Lauren’s front hadn’t held steady for long enough. On the silent drive back to the university, Brooks’s cell phone pinged, notifying him of a text message. Lauren watched him in the reflection of her window, her stomach clenching when his gaze abandoned the road and lingered on his phone for a moment too long.
“What is it?” asked Lauren.
“Nothing,” he replied curtly.
“Bullshit.”
Brooks guided the SUV to the shoulder of the road, threw the car in park, and swiveled around in his chair to face the three Raptors in the backseat. The trio sat shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. Logan Wickes gazed lazily out of his window, his breath fogging up the glass. Holden Hastings, a Waverly freshman and the son of the university’s dean, looked expectantly at Brooks for an explanation of their sudden detour. Olivia Dashwood sat wedged between the two beefy boys. She was a junior and a friend of Lauren’s. Both girls rowed for Waverly’s crew team and had bonded over the challenge of their early morning practices.
“Why are we stopping?” asked Olivia.
“Because we have a traitor in our midst,” reported Brooks.
And without warning, he lunged across the center console to wrap his fingers around Lauren’s throat.
26
In the morning, just as the sun was beginning to peek up over the horizon to send its pale, pink light through the wispy, cream-colored curtains of Eileen’s living room windows, I woke to the soothing rumble of Henry’s voice. I let my eyes flutter shut again, pulling the crocheted blanket up to my chin, and basked in the smooth stillness of the morning. Henry and Eileen had woken early, it seemed, and their subdued voices wafted in from the kitchen.
“—take care of them,” Eileen was saying. “I couldn’t protect my husband from all of this, and he was just on the fringes. I can’t imagine what that poor girl is feeling right now. My conscience would never be clear if I abandoned her to you only for further harm to come to her.”
“I can assure you that Nicole and Wes are safe with me,” replied Henry. A spoon clinked against a ceramic mug. “In fact, they’ll be safer with me than they have been in a very long time.”
“Can you guarantee that?”
“Nothing in life is ever a guarantee,” countered Henry. “But I can show you something that might put your mind at ease.” A chair scraped against the floor, as though Henry had pushed himself away from the kitchen table. I heard the rustle of his denim jacket then a beat of silence.
“Oh,” said Eileen in reaction to whatever Henry had presented to her. “Does Nicole’s mother know?”
“No one knows,” said Henry. “And I would prefer to keep it that way, if you don’t mind. It tends to work out better in the long run.”
As quietly as possible, I shifted out from underneath the blanket and slipped off the recliner. I padded toward the kitchen in my socks, hoping to catch a glimpse of Henry’s secret, but in the hallway, a buckled floorboard creaked beneath my weight. Henry tipped back, balancing on the hind legs of his chair to peer into the entryway.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he said, grinning at me as I made my way into the kitchen.
“Hey.”
“How did you sleep, dear?” asked Eileen, her eyes crinkling with worry at my less than refreshed appearance.
“Well enough. Are the two of you best friends now or something?”
“Eileen was just keeping me company until you woke up,” said Henry as his chair settled back on all four legs. “Bagel? Got ‘em fresh from the bakery down the street.”
I sat between them at the table, choosing an onion bagel and frosting it with a layer of cream cheese. I took a bite, and through my mouthful, I told Henry, “We should get going as soon as possible. The Raptors are bound to be on our trail by now.”
Henry nodded, his expression shifting from a relaxed smile to a determined scowl. “Agreed. The house is about an hour and a half’s drive out of town.”
“Super,” I said. I was not looking forward to arriving at Henry’s place. Every minute that passed was a minute closer to being reunited with my mother. The thought rattled my bones, and I set aside my bagel, suddenly nauseous.
“By the way,” continued Henry, eyeing my half-eaten breakfast. “I already took care of the car you drove out here. I also ran the plates. What the hell were you thinking driving around in Lauren Lockwood’s luxury sedan?”
“She lent it to me,” I growled, in no mood to defend my actions. “What did you do with it?”
“Parked it somewhere,” answered Henry ambiguously. “It’ll take them a while to find it. Figured I’d throw them off your tracks a bit. You kids ready to head out?”
Ignoring the “kids” comment, I stood up from the table. “Let me check on Wes.”
In the living room, Wes was still solidly passed out on the floral couch. I perched next to him, brushing his hair away from his forehead. Before long, his eyes opened, and he let out a long, low groan.
“God, tell me that was all just a terrible nightmare,” he said, his voice gravelly. He tried to sit up and winced. Between his broken nose and another injury to the back of his head, there was no doubt that he was in pain. “Nope. Not a nightmare. Where the hell are we?”
“O’Connor’s house.”
“Why—?”
“Because I thought you were going to seize and die or something equally terrible,” I interrupted. “Wes, listen. I have to tell you something.”
He took in my worried expression. “Did
