Wild Sky 2 (30 page)

“This doesn’t sound at all reassuring,” Morgan said.

“We’ll get the money,” I told him. “I’m sure, when there’s time, Dana and Garrett’ll make another pawn-shop run.”

“Nah, we stripped the attic,” Garrett contradicted me. “We even cleaned out the closets—but things like ski boots and baseball bats don’t bring in more than a few bucks at most. That sucked. But anyway, my house is done. We take anything more, and my dad’ll hit me with his shit stick when he gets home.”

Morgan sighed heavily.

“We’ll get you the money,” I told him. “I promise.”

“Your promise won’t mean much after that bounty hunter catches up with you,” the G-T pointed out. But he didn’t get up and walk away.

And Garrett leaned forward and said, “That’s not gonna happen as long as I’m around.”

Garrett’s proclamation surprised me—that was probably the nicest thing I’d ever heard him say—but Morgan didn’t blink. In fact, he mocked the other boy. “Yeah, look at how
that
worked out for your friend Jilly. Good job keeping
her
safe, Normie.”

Garrett’s face flushed. “At least I
have
friends, even though they’re weirdos and freaks. I don’t go around making people pay for things that should be done for free.”

Now was probably not the best time to remind Garrett that he’d enlisted Calvin’s and my help via blackmail—and that Dana had also blackmailed me.

Morgan shot back with “Talk to me after all your friends die. Let’s see how eager
you’ll
be to make new ones, so you can watch
them
die, too. It’s no fucking fun, and I don’t need more of that, no fucking thank you!”

A very pregnant lady had come in while we were sitting there, and she now looked up from her magazine in alarm at all those exploding f-bombs.

I realized that Morgan and Garrett were glaring at each other, bristling across me, so I sat forward, hands up, and loudly said, “The paternity test will end this argument once and for all,” and the woman quickly turned away, clearly embarrassed for me. More quietly I said, “For Sasha’s sake, let’s not make a scene, okay?”

Both boys sat back, arms tightly folded across their chests, as I thought about the strange fact that Garrett McDouche considered me to be his friend, and that Morgan
didn’t
because in
his
world, friends always died. Of course, that made me think of Calvin and then Dana, and then the fact that we were here today because Dana hoped that her little sister, Lacey,
hadn’t
died, but instead had been abducted and imprisoned by horrible people for close to ten years.

And I suddenly had a flash of memory of Sasha’s terrified face when we’d found her in that decrepit barn in Alabama. She’d been horribly traumatized by just a few weeks of captivity on a Destiny farm.

What would a girl be like who’d been imprisoned for nearly a decade?

“I can feel you getting tense,” Morgan said to me. “Look, I’m already here, so I’m not going to leave. We’ll work out a payment plan, but I have to warn you, the interest rate is going to be high.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I think.”

“When we go into the room with Sasha,” he continued, “I’m going to need you to keep your angst to a dull roar. I know you haven’t seen the girl in some time, but truth is, if she’s struggling with PTSD, she might not look too good. Try not to react to that, okay? If you let yourself get upset, you’ll create static and make it harder for me to connect with her. Also, she’s a little kid, so if you stay calm, she’ll stay calm. And that’s important, too. Last thing we need is for her to go ballistic and make her mother kick us out.”

I nodded, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out in a rush. What he was asking was easier said than done. My heart was already pounding.

Morgan leaned closer to me. “Just…focus on the mantra that your boyfriend always repeats to you. What is it?” He closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated. Then he opened them and smiled at me. “
Still thoughts.
”

“How do you know that?” I asked, but he didn’t answer, because here came Sasha’s mother, Carmen, out of the door that led to the exam rooms in the back. I barely had time to stand up before I was enveloped in a wonderful-smelling hug of pure love and affection.

She greeted me half in Spanish, peppered with terms of endearment and words and phrases I didn’t know, but also a very clear “I thank God every minute of every day that you were there to help my Sasha when she called you from that awful place!”

That was our official story. That Sasha had escaped from her kidnappers by herself, and all Cal and I had done was drive eight hours to pick her up and then eight hours back to bring her home—after she’d had the presence of mind to call Calvin’s cell phone to ask for help.

“Where is Calvin?” Carmen asked, looking from me to Garrett to Morgan, who’d also stood up.

“Oh, he’s, um…” I started. I swallowed hard, thinking about the real reason Cal couldn’t be here right now.

Morgan said, “Cal’s a little under the weather. It’s nothing to worry about, but he didn’t want to expose Sasha to his germs—or his negative energy.”

Carmen was nodding. “Tell him I hope he feels better,” she said. “But it’s just as good. Sasha is still very frightened of strange people—men in particular. I think it’s best that Sky goes in alone.”

“Oh, but…” I said as my hopes dissolved.

Morgan cut me off. “That’s smart,” he said. “It’s best to be careful.” He held out his hand. “I’m John. I’m a ‘friend’ of Skylar’s.” He didn’t put emphasis on the word
friend
, but after that last conversation, I could hear his invisible air quotes.

“I own a service dog,” Morgan continued as he held on to Carmen’s hand. “A dachshund named Morgan. He’s waiting out in the car. Sky was hoping to bring him in with her. He’s very gentle and sweet. In fact, he’s great with little girls.”

“Dachshunds are Sasha’s favorite!” Carmen turned to me, clearly thrilled. “Sky, you are so thoughtful. By all means, bring the dog.” Back to Morgan, “Is it okay if it’s just the dog, if you wait outside?”

“Of course,” he said. “We’ll go get him.”

“Wait,” Garrett said, clearly confused. “A dog…? What? We don’t have—
Ow!
”

I’d stepped on his toe—hard. “I’ll be right back,” I told Sasha’s mom, as Morgan and I pulled Garrett out the door to the parking lot.

————

“Still thoughts,” the little dog in my arms reminded me in a whisper as we followed Sasha’s mom to a door labeled “Birthing Room Two.”

Apparently, Morgan didn’t have to shape-shift into a pit bull. Apparently, he could turn himself into any breed of dog—or any type of animal for that matter. And no, it wasn’t an accident that he was now a dachshund—Sasha’s favorite. He’d pulled that info from Carmen’s head when he’d shaken her hand.

As for Garrett? His face as Morgan got into the backseat of his car, and then as I reached in to pull this incredibly adorable little dog out from the pile of clothing had been
nothing
compared to his face when the dog said, “There’s a tagged collar and a service-dog vest in my messenger bag. Size small for both, I think.”

It was very clear that Morgan had come here prepared to be shut out as a human—but not in his dog form.

“This is crazy shit,” Garrett had said. “I need a nap.”

We left him in the car and went back inside where Carmen greeted Morgan with more Spanish endearments and a barrage of kisses on top of his now-little doggy head. I saw his tail wag—it was impossible to not love Sasha’s mom.

She led us into a room that was larger than I expected. It was set up like a living room, with sofas and chairs that were slouchy and comfortable, and with regular lighting instead of the traditional doctor’s office fluorescent panels overhead. And yes, there was a hospital bed in the corner, but it was behind a curtain—clearly only meant to be used at the very end of the natural birthing process.

The room was dim compared to the brightness of the hallway, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. But I saw the small figure curled up on that big couch. And I recognized that face immediately.

Sasha. She had her favorite teddy bear with her—the one with the chewed-up nose. She was holding tightly to him, and her posture reminded me a little bit of the way Jilly had sat hunched in the closet when we’d found her yesterday.

Rochelle hadn’t gone into the closet after she’d gotten home from her non-date without Milo—we’d monitored her via our cameras—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in there right now, tormenting the girl or bleeding her dry.

“Still thoughts,” the little dog whispered to me again.

But I was worried. Worried about Jilly, worried about Calvin, worried that we were somehow going to make things worse for Sasha—worried, worried, worried.

As we went into that room, I could smell Sasha’s fear. It lingered in the air, a pungent, fishy odor. She’d been anxious about being left here alone. And she was anxious about who might be coming in the door.

Her mother couldn’t smell the fish but knew enough to allay her daughter’s nervousness. “Look who’s here!” Carmen announced gaily.

“Skylar!” As soon as Sasha saw me, she put down her bear and bounded off the sofa, crashing into me and wrapping her arms around my waist. “Skylar, it’s
you
!”

“It’s me!” I said as Morgan jumped from my arms and onto the cushions of the couch, so I could hug the little girl back just as tightly.

He managed to give me an
Oh no you don’t
look, despite his dog-face, so I worked as hard as I could to keep my tears from escaping.

Sasha held on to me for another long moment. Then she let go a little, enough to gaze up at me and smile. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

She looked weary and worn. And her body felt thin—too thin, even for her slight frame. But her hair was beginning to grow back again, enough so that, as her smile grew wider, I couldn’t help but compare her current look to that of a tiny female elf.

Sasha’s kidnappers had done many terrible things to all of the little girls we’d rescued. And, whether it was to stop an outbreak of lice or simply to dehumanize their tiny prisoners, their captors had shaved their heads. When we’d rescued Sasha, she’d been barely recognizable.

Now, standing in front of me, I was able to spot a glimpse of the girl I’d babysat so many months before. But even the trip from the sofa had been too much for her. She was breathless and clammy as I led her gently back to the couch.

“I brought a friend to visit you,” I told her, and her eyes widened when she saw Morgan.

“A hot dog!” she said. “Oh, I love her! Can I have her? Is she mine? Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, can I keep her?”

“She’s a he,” I told Sasha, laughing as she hugged Morgan. “And I’m sorry, but you can’t keep him. He belongs to a friend of mine and he’s just here to visit you. His name is Morgan. He wanted to meet you.”

“Careful, not too tight,” Carmen warned.

“Oh, he’s giving me kisses!” Sasha giggled, because sure enough, Morgan was doing an awesome imitation of a happy little dog, right down to licking the girl’s nose and chin. She caught his face between her hands and gazed into his eyes, proclaiming, “I love you, too, Morgan!”

“Are you okay alone with Skylar and Morgan?” Carmen asked Sasha, who couldn’t hide another burst of fishy fear at the idea of her mom leaving her, even with Morgan and me.

But I could tell that Sasha wanted to keep petting Morgan more than she wanted to go with her mom, so she gathered her courage and bravely nodded her head yes. But then she smiled more genuinely and said, “Morgan says we’ll be fine.”

Carmen smiled. “If you need me, at all…?”

“Push the call button,” Sasha responded obediently, lifting a remote control that contained a single big, red button. She showed it to Morgan and began to explain to him what it was. “See, if anything bad happens, or even if I
think
anything bad is going to happen, all I have to do is push this button and Mommy will come…”

“Are
you
okay alone with Sasha?” Carmen pulled me aside to ask me quietly. “If not, it’s okay, I’ll stay with you, but if it is, I have an appointment with the doctor.” She made a face at me and put her hand over her stomach, and I realized she was talking about seeing the obstetrician. Apparently, Sasha was going to be getting a brother or a sister.

“Does Sasha know?” I said soundlessly. Carmen shook her head no and put her finger to her lips.

“So many things upset her,” she whispered. “We’re still waiting for the right time…”

“She seems…good,” I said, but I was lying. The little girl was hyper-vigilant and a jangling mass of anxiety and nerves. And if Morgan didn’t do this right—or maybe if he
did
do it right—we were going to make her remember the excruciatingly awful details of her abduction, and quite possibly make her even more terrified.

Again, Carmen shook her head. “The nightmares,” she told me. “They’re awful. And they’re not stopping.”

“Morgan’s a great service dog,” I said lamely. “Maybe this visit will help…?”

“Maybe,” she said, but I knew she didn’t believe it. Still, she gave me one more hug and a quick “Thank you so much for coming” before she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Sasha spoke up immediately. “Lock it,” she said. “Please, Sky?”

“I don’t think it locks.” I went over to look.

“Yes it does,” Sasha said. “Up at the top.”

Sure enough, there was a hook-and-eye lock up toward the top of the door. It wouldn’t do much to keep anyone out—at least not anyone who truly wanted to get in. But if it made Sasha feel better…? I locked it. “You have good eyes,” I said.

“Morgan does,” she said. “He told me it was there.”

Sasha had settled back on the sofa, her legs stretched out, with Morgan securely settled on her lap. She was stroking his ears, and she seemed less anxious and brittle. Calmer. Peaceful almost.

“He says to tell you
still thoughts
,” Sasha added, her voice sounding very drowsy. As I watched, her body relaxed even more. Her eyelids drooped a little, and the smile on her face became one of utter contentment. That expression was one I’d seen before. She looked like the Sasha I used to tuck into bed after a tall glass of chocolate milk and a good-night story. It was my sweet Sasha, getting ready to slowly fade into a peaceful sleep.