Shattered Secrets Read online

  “The doctor wanted to look over his stitches before he could speak with the detectives again, so he’ll be a few more minutes.” She took my left hand, tears streaming down pale her cheeks. “I’m going to go get your father. He went for coffee, but he’ll want to know you’re up. I think Megan and Will are with him, too. Lord knows your father can’t handle more than ten minutes alone with her, and she’s been here ever since they brought you in. Poor man. I’ll be back.”

  I didn’t want Mom to leave, but I didn’t want to beg her to stay either, not with Derick in the room. He saved me. God that sounded so weird. Me—I needed saving, and Derick, the boy who stopped talking to me after we kissed, rescued me. My head spun, and Ruckus’s sardonic smile flashed before my eyes.

  Trembles reminded me just how much pain the psycho brought me.

  “On second thought, maybe I’ll stay. Derick, would you mind—?”

  “It’s okay, Mom. You go save Dad. I want to see him.” Megan, too. The rich, heir-to-all-things-real-estate boy she’d loved forever and he never seemed to notice? Not so much. I liked Will enough, when no one else was around—that seemed to be the only time he was nice, the only time he’d tell jokes or have a serious conversation with me. Like all those times I used to sit in his room and listen to him talk about his dad, specifically how his dad was never around and didn’t seem to care about Will, only about managing properties and making money. We used to be close friends, until he kissed me by the bleachers in eighth grade, when he knew I liked Derick. And I don’t think Megan or Derick ever forgave Will for that. They definitely wouldn’t have forgiven him if I told them he said I was the only girl for him, the only girl who didn’t see him as a dollar sign. Yeah, that would have gone over just great. As is, with the four of us in one room together, the air would be way too heavy to breathe.

  “I’ll be just a minute.” Mom carefully placed my hand on the bed then rushed for the door, attempting to hide her tears with a wadded up tissue along the way.

  “Derick?” I loved the sound of his name, the way saying it made me feel warm inside, whole, and I hated that I still loved anything about him after what he did to me.

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to speak to me.” He stood and flashed a nervous smile, running his fingers through his messy brown hair. “I was a jerk, Abby, and I’m sorry.”

  My heart pounded hard and unfortunately registered on the traitorous machine next to me. I wanted to rip the sensor off my finger, but Derick ignored the beeping—or at least pretended to.

  Sighing, I worked to control my emotions, the fast flow of blood through my veins, so I could talk without sounding like a stuttering, nervous fool. “When I slammed the door in your face, you said you wanted to explain. I think saving my life earned you that explanation.”

  He glanced at the hall busy with nurses rushing by, then ran his fingers through his hair again.

  “Why are you nervous?”

  Derick wasn’t a fidgeter. Cool, level-headed—these are words I used to describe him.

  Closing the distance between us, he grabbed a chair then placed it next to my bed, but he remained standing. “I’m worried about you, and your father has never liked me. Now that you’re awake, he’ll kick me out as soon as he arrives, but I owe you the truth.”

  You owed me the truth long before now.

  He grimaced as if he understood my thoughts. “I know you’ll probably never forgive me, but—”

  “Eh-hem.” Dad stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, glaring at Derick.

  As much as I wanted to hear what he had to say, I preferred my parents. My mom and her comforting warmth. My dad and his unwavering protection. I should have called for him the second I opened the door. He would have saved me. Psycho Number One never would have put me in his trunk if I’d reacted faster.

  Derick walked up to my father and then stood there, hands behind his back. “May I return in the morning and talk to her, sir?”

  Dad met my gaze. I wanted to belt out, “Yes, please, Dad, let him come back and try to explain his jerky boyish actions to me,” but instead, I nodded.

  He frowned. “We’re bringing her home in the morning. I’ll have her give you a call when she’s settled in… if she wants to.”

  “Dad.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Derick doubled back to me, a huge grin lighting his face, leaned over my bed, kissed my cheek, then slipped a piece of paper into my left hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Abigail.”

  He knew I loved when he called me Abigail. The machines indicated what I felt inside, racing right along with my stupid, teenaged heart. “See you tomorrow, Derick.”

  Smiling, I watched him walk from the room. Dad watched him too, but not with a pleasant expression like mine.

  “I don’t like that boy,” he said, a cup of coffee in one hand, a single, long-stemmed red rose in the other. Dad paused when he reached my bed, staring behind me.

  I turned my head. “What is it?”

  He cleared his throat. “Who brought those?”

  “Derick brought them for her,” Mom said, walking in with Mark in-tow. “Abby, Megan said she’d be here shortly. She just wanted to stop by the coffee shop. Says a mocha latte would be better than anything from the gift shop.”

  Boy, was she right! “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Hey.” Mark waved, but his cheeks were flushed and gray, and a thick white bandage secured the cut on his right arm.

  “Hey.” How much pain was he in? Or did the detectives question him so long that he got sick? When will the cops come for me?

  “Oh, and thank you, Dad. It’s beautiful,” I said, changing my train of thought before my dad got any more upset. I reached for the flower but forgot about my shoulder. Stabbing sensations shot down to my hand. “How long is this going to hurt?”

  “The doctor said it would take up to twelve weeks, and you’ll need physical therapy.” Mom turned for the door. “I’ll go find a nurse and see about getting you some pain meds.”

  “I guess I’ll just put this with the others.” Dad sighed, not even attempting to hide his hurt.

  “No. It needs its own vase,” I said, shaking my head.

  He stormed from the room, muttering under his breath. Dad wasn’t mad at me; my guess is his hatred for Derick grew deeper. I think Dad didn’t like anyone taking his baby girl’s love away from him. That’s why he liked Mark so much, because my heart didn’t belong to him.

  Yesterday’s rejected date stood between my bed and the exit, staring at me as if I’d disappear any second.

  “Are you just going to stand there?”

  Glancing up, his brown eyes widened. “I didn’t bring you flowers. Damn that Derick. One day I’ll find a way to show him up and prove to you who the better man is.”

  “You saved me. I think that’s better than flowers.”

  Mark walked up to me, his hands shoved into his jean pockets. “He was there, too. I guess you two made up?”

  I clenched the paper in my palm. “There was no making up. We didn’t have time to talk.”

  “Good news, then.” A smile stretched across Mark’s face, and I remembered why I stopped spending so much time with him years before. Mark expected me to date him, expected I’d be okay with him meeting me by my locker every day, be okay with him telling people he loved me. He pushed for a relationship, pushed, pushed, pushed.

  Just like other guys. Even Will with that unexpected and unwanted kiss under the bleachers. Thank God Megan knew how I felt about Derick, or our relationship might have suffered.

  Derick was the only guy close to me who didn’t push. He was always there, and life was about us. We had fun together.

  Right now, I wanted nothing more than for Mark to leave the room and forget his obsession with me. The letter in my hands meant everything. The desire to know what it said ate me alive.

  His smile fell, then he sat in the green plastic chair next to the bed. “I’m sorry.”

  I tried turning to
face him, but the movement sent piercing sensations through my shoulder again. “Me too. Giving you the impression I wanted to dat—”

  “I’m not sorry for you going out with me the other night, Abby, I’m sorry because you’re in the hospital, and I’m hounding you about Derick. I’m acting as selfish as he is—”

  “Selfish? How is Derick acting selfish? I was kidnapped, and you’re in here talking about who I’m dating—or not dating. The only person acting selfish is you.”

  “Abby?” Mom stood in the doorway, scary-parent gaze settled on Mark, Megan and Will peeking around her, Will snickering, Megan shushing. “Do you need a moment?”

  “No, Mom.” I smiled at her, then returned my attention to Mark. He’d always pushed, but never this hard. I’m in the hospital, for crying out loud! “You can stay, if you promise not to talk about Derick again.”

  “Can’t promise. He’s no good for you, not like I—”

  “Then go.” I glared, trying to imitate the hardness my mother offered, that cold, calculating sternness all adults seemed to have mastered.

  Nodding, he stood and leaned over the bed. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me like Derick had, but Mark leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Those roses, whatever piece of paper you’re clutching in your hand—these are his attempts to get back on your good side, Abby. Open your eyes. There’s a whole world around you that you refuse to see, and I will be a huge part of that world.”

  “Mark, stop it. Just stop. What’s wrong with you?” My blood pressure must have skyrocketed; everything swirled and spun, and my pulse raced in my ears—and on the machines. Mark was supposed to be the nice guy. Pushy, but nice. Wanting more, but nice, nice, nice. This was just mean.

  “I think it’s time to leave, Mark,” Dad said, stepping into the room, his voice low and demeanor threatening, all narrowed eyes and squared shoulders.

  Straightening, Mark smoothed his features and returned to the guy my parents couldn’t seem to get enough of. “Sorry, Mr. Nichols. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

  He walked out and my parents followed, leaving me with Will and Megan. But Will didn’t stay long, took off muttering something about missing a scene between the biggest jerk at school and my parents.

  “Boys.” Megan handed me a steaming hot cup of coffee and kissed my cheek. “Thought you’d like something a little more useful than stuffed bears and flowers.”

  “My hero!” I sipped on the chocolatey-coffee goodness, ignoring the pain it brought my tongue. Coffee could fix anything.

  Megan sat in a chair next to my bed, staring at me as if I might disappear any moment.

  “What?”

  A tear escaped the corner of her eye, but she rubbed the back of her hand across her face as if she wanted to pretend she was okay. I knew better. “I’ve never been so afraid in my life, Abigail Nichols. Never.”

  Me either. “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes widened, and her eyebrows shot up. “You’re sorry? Oh, Abs. I’m not upset with you. I just… I’m relieved. I think I’d die without you.” She leaned against the bed and smiled. “Of course, not in an obsessive-compulsive way.”

  “I love you, too.” I sipped on my coffee again, unsure what to say. What could I talk about that wouldn’t sound stupid and immature? Definitely not boys. And no way would I bring up what happened. Not now.

  “So…”

  “So?” I waved, encouraging her to keep talking.

  Megan glanced toward the door, then back at me, a frown tugging at her perfect lips. “I haven’t talked to Will yet, but how about I cancel my plans for Winter Break? You and I can do something instead?”

  And ruin her full week with Will at the beach? “No way, Megan. You need to go. You guys go every year—”

  “Exactly. We go every year, Mr. Banaan always makes him work at that one stupid property anyway, checking for trespassers—weirdest thing ever, by the way—and how often do you ask me to drop plans for you?” She held up a hand. “Never. That’s how often.”

  I shook my head back and forth. “Not budging. Not in a million years. You cancel that trip and I won’t open my door. You love him. You get a couple weeks out of the year to spend with him. Maybe this is your year.”

  She’d waited so long to share her feelings with Will Banaan. So long to tell him that she was ridiculously in love with him and all that bushy brown hair she couldn’t stop imagining running her fingers through. I wouldn’t ruin that.

  Voices carried down the hall. Mom, Dad, and Will were back, and they had company. Two police officers followed them all into the room.

  This night keeps getting better.

  “Do you think so?” Megan asked.

  “Yes. Please don’t cancel.”

  Biting her lip, she nodded. “Okay, babe.”

  I slid the paper under my leg, wishing for five minutes alone so I could read whatever Derick wanted me to read. But, really, I just wanted to go home.

  fficer Daniels jotted notes on a pad of paper, glancing up every few minutes to make eye contact, studying me. His partner, Officer Paulson, asked all the questions. Most of them seemed stupid. The police knew what time I was taken and that I arrived at the cabin in a trunk, yet they asked about those details anyway.

  I yawned, astounded that pain laced my every movement. A nurse gave me pills, but they did nothing for the throbbing and aching.

  “It’s late,” Dad said, getting to his feet. He walked over to the officers, then stood behind them. A towering threat to leave his little girl alone. “My daughter needs rest. Besides, her friend is about to explode from remaining silent so long. You don’t want that on your hands, do you?”

  Will burst out laughing, but Megan remained quiet. She held onto a small stuffed bear that Mom or Dad or someone brought in for me, staring. My story scared Megan. Every few minutes during my interrogation, she squeaked or a tear escaped and trailed down her cheeks. She didn’t even try to hide them now.

  Officer Daniels nodded. “A couple more questions, if you don’t mind, Mr. Nichols?”

  Dad met my eyes, the wrinkles at the edges twitching just a bit.

  “I’m fine, Dad.”

  “You’re very brave.” Officer Paulson smiled. “I’m not sure how long you’ve been awake, or what you know of the situation, Miss Nichols, but we need to know everything that happened to you. Do you have any idea who these young men were, what they wanted, or where they were from?”

  For the first time since I woke up, I realized no one told me whether my kidnappers made it out of the fire alive. “Did you arrest them, sir?”

  The sting of Psycho Number Two’s hand making contact with my cheek resurfaced, and I winced.

  Officer Paulson glanced at his partner, who nodded.

  “No, and they didn’t die in the fire either. The men who took you are still out there.”

  My chin quivered. My kidnappers were running free with their sick, twisted fantasy that I was part of some magical world, a game, and they knew where I lived. Worse, they’d probably be furious I escaped.

  Mom appeared by my side and wiped away my tears with her thumb. “She’s been through a lot. Can we finish this at our home tomorrow?”

  I loved her. She knew how overwhelmed I felt, how scared I was, but the longer I waited to tell the police what they needed to know, the harder finding the criminals would be. Mom watched enough gritty crime shows for me to realize that. “I’ll be okay.”

  I looked at Officer Paulson, took a deep breath, then told him everything. Mom and Dad exchanged worried glances when they heard I ran, but Dad patted my leg. He was proud; he’d always taught me to be a fighter.

  “You remember quite a lot, Miss Nichols.”

  Pointing at my father, I said, “If it weren’t for all the surveillance lessons he’s taught me through the years, you probably wouldn’t have learned much.”

  Officer Paulson turned. “What branch of the service?”

  Dad laughed. “Marine Corps.”
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  “Oorah.”

  Megan rolled her eyes and tossed her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, clearly annoyed. Growing up in a military town, all we heard when veterans met were a series of grunts.

  “Do you know what their plan was?” Officer Daniels asked, speaking for the first time since he entered the room, and, thankfully, getting the questioning back on point. His voice was cold, disinterested. Years of investigating crimes probably hardened him.

  “Not exactly. The second guy kept saying ‘they’re coming for her’. He said they were paid to capture me alive, that my people and I were powerful, and my father was going to kill me publicly—”

  Mom gasped. Listening to her little girl recount her kidnapping couldn’t be easy, and hearing someone wanted to kill me…

  “—but not much more than that. They played a lot of computer games while I was there. I think they’re psychotic.”

  “Is that everything?” Officer Daniels scribbled furiously on his pad.

  “The first guy, he said he didn’t want to be bad anymore. I was cold, and he noticed me shivering. He was going to light a fire, but I didn’t realize he meant to burn me in the house.”

  Officer Paulson grumbled. “Your rescuers took care of burning down the house. I’m glad those boys followed you—you may not be alive otherwise—however, they should have called for help as soon as they jumped in their car. Instead, they waited until they were in the middle of nowhere without signal to try, and now, every potential lead we had is in a pile of ashes.”

  “Derick and Mark did that? For me? That was so… so br—”

  “Stupid. They could have been killed, and we’ve told them as much.” Officer Daniels cracked a half-smile and scowled at Will, who once again couldn’t contain his laughter, one of the negative side-effects of growing up without a father around. “You do have good friends though.”

  The two men motioned for my parents to follow them out of the room, and Megan and Will took that as their cue to crowd my bedside.

  “I’m so sorry.” She handed me the bear as if maybe I did need it and her coffee wasn’t enough, then squeezed my hand. “Do you want us to stay?”