The door to Brea’s cell opened. For the last twenty-four hours, the only person she’d seen was her therapist, Doctor Cochran—and his sedatives. He claimed that seeing her parents or anyone else right now would only upset her further.
“Sedation is my friend,” or so he said. The doctor just didn’t know how good Brea was at tricking him and the nurses into believing she’d swallowed the pills. She had a growing collection of them under her bed, just waiting for the moment when someone finally told her she had actually killed Myles. Her best friend. The promise of those pills were her only comfort now.
”Brea Robinson?” An officer she didn’t recognize stepped into her pristinely white cell. “You’re being transferred.”
“Transferred? Where?” Brea sat up on her cot.
”Dunno.” The officer scratched his head, checking the clipboard in his hand. “That fancy doctor of yours signed orders to send you to some big city prison in Columbus with a psych ward, where you’ll wait for your arraignment.”
“How is Myles?” Brea clutched her clothes to her chest as she followed the officer from her cell.
“Dunno.” The officer hitched up his pants as they walked down the long corridor to the main office.
“Do my parents know where I’m going?”
“Your parents signed over their parental rights to your therapist. Looks like they might have washed their hands of you.” The officer held open the door for her to pass through.
Brea shuffled forward, unable to make sense of the last twenty-four hours. Everything was a blur. “I need to know how Myles is doing.” Her voice sounded distant to her own ears as the precinct officers filed her transfer paperwork, completely ignoring her. No one ever seemed to listen to her. “Please, is he okay?”
”Quiet,” another police officer said behind her. Brea turned, startled to see him there. She looked up, and up, to find he had the most striking midnight blue eyes she’d ever seen. “We will leave in a moment, keep your mouth shut.” His tone was curt, and he looked like he didn’t know how to smile, but his presence sent a wave of warmth through her, calming her fears. Everything would be fine soon. Once she got settled in the psych ward, her doctor would explain everything. That was the familiarity she needed now.
Brea followed the handsome officer with the beautiful eyes and stony frown outside into the freezing night. She didn’t even have her coat. Wasn’t it odd to transfer prisoners so late at night?
She ducked her head into the backseat of the police cruiser, wondering why the officer hadn’t handcuffed her for the transport. The ride to Columbus would be a few hours. Maybe he thought she’d be more comfortable?
Brea’s thoughts whirled from one thing to the next, like she couldn’t focus on any one thought long enough to question her newest circumstances.
“Myles?” She leaned forward. “Can you tell me anything about Myles? Can you call the hospital and check on him?”
”You’re better off forgetting him and whatever he might have meant to you.” The voice was like warm hot chocolate. She didn’t like his words, but he somehow managed to make them sound like the most soothing of responses.
“What about my parents? Did they really sign me over to Dr. Cochran?”
“As far as your parents are concerned, they never had a daughter named Brea Robinson. Now just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
Brea yawned. ”I don’t think I like you.” His voice sent an unwelcome warmth racing through her, but through the fog of her confusion, she couldn’t quite work out why that was a bad thing.
It was dark when Brea woke, still in the backseat of the police cruiser—still with no idea what was happening. A spark of fear curled in her gut, and she latched on to it. It was the only true emotion she’d experienced since leaving her cell.
Gazing out the window, Brea expected to see highways and cars heading for the city. Instead, she saw trees and vast stretches of farmland. They were the only car on the dark country road. Panic seeped into her bones as she watched the man behind the wheel. She caught his gaze in the rear view mirror, his dark eyes flashing like sapphire jewels in the night. She’d seen eyes like those before.
I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. Brea squeezed her eyes shut tight before she dared to chance a second glance at the officer. His normal midnight blue eyes peered back at her through the mirror. Exactly, I’m not crazy. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was never a good thing for Brea Robinson to see things that weren’t there.
“Where are you taking me?” She tried to keep the accusation from her tone, but Brea did not have a good feeling about this gruff man who claimed to be a police officer.
”Somewhere safe. Just relax. We’ll be there soon.”
Once again, his words had a mesmerizing effect on her. Part of her wanted to do something drastic to try to escape, but the other part of her wanted to sit back and relax like the officer suggested. Brea resisted that second part of her subconscious mind trying to tell her everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.
When the driver turned down a long winding dirt road, Brea knew what she had to do. Breathing deep and even, she calmed herself. After nearly a half-hour on the dirt road, the officer finally stopped in front of a small farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Brea had seen her fair share of psych wards and rehabilitation centers. Not one of them looked like this dilapidated place.
The officer turned to peer into the backseat. Just before he spoke, Brea stuffed her fingers in her ears and rocked back and forth, banging her head against the back seat. It was her best impersonation of a crazy person, which she was not. Whenever that man spoke, strange things happened in her mind. The calm he exuded was deceptive.
“Enough of that, Brea. You aren’t crazy.”
He stepped from the driver’s side and she repeated her mantra—and her fit. “I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.”
The moment he opened the back door, Brea shot out of the car like her hair was on fire. She ran down the dark and desolate road, the cloudy night sky offering little to light her path.
”Brea, get back here, now!” The stranger shouted after her, and Brea resisted the unnatural urge to do as he said. “I will drag you back by your hair if I have to, but you’re coming with me, girl.”
She didn’t know where she was going, but she had to get away. If she ever wanted to know the truth about Myles, she had to go back and face the consequences of what she’d done to her best friend. If that meant spending the rest of her life in a padded cell, then maybe that was where she belonged. Maybe her parents were right to give up on her.
The stranger was gaining on her, so she darted into the woods, branches and briars lashing against her face as she ran harder and faster than she ever had before.
“Brea, you don’t understand. You're making this harder than it has to be. Come back to the house before you hurt yourself.”
Brea stuffed her fingers in her ears as she ran, stumbling from the dense forest into a wide-open field.
“Brea, you’re acting like a brat,” her assailant called. She darted a glance over her shoulder and ran right into something warm and solid.
“Get behind me. Brea, Lochlan is dangerous.” The second stranger of the night shoved her behind him.
“What is this? Who are you people?”
”You can call me Griff, and when we get out of here, I’ll explain everything, I promise.” He put himself between her and the man chasing her. Griff smelled like springtime and fresh-mown grass.
“I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy,” she murmured, darting her eyes around the field, looking for an escape.
”No, you aren’t crazy. You’re just the girl we’ve been looking for, but I need you to trust me, even though you have no reason to. I’m not going to trick you with mind games.” He grabbed her hand and warmth spread through Brea’s body at his touch.
”Hand her over, Griff.” The not-police officer darted into the clearing. “She’s coming with me.” He moved like a predator, and Brea stumbled back to put some distance between herself and these strange men.
”You can’t treat people like pawns, Loch.”
”That’s rich coming from you.” The one named Griff moved to block her from Lochlan.
Brea watched the two men talking about her like she wasn’t even there. She should run, but there was nowhere to hide. She didn’t even know where she was or if any of this was even happening in reality.
“I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.” The clouds parted and the field flooded with moonlight.
“Griff, don’t do it. You know I’ll find you.”
”Brace yourself, sweetheart.” Griff pulled her into his arms and turned toward the moon. The air smelled of lavender and jasmine—two things one did not smell in the dead of an Ohio winter. The air rent in two, right before her eyes, like a piece of fabric cut with scissors.
“Oh, I’m definitely crazy.” Brea closed her eyes and everything went dark.