He thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t have any enemies. Vance would be the one with the enemies.”
“Then who’s doing this, and why me?”
“I don’t know, baby. I have speculations but I’m not entirely sure why. But you don’t need to worry about it, I’m going to protect you.”
I look disbelievingly at him. Not because I don’t think he won’t protect me, but because I do have to worry. They’re trying to kill me. “Who do you think it is?” He shakes his head. “You won’t tell me, will you?”
“There is so much at play, things you don’t understand—”
“Help me understand,” I cut him off.
He licks his lips, eyes haunted as he says, “You’ll have to remember first.”
“Remember what?” I beg.
“Let’s discuss this tomorrow. You need to rest.”
I don’t argue, instead I shut my eyes and let the room grow quiet, evening out my breathing so that maybe I’ll slip into a meditative state. I hear a light knock on the door, then feel Beckett slip from the mattress. I hear the door open and shut. “She’s asleep but you need to be quiet, I’ve never seen her so fearful as I did tonight,” Beckett speaks, his voice a notch above a whisper.
“What the hell happened tonight?” Vance asks.
“She said someone broke in through her window. I found her collapsing in the lobby.”
“Why were you there?” Vance’s voice drops to a deadly tone.
“She was alone, I wanted to stay with her in case something like this happened. I was just too late.” Beckett sighs. “How have things been here? I’ve been out all day; I haven’t even been home.”
“Quiet with Madden and Devlin both gone. But don’t change the subject. The killer is getting risky, taking bold chances. Do you think it’s time to initiate them in, so we can protect them better?” Vance asks.
“I was thinking about that. We definitely need to do it soon. So far, Primrose has been fine, but Brixley seems to be the target of the killer. I’m not sure why, though. None of it makes sense.”
Vance hums his agreement. “Yeah, I don’t want to take any more chances. We initiate them, and we do it soon. The sooner they can move in, the safer they’ll be.”
“I’m already moving her in,” Beckett says.
The room grows quiet, something dense and dangerous in the air. “Okay.”
“You’re not going to argue?” I hear the arrogance in Beckett’s voice.
“Nah,” Vance says. “I think it will do her good, maybe jog that traumatized mind of hers to remember.”
Remember what? What the fuck am I supposed to remember if I can’t remember?
They talk quietly some more but my mind gives in, and I struggle to listen but I’m too exhausted.
17
Brixley
My stomach growls loudly,the pain of hunger unyielding. But I can’t move. I know soon Momma and Daddy will wake up and everything will be normal again. The first thing I’m requesting is an PB and J. My parched mouth wants to water at the thought, but it can’t. My limbs are sore, and my mind is tired. I’ve slept more than I ever have. I can’t even fight it when my eyes grow heavy. It’s as if my body wants to become as cold and stiff as my parents, and maybe, I want that too.
I let my eyes drift, allowing the heavy sleep to pull me under again, when I hear a commotion. Blinking, I stare up into unfamiliar eyes as they stare down at me with horror-filled expressions. “My God,” the man in the dark uniform and shiny badge whispers. Cops. Finally. They can wake my parents up.
I look over to the woman. I know her name is Monica, she’s Momma’s friend. I smile a little at the familiar face. But Monica is crying. Tiny teardrop-like crystals cutting down her face. She reaches her hand out to me. “Come on, sweetie.”
I shake my head, clutching onto my parents tighter. “You need to wake them up first,” I demand.
Monic makes a small whimper in the back of her throat, her free hand grasping her red dress as her hand that reaches for me trembles. “I will,” she whispers, a shaky smile painted on her lips. “As soon as you come with me, I’ll wake them up.”