“Darren.” I managed to sit up. My head didn’t spin too much. I tried to think, but it was like wading through molasses. “He brought me here.”
She put her needlepoint down in her lap. “Of all the things you could ask right now, you want to know about Darren?”
I stared at her. I didn’t have time for this shit. “Where is he?”
“In his office, I expect. That boy doesn’t let me keep tabs on him anymore, though the Lord knows I try. Takes after his father that way.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Charleigh Servant. My parents wanted a boy and were dead set on naming him Charles, but they got me instead, so here we are.”
Darren’s mother. I saw the resemblance. They had the same eyes and jawline. Might’ve shared more, except her particulars had been shaved away and altered.
Didn’t change what she was, though.
“Should I call you Mrs. Servant?”
“Charleigh’s fine.” She smiled. It was almost warm. “I know you’re a little out of sorts right now. I told Darren to be gentle, but he stopped listening to me a long time ago. Would you like anything? Food? Water? I can send for whatever you like.”
“How about a car?”
She laughed lightly and touched her hair. “That’s out of the question, but you know that.”
“Worth a try.”
“This must be hard, but it will be better if you play along.”
“Better for who?”
“For everyone.”
I leaned toward her. “I’m not interested in going easy. Your psychopath son kidnapped me.”
She didn’t even flinch. Her smile only intensified, like showing teeth was her way of putting on armor against the world.
“I wish you wouldn’t use such an ugly word. He invited you here as our guest—”
“Can I leave?” I asked, interrupting.
“Of course not.”
“Then kidnapping it is.”
The smile faltered. I felt good in a petty sort of way. “Whatever you wish to call it, that doesn’t change anything. If you make trouble, things will be hard. But if you go along, Darren will let you leave sooner or later.”
“Does your son kidnap a lot of girls?”
She hesitated and seemed to genuinely consider that. “No. You’re the first.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“If he brought you here, that means you’re important.”
“You put a lot of trust in your son.”
She gathered her needlepoint and stood. “You’ll find that one day you don’t have much choice in how things play out around you. Then you’ll understand that trust doesn’t much matter when you’re a leaf in a drain.” She walked to the door and paused before leaving. “I wanted to wait for you to wake, just to make sure you were okay. If you need something, there’s a phone on the bedside.”
“Not an outside line, I’m guessing.”
“Of course not.”
“Send Darren in here.” I leaned toward her and tried to put every ounce of intensity and command I could muster into my voice. “I need to talk to him right now.”
My plea washed off her like rain. “Get some rest, dear. You look awful.”
She left and shut the door behind her with a soft click.
I collapsed back onto the pillows.
I knew what she meant about being out of control.
Except right now, I was a paper boat in the middle of a tidal wave about to get crushed against the rocks.
Darren, that bastard.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to come up with a plan of escape. There were windows. I could open them, scream outside for help, or maybe try to climb down.
But no, he wouldn’t let me get away that easily.
I climbed out of bed and wandered into the bathroom. It took me a few minutes to pull myself together, but I managed to splash water on my face and corral my hair into something more manageable.
Charleigh was right. I looked like trash.
Back into the main room, then through the door. The hall was quiet—plush carpets, wood paneling, not much light. Left ended in a window. Right ended with a staircase at least twenty yards away.
This place was enormous.
I looked outside. Rolling green lawn. Thick forest.
Isolated. Of course we were in the middle of nowhere.
So much for screaming.
I took a few minutes to gather myself. My head was still fuzzy and weird, like I was an old TV on the fritz. I kept squeezing my eyes shut. Then when I opened them, the world hopped forward a bit, like my head was flying through time, but my brain lagged behind.
I turned, intent on heading toward that staircase and exploring some more, but stopped.
A girl stood halfway down the hall.
She was shorter than me, almost petite. Dark hair, thick and lustrous, pulled over one shoulder. Curvy body, pretty face. Easily in her twenties. She wore jeans and a simple long-sleeve shirt, modest but expensive.
Her feet were bare.
“So you’re the one he brought home.” She smiled and seemed at ease.
It was the eyes that did it. Deep, mossy green, just like her brother and her mother. “You must be one of them.”