CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I was numb.
Painstakingly aware of the anger, embarrassment, and hurt dancing under my skin, but unable to feel any of it. Dysfunctional as it was, my mind still knew that I would fall apart if it allowed the avalanche of emotion to break through the protective barrier of forced apathy hovering over me. I would crumble into a thousand tiny pieces, impossible to put back together the same way again.
“Here you go.”
I blinked at the Styrofoam cup being held out to me, glancing up at Ash’s earnest face and taking in the concerned wrinkles around his eyes before forcing myself to reach forward and take the coffee-filled cup. “Thank you,” I murmured, managing to get my tongue and teeth to work together and form the words.
Ash was still staring, though, his brow lined with worry, so I brought the cup to my lips and took a sip. The coffee was lukewarm and bitter on my tongue, but I made myself swallow, anyway.
The black brew made me long for Derek’s homemade cocoa. What they served at the police station paled in comparison.
Who was I kidding?
What (who) I really yearned for was Derek.
But the man in question didn’t return my sentiments. He’d made that more than clear.
“Did you ever think that maybe I just wanted to get a good fuck in before the cops came to take you away?”
“I wanted to sample the goods before you left is all."
“I don’t love you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing Derek’s barbs to fade away back into my subconscious. Especially the last one. It hurt more than all the others combined.
Even beneath the blanket of stoicism suffocating my other feelings, my chest still throbbed where my heart was supposed to be – much sharper than the dull ache between my legs. (Though both served as unwelcome reminders of the man I was so sure had cared about me.)
The worst part of all was that a tiny piece of me was still convinced he did.
I’d held out hope until the very end that Derek would see reason, begging internally for him not to open the door when those knocks had sounded against the wooden slab.
But he had opened it. And Ash’s familiar tenor had immediately infiltrated the room.
“Where is she, Blackwood? Wisp?” A pause. “Or should I say Sloane?”
I flinched upon finally hearing the name – my name – aloud, and though I couldn’t see Derek’s face, I took in the way his shoulders tensed and could picture his responding glare well enough.
“Calm down, Abernathy,” Derek jeered. “She’s right here.” Then he stepped to the side, allowing a uniform-clad Ash to enter the cabin.
The man saw me immediately – there was no point in hiding. An anxious frown pulled at his mouth as he hurriedly approached, and he placed a concerned hand on my shoulder when he reached me. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, eyeing Derek. “Sheriff Nunez got a call late last night that-”
I really didn’t want to hear about how Derek had phoned in to report me, although a part of me was morbidly curious if he had done it before or after we had… we had…
I bit the inside of my cheek, unable to finish the thought. Regardless, I didn't know which possibility was worse.
“I’m fine,” I interjected sharply, hoping the tears trapped in my throat weren’t as obvious to Ash (or Derek) as they were to me. “Can we please just go?” I added more quietly.
Ash’s frown deepened. “Sure,” he assured me. “Do you need to pack a bag? Grab anything before I take you down to the station?”
I pressed my lips together and jerked my head back and forth. “No.” I worked up the nerve to glance at Derek, but he wasn’t even looking in my direction. “Nothing here belongs to me.”
Ash’s eyes darted between Derek and me; he’d obviously picked up on the tension between us. “Alright,” he said carefully after a moment, “let’s get you to the car then.”
Getting my legs to move was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. It was almost as if my feet were glued to the floor. I forced myself to take one step after another towards the door.
The small part of me that was still holding out hope that Derek would come to his senses – that he would change his mind about getting rid of me and tell Ash there had been a mistake, or maybe even just snatch me up and carry me off into the woods like some love-struck wild-man – disintegrated when I reached it.
For Derek hadn’t moved a muscle to stop me, seemingly content to watch me go.
Thane, on the other hand, was anything but.
The dog took all three of us off guard when he suddenly went berserk.
Ash, who’d followed me to the door, had put his hand on the small of my back, and I didn't know if Thane thought that the man was a threat or if he just knew instinctively that when I left this time, I wasn’t coming back, and Ash just happened to be the one who was taking me away, but he launched himself at the police officer, lips pulled back in a snarl that showed off his sharp teeth.
If it weren’t for Derek’s impossibly fast reflexes, arms wrapping around Thane’s middle the second he leapt at Ash, Thane would have mauled the man. As it was, even as Derek restrained the dog with his superhuman strength, wrestling him to the floor, Thane thrashed, twisting his head back and snapping his teeth at his owner, spittle flying everywhere.
“Jesus, put that thing on a chain,” Ash muttered, his face ashen.
Even under the blanket of shock covering my other emotions, I managed to feel a spark of outrage on Thane’s behalf. “His name’s Thane,” I rebuked, “and he’s just confused.” When I moved towards the dog, Ash tried to stop me, but I shook off the hand he put on my arm.
It was my fault, anyway.
I couldn’t believe that I’d almost left without saying good-bye.
I kept my eyes trained on Thane, ignoring Derek completely as I approached the struggling duo. Thane calmed the closer I got, and when I kneeled in front of him, blathering on about what a “good boy” he was, he was relaxed enough that Derek reluctantly released him.
Thane was upon me immediately, whining as he covered my face with slobbery kisses. “That’s enough now, boy, I’m fine,” I admonished gently, easing him off me. I pet the short hairs between his ears. “You need to relax. Ash wasn’t hurting me. It’s just…” I paused, biting my lip. “I need to go home and be with my family.”
So why did it feel like I was leaving my home – my family?
Thane whined, clearly not understanding what I was saying, and I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to his. “I don’t belong here, Thane,” I whispered, nearly choking on the lie before burying my nose into his fur. “But you do,” I murmured. “Derek loves you,” I added, my throat swelling with so much unbridled emotion that I almost gagged on it.
(Because he didn’t feel the same way about me.)
I pulled away from Thane, smoothing down his fur one last time. Then I forced myself to stand on shaky legs. “Stay,” I ordered as firmly as my wobbly voice allowed. I backed up one step and then another, Thane’s dark eyes tracking my movements all the while, but for once, he did as he was told.
“Ready?” Ash asked from behind me, still sounding sore about Thane’s near-attack on his person.
Even though I knew it was stupid – that it would hurt – I couldn’t resist peeking at Derek one last time. I stiffened when I saw that his green eyes were already focused on me, ablaze with unknown emotion as they pinned me in place.
I tore my eyes away.
Because Derek had already made it clear that it wasn’t for me to determine what he was feeling beyond the stoic façade. Swallowing around the lump of hurtsorrowheartbreak stuck in my throat, I offered Ash a spastic nod. “Let’s go.”
I still couldn’t decide if I was relieved that it had been Ash on the other side of the door, or if I would have preferred it to have been a stranger see me so close to tears – so desolate-looking. (Pathetic, you mean, a voice whispered.)
Looking back, that’s exactly how I had been acting – the way I had begged Derek to let me stay with him, childishly demanding he just admit that he liked me, too. Kissing him, even, after everything he’d said to me.
It made my stomach roll.
The ride to the police station after we’d finally left the cabin was a blur.
When we reached the station, Ash had quickly shepherded me into a back room that, except for a small window and a few chairs lined against one of the walls, was basically bare. I suspected the space was used as a dual interrogation room and where rowdy teenagers were kept before their parents could come and pick them up.
From there, I’d spoken briefly with Sheriff Nunez to confirm my identity. He’d also asked me to collaborate Derek’s story, and I’d learned that the man had already told them a diluted version of the truth: that he had found me unconscious near the Skagit River, and that when I’d woken up and claimed I didn’t remember anything about who I was or how I’d gotten there, he’d let me stay with him.
I had been quick to attest that it was true.
That had probably been a half-hour ago, and I’d endured plenty of strange looks since then. Even though the room I was being kept in was located at the back of the police station, people kept walking by the open doorway, sneaking glances at me.
I felt like I was trapped in some strange dream (nightmare, more like), made indefinitely more frightening by the knowledge there was no waking from it.
“Are you alright, Sloane?”
Every time I heard that name was like a slap to the face, but the sting at least broke me from my reverie. Ash was staring at me, so I forced a brittle smile. “I’m fine.”
Judging by the man’s elongating frown, it wasn’t very convincing. “Are you sure?” he pressed. “You know that if Derek hurt you in any way, you can tell me, right?”
The way he said it… it was almost like Ash wanted Derek to have done something to me, just so he had an excuse to go back out to the cabin and arrest him. I recalled the story Derek had told me about Ash’s older brother, Jackson, and wondered if Ash truly thought Derek was dangerous, or if the bad blood just ran that deeply between them. Regardless, I shook my head. “Derek didn’t hurt me,” I muttered.
Not like how Ash thought, anyway.
I couldn’t tell if he believed me. “So, you really don’t remember anything beyond the past three weeks, then?” he asked. “Before he found you in the river? It’s not just something Derek made up to stay out of trouble?”
I stiffened at the skepticism in his voice. “I’ve already confirmed all this with the Sheriff,” I pointed out tersely. “If you have a problem with it, then-”
Ash raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Hey, no, it’s okay. I believe you, alright?”
I felt a twinge of guilt for snapping at him, and hesitated only a moment before jerking my head up and down in acceptance. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” he assured me before nodding towards the cup of coffee growing cold in my hand. “Did you want anything else as you wait for your father to arrive? Some food? Water? …Company?”
I knew he was just trying to be helpful, but I didn’t want any of those things. And what (who) I did want didn’t want me back.
I shook my head. “I just… I want to be alone.”
I pretended not to notice the way Ash’s shoulders drooped. “Are you sure?” he asked. “It’ll probably be an hour yet before he gets here. Sheriff Nunez didn’t want to alert him that we’d found you until he was certain that you… well, that you were you.”
I nodded. “I’m sure.”
Ash hesitated only a moment before releasing a sigh. “Alright.” He turned to leave. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
I didn’t.
I had no idea how much time passed as I sat there – there was no clock in the stuffy, little room – but I did know the moment that Senator Radcliff (your father, I reminded myself sternly, not just some random politician) arrived.
The chatter I could hear beyond the door quieted, and the officer standing guard in the hallway was suddenly standing rim-rod straight.
I heard him before I saw him, his commanding voice drifting in through the open doorway. “Where is she? Where’s my daughter?”
A few moments later, he was being ushered into the room by Sheriff Nunez, Ash trailing in after them.
Despite the natural respect he commanded, the man looked somehow… smaller in person than he had in the picture I’d seen of him in the paper. He was average height and thick around the middle, although fairly fit for a man his age. He also had an impressive amount of white hair, perfectly groomed atop his head.
The tense line of his shoulders loosened the moment he saw me. “Sloane. You’ve had me worried sick.”
As for me, I felt… detached.
I’d half-expected my memory to miraculously come rushing back to me the moment I saw him – my father – but as I sat there, taking in his features, searching for signs of myself in his shiny, blue eyes or bulbous nose, the only feeling I managed to conjure up was a vague sense of foreboding.
I stood as he approached me, stiffening when he wrapped his arms around me and drew me into a hug. “Where have you been?” he demanded before pulling back. He kept his hands on my shoulders as he eyed me up and down. “And, for Heaven’s sake, what are you wearing?”
It spoke to how out-of-it I was that until that moment, I’d completely forgotten I was sporting Derek’s shirt. I glanced down at the plaid button-up and suddenly felt overwhelmed, tears springing into my eyes unbidden. “I… well, I…” I tried to explain, but, for once, I didn't know what to say.
Thankfully, Ash stepped in for me. “If you recall, we explained the situation to you on the phone, Mr. Radcliff. Sloane has no memory beyond the past three weeks, during which she was staying at a cabin in the woods with a… good Samaritan.”
Despite the circumstances, I barely withheld a (undoubtedly hysteria-tinged) laugh at the description of Derek, and wondered if it had killed a small part of Ash to have to say such a thing aloud.
On the other hand, Mr. Radcliff (your father, I reminded myself firmly) frowned. He searched my eyes. “Is what he says true, Sloane? You really have no memory?”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry. “I… it’s true.”
Cornelius’s expression didn’t change. “Well,” he said after an extended pause. “We’ll just have to get you home then. I’m sure that being in a familiar setting will spark something.” He squeezed my shoulders before finally releasing me. “You’ll be right as rain in no time.”
“Actually, sir,” Ash interjected, “all things considered, I recommend taking her to a hospital-”
“Nonsense-” my father interrupted at the same time I shouted, “No!”
They both turned to look at me, surprise in their eyes. “It’s just that, physically, I’m perfectly fine,” I rushed to explain, unsure how to spell out for them how very much I didn’t want some doctor poking and prodding at me at the moment. “I don’t see the point in wasting anyone’s time, only to have them tell me what I already know. I’d just as soon skip the hospital and go home.”
Ash’s brow crinkled. “I still think-”
“You heard the girl,” Radcliff said, waving away the man’s concerns. “Sloane’s tough – resilient like her father.” He directed his attention to Sheriff Nunez. “Now, rest assured you have my thanks for bringing my daughter back to me. Your department can expect a generous donation coming your way shortly.” The Sheriff perked up at that news. “Now, if that is all, Sloane and I will be on our way.”
“Of course,” Sheriff Nunez agreed, shooting Ash a stern look when he opened his mouth. “Let me show you out.”
Operating on autopilot, I followed the three men (Ash, dragging his feet) from the room and out of the station. I felt my eyes widen when I saw the vehicle that was parked outside the building. The luxury limousine took up about two-and-a-half parking spaces. It wasn’t necessarily ostentatious – it was small for a limousine and a modest black color – but judging by the small gathering of onlookers who’d come to gawk at the vehicle, an exotic sight in a town like Pine Ridge.
Things got more surreal when a man dressed in a tailored suit hopped out of the driver’s side door, rounding the front of the vehicle to open one of the doors for us. “Mr. Radcliff, sir,” he greeted before offering me a nod. “Ms. Radcliff.”
My father motioned for me to get in first, so after offering a vague wave in Ash’s direction, I carefully slid into the limousine. Mr. Radcliff followed immediately after. I fingered the expensive leather of the seats, feeling as out-of-place in the grand vehicle as the vehicle was in Pine Ridge.
My anxiousness must have been radiating off me because Mr. Radcliff reached across the small space that separated us and clasped my knee. “I know you’re confused right now,” he said sympathetically, “but everything will be alright. You’ll see.”
I nodded stiffly. “I’m sure you’re right.”
He seemed pleased with that answer, releasing my knee and leaning back into his seat as the driver started the car and pulled out onto the road.
“Yes, everything will be just fine,” he reiterated. “Mr. Vanderbilt has even agreed to postpone the wedding, considering your… current state.”
The man totally misinterpreted my resulting frown. “Not to worry. A winter wedding will be just as splendid as a summer one. Imagine it, a gown so white it will rival the snow and a bouquet full of gardenias and evergreen fronds.”
I was still so numb that it didn’t even occur to me to ask why my supposed fiancé wasn’t there to help pick me up. Instead, I listened with half an ear as my father prattled on about the upcoming wedding, taking business calls here and there, as we made our way to…
Wait.
I frowned, realizing we’d been on the road for close to a half-hour already, and I still had no idea where we were headed. I bit my lip. “Where are we going?”
It was the first thing I had asked since we’d left the police station.
My father seemed startled by the question, and I willed away the blush I could feel creeping up my neck when I realized I’d interrupted him mid-sentence. “Why, home, of course.” At my blank stare, his brow furrowed. “To our house in Newcastle, dear,” he clarified.
I nodded, and to avoid being looked at like that again – his eyes had somehow filled with both concern and condescension when he realized I had no idea where “home” was – I didn’t bother asking any more questions.
And then, before I knew it – and definitely before I was ready for it – we arrived. The limousine pulled up to a wrought-iron gate, as tall as it was beautiful. It had obviously been forged by a master craftsman and contained countless intricate swirls and loops. Beyond the gate stood a beige building that more closely resembled a mansion than a house.
On the other side of the gate, however, the side we were on, there was a horde of news vans.
My stomach twisted.
Cornelius, who’d spotted the vans as easily as I had, merely sighed. “Ah, the press. They’re like vultures.” He turned to me. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about them, Sloane. I’ll send someone out to take care of them later.”
Without further ado, we were buzzed inside, and the gate opened. The closer we got to the house, the more impressive it appeared. It was three stories tall if one counted what I was pretty sure was a walk-out basement, and accented with huge pillars and majestic windows that looked more like they belonged on a church than someone’s home.
The lawn was just as impressive. There were sprawling hills of perfectly manicured grass and an abundance of rose bushes surrounding the house.
Mr. Radcliff grinned knowingly at my awe-struck expression. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Y-yeah,” I agreed. I’d have been a fool not to. And yet… I still couldn't help but yearn for the simplicity of Derek’s rustic cabin.
The driver stopped the limousine half-way around the loop of the semi-circle driveway, parking in front of the front door – or doors, rather (magnificent double doors made almost completely of glass).
He walked around the car to let us out.
“Come,” Mr. Radcliff said, indicating for me to follow him as he ducked out of the vehicle. “I’m sure you’re exhausted. I’ll show you to your room.” He eyed my shirt – Derek’s shirt. “I’m sure you can find something more… appropriate to wear before you take a rest.”
I blinked. I mean, I knew my brain wasn’t firing at all cylinders, but it seemed a little excessive to change outfits just to lie down and go to sleep.
Mr. Radcliff punched a code into a small security device near the doors. There was a little click, and then he opened them, gesturing me inside.
I obeyed the silent order.
The house was even more grand on the inside than the outside. The large entryway gleamed. It was covered in beautiful marble floors that stretched to reach a wide staircase. The staircase led to the second level of the house, which overlooked the main floor.
The most eye-catching part of the entryway, however, was the large, life-like portrait of a dark-haired, hazel-eyed woman that hung from the back wall.
Before I could properly process it all, the shuffling of harried footsteps reached my ears.
A middle-aged woman of Hispanic descent, her face drawn and dark hair pulled back into a neat bun, rushed into the room. “Mr. Radcliff, sir-” When her gaze met mine, she choked on whatever it was she was about to say, her eyes widening as she took me in. “Sloane.”
She sounded shocked.
My father beamed. “Wonderful news, isn’t it?” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “My little girl, found safe and sound barely an hour from here.” He clucked his tongue. “I’m afraid she suffered a bit of an accident, though. Her brain got a little rattled, and she doesn’t remember much of anything,” – he turned towards me – “do you, dear?”
I pressed my lips together. “That’s right,” I mumbled.
The woman looked disturbed.
“Ah, that reminds me. I suppose introductions, or rather, re-introductions are in order. Sloane, this wonderful woman here is Marianne. She runs the household.”
I’m pretty sure it was the polite way of saying she was the maid.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I muttered.
She offered me a weak smile in return.
“What’s this?”
I froze. I’d been so distracted by Marianne that I hadn’t even heard the newcomer slink into the room until he’d spoken.
But that’s not what had the little hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. His voice. It was eerily familiar.
Where had I heard it before?
I turned to face him… and the breath was sucked straight from my lungs.
The man standing on the other side of the room was tall. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and dark blond hair that fell to his shoulders. Under regal eyebrows, he stared at me with sharp, gray eyes.
Familiar eyes.
“Sloane,” my father said, using the grip he still had on my shoulders to steer me in the man’s direction. He forced me to take one jerky step towards him and then another. “This is Felix Rutherford, your… handler, I suppose, is the proper term for him.”
Handler? What did that mean?
A smirk played at Felix’s lips as he took a measured step forward. Making sure to keep his eyes locked with mine, he reached for my hand and bestowed upon the inside of my wrist a kiss. “Sloane, sweetheart, it’s wonderful to see you looking so… well.”
If there was even a hint of doubt over who this person was, it vanished the instant his voice once again reached my ears.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
It was the man from my nightmares.