Shattered Secrets Page 4

  Will put a finger to his thin lips, shushing us, then pointed at the door. “Listen.”

  “I believe we have enough to start with,” Officer Daniels whispered from the not as safe as he thought distance of the hall, “but if she thinks of anything, or you see something out of the ordinary, don’t hesitate to call us. Make sure you give Abigail our business cards. You may want to have her talk to someone; we don’t want her to experience post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  Great. The cops thought I’d go insane.

  Megan bent over and picked up a square piece of paper off the floor. “What’s this?”

  Frantically searching the sheets, I realized my note from Derick must have fallen. “That’s mine.”

  “Ooh. What is it?” Will snatched the note from her and opened it up, then sunk into a nearby chair and propped one of his long legs on the other. “A letter!”

  No way could Will read that before me. God he could be such a jerk. The machines announced my heart rate to the world like a tattletale to a teacher. I’d be lucky to make it out of here without having to pay for this machine when my heart broke it. “It’s from Derick, Will. Could you give it back, please?”

  Megan yanked the paper from his grip and then tucked it into my palm, frowning like the idiot had hurt her feelings all over again. “We should go, Will.”

  “Oh, come on. I was just having a little fun.” Will Banaan was all about fun. Good thing Megan acted nothing like him; both their families were loaded, but, for whatever reason, their mothers—who were also best friends—decided to live a normal life in our normal town. Yet they always went on lavish vacations to Florida, and I don’t think Will took much of anything seriously. Not even the girl who would’ve dropped the world for him.

  “You’re an ass, and you’re upsetting my best friend.”

  I adored this Megan. I adored how she knew me, but I knew her too. She only wanted to leave to get Will away from me. She swore he acted differently when I wasn’t around, described him as kind-hearted and a good listener, how I would have described him in the past. I hoped that was true, because I didn’t see much to like anymore.

  And leaving when a note from a boy was involved? Not like her at all. She’d want to inspect Derick’s letter with a psychic by our sides, you know, to tell the future in case we misinterpreted anything. “You okay?”

  She nodded, a faint smile lighting her always-tan cheeks. “Your dad said you’re coming home tomorrow. I’ll drop by. You need time to yourself.” Megan leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Hope this gives you what you want. I love you.”

  “Love you, too. And thanks for the coffee. Best get well present ever.”

  “That’s because I’m the best.”

  Watching them trail through the room and then slip by my parents and the officers, I unfolded Derick’s note.

  Curiosity owned me.

  Thank you, Megan.

  Wispy lines bordered the page; loops and shapes appeared as butterflies or leaves depending on how I looked at them. I laughed. Derick drew our favorite spot at the bottom—a fallen log in the middle of the woods—framed by his abstract art.

  Beauty pauses when she sees your face,

  kind, pure, and full of grace.

  Existence means more than you may know,

  but some have intentions as pure as week-old snow.

  Under the evening stars is where I’ll be,

  waiting in our favorite spot to give you an apology.

  Deep in the forest next to our houses, we found a small open area with a single fallen tree stretching across the ground thick with clover and little purple flowers. I’d bring the blanket, Derick lunch, and we’d spend all day out there in the spring and summer. We imagined worlds in faraway lands, talked about kings and queens, that is, of course, until we got older. Then we did a lot more reading, or talking about whatever and laughing. I longed to be home, to tromp through the woods with him, to hold his hand as I leapt over the stream.

  “Whatcha reading, honey?” Mom startled me with her attempt at slang, and I nearly ripped the paper so I didn’t have to share.

  But this was too special. Derick wanted to meet me at our place—our place. “Nothing. Just something Derick left for me.”

  “Oh, I see.” She smiled tightly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her cheeks flashed red. There was something so innocent about my mother, so sweet.

  “Mo-om.”

  A laugh escaped her, and it sounded restrained, tense. “You and Derick aren’t… you know?”

  “Mom.” Apparently my kisses were enough to chase off even the best of friends; I certainly wasn’t doing any of that.

  “You’re my daughter; I have to ask.” Mom stared at her lap, obviously too embarrassed to meet my eyes. “Besides, you and Derick were too intense. I expected something to happen between the two of you. You never did tell me why you stopped talking to him.”

  “He stopped talking to me.”

  She leaned her head to the side, comfortable to look at me now that we were past that horrid topic of conversation. “Did you two get in a fight?”

  I rolled my eyes. Talking to Mom meant I was talking to Derick’s mom. The two were close. So frustrating, especially since Mom always rooted for Mark. “We kissed. And I guess he didn’t like it.”

  Her blue eyes widened. “That was the first time?”

  “Shouldn’t we be talking about putting me in counseling sessions or something? You should know I don’t want to talk to you about boys, Mom.”

  “Do you feel like you need counseling, Abby?”

  How on Earth could she make this my decision? “I know I want to go home and get back to life. What day is it?”

  “Sunday.” She reached for the remote on the rolling table.

  Two days. I lost two days! “Are you going to let me go to school tomorrow?”

  Mom pressed the up arrow a few times, getting no results, then she jabbed her finger at the gigantic, yet archaic, plastic tuner. “Do you want to?”

  “What’s up, Mom? Why are you answering my questions with questions? And why aren’t you looking at me? This is serious. You know, I’m lucky to be alive and all that.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. “I thought you’d want to stay home tomorrow, Tuesday and Wednesday, too. I figured with it being the week before Christmas and Wednesday being a half-day, you wouldn’t have too much going on. That would have been easier for me. I’m a terrible mother, Abby. I should have told you years ago.”

  Closing my eyes, I drew in a sharp breath. “Told… me… what?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  “I’m going to call in a counselor, to help make this easier for you, to help you understand.”

  Now I cried. “Please, tell me—”

  “You’re adopted.”

  Derick

  erick, wait up!”

  I knew the long-ass day at school wouldn’t end without Mark harassing me. The moron actually thought he loved Abigail, thought he knew her, but he didn’t see her as anything more than a pretty piece of arm candy.

  She knew that. I knew that. Why couldn’t Mark figure that out?

  I kept walking.

  “Come on. Don’t wuss out.”

  My car was right there. So close, yet still so far away. I rounded on him, squeezing my keys. Better them than his head. “What? Come to tell me again that Abby will never forgive me for keeping things from her? You still think she’ll forgive you? Your secrets are much deeper than mine are.”

  Mark gritted his teeth, stepping toward me with his fists balled at his sides. For an instant I thought he might try to punch me, but he coughed out a fake laugh before he made the biggest mistake of his life, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes closed. “I see my words have soaked in. You think you know her so well, how come you don’t believe she’ll be angry? She did slam the door in your face the other night.”

  “Poor timing.” My palm throbbed from the keys cutting into me. Abigail woul
dn’t forgive me easily, or not at first. But not because I couldn’t tell her. No. Telling her would make her think I needed a shrink and enjoyed playing cruel jokes on the people I loved. That’s what she’d be mad about: the truth. Period. “If you’re not here to taunt, what do you want?”

  “A ride.”

  “Excuse me?” I’d rather drive over Mark than drive him anywhere. “Do you see Taxi written on the side of my car?”

  He actually looked out into the parking lot, squinting those beady eyes of his. “No, but it might be appropriate for you to add it. Dad says wherever the two of you go, I go, too.”

  “Did he?” Good thing his dad and mine weren’t related. “Well, I guess you’ll have to find another ride home because, clearly, she isn’t with me right now.”

  I brushed past him, taking faster steps than I’d like in public to get away. Oh, well. I’d make sure no one else saw me.

  “You’re not getting rid of me, Derick.” Mark stayed in-step with me, arms crossed over his chest. “You know we’re all looking out for her. Not just you.”

  “But you want something from it.” I unlocked the doors, climbed in, then pulled my cell out of my pocket and dialed home.

  “Hello?”

  “Mom, what’s this about Mark tagging-along like a lost puppy everywhere I go?”

  Mark laughed, tossing his bag into the backseat and sliding into shotgun.

  No glare would do my anger justice. Maybe a glare and a fist, but not a look by itself.

  Mom sighed. “Just humor him, Derick. I know you can’t stand him, but what’s one more person keeping Abby safe really going to hurt? Certainly not her.”

  “So I’m supposed to just show up with Mark and venture into the woods with her, with him too?”

  “About that.”

  This conversation slid downhill faster than I’d expected. “It’s our favorite spot.”

  “Well, there are two reasons you shouldn’t go there with her.” She put her hand over the phone, muffling her voice, and told my dad that, yes, it was me on the phone, and yes, she’d tell me what Abby’s father wanted. “You still there?”

  “Barely.” Would I ever get Abby back? Did I screw up so much that getting near her would prove impossible?

  “Okay, the first reason is this: those men are still out there. You and Mark didn’t kill them. Her father thinks if you go into the woods, she’ll be at risk. The Snellings, your father, and I all agree.”

  Fair point. “And the second reason?”

  “She loves you.”

  I wished Abby said it and not my mother. “I’m not following.”

  “Do you think she’s visited the woods since you two stopped talking?”

  “I’m surprised she hasn’t burned them down to destroy the memory of me.”

  “Well, she may not see them the same way now. Take her out to dinner. Your father will go, too, but he’ll play it safe. She’ll never know he or Mark is there. You won’t either. Think of it as surveillance by the police.”

  I hated lying. I hated all of this. But Mark had a good eye for noticing things, especially Abby; he never took his eyes off her. Neither did that Will friend of hers—or half the guys at school—but at least she’d never shown interest in him, and she’d never do anything to hurt Megan. Yeah. I was good. “Fine, and so you’re telling me that I do actually have to drop this piece of—”

  “Be nice.”

  “Drop Mark off. You’re telling me I actually have to drive him home.”

  Mark strapped on his belt, grinning like a fool. “Told you.”

  “After you pick up Abby. Then you drop off Mark. Your father will be right behind, and he’ll pick up Mark and follow wherever you guys go.”

  “Even at our house?”

  “Obviously not.”

  “Great.”

  “Before you pick her up, make sure to call her father. He has something he wants to say to you, personally.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Mom.” I tapped the screen and plugged the phone into its charger. “I charge by the minute, Mark. Hope you’re prepared to pay.”

  “For her, anything.”

  Abigail

  My world tumbled down on me. Dad wasn’t my dad. Mom wasn’t my mom. None of it would have mattered if they’d told me about my adoption before something horrible happened. Life could have carried on as usual, full of love and hope and dreaming of the future.

  The fact they told me now meant some truth could have been in my kidnapper’s words: my real parents gave me up and all of it was kept a secret. Or that could have been paranoia. Maybe Mom and Dad were trying to protect me because they didn’t think I could handle the truth—or they didn’t want me to feel different.

  But now I just felt betrayed.

  I think. Maybe instead of betrayed I should have felt grateful. Imagining a different family was impossible. I loved Mom and Dad, and we were all happy.

  “Abby, Dr. Pavarti is here,” Mom called up the stairs.

  We’d only been home from the hospital for an hour. Would I ever get a break? Get to lie down and rest in my own bed?

  I glanced at the bottle of pain relievers and considered taking one so I didn’t have to focus on how awkward this meeting would be. Not that kind of girl. “Be right there.”

  I took my time getting down the stairs, heart pounding worse than it had when Boredas arrived on my doorstep… right there, to my left. Right there he took me.

  “Miss Nichols?” A man stood in the archway between the foyer and formal living room, looking at the door, then to me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” I hurried into the living room and took a seat on one of the leather sofas. “Just tired.”

  Mom brought in a tray with two cups of coffee. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the family room.”

  Dr. Pavarti, a man with dark brown skin, beautiful short black hair and thick glasses, nodded. “Aside from tired, Miss Nichols, how are you feeling?”

  I grabbed one of the mugs of coffee and inhaled. I could do this. “Unsafe.”

  “That’s a very normal reaction.” He scribbled something onto a pad of paper. “But I assure you that the police and your parents are doing everything they can to keep you safe. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

  “No. I’m sick of repeating the story.”

  “I see.” Dr. Pavarti crossed his legs at the ankles, so relaxed in his job. “How did you sleep last night?”

  “Terrible. I was in the hospital. Have you ever tried sleeping in those beds, with all that noise in the hall?”

  “Good point.” He smiled and handed me a business card. “I imagine you need some time to adjust, get settled into your home and routine and feeling safe again. I want you to call me if you start having dreams or seeing things.”

  Great. He thought I was a quack job.

  “Would you mind grabbing your parents and pulling them in here?”

  Let the injured girl do it. No problem. “Sure. Mom!”

  The doctor laughed again.

  Mom and Dad took a seat on either side of me, each holding a cup of coffee close to their nose. How were we not related?

  “Mrs. Nichols, I believe you wanted me to help you figure out how to move forward now that you’ve revealed the truth to Abigail. I’m sitting here, watching the three of you sit so close to each other, and not one of you looks uncomfortable. You are a family. You have always been a family. I suggest doing what families should do best but generally lack: talk to each other. If Abigail wishes to know the details of the adoption process, tell her. If she does not, give her time.” Dr. Pavarti rose and glanced at his watch. “I can come by once a week on Monday evenings, but I doubt you’ll need me for long.”

  That was weird, easy. I guess he just wanted to get a feel for us so he could go back and research how best to help us—or something.

  Maybe he thought we were all quack jobs.

  The doctor took off, Dad ran off to a meeting at work, and Mom sulked
about the house the rest of the morning, mumbling apologies every time she passed me. She must have asked a hundred times if I wanted to know anything about the adoption process, but I didn’t. Not right now anyway. My birth parents didn’t want me. What more was there to know?

  I wanted to be normal again, and I wanted Mom to stop worrying that I’d hate her.

  After lunch, I went to my room and stared out the window, watching the forest while good and bad memories faded in and out of my mind, mostly images of Derick.

  Only a few times did I think of my captors, but I wasn’t about to call up Dr. Pavarti to let him know.

  All day I waited for school to end, picking petals off my roses then bringing them to my nose to inhale their sweet fragrance. Derick’s letter didn’t mention what time we were supposed to meet. I needed to call him, but his phone wouldn’t be on until he was on his way home.

  I changed my clothes six times before settling on a pair of blue jeans and a cream-colored crew-neck sweater. Mom had to help. She didn’t like the idea of me going into the woods—I’m not sure I did either—but I doubted anyone would show up again so soon.

  Chills coursed through me. Soon. I felt like a target, like someone was definitely coming for me, like my next abduction was just a matter of time. I shook my head, staring into the mirror at my hideous face. A black and yellow bruise insulted my left cheekbone. Reaching up, I pressed the tips of my fingers against the swollen flesh. I shouldn’t have looked in the mirror. My chin quivered.

  Maybe I needed Dr. Pavarti to come back.

  “Abby?” Mom stood in the doorway, palm resting on her cheek.

  I tore my gaze from the mirror and looked at her.

  “Would you like me to help you cover it?”

  Staring at my reflection again, I took in the new me. The bruise didn’t change who I was. The sling on my arm didn’t, either. Through all these things, I was Abby. There was nothing to cover. “No, Mom. Thanks.”

  She walked in, then kissed the top of my head. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Mom turned away, probably hiding more tears, and left.

  My cell phone buzzed on my nightstand, and I jumped, forgetting all about my arm. Would I ever learn?