I’m about to back out of my parking spot when I stop and send Rhys a quick text:Heading home.
The three dots immediately start dancing on the display.
Everything ok?
Of course he’d be worried since I never skip practice.
Yes, just need to be alone for a bit.
K. Be careful.
Before I can put my phone away, another message from Rhys comes in:PS: Netflix and chill tonight?
I nearly drop the device, and my thumbs hover over the digital keyboard.
Is he serious?
I’m about to type a reply when another bubble pops up:Just kidding, babe. Can’t wait to be alone with u though.
I grin at the screen like a loon, and the hornets in my stomach go haywire. This is unreal—all of it.
My happiness fades as I back out of Rhys’s text, and the "UNKNOWN" sender jumps out at me.
What do you want with me?
When I get home,the house is eerily quiet. It has never struck me as weird being alone at home, but walking from the garage through the first floor, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I eye the windows.
Are you out there right now?
It’s almost four. Rhys is at practice, Heather is with Natty at ballet, and Tristen left for another two-week trip this morning.
After a very long and scorching shower, I dress in my favorite gray cotton harem lounge pants, loose white shirt knotted in the front, and my go-to duster cardigan, completing the comfy look with some fuzzy socks. Settling at my desk, I pick up the picture of Rhys and me and hold it in both hands. What would have happened if I’d never been kidnapped? Would we still be in touch? Live close by? I would be with my birth parents and have anormallife. Would I be happy? I shake my head. No point in thinking about what-ifs—it happened.
With a sigh, I pull up the file with my case research on my laptop and lay my phone with the text message next to it. I start a new page in the document, writing out everything I notice in the pictures. Date, time, place, who was with me, angle, and location from where they were taken. I’m not super familiar with photography, despite taking journalism. I have no clue how far away the photographer could have been in the outdoor shots. He must’ve been in the audience for the gymnastics one. I briefly wonder if anyone might have caught him on camera in their own pictures, but for that, I would have to start asking around, and that’s not an option.
I obviously put him back on my trail when we went to California. But how? And then, another thought hits me: did he find me through my research? Anything is possible with today’s technology, right? I recall what Madeline said about the emails and the photos my birth parents received. She said they were from the hospital’s surveillance camera. A cold shiver runs down my spine. If that’s the case, who knows what this freak is capable of?
I slowly close my laptop and take stock. I’m scared, yes, but shouldn’t I be freaking out? Like, losing-my-mind freaking out? Hiding in my closet panicking? Or at least wanting to tell Heather and Tristen? But I am not. I have the subliminal knowledge that he doesn’t want toharmme. But why? I have no clue how I know, but I do.
Is this another half-erased memory?
Why me? What makes me so special? Instead of finding the answers in California, I have more questions than ever. They seem to be piling up by the day.
I don’t feellike reading, and I have no more homework left. I could study for the chemistry quiz on Friday, but instead, I wander down to the family room and turn the TV on. I have thirteen episodes of various shows to catch up on. I haven’t relaxed in front of the TV since this all started. Plopping down in the middle of the couch, I prop my feet on the round ottoman and grab the remote. A CW drama is exactly the distraction I need today.
Around five-thirty, Heather and Natty walk in through the garage, and I hear Heather start prepping dinner shortly after.
I’ve avoided spending long periods of time with either of my adopted parents since we got home. Sitting here now, listening to her opening and closing the fridge and cabinets, I wonder if either of them has noticed my absence. I have no idea how to act around them, and being constantly paranoid I’ll let something slip, I’ve stayed away. For the first time since it all started, I crave being near Heather, being with my mom. The need hits me like a punch in the gut. After weeks of being driven by rage and resentment, I’ve relented to no longer being mad at them. I am unable to forgive them,yet, but I also understand their motives better. They have kept me safe for ten years. I owe it to them and myself to try.
I stand in the doorway to the kitchen and watch Heather buzz around. She is a born multi-tasker. I witness her manning the stove with three pots on it while reading a work document propped on the cookbook stand and helping Natty who is sitting at the island with her homework. The scene fills me with warmth. Heather has just started cutting an onion next to the stove, and she hasn’t seen me yet. I walk up from behind and wrap my arms around her waist, burying my face in her back.
"Oh my gosh, sweetie!" She is startled by my unusual assault. "Is everything okay?"
"Hmm-mmm. All good," I mumble into her back. Standing there, I realize that, besides the brief hugs from Denielle and the comfort Rhys has given me during the trip, this is the first physical contact I have initiated in weeks. It feels good.
"Well, okay then." I hear her smile. "Want to help me prep dinner?"
Do I want to? My heart rate picks up, and I experience a brief moment of panic. This means spending time with her. Am I ready to put myself in this situation? What if I slip up? Or what if she says something that ignites my anger again andthenI slip up? I take a deep breath. I can do this. With all the new developments in the last two days, I want to be around my family. I want a little bit of normality, even if it technically is just a pretense.