She wakes beneath a crisp white duvet, swallowed by a bed as large as any she’s ever seen. Her fingers instinctively reach for her cheek, which is hot, tender, and scraped. Everything spins; translucent colors dance in her vision. Pieces of things, a sliver of a moment, a microcosmic bit of a conversation—they are torn, almost unintelligible now. A mosaic she can’t put together.
Where are they?
Theo is holding her hand. She senses the worry in his downcast eyes, so she squeezes it, tries to reassure him. His eye is black, but he is wearing a fluffy white robe, and they’re in a giant room that smells clean and new. She sees a beveled end table and a crystal-clear glass of water sitting on it. Using every muscle in her body—oh god, her muscles, flesh, bones throb with pain—she pulls herself to a seated position. She turns her neck a millimeter at a time and says to Theo, “Are you okay? Did they catch him?” This must be the hospital. Elizabeth reaches for the water.
“No!”
She turns around too quickly, wincing in agony. “What?” Her vision sharpens. Alice’s voice echoes through the mostly bare room. Two giant beds. Two glass tables. White walls. She runs her fingers down her soft, terry-cloth robe. It’s thicker and more luscious than any piece of clothing she’s ever owned. What the hell?
Alice’s dark-brown skin looks pinched. Her lip is bleeding. “Don’t drink the water,” she says hoarsely.
Elizabeth stares at Alice. Her stomach lurches. A memory comes to her. The snow, yes, they were in the snow, trudging after Gwen. The children, missing. How she’d run and run, only to be dragged to that truck. She takes a painful breath; her bones must be bruised. Theo is with them. He is alive, doesn’t appear injured except for his eye.
“Who hit you?” she asks, checking him over.
“The guy who wanted me to shut up.”
Savannah. Cora. Gwen. Her heart pounds, breath catches. “What about—”
“The girls escaped. He didn’t want them anyway. He wanted you and Theo.” Alice coughs violently into her elbow. “And I wasn’t letting you go, so here we are.” She waves her arm. The stark white paint is suddenly macabre. “And whatever that shit was, some drug … my head is pounding like I’ve been on a weeklong bender.”
“Who is he?”
“Beats the shit out of me. What the hell are we dressed for? Indoctrination into a religious cult, maybe. This is so creepy.” There is one square window in the middle of the room. She climbs out of bed, stomps toward it, and bangs on the glass. “Hey! I know you can see us. Come out and tell us who you are.”
The cameras in Myra’s shed. This person put the cameras there. Hacked the system. And he’s watching them right now.
Theo grabs Elizabeth’s sore arm. “We’re at some rich person’s house, and I’m not staying here.” His eyes are fiery. He follows Alice to the window, pounds on it. The sound reverberates through the room. “I want out.”
It occurs to Elizabeth that he’s on the verge of a tantrum. She shrugs. He’s not going to behave anymore, and she’s proud of this.
They’re being held hostage, just like before. “Alice,” she says, racking her brain, trying to remember. “Who took us? I remember running for the kids. I remember being jabbed with the needle. The rest is blank as these walls.”
“I was at the car, waiting for you,” Alice says. “And I heard screaming. I don’t think he expected me to whip out my gun. But he was fast … it was all so fast. He knocked the gun from my hand, shoved the needle in my arm.” She addresses Theo. “What do you remember?”
“He just talked. On and on. I kinda blanked out what he was saying because Mommy looked so sick.”
“Well, did you recognize his voice?” Alice presses.
“I don’t know.” He stomps his foot. “I don’t know.”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Elizabeth says. She pulls herself up. Every muscle in her body feels tenuously attached. “Look at that.” She shivers uncontrollably.
In the center of the wall is a single painting. Charlotte Barkley’s infant face, cut out from Myra’s canvas, with frayed edges, is pasted crudely on a blank canvas. It is so white it would blend in with the wall if not for its thickness. Only a light shadow spills off the edges.
“Oh Elizabeth. What the fuck are we into?”
“Doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting out.” Her throat is constricting, the walls restricting, consuming the air.
Theo looks faint.
“Sit down,” Elizabeth says. “Please.”
He ignores her, looks through the window and bangs again, over and over, screaming, “Who are you?”
No answer.
The first thing they need to figure out is where they are. Clearly not a cabin in the woods. But something about this place feels colder than a frozen winter. She senses finality.
She can’t panic—won’t panic—not now. There has to be a way to escape. But she can’t know how till she finds out the location. Theo and Alice are asking the wrong question.
“Where are we?” she says, addressing the window. Her voice is steady.
A speaker crackles. She jumps. “Where are we?” she repeats.
“Don’t you want to know who I am? How this all happened?” A voice bellows through speakers in each corner of the empty room.
“Not really,” she says honestly. “Maintain your anonymity, asshole. You think it’s safer. I relish in the fact you have no identity. Not to me.”
He laughs, not a deep and threatening laugh, but as if this amuses him. It sends a flicker of anger through her, a spark that could burn this whole place down.
Alice is wide-eyed, speechless. Theo kicks the wall. Elizabeth stares straight ahead, right through the window. She focuses; she can’t let her focus waver.
“You sure about that?” he says.
None of them speak. It’s what he wants: to be begged, to be important. Elizabeth isn’t giving him what he wants. Alice and Theo are not giving him a damn thing.
“I gave you so many chances, darling.”
An image is projected on the wall. She gasps, looks at Alice. It’s a house, a huge house with sculptured rose bushes in the front.
Peter’s parents’ house.
“Holy shit,” says Alice. “Are you—”
“John Henderson?” After a long pause, he says, “No. They don’t know a damn thing about where their son disappeared to, and if you’d told them he was dead, they would’ve probably paid you for killing him,” he says. “They’re scared of him. You’re currently next door. I’m a concerned neighbor is all. That disturbed boy’s been in some trouble, hasn’t he?”
She grits her teeth. “What chances have you given me?”
The projector cuts out. The crackling speaker goes silent.
The wall slides open, slowly, revealing a sprawling living space. A double fireplace is the centerpiece, surrounded by leather couches. The contrast between the home and this room is sharp.
Kenneth stands between the two rooms.
“Adele must have decorated the house,” Elizabeth says plainly. “Your side is stark white.”
Theo grasps her arm, digging his nails into her flesh. He recognizes Kenneth from the inn.
“Since you’re neighbors, you must’ve known Jared. And Gwen, obviously. Tell me the rest.”
“Don’t speak to me like that,” he says.
“What happened to Charlotte, Ken?” she says. “You must know.”
“What did you know about the Barkleys before you left Washington?” he says.
“Rocky Shores is my hometown. I used to live up the road.” She takes a breath. “I had just left the cabin. And I stopped at the inn because it was so familiar.”
“Wait a minute.” He furrows his eyebrows. “This is your hometown? That’s interesting.”
“I remember when Charlotte was kidnapped. I found her necklace in the sand when I was twelve.”
“In the sand?” He raises his eyebrows. “Come on. That makes no sense. It’s creepy.”
“That’s creepy?” He is turning this on her, just like Peter—Jared—always did. She glances around the white prison. “You’re insane. We grew up in this tiny town together. But her piece of the necklace was in Jared’s safe. How would he have gotten it? I think you know, don’t you?”
He shakes his head. “How can you not remember coming to the inn with your mama?”
Her throat constricts. Her blood slows, creeping through her veins. “I figured someone would remember. But it’s not what it seems.” Her voice is hollow; it rings ominously in her ears.
“Let’s be honest, here. Please. We all just have to tell the truth. You came with her to work. Played with Gwen while she cleaned. Remember the Cabbage Patch dolls?”
“How would you know any of that?” Elizabeth’s cheeks burn. Little beads of sweat crawl down her neck, but she doesn’t wipe them away.
A wry smile forms on Kenneth’s lips.
“Who are you?” she whispers.
“I’ve been around a lot more than you know.” He smiles, white teeth gleaming. “Your husband did something to Charlotte, didn’t he, Elizabeth? How long have you known him? And you must know who you are.” His light smile sends a chill through her teeth. “DNA tests and all.”
“What do you mean by that?” Elizabeth’s body trembles. Her feet wobble from side to side.
“You murdered him. I think that trumps anything he ever did to you, right?”
“What the hell is going on here? I didn’t murder anyone. And why are you after Myra?” She shudders from the inside out.
“That’s on you, darling. Why did you come here? Think about it. If you were actually Charlotte, you’d have a life free from Jared Henderson. And since the whole charade started before you knew you’d killed the man, I understand your motive. Really.” He lets out a laugh.
“How do you know anything about me?” Anger rises from the pit of her stomach.
“You’re completely in the dark about the whole thing?” he says, staring at her with a frightening intensity.
She doesn’t respond.
“Wow.” He sighs. “I did the best I could for you. But you had to come back and make things rough.”
She steps backward, holds Theo behind her. Alice seems frozen.
“I suppose I should tell you who I am. I owe you that. Thirty-two years ago, Myra and I had a brief affair. Herb was away, doing his existential crisis thing in Los Angeles.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s a man thing.”
“What does this have to do—”
“With you? Well, I’ll tell you. And you wouldn’t be in this position if you’d left things alone.” He clears his throat. His charismatic brown eyes have turned to steel. “I never wanted a kid. But we had a baby.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she says, though somehow she does.
“That baby was you.”
Elizabeth stares at him, unable to fathom this. And yet, this crazy revelation makes sense of the discord in her life. It lines up zigzagging bits of information she’d tried to ignore—the lack of other family besides her parents, why they were so close with the Barkley family, and her mother’s curt response to Elizabeth’s question: Why do I have to come with you? I don’t go to your other jobs. And Gwen is mean to me.
“They’re our friends.”
They weren’t Elizabeth’s friends. But her mother’s nonsensical relationship with Myra Barkley created intrigue in her mind.
“I was adopted,” she says, locking eyes with him. “And Gwen had no idea we were sisters.” She inches toward Kenneth. “But Jared did.”
“Right,” he says. “And Jared and the Barkleys shared a maid.” He smiles wide. “Your mama.”
“You’re a bastard. A cold son of a bitch,” she hisses.
“Oh, come on. Adele would have killed me if Myra found you and wanted to … reconnect. Plus, Adele’s family owns my businesses, at least while they’re alive. That’s a lot of money. Hard work. I couldn’t give that up. You are a married woman. You understand.” He pauses. “Well, you were.”
“You don’t give a shit about Adele,” she says. “All you care about is money.”
He looks genuinely confused at this. Theo puffs up his chest in anger.
“What is wrong with you? Jared Henderson kept us locked away for years.” Her gaze shifts to Theo, standing beside her with angry tears in his eyes. She changes tack; she needs to get her son out of here alive. Focus, she tells herself. She won’t be distracted by the audacity that drips from his mouth.
“I promise, I won’t tell anyone. Let us go.”
“Exactly. We won’t say a word.” Alice presses her fingers to her lips. “Promise.”
Kenneth laughs. “I don’t believe in taking people’s word for things. I’m a businessman, remember?”
Focus. Don’t react.
“Jared was not a bad man,” he says. “His main problem, and his downfall, really, is he lacked self-control. As you’ve experienced.”
“And he was just … your neighbor?”
Kenneth chortles. “And Gwen’s boyfriend. Charlotte’s killer. I helped him understand that you were a Barkley girl too. He was quite interested in that. That we could help each other.”
Her insides quake; she peers into the house, trying to find an escape.
“The point is,” he continues, “I had to keep watch on you for your entire childhood. Mostly, it was fine. Rosie loved you. I doubted she wanted you to know about Myra or me. I kept watch, but I grew complacent.”
Elizabeth exchanges a look with Alice. What the hell is he talking about?
“I’m sorry. Is this confusing you? Let me get to the point.” He steps toward her. She flinches. “Poor Rosie died. This threw me. I knew about the house Myra left you, wondered if Rosie would tell you. Maybe to reconnect, or for legal matters regarding that dump.”
“The trailer,” she says dumbly. “That was Myra.”
He waves his hand, dismissing the comment. “Right, right. But this isn’t my point.” He smiles. His gleaming teeth are suddenly menacing; he’s had too many facelifts.
“Go on,” Alice says.
“I needed to ensure that didn’t happen. And Jared was happy to take you up there where no one would find you. To get rid of my problem without a body to deal with,” he says, pointing his finger. “Especially for a little money and the promise I wouldn’t tell anyone about what he did to Charlotte. You were safer then. A hell of a lot safer than you are now.”
“You hired him? To hold me hostage?” She can hardly breathe.
He shrugs. “More or less.”
“Look at this child.” She points to Theo. “You can’t do this. Not to a little boy. He’s your grandson.” She wants to throw up. Between that drug and this realization, her stomach is swimming.
“You shoulda left Jared alone,” he says. “Really, that would have been better for us all. ’Cause now, you’re risking everyone’s life. This is on you.”
“No. Leave Theo and Alice alone. Let them go.” She is pleading now, and she hates it. Elizabeth will beg for her son’s life—she’s done it before.
She will kill this man. If she gets the opportunity, she will make him suffer.
Kenneth crosses his arms against his chest. His jacket shifts, revealing the gun in its holster. “Myra’s probably home. Now that she’s got that DNA test. And I can’t let her and her wimp of a husband spread that around town.”
“You don’t need to hurt Myra,” Elizabeth hisses.
“Catch up with me. I had higher hopes for my own genetic material. You must take after your mother.” He shakes his head.
“Come on.” Alice trembles beside her. “You said yourself, you’ve got self-control. It’s Peter … Jared … whatever his name is, who had the problem. You aren’t a killer. You’re a businessman. Respected, attractive.” She shakes her head. “You don’t want blood on your hands.”
He tosses his hands up. “You’re right. You are. I mean, you see this beautiful room? The lovely clothing I bought you?” He gestures toward the robes they’re wearing. “This would’ve been a nicer place for you than that cabin, by far. But you went and talked to the neighbors. Soon enough they’ll go nosing around to see why their kid is wanted by the cops. And that will cause a shitstorm for me.”
“We’re so fucked,” Alice says under her breath.
“I’ve grown weary of this too, Alice. Trust me, I have. But I promise, if you do what I say, I will not hurt you.”
“You’re worse than him!” Theo shouts.
“Watch your mouth there, kid.” He steps toward her son. “Didn’t your mother teach you to respect adults?”
“Don’t speak to my child,” she says, seething. “Ever.”
He scoffs, smug as hell. “Now, why don’t we invite Alice to join us on our trip to the Barkley house? It’s only polite.”
“Please leave Alice out of this.” Elizabeth’s lip quivers. “She has nothing to do with any of it.”
“I didn’t bring her,” he says, with a laugh. “But since you’ve brought her along, it would be rude not to take her with us.” He shoves the gun into her back. “Let’s go.”
He pushes the three of them through the house and into the rain, which is streaming now, hitting brick-colored puddles so hard they bubble like a witch’s cauldron. The barrel of a gun is shoved in her back and it’s dark. But the Hendersons are next door. Other neighbors surround them. Yes, these lots are large, but if she screams loud enough, someone could hear. Kenneth is wrong. He’s either not that smart or he’s underestimated her. Otherwise, he’d have taken them out through the garage.
If they don’t escape now, right now, he’ll kill them all. She screams, sharp and loud. He puts his hand over her mouth; her screams are muffled, but he’s not going to shoot them here. Theo kicks him hard in the groin, and he starts falling, falling. The wind is knocked out of him. He coughs, trying to catch his breath, and though he can’t speak, his free hand grips the gun even tighter.
This time, he aims it at Theo’s neck. He has an SUV sitting in the driveway, idling. She exchanges a look with Alice. The glance is quick, but the question is deep. He shoves the gun harder into her son’s flesh; Theo begins to cry.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Don’t hurt him, and we’ll go wherever you want.” They slide into the backseat.
“I’m going to get rid of Myra and Herb. That’s all. And you, Theo, and Alice can take my car anywhere in the world,” he says, putting the car in drive.
“You’re going to frame us,” she whispers.
“Your choice, darling. Your son or your mother. I think it’s pretty damn simple.” He hits the gas. The SUV doesn’t barrel down the highway; the tires don’t hug the road so tightly they have to grip their seats to avoid being tossed to one side of the vehicle with each curve in the road. Kenneth rolls slowly over back paths to avoid getting pulled over by the cops. And because he’s concerned, Elizabeth surmises, that the gravel might scratch his paint or nick a window. He is ever calm, humming along to an Elton John song playing on the radio. Kenneth is in control of his car, in control of his captives. And this time, Kenneth is driving a practical car for a storm.
Theo leans against her, trembling. She whispers, “I will get us free.”
He looks at her intently, fiery eyes strong and sure. He believes her. This time he believes her. Hope swells inside her. They’ve done this together before. But she can’t do anything yet. The car doors are locked on the inside, same with the windows.
Soon she can smell the water. They are close.
“I’m going to let you out,” he says, pulling into Myra’s driveway, hidden back from the road, from directly in front of the inn. For privacy, of course. Both of their cars are parked out front. “But if you move a muscle, I’ll put a bullet in Theo’s head.”
Her son whimpers. Rage flashes through her. She says, through gritted teeth, “I understand.” She surveys the parking lot, searching for guests, for anyone that can help them.
“Sorry. Maybe there’s an undercover at the inn. But the guests have been evacuated. Myra and Herb are home alone.” He opens his door and steps out into the rain.
“How do you know that?” she says.
He chortles. “How do I know most of what I know?”
“Cameras,” Alice mutters.
He smiles. “Come on. Let’s go say hello to your mother.”