Hard Truths (Kiss Her Goodbye Book 1), Page 3

I gained information every second with these Letters. K was a bully who liked to explain things. T cared about food and wore all black. He glared a lot. W smirked and snapped his fingers. J owned this house, which must be why he was so casual here. And D said sick things like jump and kill yourself, or we might kill you.

  Several thoughts dawned on me at once. “Say I accept this nonsense as true.”

  K shook his head. “I knew you were going to have a mouth on you.”

  I ignored him and continued. “Why tell me any of it? Why let me see your faces? Are you really intending to just kill me?”

  “You will never say a word to anyone about this time. Not ever. By the time you leave here, when your father collects you and takes you away, you will understand the importance of keeping your mouth shut for the rest of your life. There will never be a time you couldn’t be gotten to, there will never be a place that your grandchildren couldn’t be hurt. You will never say a word, Everly.”

  My hands shook, so I put them in my lap to hide that. “Why not just tell me your names?”

  “That’s for your sake, little girl.” T spoke. “We are the bogeyman. It’s always best not to know what to call him.”

  “Or we might kill you. If you seem like too much trouble. There are other ways to motivate your father. This seemed the most humane.” D got to his feet. “I’m going for some air.”

  With that, he left the room, but I guessed we weren’t done. J spoke again. “This is my home you’re staying in. One of many I own. It is three miles long. There is nothing on it but this house, as you have seen by now. I’d still encourage you to check out the view from the top floor. It’s breathtaking. Lake Champlain is gorgeous in all weather. This island, like many around here, is privately owned. No one comes here without my permission. The water can go from still to treacherous in a heartbeat. Keep that in mind before you try to make the swim. The closest land is several miles from here. You’ll be my guest here and treated as such up until the point you disappoint us. Do that and all things will change for you. I really only have one rule.”

  I didn’t like the sound of any of that. “What’s the rule?”

  “Stay out of the basement. What’s down there is none of your business. Wander the grounds. Use the house. Read the books. There’s no internet for you to use here, no cellular service should you find yourself suddenly in possession of a phone. Get comfortable, Everly, and stay out of the fucking basement.”

  Chapter 3

  I still didn’t believe them. How could I when it was so clearly utter nonsense? I shook my head. “I have no interest in whatever might be going on in your basement. Trust me on that.” Unless it was a way off this island, in which case I was going down into that basement the first chance I got. “But you have to be wrong. Maybe this is all real. Maybe you are all big giants of the world and you really control things. My father is not. Maybe it’s someone who has the same name.”

  Jeb Marrs couldn’t be that common of a name, but maybe there was one more person. Another accountant who pissed off a bunch of self-aggrandizing assholes. Maybe they just had the wrong name altogether.

  K shook his head. “Do you remember what happened to your mother?”

  “She took off on the back of a motorcycle with the president of the local MC club and never came back.” I could still see her waving to me as she drove away. Once she’d turned around she’d never looked back, as though I was a complete afterthought.

  He nodded. “Yes. And then your father had her killed with the help of The Alliance.”

  “No.” I didn’t even hesitate in my answer. My father was many things, but a killer was not one of them. No way was my balding, serious, nervous-tic father a murderer. Nothing they could say was going to convince me of that.

  K sighed. “Okay. Everly, what happened to your face when you were four years old?”

  I sucked in a breath. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I do. I know everything. There isn’t a single thing about your life that I can’t know. You’re an ant. Your father is a player, albeit until recently a small one, but you are an ant. I can know anything I want to know about ants.” He lifted his eyebrows slowly. “You do remember what happened to your face?”

  I looked down at the table. “There was a Chihuahua. We had the sweetest pit bull at home. I thought all dogs were like him. Toto was his name. I wanted to go over the rainbow. I…” I forced myself to breathe. “I ran up to a dog on the street. It wasn’t friendly. We couldn’t even blame the owner. No one told me it was okay to touch her. I just did. And she went at me, tore into my cheek.” I touched where the bite had been. I hadn’t thought about it in years. But I could almost feel it now. I’d been terrified before I’d been in pain. And I’d been so afraid of dogs after that we’d had to rehome Toto.

  “That’s so interesting.” W smiled. “You don’t even have a scar. Not even the smallest one.”

  He was right. Not even a mark where the skin had been torn from my face, where that dog attached itself to my skin and didn’t let go. It had taken three adults to get it off me. Not even a dot.

  I shrugged. If they had a point, I wished they’d get to it. “What’s your point? I was young. Kids heal.”

  “Not like that they don’t.” Why was W smiling like that? “You had the benefit of a procedure done by a man named Dr. Roy Alaniz.”

  How did they know that? I didn’t even remember that anymore. They must have read some sort of file on me. “Again, your point?”

  “Dr. Alaniz has invented a procedure in pediatrics plastic surgery that is about to be unleashed on the world next year. Then all little boys and girls who get torn to shreds can grow up to be hot like you, Everly.”

  I didn’t focus on the hot word. Much as I would usually love the compliment. I had a feeling he was just throwing out some more nastiness, and if I pushed he’d tell me I was ugly. Better left alone. I tried instead to look at what was really important here.

  “Was he in trials for it with me?”

  W shook his head, slowly. “Not even a blip on anyone’s radar.”

  “Then how did he do it for me so many years ago?”

  He took a sip of his water. “The Alliance has been financially compensating him nicely to ask him to wait until next year to announce it.”

  That didn’t even make any sense. “Why would they do that?”

  “There were financial considerations. Patents. Timing. People to put in place in pharma companies and on medical boards. Media buyouts. And clinics to create. Intellectual property. Lots of reasons.” W shrugged. “That’s how it works. Your cheek got fixed. And your father went from minor player to kept man. He was fine until he wasn’t. Now he has to undo what he’s done and be punished. You, Everly, you’re our sacrificial lamb.”

  I rose to my feet slowly. “I am not going to be dragged to the top of any hill and butchered. I’ll…”

  J laughed. “You’ll what? Go to bed, Everly. If you need something, let us know. Or better yet let Constance in the kitchen know. Either she or Marco. They work for us. They’ll get you whatever you need. I don’t want you coming to me for tampons or whatever.”

  I looked away. “Exactly how long am I staying?”

  “Until Daddy plays ball.”

  That was just vague enough to make me want to puke.

  “Don’t you five have jobs or something? You’re going to just stay here with me?”

  J pointed at the door. “Bed.”

  Apparently I was going to have to get used to being ordered around.

  They really had brought all my stuff. Even my stuffed dog Scooby, that I’d had since childhood. It was flat, with an indentation where my head used to go when I made it my pillow for the night. I’d kept the childhood lovey with me over the years more as a keepsake but now, twenty-two years old, grownup, and living mostly on my own, I held onto Scooby like he might still chase away my nightmares. Five nightmares. In alphabetical order. D, J, K, T, W. It was perfect they’d given
me initials and not names to call them.

  D—the one with the man bun who said the most provocative things, like I should die or kill myself.

  J—this was his house. He seemed bored.

  K—he spoke the most, and he didn’t like to be told no; he’d be a bully when he had to be.

  T—the man in black who’d helped me get out of my wet clothes and then rolled his eyes at me.

  W—the glaring eyes and the smirking mouth.

  Having names implied they were members of the human race. These five were not. They were something else. They were… I didn’t even know what. I slumped down in the bed. If they’d brought all of my things, they could have packed up my bedding as well. I didn’t like these. These sheets were scratchy. I’d always been a total baby when it came to where I slept. I liked soft things around me at night. If that made me a spoiled princess then so be it.

  I rubbed my cheek. I didn’t have a scar. I’d not thought about the dog bite in years, but now with all their craziness running around in my head, I couldn’t stop considering what they’d said. Was it possible? Was my father in something called The Alliance that somehow ran the world? Like freemasons on crack.

  I groaned. I had a million questions. Scratch that, a million and one questions. They weren’t going to be answered tonight. I was officially kidnapped. In my whole life, I could never have imagined this happening. We weren’t rich enough for me to be worth this to anyone. Or at least that’s what I thought. Maybe we were. Maybe there was a hidden cache of money under my father’s bed where he kept the gun he’d used to shoot my mother in the head.

  I turned off the light in the room. I’d contemplated locking the door before I’d discovered there wasn’t a lock. I turned the light back on. Maybe I could move some furniture in front of it.

  I got out of the bed. I’d somehow push the dresser in front of the door and move it when I wanted to get out. I’d put some muscle into it. I could count it as my workout for the day, my weight resistance to go with the cardio I’d done running like a maniac around this frozen tundra. My feet had still not forgiven me for the mistake.

  A gunshot sounded, and I jumped, leaping back onto the bed. I covered my mouth with my hands like I could stop the sound and then thought better of it. Maybe it was the police. Yes, they’d come to save me from this madness. I rushed to the window, prepared to scream but what I saw stopped me.

  Lights from the house illuminated the front yard. D was outside, shotgun in the air, firing at the lake. As I stared, wide mouthed watching, I let myself hear the sounds outside. Something was cracking. What was that? He shot again, and I once again jumped. I wasn’t entirely used to the sound of shotguns, but I’d certainly heard them before. Our neighbor had once taken out a gator that got in his pool. An argument had ensued after that about whether or not he should have shot that gator or called animal control.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. Why hadn’t I appreciated normal? I stepped back from the window. I was going to learn something in every moment here and catalog the knowledge I gained into an escape plan. What did I know? There were guns in the house. D might be completely out of his mind. He suggested suicide and murder when it came to me. He shot at the lake.

  I had to add this to what I knew about D—said mean things and shot guns into the lake. He might be the craziest out of all of them.

  They didn’t want me in the basement. That meant I was going to have to get down there when I knew I couldn’t be caught. There were two people working here, maybe they could be persuaded to help me. Surely, they could leave if they wanted to. This was J’s house. Supplies had to be brought here. Maybe I could get away with whoever provided the food.

  Hope wasn’t lost. With that thought in mind, I went back to the idea of moving the dresser. I ran to one side and pushed. This wouldn’t stop a bullet, or at least not for long. But it would give me a second. To do what I didn’t know but I’d figure it out, even if it was jumping out the window.

  The dresser wouldn’t move. I tried again. That was when I saw it was bolted to the wall. I sighed. They’d clearly taken into account that I might try to move this dresser and had prevented it. I was going to need tools to undo it.

  A flash of despondence almost took me to my knees, but I pushed it away. They didn’t want to kill me, at least not yet, and even when D had threatened me he hadn’t had malice in his blue eyes, which either meant he didn’t mean it or he was a sociopath.

  I’d planned to sleep in my clothes in case I had to run, even my shoes, which I had finally gotten out of the closet. Now that seemed sort of silly. I had nowhere to run. A better plan was to act like I obeyed. They wanted a sacrificial lamb, well I could seem like I was behaving. When they weren’t watching, I’d get the fuck out of this place.

  With that thought in mind, I set about to act like I was going to be calm and normal. That started with taking a shower. For being the only structure on an island there was plenty of hot water, an abundance of electricity. They must have an incredible system here. I closed my eyes. Well, of course they did. I internally rolled my eyes. They were rulers of the universe. They would not do without hot water.

  A thought snuck into my consciousness. If the water broke, someone would have to fix it. Maybe I could get away that way. There were a million small things that might add up to escape. I just had to keep thinking about it.

  I finished bathing and turned off the spray. I was about to step out of the shower when it dawned on me there might be cameras in the room. I sighed. This was going to get old, fast. I grabbed my towel and dried myself inside the shower with the curtain still drawn. It was useful to have my own toiletries. I brushed, flossed, and used my deodorant and moisturizer. My reflection was slightly better than earlier, although I was still wounded looking.

  With my towel wrapped around me like a lifeline, I walked out and opened some of the drawers. Things weren’t exactly where I’d have put them but good enough. I found my pajamas. The air in the room was cold, or at least cooler than I was used to in Louisiana. I never thought I’d miss Baton Rouge. My plan had always been to get out of there and go to someplace bigger after college. I hadn’t thought about where I would go, just that I would get away.

  Now I wanted to go back more than anything.

  Truth was, I didn’t know where Lake Champlain was. I sighed. There was clearly a gap in my education. I was somewhere cold. That much I knew. Somewhere it was still cold in March. In my ugly brown pajamas, I crawled under the covers, drawing the scratchy material around me. I reached over to turn off the light, scowling the whole time.

  This sucked.

  It sucked. Sucked. Sucked.

  I didn’t know exactly why—or maybe I fucking did—my paternal grandmother’s face moved across my vision. She was a foul woman. I’d detested her. For a while, after my mother left—or maybe died—she’d moved in to help us. That little while had turned into ten years. Eventually, she’d left to live in Florida with her miserable sister and her smelly cat.

  I loved cats. Just not that one. And the feeling had been mutual. That cat had hated me, too.

  But my grandmother had been full of pearls of wisdom that she shared, constantly. I rolled my eyes at the thought. She would tell me—if she hadn’t died five years ago and been slightly eaten by her cat before they’d found her in her bed—that this was my fault because I’d been having so much sex.

  I groaned. She could go fuck herself. Wherever she was. If there was anything at all. I didn’t need her in this mess. I needed her as far away from my stream of consciousness as possible. I forced my eyes closed. Maybe this would turn out to be a horrible dream.

  Maybe it would all be gone in the morning.

  I woke with a gasp. A loud mechanical noise sounded in the room, and I covered my ears as it assaulted my sleep. What the hell was that? I jumped out of bed. The clock said eleven, which meant I’d only been asleep an hour. I rushed to the window in time to see a helicopter landing on the beach not far from
where I slept. Lights blared on the beach both from the helicopter and a spotlight that seemed to be coming from the house itself. Three figures walked out toward it. I recognized Constance at once, since she was the only other woman here that I’d seen. The man next to her had to be Marco and in front was… I didn’t know the guys all that well yet, but it looked like J to me.

  Something about the way he tilted his head to the left gave him away. A man jumped out the helicopter, and J said something to him. I couldn’t hear it, but people spoke with their hands. The blades stopped spinning and the noise stopped. More men jumped off the helicopter. They all wore black. I leaned closer to my window to watch. What was going to happen now?

  Constance and Marco walked to the helicopter, and along with the men in black, unloaded boxes. The whole thing was over in ten minutes, and then the men got back on the helicopter and left. I sighed. That was probably the day’s supplies. Or maybe the week’s. If I wanted off, then the next time it arrived, I was going to have to figure out how to get on that thing when it came.

  I crawled back into my bed. After a while, sleep took me again. If I dreamed, I didn’t remember.

  I woke up with sun blaring into the room. I hadn’t shut the shades. That was a mistake. Now I was awake and it was earlier than I wanted it to be. Truth was, much of my gumption had fled in sleep. Without coffee, I was pretty useless most of the time, and this morning it just made me want to stay in bed for the rest of the day and pretend none of this was happening.

  But the sun wouldn’t leave me alone, and soon I crawled out of my uncomfortable bedding and made my way to the bathroom. I cleaned up and then got dressed in something I wouldn’t wear to the gym. Someone had dressed me in my workout clothes the day before, and I couldn’t even deal with that. Which one of these guys had dressed me?

  No, I wouldn’t go there in my mind. It wouldn’t do any good. I’d talk about it later. In therapy. Or with a lot of alcohol. For now, I’d put that aside. Yes, I officially had Scarlett Syndrome. That was a real thing. It had been in a textbook I’d had to read during one of my early psych classes. I’d think about it tomorrow…