Finding Forever (13 page)

Sweaty forehead. Dry mouth. Pounding heart.

The air labored in and out of Taylor's lungs. She wheezed, trying desperately to reverse the sudden panic attack that had come on after she realized she was locked inside the room.

The last time Taylor had a full-on episode was that horrible day she came home from school in third grade and learned that her dad had died.

Now Taylor felt like she was the one dying.

Breathe in . . . and out
, she repeated over and over and over, just as her yoga instructor had taught her. The yoga instructor Simone had introduced her to. The yoga instructor who, like everyone else in her life that mattered most, was now outside the walls that contained her.

In the silence of her locked room, she could hear the sound of dogs barking outside. They'd growl and bark, then stop. Then bark again in a wolflike shrill. Coyotes howled back from up in the cactus-dotted hills.

A sharp pain shot up Taylor's right ankle. It throbbed like last summer when she stepped on a stingray at Malibu cove.

She bent over and reached for her foot, and she saw something etched on the back of the ankle. Taylor blinked her eyes until the black marking came into focus:

∞

2

The characters were no bigger than those on a keyboard. She pressed her thumb against them and started rubbing, hoping they were just the product of an erasable marker. But it only made her soft skin grow more irritated. She licked her thumb and rubbed more.

Taylor leaped from the bed and once again pounded on the metal door, screaming for help. But no one came. She collapsed to the floor.

Her gorgeous long hair had defined her beauty, and now she lay bald and crying on the cold tile in a fetal position, praying for her nightmare to end.

Brooklyn counted. Four final sips of her iced tea. Simone also finished off her drink. On their way out Brooklyn counted four stirring straws in the bin next to the sugar jar.

She pressed her thumb into her palm, leaving four fingers stretched out.

Brooklyn scanned the parked cars as she and Simone snaked their way through. Every fourth step, Brooklyn scratched her nose for good luck, and when they got to Simone's black BMW sedan, she jumped shotgun.

“Act normal,” Brooklyn said, looking in the side mirror as Simone backed out. “At that stop sign, hang a left—and don't look back.”

“Anyone behind us?” Simone glanced into the rearview mirror.

“Just keep driving. Turn here, at the light.”

Brooklyn spotted a car that had been about 100 yards behind them on El Camino also turn right. “I don't like the looks of that silver car.”

One of Brooklyn's fondest childhood memories was when she and her dad played “the tail game,” where they would pretend to be followed by a bad guy while driving around town and make several seemingly nonsensical turns that amounted to a giant circle. Her dad called the game “SD,” short for “Surveillance Detection.”

But this time the SD routine didn't come with the same fun. This was not a game.

“Hang another right—up here.” Brooklyn pointed at the rapidly approaching residential side street off the boulevard. Simone hit the brakes hard and made a hasty turn onto the street.

Clenching her teeth, Brooklyn checked the mirror. She counted to four for good luck. A long four. The silver car sped by the turn and kept straight on the boulevard.

Brooklyn released the air from her lungs. “Phew—false alarm.”

“Jesus, Brooklyn!” Simone pounded the dashboard. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Hey, I'd rather be extra paranoid than extra dead.”

Simone nodded. “Okay, but now what?”

“I need to do some digging. So just drop me off at home. I'll text you later tonight.”

As directed, Simone pulled up in front of the brown stucco ranch house at the end of Sierra Drive.

“I guess it's true what they say about redheads,” Simone said.

Brooklyn arched her eyebrows. “That we are the human embodiment of beastly sexual desire, as well as the root of all evil?”

“No.” Simone laughed. “That you're intense.”

“Yeah, we are.” Brooklyn tapped the toe of her right foot four times on the floor mat, then opened the passenger door. “But mostly just when things don't go our way.”