I’m calling the police.
What will you tell them?
She had to think about that for a minute. So far, all she had for evidence were a bunch of texts from Braithe’s number. Coy, playful texts were not a cause for alarm. All of Braithe’s other friends believed she was blowing off marital steam. He had isolated her from them with texts. It was actually brilliant.
Hate to tell you this, but you’re the reason she’s here, Summer. And no one is going to believe you. By the time you get them to believe you I’ll have cut through her vocal cords.
Rainy went cold.
She stared at her phone for a long time, unmoving. Summer. He knew. He had Braithe, but this wasn’t about her at all. And he didn’t say he would kill her; he’d specifically said cut through her vocal cords. He was telling her he had a plan. Whoever he was, he was here for her. No matter what Braithe had or hadn’t done, she couldn’t let her die at the hands of someone who was after…
Summer.
Taured. Or was it? After all these years, she knew his tone, his style. This was not Taured. But what did he want? As she sat, trying to fight the fog in her brain, it occurred to her. A fragment of an idea began to form in her mind. Sara. She opened up a browser on her laptop.
Okay, she texted back. What do you want?
23
Then
She’d woken in a hospital room alone, not afraid, but relieved. O’Connor was in the room, sitting in a chair, and a man stood next to her, this one short, bespectacled and bald.
“May I have something to drink, please?” Her voice was a rasp. A nurse brought her water and sat her up in bed. Then O’Connor turned to her. “Summer, this is Dan Malari. He’s a social worker with the state and he’s been assigned your case.”
“What case? I have grandparents, I told you their names. I—”
“It’s just procedure to open a case file, Summer. When there are accusations and a removal of a minor from a home, we have to investigate for your well-being.” Dan Malari didn’t smile at her when he spoke, but Summer felt that he was an okay guy, anyway. There was something calm about him.
“But I don’t have to go back there?”
“No, you’ve been removed from that place and it is currently under investigation.”
Summer felt like she could breathe for the first time since…when? Forever. She could breathe so long as they never sent her back to that place. She touched her neck and felt bare skin. “Where’s my mother’s necklace?”
“I’m sure they’re keeping it safe for you. They might have taken it off while making sure you were okay.”
If it was gone… Her face bunched up and she dissolved into tears.
“What about my mother? Will they be investigated for what they did to her?”
“What did they do to her?”
“They locked her in a room and killed her.”
“How? With what?”
“She didn’t take drugs, no matter what anyone says. I know she didn’t. They injected her against her will.”
He looked embarrassed for her, but he nodded slowly. “We’ll let the coroner do their job, okay? My job is to find out where the safest place for you is.”
Summer closed her eyes; the safest place for her was with her mother.
“If there was foul play involved in her death, police will move forward with an investigation.”
Summer looked at O’Connor and the woman nodded; she didn’t feel good about that, but she didn’t feel bad, either. Things were still in the air, as her dad used to say.
“What if they can’t prove foul play?” she asked carefully.
“Then there is no case,” O’Connor said matter-of-factly. Summer nodded, settling back into her pillow.
“Good news is, your grandparents are on their way. They should be here in a few hours,” Dan said.
“I’ll be able to live with them?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t know how it started; suddenly, she was gasping, and then the gasps hurt so much that she couldn’t get around them, or around her own air, which somehow seemed to be pressing into her. A nurse rushed in and her two visitors stepped back. She could only hear her own gasps, feel her own feelings, but the last thing Summer saw before she sank heavily into unconsciousness was O’Connor mouthing the words: You’re safe now, it’s okay. You’re safe now, it’s okay…
After her mother died, Summer’s body had been physically free of the compound, but her mind had stayed trapped behind its walls. For a while, her grandparents tried to get Summer to work with a specialist who dealt with former cult members, but she’d refused to speak to him, saying it wasn’t her who’d been part of the cult but her mother. She’d only been a kid. She’d screamed this at the grief counselor until he’d smiled and said they were finally getting somewhere. When her free counseling ended, her grandparents shifted her from therapist to therapist, trying to find someone to coax her out of her depression. But no one could understand what she was feeling, and she didn’t want them to. It was her private hurt.