“I’ve come to the same conclusion.”
“You need to tell Detective Bolton,” she said.
“Tell him what? That Ken had been stressed and that’s an unusual place for him to camp? How does that help the police? I’d be wasting his time.”
Rowan considered. Rees had a point. “But you wanted me to know. I doubt you could have changed things,” she said quietly. “You might have ended up being shot too.”
“I’ve wrestled back and forth with that.”
The waitress set down two steaming plates of food. Rowan was no longer hungry, but she picked at her gravy. Rees faced his omelet with the same lack of enthusiasm.
One thought kept going through her head. “What could he have done that I never would forgive him for?” she asked softly. “I loved him. He was a good person.”
Rees shook his head. “I’ve asked myself the same question, and I’m stumped.”
“If he kicked Thor, I wouldn’t let that go,” she said with a sad smile, knowing Ken would kick her before he ever did such a thing to her dog.
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“He was the best,” said Rowan.
Rees poured them two more drinks. He held his up. “To Ken.”
“Do you think he’d be offended we’re toasting him with wine instead of an IPA?” Rowan lifted her glass.
“Not at all.”
Rowan agreed. “To Ken.” She clinked Rees’s glass and drank.
I miss him.
24
Malcolm, twenty-five years ago
The man was going to kill Rowan. Malcolm knew it.
He’d broken her leg.
Who does that to a little girl?
He does.
Malcolm shouldn’t have felt surprised. Everything the man had put them through was evil.
She’s going to die, and I’ll have to watch.
He pulled her closer as she slept, trying not to bump her leg. He’d hit it accidentally a few times, and it’d made her cry out in her sleep. It had been three days since he broke her leg. She couldn’t walk. Malcolm had helped her pee in the bucket, and it’d embarrassed her and she’d hated it. She’d tried to stop drinking, so she’d pee less, but he knew that wasn’t healthy.
He made her drink.
At least the man had fed them that night. And he’d left more food than usual. Maybe he felt guilty for what he’d done. Rowan hadn’t wanted to eat. Malcolm had had to beg her to do it. She’d said she wasn’t hungry anymore.
How can that be? She has to be starving.
Malcolm wiped his nose with the back of his hand. It kept running because he couldn’t stop crying. Everything was such a mess, and he didn’t know how to fix it.
I don’t know what to do.
He hated him. Malcolm didn’t understand why the man had thought it would be funny to tell him he would send Rowan home and then take it back. He thought the man had lied about his parents moving away, but then why hadn’t anyone found them?
What if he’s right? What if we’re here forever?
Rowan needed to see a doctor. She needed a cast on her leg. Malcolm didn’t know how she would ever walk again if no one fixed it.
I can’t carry her around forever.
He suddenly wished his sister would die, and his tears flowed faster. “I’m sorry, God, I didn’t mean it,” he whispered. “I really, really didn’t mean it.”
He was a horrible person. Malcolm should be the one with the broken leg. Rowan would never think bad things about him as he just had about her.
The locks on the door clanked. Malcolm panicked and scrambled for their blindfolds.
He didn’t warn us!
At least the man didn’t make Rowan get in her corner anymore since she couldn’t get around very well. Rowan didn’t wake at the noise of the locks or when he lifted her head to place her blindfold. It was dark, and his fingers were clumsy as he fumbled with the ties.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
He was still tying her blindfold when the door creaked open. He hunched over her, hiding his face, petrified to look toward the door, waiting for him to yell.
Silence.
After a few seconds he risked a look and squinted in the dark.
The silhouette was wrong.
The man was thin. Not big and bulky.
Someone is here to save us!
Malcolm lunged to his feet and then froze as he realized it was the other man. The silent friend.
He’ll tell him we weren’t blindfolded. We’ll be punished.
But the man just stood there.
“What do you want?” Malcolm whispered.