With every ounce of strength I had, I opened my eyes—slowly, carefully, not sure if I could trust what I was seeing.
Dark brown, not blue.
Ryder, not Dallas.
Embarrassment raged in my chest at my loss of control.
“You with me again?” he asked, ducking his head to meet my eyes.
“Sorry. I don’t know what happened.” The pizza felt cold in my grasp. I released my fingers one at a time and let it fall into the fire.
“You’re showing signs of PTSD,” Ryder said, “you flashed back to something and you got lost there for a minute. I tried to pull you out of it.”
“I don’t have PTSD.”
“Sure, you crushed a slice of pizza because it tastes better that way.” He straightened and let the space fall back between us. “You don’t admit to having it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have it.” As if nothing had happened, he passed me the box and urged me to have another slice.
My desire for normalcy won over my nausea. “Sometimes it comes out of nowhere.”
“What’s that?”
“The fear,” I said. “The memories.”
“Have you talked with anyone about it?”
I shook my head but only slightly. The pizza was growing cold and my appetite had vanished. “I try not to think about it. Talking about it would make it worse.”
He let me eat for a moment before he asked the question I knew had been weighing on his mind. “What happened to you anyway?”
“Figured you knew.”
“I don’t.”
I traced the scar on the right side of my face. “You can see what happened to me. I shouldn’t have to tell you.”
“Maybe you need to. Maybe it needs to be said out loud so that you can release some of the fear and pain.”
I knew it wasn’t his opinion I was hearing. I recognized the tone of psychotherapy. He was regurgitating something he’d heard in relation to his own hardships.
“He trapped me in a cabin and cut me up.” The admission was only a version of the truth. It was nowhere near what had actually damaged me.
“See,” Ryder started, carefully picking his words, “that’s the thing. The Lindy I know wouldn’t have broken under those circumstances. She would’ve fought back. She would’ve died trying, but there’s something there that you aren’t saying and that’s what’s tearing you up.” His shoulders shrugged as if he’d thought about it and devised his own theory. “I saw how he looked at you. He was crazy over you. I figure he apologized a lot, felt horrible for what he was doing to you, and that’s what you keep remembering, someone you cared ab—”
I pushed to my feet and dropped the pizza in the fire. “No, not even close. See, the problem was that he cared about Cassidy, he didn’t care about me. I was some sick perversion of a cure that didn’t exist.”
Anxiety wrapped its grip around my chest, clutching me, threatening to cut off the air I desperately needed.
“The problem was that there was Lindy and there was Cassidy, and there was Dallas and there was Miles, and even though there were four of us, there was only room for two. When the dust settled,” my voice cracked as my rambling broke into full panic, “Miles didn’t care about Lindy. Miles wanted Lindy to suffer, so no there were no apologies, only pain and blood and death.”
The night waited on me as I struggled to remember what breathing felt like. My words shocked everything into hiding, as if no one should ever face what I’d survived. I’d never admitted any of it out loud, not even in my head.
One of the tangled knots in my mind slipped free.
When I looked across the dying flame, his dark eyes found me. Strain tightened his furrowed brow, his lips parted as if he might speak but I knew he wouldn’t, at least not about what I’d said.
“Are you going to eat anything, or keep throwing it in the fire?”
A sob choked with laughter burst free of me and I covered my mouth with my hand to stop the rest. His eyes wrinkled at the edges as his grin grew and he said, “Because if you’re going to burn it all, I’ll have another slice before you do.”
“Don’t you dare,” I teased, though my voice was creaking and ragged.
He snatched a slice and bit it with triumph. “Better hurry, Huckleberry.”
I slid in close, my leg bumping his as I grabbed the last piece. A rush of warmth flooded my chest, and I shifted away to dispel it. He stuffed the last of his pizza in his mouth and ripped the box, letting each piece burn slowly as I finished mine.
“You should have called Vanessa,” I said after a moment of calm, “I bet she would have brought you some pizza.”
He tossed the last strip of cardboard in. “We’re not on great terms at the moment. I doubt she would have made the drive.”
“She wasn’t okay with you coming, or she wasn’t okay with you coming with me?”
His palm ran over his face and rubbed at his mouth for a second. “She wasn’t okay with anything, but this was my choice.”
His reluctance to talk about her pulled at my curiosity, but I turned to face the moonlit trees instead. The cold air nipped at my ears and fingertips. My jeans offered little protection against the dropping temperature, and I knew it was only going to get worse as the night moved on.
“I haven’t had pizza in a while. That was good.” I could tell he was trying to change the subject, to find some sense of where we’d once been.
“Why not? You watching your weight for your girl?” I teased.
He shook his head and laughed softly. “No, nothing like that. I can’t afford it anymore, back to canned soup and pancakes.”
I started to call him on his bluff, but I stopped short. He was serious.
“You’re telling the truth.” It was an accusation, not a question.
“I try not to lie to you,” he said. When I continued to stare at him expecting an answer, he explained further. “I donated everything to create a shelter for battered families. It seemed the best ironic use for Charles’ money.”
Pride welled up in his crooked smile, but I was already unwinding everything I knew. “But you paid Officer Cox. How’d you pay him if you have nothing?”
Light from the dying fire illuminated half of his face as he looked into the darkness, debating whether to answer. “I had a little left over from something I sold. My mom loaned me the rest.” Quiet cropped up between us for a moment before he whispered, “Worth it.”
The cost of the payment meant little before, not even a drop in the bucket when it came to the riches he’d inherited, but if that was gone, if he had literally given every cent he had to gain a spot by my side…
I tried once more. “Why are you here, Ryder?”
Muscles shifted along his jaw as he fought against the desire to tell me. The answer existed, but, as his face twisted and pulled, I knew he wouldn’t give it.
“It’s time to turn in, Huckleberry. You go on ahead. I’ll put out the fire.”
I nodded and moved toward the tent, glancing back twice at Ryder as he poured water over the flames and darkness enveloped our site.
“Good choice on the pizza. Your deciding vote won me over,” he said before I ducked inside.
My hair fell over my collarbone as I leaned out the doorway. “I never said I wanted it,” I couldn’t help but smile, “I only said maybe.”
The light from coals caught only the angles of his face. I couldn’t see him, but I didn’t need to. I could hear his crooked grin through his arrogant tone.
“Lindy, I’ve known for a long time that your maybe usually means yes.”
♦ ♦ ♦
I didn’t believe in fate. I believed in coincidence even less. I stared up at the ceiling of the tent for the second night in a row. Sleep evaded me, despite Ryder’s soft breathing to my left. Sleuth28 said something almost verbatim to Ryder, and yet what was I suggesting? Ryder had infiltrated PI Net? Why? Did he have some secret desire to be a private investigator? Not likely.
What reaso
n would he have for speaking to me through another name? It had to be a coincidence. That was the only explanation. I did have a habit of saying maybe when I meant yes and didn’t want to admit it. Was it really that unlikely that Ryder and Sleuth28 had come to the same conclusion?
I needed sleep, so it had to be good enough.
Chapter 12
It took an extra dose of courage to strap my pack on my shoulders the next day. I was sure I was carving two major dents into my collarbone and hips from where the pack rubbed and pulled. Ryder, of course, showed none of the strain. He forged ahead, walking poles tight in each hand, as though we were going on a quiet stroll through the mall. Meanwhile, fatigue set in and the monster that terrorized my body laughed as I lagged behind.
We followed the river for a couple of hours, but my instincts told me it wasn’t the right place. Before long, Ryder voiced the same feeling. He pulled out the map and began surveying the land with scrutiny.
“I think we can cross to this other creek up here, the elevation change doesn’t look that bad.”
I’d heard similar statements from my own father during some of our little excursions growing up. It had rarely ended well. My instincts told me I’d likely get caught in a rockslide or fall off a cliff before the day was through.
“On your left!” A voice bounced off the rock wall behind us.
We pressed back from the trail as two men moved past us. Out of instinct, I turned my face away to avoid eye contact. Ryder had no such instincts.
“Excuse me,” he called after them. They turned, cheerful and willing to help. “We’re looking for friends of ours. They’ve got an encampment somewhere near here, but we’ve misplaced the directions.”
The taller of the two men frowned, “Misplaced them? Do you remember any landmarks?”
Ryder glanced at me, but I had nothing to offer. “We know they’re near water. You would’ve noticed them. It’s a pretty large group, farming, homes, that sort of thing.”
The shorter plump man started to laugh. “You’re not mixed up with those religious wackos outside Marble Mount are you?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. While I didn’t want to admit association, we needed the information.
His companion apologized. “Forgive Ed, he’s my only conservative friend. He thinks anyone with a solar generator and a few liberal views of ecology are religious wackos.”
Ed defended himself quickly. “Hey now, I know I love my gas guzzler and all that, but these people are nuts. It’s not a farm, it’s a compound.”
“You’re making it sound like a military installation, Eddie. They’re a bunch of hippies in cotton shirts raising soybeans. This new generation is concerned with what we’re doing to this earth, that’s all.”
I spoke for the first time, hoping it was what we were looking for. “It doesn’t sound like our friends, or anything we might want to run into. Where are they located?” Ed’s eyebrow cocked suspiciously, so I added, “We don’t want to run into them accidentally.”
The taller one pointed to the river. “You’re on the right path to run smack into them. Probably there by the end of the night. Follow the river here and as you step off forestry land, you’ll be in their backyard. It’s a bit north, but there aren’t many fences in that territory anyway. Not many markers either, so I suggest you find a main road right after you hit Lookout Creek, or you’ll be on their property before you know it.”
Ed pointed into the trees. “They may be hippies and all that, but I feel like I should warn you, people disappear over there. The whole thing gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
The taller companion waved and started walking again. “Someone recycles a plastic bottle and you get the heebie-jeebies.”
Ryder waited for them to disappear around a corner before he looked back at me. “I think we found it.”
I wished I felt more excited and less fearful.
♦ ♦ ♦
We crossed two creeks, first Monogram, and then Lookout. Beyond that, my heart began to pound in my chest, a warning drum of the danger we were walking into. I constantly second guessed myself, some part of me hopeful that the information we’d received was flawed, but I knew it wasn’t.
After Lookout Creek, we shifted to the north, walking blind. We crossed the forestry road we’d driven in on with Shane two days before. Ironic that we’d been so close to Eden’s Haven at the beginning and hadn’t known it.
We pulled away from the forestry road and made camp in the foothills. Conversation between us dwindled. We both knew our time was drawing near. The words we did share were testy and cut short by our own anxiety. All of the good moments we’d shared in the previous forty-eight hours were quickly pushed aside in the face of imminent danger. Eden’s Haven hadn’t been real back then, suddenly it was, and that meant the threat was real as well.
I finished the tent set up and dinner preparations while Ryder started on the fire. After ten minutes, it still wasn’t burning. Muttered curses floated up where the smoke should have been.
Anger is contagious. Within my own anxiety, I felt cold irritation weaving in annoyance and frustration as he failed again to get the fire started. Finally, when I couldn’t bear another failure, I broke the uneasy silence between us.
“Do you want me to do that?”
“I’ve got it.” His voice tightened to the last notch.
“Clearly you don’t.”
He threw the sticks at the pile and walked away. I rolled my eyes and went to work. It wasn’t entirely his fault. The tinder felt damp beneath my touch. I quickly sought out drier kindling.
The unknown was what was chewing away at us. The realization that we needed to infiltrate something that others had failed to breach. The word cult brought up horrible images of mass death and innocent sheep unwilling to fight back. I worried I was about to willingly walk in and give myself over as ready slaughter.
Ryder returned as the flame sparked and caught. His frustration carved into his features as he slumped against a nearby tree. I nursed the fire to life and listened to the silence of his self-deprecating thoughts. I wanted to tell him he wasn’t worthless, since I knew he was thinking it, but anger has a way of choking my voice.
“How long before they find us?” Ryder asked after a moment.
“I don’t know. It depends on the patrols, I guess. We may not even be on their land yet.”
“We are. I can feel it.” He shivered against the cold, but I knew it was probably more than that. He was afraid. Ryder didn’t thrive on life and death like I did, or like I used to.
“The road isn’t far away. If you want to get out now, you can.” I tried to add as much compassion as I could muster. “I’ll understand if this is all too much for you. I won’t hold it against you.”
“And leave you here to face it alone?” He looked at me as if I’d suggested murder. “Are you crazy?”
My own anger surged up inside of me like the fire I’d built from nothing. “Fine, stay here and get killed, but I gave you an out.”
“You have no faith in me at all, do you?”
“This has nothing to do with faith. This has to do with skill and I don’t think you have what it takes to make it this time. I’m trying to keep you alive.”
The waning daylight caught the shadow of his muscles as they tightened across his jaw before he spoke. “Never good enough, that’s always the story with me, isn’t it?”
I pushed to my feet and walked to the edge of the light. An aggravated groan seeped from my throat. Spinning, I faced him and demanded an answer for the last time.
“Why’d you come? Why was it so important that you be here for this?” He started to speak, but I stopped him. “No, don’t tell me it’s the money, because I know you can find other work. Don’t tell me it’s the camping or the outdoors, because this is hardly a vacation.” I stepped closer to him, lessening our distance to only four feet. “You can’t tell me it’s because you’re worried about me and you don’t want to wait to see if
I come back alive, because you have the most gorgeous girlfriend I’ve ever seen, so I know that’s not it.” My hands clenched into tight fists as I fought the urge to pound on his chest, to release some sort of emotion from his stoic expression.
“You said you try not to lie to me, so tell me the truth, Ryder. Why are you here?”
No answer, just a stare as if it was good enough.
I stepped closer and shoved him back a step. “Tell me. Tell me why you came.”
Nothing, other than a moment to regain his footing.
With both hands I shoved him hard, my voice cracking under the strain of my anger and apprehension. “Talk to me. You owe me that. You owe me an answer. Tell me why—”
He caught my arm as I was about to shove him again.
“Because I fell in love with you!” His chest rose and fell with his own frustrations. “Because I love you, Lindy. I couldn’t let you go.”
My lips parted and froze, air drying my mouth as I gaped at him, my wrist still locked in his grasp. “You what?”
His hand turned soft around my wrist, cupping it, twisting until he could lock our fingers once more, back where they fit, back where they belonged. “I said I fell in love with you, Huckleberry.”
Before I could allow myself to feel anything, I wrenched my hand free of his grasp. “You can’t. You couldn’t. You have a girlfriend.”
I heard him swallow. The air was so still, I actually heard it. “Not really, not anymore.”
Stumbling, I stepped back. “What? You broke up?”
The fire was dying and the light faded with it. “We’re on a break. I tried to end it with her, but this was the compromise.”
My words were barely audible. “I don’t understand.”
He tried to move closer, but I kept the distance between us. “She wants me to get you out of my system. She thinks if I try and it doesn’t work, I’ll finally commit to her.”
Sparrows & Sacrifice Page 9
