The Year of Second Chances (Sunnyvale Alternative #3)

by Jessica Sorensen

  I warily eye the card. “Who’s it from?”

  “Will you just take it?” He flicks the card at my chest and moves back. “I was told to give it to you, not tell you who sent it.”

  My jaw ticks as I bend down to scoop the card off the floor. By the time I stand up straight, the guy has vanished into the crowd.

  “Goddammit,” I mumble, flipping the card over. Scorching hot anger chokes me as I read the printed note on the back.

  You want to see Isabella again? Bring the flash drive to Cherry Lane Road and Sunnyvale Forest Drive by 6:00. And make sure to come alone. If you don’t, you won’t see your little girlfriend again.

  I ball my hand into a fist, crumpling the card. I don’t know if Kyler is in on this or if he’s helping someone, but I’m so going to kick his ass if I find out he is.

  Chapter 11

  Isabella

  I fight like my life depends on it as the person holding me drags me into the unknown. They’re freakishly strong, easily keeping me secured by the waist and arms, even as I jerk my body and thrash my head around. I don’t know who they are or where they plan on taking me, if they’re the person behind the unknown texts, if this is part of the game, or something entirely unrelated. But the feeling of not knowing what’s going to happen to me sends an ice-cold chill through my body.

  “Where are you taking me!” I shout, fighting with all my strength to get away.

  They don’t answer, but as sunlight trickles through the fabric bag over my head, I realize we are outside.

  “Let me go!” I pick up my feet and throw my head back to head bang them, but they shove me forward before I make contact, their nails biting into my skin as their fingers tighten around my arm.

  “Stay still.” The low, deep, male voice carries a hint of familiarity, but I can’t place a face to it.

  “Then let me go!” I scream, hoping someone is nearby and will help me.

  Silence and the wind are my only answer.

  I open my mouth and try again. “Somebody help—”

  The scream dies as a door creaks open. He gently guides me down onto my face, my cheek pressing against rough carpet.

  Flipping over onto my back, I get my legs underneath me. But a set of hands lands on my shoulders and softly pushes me back down. The movement is odd, too gentle for the situation.

  “Stay down,” he pleads. “Please.”

  “Why? What’re you going to do to me?” I ask, a few tears escaping my eyes.

  He doesn’t answer as he pats my pockets and steals my car keys. Then he grabs my arms, yanks them together, and winds a piece of wire around my wrists. Not very tightly, though.

  When the guy’s fingers leave my arm, I hear a door roll shut, like the door of a van. I lie on the floor, panicking, my chest heaving with each terrified breath I take. Silence engulfs me, and my mind races with questions. Am I in here alone? Should I try to get up? Will they hurt me if I try? Is this person Jamison’s killer?

  The last thought strikes me hard and knocks the air out of my chest.

  I need to get out of here. Now!

  Just as I move to get my legs underneath me, a door creaks open.

  “Just get in.” The pissed off voice sounds like it belongs to a woman. “We need to go. Now. Or we won’t get this done in time.”

  “I am getting in,” the guy replies. Then a door slams shut. “Now drive.”

  They grow quiet after that as an engine roars to life, and the car begins to move. No one utters a word for most of the drive, and the soft sound of the classic rock radio station fills up the quietness.

  We drive for miles and miles before the car finally comes to a stop, and the engine shuts off. Doors open. A light breeze blows in.

  “Get Isabella out,” the woman hisses, her voice sounding a bit familiar, “while I unlock the door.”

  Doors slam. Silence. My heart thunders in my chest.

  Where am I? What are they going to do to me? Will anyone find me? Who are they?

  I tremble as the door near me glides open again. Strong hands snag me by the waist and guide me across the carpet then out of the vehicle. I stumble forward as my feet plant against the ground. I struggle to regain my balance and then take off in a mad sprint, blindly running forward where I can make out the outlines of lofty trees.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” The guy snags me by the back of the shirt and draws me back against him. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  I grunt as my back collides with his chest, and a whimper escapes my lips.

  “This’ll all be easier if you quit fighting,” he says quietly as he steers me by the shoulders. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I seethe. “You’re not the person tied up with a bag over your head.”

  He grows quiet as he leads me up a short flight of stairs and into a sheltered area where the cool breeze no longer nips my skin.

  “Sit her down in the chair,” the woman instructs. “Then let’s go.”

  Go? Wait a second. They’re leaving me here?

  Should I panic or not? On one hand, they’re obviously bad people. On the other hand, what if they take off and leave me here to starve to death and rot?

  Before I can work up too much of a fuss, hands land on my shoulders and force me down into a chair.

  “Please, just let me go,” I whisper. “I promise I won’t tell anyone what happened.”

  No one says a damn thing, which both scares me and kind of pisses me off.

  “Let me go!” I shout as I writhe to get free.

  “Never.” One single word, but the ominous impact hits me square in the gut.

  Moments later, he ties my legs to the chair, then walks away. A door shuts. Quietness fills the air, laced with my heavy, erratic breathing. The wind howling outside makes threatening promises of being the last noise I’ll ever hear.

  “Hello?” I utter. “Is anyone there?”

  Silence.

  I should be scared out of my damn mind, and in a way, I am, but I think I’ve reached a sedated state of shock.

  Numb. I literally feel numb from the inside out. Part of me is relieved I can’t feel much of anything, while the other part of me is worried I’m broken. But broken how?

  The longer I remain in the chair, overanalyzing my thoughts, the more my mind goes down a darkly twisted road.

  What if I can’t feel anything because my mom really is a killer, and I’m just as messed up as her? What if there is actually something broken inside my head?

  I hastily dropkick the thought from my mind. No, don’t go there. You’re not that kind of person!

  “Hello?” I call out again. “Is anyone there?”

  Drip, drip, drip.

  The sound makes my thoughts veer down to an urban legend I once heard about dripping and blood and …

  I shake my head to clear the fearful thoughts consuming my mind. Never lose your head, even when things seem super bad—horror movie 101.

  I wiggle my arms, trying to get free. With every jerk, the wire loosens easily enough that I question if the guy failed to tie it tightly on purpose. Did they want me to escape for some reason? Why go through all of this trouble just to let me escape?

  “Come on, come on, come on …” My hands slip free, and sweet relief washes over me. “Oh, my God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  I tear the cloth bag off my head and blink a few times until my eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

  Four log walls create a narrow space around me. And there’s a single window along with the door.

  “Where the hell am I?” I notice the thick forest outside the window. “Am I even in Sunnyvale anymore?”

  I think about how long we drove. It felt like hours, but my fear might have made time drag. Besides, the sun is still up in the sky and shining through the tree branches and into the window, so it has to be before five o’clock. What if I’m stuck out here after sunset? I don’t have my phone on me, or any other source of light, for that mat
ter.

  Desperate to get back to civilization before the sun goes down, I untie the wire bound to my feet then race to the door, reaching for the doorknob. But I stagger to a dead stop when I hear faint voices on the other side.

  “Do you think she saw us at all?” the deep, male voice asks. “Or do you think we pulled this off?”

  “Of course we pulled it off,” the woman replies snippily. “I planned everything perfectly. She won’t even recognize our voices, thanks to my brilliant idea to disguise them.”

  “It wasn’t all you,” the guy snaps. “Stop taking all the credit.”

  “You didn’t do a damn thing, and you forgot to gag her,” she retorts. “I’m surprised you got her out of the warehouse without anyone noticing the scream.”

  “The power was out. I’m sure there were a lot of people panicking and screaming.”

  “So what? My instructions were to gag her, and you should’ve followed those instructions. Or do I need to remind you what will happen to you if this doesn’t work out? That pretty, little reputation you worked so hard for will go poof.”

  The guy doesn’t answer right away. “Gagging just seemed too … I don’t know, mean,” he finally says. “I felt bad enough taking her like that.”

  Not really. In fact, I’m oddly unscathed for what just happened.

  “You act like you like her or something,” she sneers. “Did you forget this was all pretend?”

  He misses a beat or two, and the impending lie burns through the silence. “No. I remember … clearly, because you remind me every single damn day.”

  “Because I have to.” Her tone is as cold as cookie dough ice cream. “And if this doesn’t work, then the entire town is going to know your dirty, little secret.”

  “I get it. You don’t need to remind me 24/7,” he snaps. “I’m going to go wait in the van. You’re getting on my nerves.”

  His footsteps are deafening as he storms off the porch.

  “God, a little blackmail and he turns into a crybaby,” the woman mutters. “Such a drama queen.”

  Stairs creak, and then something soft bumps the door. I skitter back and run toward the window, horrified she’s about to walk in and see I’ve escaped.

  I need to get out of here.

  Carefully inching the window open, I listen for noises outside. The air is undisturbed, and the door behind me remains closed.

  Is she not coming inside? Where did she go? Back to the car with the guy?

  Hesitantly, I poke my head out the window and peer out.

  Miles and miles of trees enclose the small cabin, the thick branches and leaves making visibility complicated. Along the far right, a woman is walking down a narrow dirt road toward a dark van. Her back is to me, so I can’t see her face. The only detail I manage to make out is her blonde hair pulled up in a bun.

  I wait until she climbs in the van before I slink out of the window and hurry around back.

  Pressing my back against the logs, I eyeball the forest, debating what to do. Just take off into the trees and hope I find my way out? I’ve never had a great sense of direction.

  Seeing no other option, I hunker down low and make a beeline for the trees, only straightening my stance when I’m out of eyesight of the van. Then I creep through the forest in the direction the road runs in. As I near the van, I crouch lower. My pulse races, and with every snap of a twig, a rush of adrenaline shoots through my body. I definitely don’t feel numb anymore, but honestly, I want the feeling to return so I can stop shaking.

  When I reach the strip of land that coincides with where the van is parked, I stop behind a large, leafy tree to catch my breath and prepare myself. If I’m not careful enough, they’ll be able to spot me.

  After a minute of psyching myself up, I summon a deep breath then race off in a mad dash. With every step, I worry someone is going to jump out and chase me down. But the doors remain shut, the air dead quiet.

  Maybe I can make it out of this.

  As I barrel around a large tree, I cast a quick glance at the van. No sign of anyone yet. Thank God.

  I keep running for what feels like an eternity, refusing to slow down, even after the van vanishes from my sight. I don’t move onto the road, though, fearing they’ll spot me. I stay in the trees, going farther and farther into the unknown as the sun slowly lowers.

  The longer it remains quiet, the more I start to think that I might get out of this situation alive.

  I can do this! I can—

  A car door slams.

  “Isabella!” the guy shouts. “Stop where you are! Please!”

  Quickening my pace, I throw a glance over my shoulder and spot a guy standing in front of the van. He’s dressed head to toe in black, wearing a ski mask over his face.

  Holy mother of all creepiness! Just like Kai said! I’m living in a goddamn real life horror movie!

  My skin dampens with sweat as I run for my life, barreling through the bushes and dirt and winding around thick trees.

  I don’t know if he’s following me or not. I tell myself not to look, that it’ll only scare me more. But the fear of the unknown becomes too great, and I glance over my shoulder.

  My heart literally stops.

  Not only is the guy running through the forest at me, but the van is zooming down the dirt road, hot on my trail.

  Any hope of making it out of here alive crumbles like the dirt beneath my shoes.

  Chapter 12

  Kai

  I leave the zombie paintball place in a mad dash, fear plaguing my every thought as I text Kyler. When he doesn’t respond, I try to call. He doesn’t answer, which adds fuel to my rage.

  If I find out he had anything to do with this, he will pay. Big time. I just don’t know why he’d do all of this for the flash drive. And how did he even know about the flash drive? The only people who know are Big Doug, Isa, me, Indigo, and I think Isa might have finally said something to her grandma Stephy the other night. So someone told the wrong person, or I’m wrong about Kyler being the one doing this.

  My heart nearly stops dead at the thought. What if this isn’t Kyler? What if some psycho has Isa?

  I can barely concentrate on anything else other than getting to Isa as I dash across the gravel parking lot for the car. I need to get to her, need to save her more than I need to breathe. This day wasn’t supposed to end like this. Nothing is supposed to end like this.

  How could I let this happen?

  When I make it to Isabella’s grandma’s car, I realize I don’t even have the keys. Thankfully, the doors are unlocked. I climb inside, raid the car until I find a screwdriver in the glove box, and use it to hotwire the car. Once the engine is running, I speed off toward the apartment, hoping Isabella’s grandma isn’t there, or else I might have to explain to her why I’m driving around in her car without her granddaughter.

  As I make the ten-minute drive, I rack my brain for the right way to do this. Should I call someone and tell them what’s going on? The note said not to, but I’m worried this is more than just some asshole getting their kicks and giggles from tormenting Isa. And then there was the threat about never seeing Isa again if I showed up with someone. If I screw this up, Isa could end up hurt.

  But what if they’ve already hurt her?

  Knots wind inside my stomach, and I clench the life out of the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.

  Dammit! How could I let this happen! And what if I bring the flash drive, but they don’t give me back Isa? What if they’ve done something to her?

  I slam my fist against the steering wheel. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  By the time I pick up the flash drive from the apartment, I’m on the verge of losing it. Rage and guilt coincide inside me, ready to burst. I need to come up with a better plan than showing up at the address and hoping everything works out okay. I need help, but the right help, someone who can keep an eye on things without getting noticed. Someone who can help if the bastards don’t give me Isa.

  Digging
my phone out of my back pocket, I dial my friend Jules’ number as I jog back to the car with the flash drive tucked into my boot. I met Jules a few months ago through Big Doug and occasionally did jobs with him. We don’t hang out a lot, but Big Doug was pretty close with him and trusted him. Plus, he’s dealt with some heavy shit and knows how to bug phones and homes, put trackers on vehicles, and is great at tailing cars and people. I figure, if all else fails and these people take off without giving me Isa back, he can tail them or at least get a tracker on their vehicle if they bring one.

  I just hope he’ll do me another favor. After just telling me that I could crash at his place rent-free, I feel like a douchebag for asking him. Then again, I have no other choice.

  “Kai, my man,” he answers after three rings. “I was just going to call you and tell you the news. I sold a shit ton of parts for your car. Made, like, fifteen hundred dollars.”

  I open the door and slide into the driver’s seat. “Look, I don’t care about that right now. I need another favor.”

  “Okay.” He gives a lengthy pause. “Didn’t I already give you a favor, though, by selling the parts and saving your ass from getting beaten by T?”

  “Yeah, you did, but this is kind of an emergency.” I quickly explain to him what happened as I rev up the engine and peel out of the apartment complex, heading for the location.

  “Holy shit,” he says after I’ve finished giving him the details. “That’s some heavy shit.”

  “I know. I just wish I knew who’s doing this.” I make a turn onto the highway that stretches out of town and veers toward the rolling hills and forest. I’ve never been to the address before, but the GPS shows it being way in the hell out in Nowhere Land.

  “What’s on the flash drive?”

  “Some files about a murder case. I don’t know why anyone would want to steal it.”

  “What murder case?” he asks, intrigued.

  I press on the gas, speeding up. “Isa’s mom.”

  “Do you have any idea who would do this?”