Shattered Secrets (Book of Red #1) (4 page)

My arms and legs had numbed hours ago. There was no sense in asking to be released. Psycho Number Two meant business, and I meant a paycheck. Unless that was part of his delusion, as well.

I trembled for hours. Neither of them was kind enough to put a blanket over me. The idea of a blanket from one of them made me shudder worse. How often did they kill people? How often did they do laundry? Remembering the smelly duffel bag in the trunk, I was positive I didn’t want to know the answer to either question.

“Great work,” Psycho Number Two said, jumping from his seat. “They’ll be here for her soon.” He grinned and stormed out of the room.

Psycho Number One looked at me again and then shrugged.

Knowing someone was coming for me—or that they thought someone was coming for me—made chills rush up and down my arms and legs. I’d never been so cold in my life.

“I should light a fire.” Boredas ran from the room.

My teeth chattered. I had to escape. Sitting still made me sick; never mind not getting away meant imminent death. I inched forward. Falling off the couch would be loud, but maybe they wouldn’t hear. One man was out getting firewood—at least I assumed he was—and the other… maybe he was gone for a while.

I peered over the edge of the cushions. No dead animals, no food, and no knives immediately below me. Just a dusty, wooden floor that looked like it was built centuries ago, the planks rotted and warped by moisture. I wriggled one more inch forward then plummeted off the couch, landing on my right shoulder. Hot, stabbing pains shot through it, and I held back a sob.

It’s broken. It’s broken, and I’m not getting out of here
.

Fast-paced steps shook every board I lay on, sending stabbing pains through my arm. I screamed. I let it all out, the fear, the hurt, the anger, the agony—one loud, gut-wrenching wail.

“What did you do? You’re making this so hard on yourself.” Psycho Number One scooped me up then put me back on the couch, right onto my broken shoulder.

“It hurts. Please, please, untie me. I need to go to the hospital.
Please
.” All my determination to be strong, to be fearless, dissolved.

He turned me over and ran his hot hands over my arm.

The touch—I screamed again.

“You’re going to annoy my brother.”

“Please. You can’t believe I’m some part of that game. Please, I’m a girl, a girl who goes to school and has two parents who love her. I have boy problems and worry about my hair and college. Please, please just take me to the hospital.” Tears streaked my cheeks and ran into my hair, turning cold as they soaked my scalp.

Boredas frowned, his face blanching. “It’s not broken. You dislocated your shoulder.”

My stomach lurched. I’d seen enough television to know how painful putting an arm back in its socket could be. I didn’t want any part of it.

“Please …” The word seemed so simple, yet so important. Would please really help? If he was crazy, would a normal cry for help mean anything to him?

“You have the power to heal yourself. You have the power to end all this misery. Even those who seek to kill you. Search inside. I cannot set you free, but good calls to me. I’m tired of fighting for evil.”

Normal meant nothing to him. I screamed again. Let his brother be annoyed. Let the whole freaking neighborhood be annoyed. Not that much of a neighborhood existed outside this shack, but if I yelled loud enough, maybe someone
would
hear me.

“They won’t.”

I stopped sniveling and looked into his eyes, so sad and downturned. “What?”

“No one will hear you. Not where we are.”

How did he know my thoughts? Maybe that’s what all his victims think. Maybe I thought it aloud?

Psycho Number One startled and glanced toward the back of the cabin. “I’ll be just a minute. Don’t try to get away again.”

Oh no.
The other crazies must have arrived
.

There was no escape. Even if my hands were free, I couldn’t run with a dislocated shoulder.

I closed my eyes and waited. Time ticked by. I listened for sounds, for a car pulling into the rocky driveway, for the rustle of wind in the trees, for mice in the walls, for anything to take my mind off the pain, off the fear. Every shake hurt more, my shoulder throbbing harder and harder, my pulse pounding in my ears. Every second brought me that much closer to the end.

Sniffling, a new scent greeted my nose. Not the smell of rotting flesh, but a smell of burning wood. Maybe the nicer of the two murderers followed through on his decision to keep me warm. Maybe kindness truly existed in him after all.

Opening my eyes, I looked at the fireplace, but no orange light or sparks there. The smoke formed dark gray clouds overhead, blanketing the ceiling. Air rushed from my lungs. I gasped over and over, wheezing in the noxious fumes as I struggled to get free. I didn’t want to die, not here, not this way, coughing and coughing,
tied
up. I didn’t want to burn, never see my parents. I wanted out, out, out, free.

“
Help
! The house is on fire. Please, get me out of here!” I cried, pressing my nose into the nasty cushions to filter the air, the back of my throat burning, my skin covered in sweat.

The planks rattled. Someone was coming for me. A strange calm filtered through my thoughts; I’d rather die by knife than burn to death.

“
Abby
?”

“
Derick
?”

“
Abby
!” He appeared through the billowing smoke and then knelt before me. His face, his eyes—relief flooded every feature of my Derick—or what used to be my Derick.

Maybe I’m dead. He’s not really here. This is just a dream
.

“You’re going to be okay. We’ve got you.” He reached behind me and freed me of the duct tape prison.

But freedom didn’t stop the room from spinning. “We’ve?”

“Mark and me. We saw them take you and followed. I’ll explain later. We have to get out of here.” He grabbed my hand, his familiar touch beyond welcome, then lifted me to my feet.

I screamed, and the room spun worse.

“What’s wrong?” Derick—
Derick—
looked me over, running his hands along my arms and back.

“My… shoulder. It’s dislocated.”

He cursed. “You’ll be okay. Come on.”

Derick took my left hand and led me through the decrepit structure, running through a side door to avoid the fire along the front wall of the house, then helped me into his dad’s Volvo.
His dad’s Volvo
. Derick and Mark saved me in Derick’s dad’s Volvo!

I looked through the rear window. Flames licked the front of the house and leapt into the air, reaching for the heavens.

The world faded in and out. My shoulder hurt so badly, and my breaths came quick. Too quick. I was hyperventilating.

“Abby, stay with me,” Derick said, sitting next to me, running his fingers along my cheek.

“Finally got through to 9-1-1. The operator called us a couple of stupid bastards and said we should head straight to the hospital.” Mark peeled out of the driveway, knocking me against the side of the car. “She okay?”

Sharp pain tore through my shoulder and up my neck. I couldn’t help the screams. I’d been kidnapped. I’d run away, been caught and bound, dislocated my shoulder, then rescued. My breaths came even faster. Black spots filled my vision.

“She’s in shock. Stay. With. Me. Abby.” Derick stared into my eyes. He was here, holding me, looking at me, rescuing me; I blinked over and over, trying to snap out of this weird dream, trying to maintain my hold on reality.

He shifted his gaze away from me, eyes narrowed. “What happened to your arm, Mark?”

“Scraped it on the side of the house when I was running away from that creep. He almost caught me, too.”

The sounds of the accelerating engine and Derick and Mark talking and rocks dinging the wheel wells warbled in my ears. “I need to throw up.”

“We can’t stop, Abby. Just throw up in the car.”

I glanced from Mark’s bleeding arm to Derick, then back at the flaming house. I still saw it through the winter trees and the dust trailing behind the car. I could have died. I
would
have died. None of this could be real.

My heart and breathing combination were too much, but I couldn’t slow them. I didn’t want to. Tears streamed from my eyes, blinding me.

Derick put his mouth next to my ear and grabbed my right cheek with his palm.

The action was something I missed, something I desired, and it sent me right over the edge.

I blacked out.

startled awake, causing every muscle in my body to scream. My eyes wouldn’t focus. People were in the room, but I only saw blobs.

“Abby, are you awake?”

Mom
. Her voice soothed my aching body but brought heat to my cheeks. I wanted her to wrap me in her arms like she did when I was a little girl, singing bedtime songs about how the world was a beautiful, wonderful place. Now, even home would be dark and haunting, millions of miles away from the secure place where I grew up.

“Oh, honey, please don’t cry. You’re safe now.” She pushed hair from my eyes, but I still couldn’t see.

“Derick and Mark—they rescued me? Or was that just a dream?” I sniffled and blinked a few times, and my vision finally cleared. “Where am I?”

Mom drew in a deep breath, then slumped her shoulders, her long, brown hair falling around her thin face. “You’re at Mary Washington.”

The hospital? I glanced around. No sunshine entered the room through the closed gray blinds. A small lamp provided dim light, and the TV hanging from the ceiling was tuned to some evening game show. Flowers surrounded my bedside—bright red roses.

My favorite.

The strong fragrance wafted toward me.

Metal squeaked across the floor, and I jumped.

“What was that?”

Mom looked at the foot of the bed. “It’s Derick. He’s been waiting in here since the police finished questioning him, again.”

I swallowed hard. The rescue wasn’t a dream, then. “And Mark?”

“The doctor wanted to look over his stitches before he could speak with the detectives again, so he’ll be a few more minutes.” She took my left hand, tears streaming down pale her cheeks. “I’m going to go get your father. He went for coffee, but he’ll want to know you’re up. I think Megan and Will are with him, too. Lord knows your father can’t handle more than ten minutes alone with her, and she’s been here ever since they brought you in. Poor man. I’ll be back.”

I didn’t want Mom to leave, but I didn’t want to beg her to stay either, not with Derick in the room. He saved me. God that sounded so weird. Me—
I
needed saving, and Derick, the boy who stopped talking to me after we kissed, rescued me. My head spun, and Ruckus’s sardonic smile flashed before my eyes.

Trembles reminded me just how much pain the psycho brought me.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll stay. Derick, would you mind—?”

“It’s okay, Mom. You go save Dad. I want to see him.” Megan, too. The rich, heir-to-all-things-real-estate boy she’d loved forever and he never seemed to notice? Not so much. I liked Will enough, when no one else was around—that seemed to be the only time he was nice, the only time he’d tell jokes or have a serious conversation with me. Like all those times I used to sit in his room and listen to him talk about his dad, specifically how his dad was never around and didn’t seem to care about Will, only about managing properties and making money. We used to be close
friends
, until he kissed me by the bleachers in eighth grade, when he knew I liked Derick. And I don’t think Megan or Derick ever forgave Will for that. They definitely wouldn’t have forgiven him if I told them he said I was the only girl for him, the only girl who didn’t see him as a dollar sign. Yeah, that would have gone over just great. As is, with the four of us in one room together, the air would be way too heavy to breathe.