Juliet

The doctors said Lock would finally be released tomorrow, so I can finally take him home. They’ve even arranged for him to get a temporary ID so he can travel with me.

We spend our last day in the hospital playing games that I got from one of the nurses—an old board game called Game of the Goose as well as a card game. At first, he didn’t understand why he was supposed to find it fun, but after a while, he got the hang of it and started trumping me with rolls of the die and with his cards, which made him grin like crazy.

When we’re done, I turn on the television and show him all the different channels, except the one that’s talking about us, showing my picture as ‘the girl that survived.’ I quickly switch to stop Lock from reading too much into it. I don’t want to bother him with that. He already has enough on his plate as it is.

His eyes light up every time I change the channel, and the moment he saw a tiger on some animal documentary, he immediately jumped out of bed to grab a weapon … in this case, a coat hanger.

I laugh out loud as he approaches with that thing held out in front of him as if he can chase the animal away. “No, silly, it’s not real. Stop.”

“If it’s not real, then what is it?”

“An image. You know, like a drawing,” I say. There’s a puzzled look on his face, so I go to the cabinet and grab a piece of paper and a pen. I draw a tiger, or at least what looks like one, and hold it up. “Like this.”

“Doesn’t even look the same,” he replies.

“That’s because the television shows images that are real.”

“Is it real or not? I don’t understand you,” he says, and I shake my head.

How do you even begin to explain how the world works to a man who hasn’t lived in it? He’s like an alien on his own planet. Only now do I begin to see how much of a recluse he is. Kept in a cage for most of his life … it only shows how badly his father treated him.

“It’s just not here, right now, okay?” I add, and I quickly grab the remote control. “Let’s watch something else.”

My head’s already hurting at the thought of all the things I’m going to have to teach him once he comes home with me. It’ll be a daunting task, and I don’t think I can combine it with work. If I leave him alone, he might burn down the entire house. Nope, not happening. Guess I’ll have to stay with him until I’ve taught him everything there is to know.

However, when I switch the channel, Lock places the coat hanger on the floor and stares at the television as if he saw a ghost. There’s a drawing of a face being shown, probably a man wanted by the police.

Only … this man bears a striking resemblance to Lock.

And seconds later, his name appears in the corner.

My lungs refuse to suck in oxygen as I stare in disbelief.

Is that really … Lock?

Someone’s out there looking for him?

Lock approaches the screen and gently touches it with his fingers, running them along the drawn lines … And with his other hand, he touches his own face, precisely on the same spots. He marches toward a mirror and looks at himself, then back at the television, repeating this over and over again until the reporter starts to talk.

“If you have any information on the whereabouts of this man, please call …” There’s a number at the bottom of the screen.

A shiver runs up and down my spine. I press the pause button.

“Me …” Lock mumbles, and he turns around to face me, his lips parted as though he’s waiting for my response.

“Yes,” I reply. I don’t know what to do, don’t know what to think about this.

Is this real?

Is someone out there really looking for him?

And if so … who?

And why?

Suddenly, I’m cold to the bone.

What if it’s those people … the family of the girl who Lock killed?

I can’t let them take him away.

“Who’d be looking for you? Do you know?” I ask, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“No,” he says. “No one.”

“What about the girl?” I whisper, making sure no one else can hear us.

He sighs, and his eyes dart back and forth between the wall and the image on the screen. “Maybe.”

“Did anyone see you do it?”

He nods.

“Who?”

“I think … it may have been her sister. But it was a long time ago.”

I close my eyes and let out a big sigh. God. This is so bad. What should we do?

Rubbing my forehead, I pace around the room to try to think, but nothing’s working. I’m agitated, our lives completely tilting off the axis because of this.

“I want to call,” Lock blurts out.

I stop in my tracks. “What? No!”

“Why not?”

“Because …” I hiss. “It could alert the police, and then they’d put you back into a cell again.”

“But what if this isn’t about that girl?” he says.

I scowl, but when I open my mouth to speak up, nothing comes out. I don’t know what to say. We don’t actually know for sure if this is about that girl.

“Right.” I bite my lip and gaze at the picture on the screen.

Lock’s hand snakes around my waist, and he pulls me close, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Trust me.”

I spin around in his arms. “But I don’t want you to be in danger.”

“I won’t. Just let me try,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to my cheek. “Whoever it is… they have a reason, and I need to make things right.”

I nod, sighing. Maybe he’s right. He needs to fight his own demons in order to feel good about himself again. I can’t do that for him, so maybe this is the only thing we can do.

“Want me to do it?” I ask.

He nods, so I grab my cell phone from my bag and dial the number.

The beeping on the other end of the line makes the sweat drip down my back.

When a voice rings in my ears, I suck in a breath.

“Hello?” It’s a man with a very, very deep voice.

“Hi …” I mumble. “This is Juliet Baker. I saw the picture on the news.”

“Have you seen him?” He sounds thrilled, to say the least.

“Can I ask … why you’re looking for him?” I swallow down the lump in my throat. It’s a gamble because I don’t know if he’ll answer. He might even put down the phone. But it’s worth the risk.

“Because he’s my brother.”

My eyes widen, and I lower the phone even though the man is still talking.

I can’t believe what I just heard.

Lock grabs my shoulders and lowers his head to look me in the eye. “What did he say? Is he looking for me because of the girl or not?”

I stammer, “He’s … your brother.”

* * *

Lock

“A brother? Me?” I point at myself because I honestly can’t believe she’s talking about me.

But she keeps nodding, keeps saying yes, even though it goes against every fiber of my being.

Why? Because it would mean all these years, my father lied to me.

He always told me I had no one else but him.

And all these years, I had a brother looking for me.

How is this possible?

It can’t be true because if it is, I wasted my life alone on an island when I could’ve spent them with him. Someone who shares my blood. Someone who knows what it’s like to live in pain.

Did Father lock him up the way he locked me up?

Did he fight for glory, and did he get a reward?

And how did he manage to escape?

So many questions run through my mind right now, but none of them can be answered because the conversation has already ended. Jules told him where we’d meet, and that was that. She didn’t tell him anything about me, and he didn’t tell her anything about himself.

“Why didn’t you let me talk to him?” I growl.

I don’t know what that thing was that she used, but it sure as hell gave her a direct connection to my brother. I want it back.

“Because if this is true, we need to do this in person. For real,” she replies.

“But he’s my brother. I want to ask him … things.” I swallow back the rage. I don’t want to be angry with her, but she makes things so difficult sometimes. And I don’t understand any of this.

She places a hand on my chest. “I know you have a lot of questions. He probably does too. It’s better if you ask them after meeting him.” She looks at the floor. “Besides, we don’t know if it’s safe. What if the phone was tapped?”

I have no clue what she means.

“Like what if people are listening to the conversations? Police? Who would take you to jail if you told them everything that happened to you. We can’t risk it,” she adds. “We have to stay safe. That’s why I chose a neutral place to meet at a park near my home. We’ll have to fly there first, of course.”

“Fly?”

She giggles. “Airplanes.”

“Is that like …” I hold up my hands. “Fuck no, I am not getting into those metal birds.”

Just the thought makes me want to swim from here all the way back to the island, just to avoid having to go inside one of those … things.

She laughs and shakes her head. “Lock, trust me, please. It’s safe.”

I grumble and blow out a breath, but her sweet face still manages to persuade me. “Fine.”

She immediately wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. “You won’t regret coming home with me. I promise.”

But that’s a lie.

I already regretted it the moment I said yes.