing?”

  “Yeah, uh …” Brian racks his brain to remember her at the river. “Denim shorts … green t-shirt … white sneakers.” He looks up into the officer’s eyes. “The most distinctive feature about her isn’t her clothes. It’s her face. It’s impossible to miss.”

  “How so?” she asks.

  He pulls his phone out and presses buttons until he gets to the one she allowed him to take with Liam, baiting hooks. “This is her.”

  The officer takes the phone and as soon as her eyes alight on the screen, a range of expressions cross her face. First confusion, then disgust, and finally pity. Handing back the phone, she clears her throat. “Wow. He really did a number on her, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. That’s putting it mildly. She’s terrified of him, and now he has her again. You have to find him.” Brian’s throat aches with the pain of tears he won’t let out. He has to stay strong for the girl who couldn’t be for all those years.

  “We’re doing everything we can right now. I’m going to update the information we have on her. Can you email that picture to the police station? I have an address for you right … here.” She hands him a business card with a general email inbox scribbled on the back.

  “Sure.” He knows she might complain about someone other than he and Liam seeing the shot, but that’s just too bad. He’ll do anything to help them find her. He taps out the info on the keys as the officer walks away talking into her cell phone. He hears her giving details of Nicole’s description.

  “They’re in a red pickup!” Brian says, probably too loudly. “Shit … I mean … crap. I forgot to tell you the most important part.”

  The woman looks back at him, pulling the phone away from her head. “You saw him in the truck?”

  “Not exactly. I saw a red truck following us up the mountain, but then it drove by. Since it’s not his regular truck, I assumed it was a stranger. But Liam told me he saw a red car parked near our campsite. I’m betting it was him.”

  The woman nods. “Okay, thanks.” She continues her conversation on the cell phone.

  Brian looks down at his hand. The phone is there showing the email having been sent. He wanders over to the couch and sits down, scrolling through the pictures of Nicole and Liam.

  An absent smile comes to his lips as he recalls each situation when the pictures were taken. It hasn’t taken long for Nicole to find her special place in his little family, and now that she’s been forcibly taken away from him, he realizes how much he really doesn’t want her to go.

  But to ask her to live around the corner from the man who almost killed her isn’t a solution even Brian can live with anymore. He tried to tell himself before it could work, that he could keep her safe and convince her to talk to the police to have him arrested. But even if the guy went to jail now, it would be too much of a ghost haunting their lives to think it could be ignored. His fingers scroll through his contacts, looking for a former client who might be able to help them out.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  THE WORLD TURNS OVER AND over and over again. Nicole can no longer tell the earth from the sky, as both are spinning past the windshield too fast to be anything but one big blur. She feels nauseous and her broken arm is on fire, the cast cracked down the side. John’s body keeps banging into it as he’s thrown about the cab. His screams stop on the third revolution when she assumes he finally hits his head hard enough to knock him unconscious.

  Her head begins to hit something hard above her, with every fourth bang the car makes. They’re tumbling down the mountainside, and the truck is compressing down flatter and flatter as the side of the hill acts like a wrecker on the weakened metal.

  The cab shrinks another few inches in height as the hood of the truck smashes against the ground once again. John’s limp arm slaps her hard in the face, but it’s gone again when the vehicle makes one more revolution before finally coming to a stop. It’s an abrupt halting of movement, jerking Nicole’s head sharply to the left.

  She’s weak and dizzy. Giving up on trying to control it anymore, she leans to the side and vomits on the seat and over John’s limp form. She can barely lift her good hand to wipe her mouth off.

  Once her vision clears, she realizes it’s dark. Blinking several times, she tries to get her bearings. Her head hurts, but the blood isn’t rushing to her brain like it was during the rolling, so she assumes she’s somewhat upright, although she can feel the truck leaning to the left.

  The driver’s side is lower than the passenger side. Looking out her smashed side-window, all she can see is dirt. Side of the hill. That’s the side of the hill.

  Looking out John’s window, she sees a wall of green and brown. Branches. Those are branches and a tree trunk. A tree stopped our fall. The windshield is covered in greenery too.

  “John?” she asks, pushing on him tentatively.

  He doesn’t move. His body is covered in blood flowing from cuts over heavily bruised skin. She’s sickly thrilled to know he’s too badly hurt to stop her from escaping. Now she just has to figure out how to get out of this steel cage and back up onto the road and she’ll have a shot at getting away.

  The desperate need to be free of his clutches fills her every pore. Adrenaline rushes into her veins and gives her almost superpowers. The fingers of her good hand reach down to find her seatbelt buckle. She breathes a sigh of relief as she realizes that’s why she’s sitting here awake and conscious and John isn’t. He didn’t have his on.

  Depressing the red button, her joy quickly morphs into panic. It’s stuck! The latch won’t release and the belt won’t let her go.

  “Nooo!” she screams. “Let me go!” It feels like John is trapping her here. Even unconscious, he’s controlling her.

  She starts hitting him, pushing on him, pulling his hair, but he remains prone and silent.

  “Let me go!” she yells. “I hate you! I hate you! Do you hear me?! I hate you!”

  A minute later, she collapses in tears. She has no more anger left for the limp body next to her and no more energy for fighting the seatbelt. Her head and knee hurt, she’s dizzy, and suddenly very, very tired. An overwhelming sense of doom closes in around her and shrouds her in darkness. Her eyes drift closed and the cold seeps in. She dreams of being buried alive, next to Kitten in the backyard.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  IT’S BEEN TWENTY HOURS AND there’s still no sign of John or Nicole. Brian’s a mess. He’s to the point of nearly pulling his hair out when Agnes shows up at the front door. She’s got on some crazy pink shoes and an orange dress, and she’s got something covered in tin foil in her hands.

  Brian tries to smile at her, knowing he must look like a crazy homeless person with his smelly clothes and hair in disarray, but he doesn’t care enough to do anything about it. He worries if he g
ets in the shower he’ll miss her call or news that she’s been found, so everyone’s had to stand downwind from him all morning.

  “Brought you a tuna casserole,” she says, stepping into the foyer without waiting for an invitation. “I had Willard’s sister come over to keep an eye on him so I could come over here and help.”

  Brian steps to the side to avoid having her bump into him. “Thanks, Agnes, but I’m not sure there’s anything you can do.”

  “Have you eaten?” she asks from the kitchen.

  Brian has to think about it for a few seconds. “I guess not.” He follows her in, watching her work.

  “Well, come on and sit down, then. It’s still warm from the oven.” She opens up cabinets and drawers until she finds what she’s looking for.

  Brian sits down at the table in a daze, unable to concentrate on the meal or anything else. All he can do is try to imagine where John might have taken Nicole so he can get out there and find her.

  The problem is, the only place he can come up with as their destination is John’s house, and they’re not there. The police have been there twenty times, and Brian’s been there at least that many times. He’s spent hours just standing on the corner, waiting to see the demon’s truck come around the corner so he can pull him out and beat him to a pulp. But so far, there’s been no sign of him, his truck, or Nicole.

  Agnes puts a plate, a fork and a glass of water in front of Brian and then sits down in the seat opposite him. “So, tell me what’s happening. I’ve seen the police over here and you, but no Briana. I assume something’s happened to her. Something done to her by the man who hurt her before.”

  Brian looks up, anguish filling him completely. “How do you know all that? Did the police talk to you?” They’ve been annoyingly tight-lipped with him, giving out no other information other than the fact that they haven’t found her. He’s trying not to hate them for that, knowing they’re just doing their jobs.

  “I keep my eyes and ears open. Briana and I have been having coffee together most mornings. She tells me things.”

  Brian buries his face in his hands, trying to get a handle on his runaway emotions. He wants to rage at the world and cry like a baby at the same time. It’s possible he’s losing his mind. “I tried to get her to talk to me all the time, but she never really would.”

  “She has a lot of healing to do. She’s carrying some heavy burdens I don’t think either one of us could understand. I have a brother who was in the Korean War. He suffered from PTSD. I see some of that in her. She needs professional help. Don’t be hurt that she didn’t want to expose you to what she probably considers the worst parts of her.”

  He pulls his hands away and drops them to the table, frustrated. “I would have been happy to get therapy for her if she would have agreed to it.”

  Agnes pats his hand. “Of course you would have. Anyone can see that. Don’t blame yourself for things that aren’t in your control.” She withdraws her hand. “Besides, I’m sure she’ll come around. She’s a strong girl, that one. Mark my words.”

  “You think?” Brian is ready to cling to any speck of hope that comes his way. Even Agnes’s premonitions are good enough at this point to make him think things could turn out okay for Nicole and maybe even the two of them.

  “Definitely,” she assures him. “So what happened? Or do you not want to talk about it right now?”

  He stabs a forkful of tuna casserole and puts it in his mouth, chewing while he answers because he’s anxious to hear her feedback. Maybe she’ll think of something he hasn’t. “We went camping. The guy apparently followed us in a different truck than he normally drives. While I was fishing, he grabbed her at the campsite and took off. Liam saw him hurting her. That’s the last we saw of her.” A lump in his throat stops the rest of the words from coming, and swallowing food is made difficult.

  “And the police have checked the mountain for her?”

  “I think they have a copter out there right now. But it’s been twenty hours. I don’t know what they’re going to find after all this time. He could be in another state by now. Two states over for all we know.”

  “What about his house? Is it packed up? Did he plan to leave for a long time or was it a split-second plan?”

  “I don’t know. They’re not telling me anything.”

  Someone enters the kitchen, their footsteps stopping the conversation. “Sorry for interrupting, but can I speak with you for a minute, Brian?” It’s the female cop he talked to the day before. She comes and goes from the house with his open invitation. She no longer knocks and he doesn’t want her to. As soon as she has info, he wants it.

  “Sure.” He stands, a spark of hope lighting his heart. “Did you find her? Is she okay?”

  “Just come with me,” the woman says, glancing at Agnes.

  Brian follows the officer out into the living room. “Please don’t hold back. Just tell me. I’m sick with worry.”

  “They found her. The truck went over the side of the mountain, apparently. She’s pretty banged up and has a concussion and some hyperthermia, but she’s probably going to be fine. They’re transporting her to the hospital right now.”

  Brian bangs his pockets, looking for keys and his cell phone. “Which hospital?”

  “Memorial. Downtown. Are you going over there now?”

  “Yes.” He looks back towards the kitchen as Agnes is coming out carrying his plate with the fork on it.

  “Finish this plate first, then you go,” demands Agnes. “You’ll be no good to her in the state you’re in. You need food and a shower.”

  “I don’t have time for that,” says Brian, running his fingers through his hair.

  “I’d recommend you follow her orders,” says the officer wryly, looking pointedly at the top of his head.

  “Fine.” He grabs the plate from Agnes and shovels every last bite of the casserole into his mouth. It takes about three seconds. “Fanks, Agneff,” he says around the noodles.

  She nods. “Go take a shower. I’ll call Helen.”

  He hesitates, two steps towards the bathroom. Looking back, he says, “Thanks, Agnes.”

  “Anytime. That’s what neighbors are for.”

  Striding down the hall, he wonders if he’ll have a neighbor as thoughtful as her in his next house - the one he’s bound and determined to make a home with Nicole in.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  NICOLE’S AWAKE WHEN BRIAN COMES bursting into the room. As soon as he sees her in the bed, his expression shows relief.

  “Thank God you’re alive,” he says, moving to her bedside.

  She smiles as best she can with the bruises, cuts, and swelling on her face. “You expected to find me in here as a stiff?” Her newly casted broken arm lays across her abdomen and her knee is on ice.

  “I didn’t know what to expect. The police aren’t telling me jack diddly.” He leans in to kiss her mouth, being careful to be gentle, but lingering more than he usually does. “You gave me the biggest scare of my life. Don’t ever do that again, okay? Like ever.”

  Her heart blossoms, the love she has for him warming her entire chest cavity. “I’ll try not to. If it had been up to me, I’d rather have baited a thousand wormy hooks than fall off the side of the mountain.”

  He shakes his head, holding her hand in his. “How on earth did that happen, anyway? Tell me everything.” He lets her go long enough to grab a chair and drag it over before going back to holding her hand and caressing it.

  “I fought back.” Even the words thrill her to the bone. “I told him no more. I attacked him.”

  “You what? Are you crazy?” He puts a hand on his heart. “You’re giving me heartburn right now, I hope you know that. Or maybe it’s Agnes’s tuna casserole.”

  Nicole giggles. “It’s her, not me.”

  “So … what was that like?” he says, humor in his voice. “…Falling over a cliff?”

  “Not fun. Gave me a hell of a headache.”

  “I’ll bet.”
He looks at her knee. “And what else did it give you? I hear a concussion, hypothermia…”

  “Yes, and a bad knee apparently. But other than that, I’m fine.”

  “What about … John?”

  “I was hoping you’d know more than me. He was passed out the whole time I was in the truck, but I could hear him breathing. The bastard.”

  “That must have been terrible for you, babe,” he says, standing up so he can rub her head gently.

  “It was. At first. I mean, I guess it was the whole time, but it gave us the alone time I needed to set some things straight.”

  “Oh, yeah? I thought you said he was unconscious.”

  “Yeah, but he never listens anyway, so that didn’t really matter.”

  Brian laughs loud and long. When he finally gets himself under control again, he asks his next question. “So what did you two talk about?”

  She looks down at her hand in his, wondering how much she should tell him. She can’t decide if the world in her mind where she can share her deepest thoughts with him and receive understanding in return is real or if she’s just living a fantasy. Is it even possible for another human being to care about another that much?

  “Nicole, look at me.”

  She lifts her gaze.

  “No matter what you say, no matter what you did or what he did, it doesn’t matter to me, okay? It. Does. Not. Matter. I love you for you, who you are, exactly like this. All is forgiven, before I even know what it is.”

  Her heart skips a beat and her lips go dry. She’s unable to believe what he just said. That word. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

  “Uh… yeah. So I just said that. The L-word. Not very romantic how it came out, I know, but I meant it.”

  She’s suddenly overcome with shyness. Her concerns about what he might think take a backseat to the idea that he might actually L-word her. “I thought about you a lot when I thought I was going to die.”

  “You did?” He strokes her hand some more. His face is a mask of care and concern.