Spotlight: So exciting, and I have to say your lips really do look great. I need to get some immediately! Speaking of exciting new developments, what can you tell us about your budding romance with hot up-and-comer Mateo Luna, who just so happens to be Layla Harrison’s former boyfriend? Any truth to the rumors?
Heather: Mateo is a kind and gentle soul and a truly good person. That’s all I have to say.
Spotlight: Well, thanks for stopping by, Heather. We here at Spotlight wish you all the best!
ONEFATHER FIGURE
Madison Brooks was not alone.
The first thing she sensed when consciousness dawned was the presence of someone looming over her bed.
She froze. Keeping her breath even, her limbs still, she listened intently for any sort of clue that might provide some insight into who had taken her and why.
Weeks in captivity had left her with little to go on. Still, there was always a chance that her captor, thinking she was asleep, would get careless or lazy and possibly do something that might give them away. Madison was so desperate for answers she refused to waste a single opportunity, no matter how improbable it might seem.
“You awake?”
Madison startled. The voice was familiar—one she knew well. It belonged to a man she’d trusted since she was a much younger girl.
Her eyes snapped open and zeroed in on the nondescript male hovering nearby. His hair was neatly combed and nearly the same shade of beige as his face. His lips were thin, his nose unobtrusive, his irises a dull, chalky brown. It made for a collection of features so unremarkable he was hard to describe and nearly impossible to recall.
And yet, even though she recognized him, knew him as her one true friend, she pulled the blanket defensively up to her chin and recoiled against the cold hard wall.
“Easy,” he coaxed, tentatively raising both hands to prove he meant her no harm.
Madison remained leery. She knew him as Paul Banks, aka the Ghost, aka her mentor, protector, and friend, who’d acted more like a parent than her real parents had.
Paul had always been there for her, had risked his life for her more than once. So she shouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find him there now. Still, the time spent in confinement had left her skittish and traumatized. She’d grown so accustomed to living in a constant state of paranoia and dread that the transition to her new reality, where she really was safe with nothing to fear, was difficult at best.
She blinked a few times, allowing a moment to adjust to the shift. Paul was not her captor. Thanks to Paul, she no longer had a captor. He’d taken care of that creep by ensuring he’d never mess with Madison, or anyone else for that matter, again.
It was hardly the first time she’d seen a dead body, but she’d never forget the fleeting look of surprise on her kidnapper’s face as he was positioning himself, preparing to do her great harm, when he was interrupted by a momentary flash and a loud cracking pop, and then the side of his head exploded into bits, showering chunks of brain matter and flesh all over the walls.
Next thing she knew Paul was lifting her, holding her close, and whispering reassurances into her ear. While he disposed of the body and cleaned up the mess, Madison slept a deep, dreamless sleep. By the time she woke, other than the strong scent of bleach permeating the room, it was like it’d been nothing more than a terrible hallucination. Neither of them had mentioned it since.
Still, there had been another captor before him. One who’d acted with great determination. And the worst part was they were still out there, somewhere, faceless and unknown. The thought made Madison shiver as she gathered the blanket even tighter around her.
“You okay?” Paul’s voice was gentle, his features blunted with concern.
Madison nodded, more for his benefit than hers. She wasn’t okay. Not even close. As long as her first captor was out there, she doubted she’d ever achieve such a state.
Would they try to strike again?
Possibly finish what they’d started?
While she had no idea what their endgame might be, unlike the second guy, they’d never physically harmed her, hadn’t even tried to rob her. Sure, they’d taken her purse, but as she’d recently learned, it had shown up in the trunk of her car, which was left outside Paul’s office the night of the fire. Only one of the gold-and-turquoise earrings Ryan had given her had managed to survive, but she was still in possession of her expensive diamond-encrusted Piaget watch, so clearly it wasn’t money they were after. Also, according to Paul, there hadn’t been a single ransom demand, making the motive a frustrating mystery. Yet another reason Paul insisted on keeping her completely hidden from the rest of the world.
Funny to think how all the news outlets were breathlessly speculating on her demise, and yet, here she was, hiding out in some dead guy’s shack in the middle of Death Valley, with a man many had seen but no one remembered.
Paul continued to hover, while in her head, Madison recited all the reasons she trusted him. Eventually the thoughts began to take root, her body relaxed, and she glanced around the small, shabby room they shared.
It was bare-bones, run-down, and offered only a minimum of comforts. There was the saggy bed shoved in the corner. The mattress was lumpy and stained, but Paul had covered it in clean sheets and a thin blanket, so it was hardly the worst thing Madison had ever slept on. There was a battered old coffee table that held a small hand-crank radio, a large flashlight, and a stack of survivalist tomes. Beside it
