Noelle walked to her car in a slight daze. Well, that was the last thing she’d expected. An iPad. Not a phone, which would have given her more hope of finding something. For all she knew, Dow had used this to download books to further impress that female friend. And yet even so, her heart sped up with excited hope. Anticipation of what might be on it.
She got in her car and cranked up the air and then turned on the iPad. It still had 10 percent charge. She let out a long slow breath as she typed in the code Louise had given her. The programs and apps popped up on the small screen, and Noelle opened the photos. There were only a handful, and at first, she didn’t comprehend what they were. When she did, her eyes widened, and she almost dropped the device. “Oh my God,” she breathed. She couldn’t search much more right then, as anything else would require a wireless connection. She set the iPad on the passenger seat, and with shaking hands, she gripped the steering wheel. Was this the link they’d been looking for?
CHAPTER FORTY
Cedro let out a small yelp as the door slid open. He’d been drifting into a disturbing dream, and the sound had pulled him quickly from slumber. He watched as two guards entered this time, the man who had taken him out of there and the one who stood guard in the other room. One was holding Grim under his shoulders, and the other was carrying his feet. Cedro’s pulse jumped, and he stared as they carted him over to his cage, tossed him inside, and then brought the door up and secured it.
Cedro waited for the men to leave before hurrying to the far side of his cage. “Hey! Hey! Are you alive?” he called. Panic rose in his throat. He didn’t want to be alone. Please don’t be dead.
Grim lay on the floor of his cage. He was soaking wet, and his skin was bright red. As Cedro stared, trying to see if he had injuries anywhere, the old man started laughing. It was soft at first, but then it rose. Cedro blinked. Had he gone insane? What had happened to him to drive him out of his mind? Grim wrapped his arms around his waist, turning onto his side and howling with laughter.
“What’s wrong with you?” Cedro yelled. He wished he had something to throw at the man. His laughter was confusing and scary.
As if the older man had read his mind even while he was having fits of laughter, the sounds grew softer, the laughs turning to gulps and then to shallow breaths. He groaned, removing his arms from his waist and then turning onto his stomach, his cheek against the cold cement floor. For several minutes, he simply breathed that way, drops of moisture rolling down his cheek. Was he soaked in . . . sweat? What had they made him do? “I thought you were dead,” Cedro said.
“Almost,” Grim remarked, peeling himself off the floor and rising slowly until he was sitting, slumped against the bars. “But not quite.”
Cedro felt steaming mad, and he wasn’t even sure why. He made a sound of disgust in his throat. How could the old man laugh if they’d done to him what they did to me? “If you wanted to die, why didn’t you, pig?”
Grim smiled, and there was something almost gentle about it. “That’s a good question.” He sighed, then let out another small laugh that faded quickly. Cedro wasn’t going to ask what was funny. Whatever had happened in that room down the hall had made him sweat buckets and made him laugh, but Cedro didn’t want to know, because then he might have to tell Grim what had happened to him, and he couldn’t do that.
Cedro glanced over at the two peppermint candies. He could throw the candies at Grim, but he’d probably miss with all those bars in the way, and even if they hit him, they wouldn’t hurt at all. Plus, he wanted them. He didn’t know why he was saving them; he just was. They reminded him of his father, some of the only good memories he had. His father had told him to eat them slowly, they could be a choking hazard . . .
Cedro turned his head to see Grim picking up the two prayer cards they’d both received, fanning himself with them for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You know your prayers, don’t you, Cedro? Your mother taught them to you, didn’t she?”
Cedro made a grunting sound in his throat and swallowed down the emotion that the mention of his mother brought. Yes, he knew his prayers. He said them sometimes before he fell asleep, not because he was asking anyone for help but because they made him feel less alone.
“Good,” Grim said, and something came into the man’s eyes that Cedro didn’t know how to describe. For a moment, the old man, drenched in sweat and barely sitting up in his cage, looked fierce. “Pray with me, Cedro,” he said.