Little Girl Lost [Book 2]

by Alexandria Clarke

  “I’m going to stick around this time,” I told Holly, squeezing her hand in mine. “I’ll stay in Belle Dame at least until you finish high school. Sound good?”

  She smiled, bright and wide. “That sounds amazing.”

  A commotion in the hallway prevented me from replying. Voices rose, footsteps quickened, and the door to Holly’s room burst open. Bill and Emily Miller, our foster parents, stood in the corridor, staring so intently at Holly, it was as if they were trying to make sure that she wasn’t a figment of their imaginations.

  She waved merrily, and the action caused the IV line to flap against her arm. “Hi, Bill. Emily. How have you been?”

  Bill burst into tears, which was not how I expected this reunion to go. He approached Holly’s bed first while Emily lingered in the background, and I cleared the way to make way for his enormous figure. He knelt by the bed, took Holly’s hands in his, and bowed his head over them like he was praying. They didn’t exchange any words. Holly simply let the massive man cry over her blankets and only moved to offer him a stack of tissues from the bedside table.

  Bill shocked me again when his first words were to me rather than his favorite foster daughter. “Thank you, Bridget. Officer Scott told us what you went through to get her home. Thank you so much.”

  “Of course,” I replied, taken aback. “She’s my sister.”

  “And as for you—” Bill tapped Holly lightly on the nose “—I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again. No more practicing by yourself on that old ballfield. And I’m also going to teach you how to shoot a gun.”

  “Bill, relax.” Holly laughed, but the action elicited a wet gasp from her recovering lungs. The noise sobered the room in less than a second, and we all gravitated toward the bed while Holly caught her breath. “Stop looking at me like that,” she said hoarsely. “I’m going to be fine. Emily?”

  Our foster mother cautiously approached, having kept her distance since she arrived in the room. “Yes, dear?”

  “May I please have a hug?”

  Emily folded without hesitation, closing the distance between her and Holly in three quick strides. When they came together, it was Holly comforting Emily instead of the other way around. She rocked Emily gently from side to side as the older woman finally lost it, sobbing into the front of Holly’s hospital gown. When she calmed down enough, Bill stroked his wife’s back in comforting circles.

  “Wait a second,” I said, looking from Bill to Emily. “Did the two of you ride here together?”

  Emily blotted the purple bags beneath her eyes. “Yes. Bill drove us. We were together when we got the call.”

  “Together,” I repeated. “Does that mean you worked everything out?”

  Bill turned his gaze to the floor, but not before I caught sight of his scowl. He still blamed me for his separation from his wife, even if I hadn’t been the root of the problem. Holly looked from me to Bill to Emily.

  “Worked what out?” she asked.

  “We’re talking it through,” Emily explained. She reached out toward the swell of Bill’s broad back then drew away as if thinking better of it. “But we’ve decided for now to put the past behind us and make Holly’s recovery our first priority.”

  “Talking what through?” Holly piped in again, ever the present listener.

  I leaned toward her and muttered, “Bill cheated on Emily.”

  “What?” Holly clocked Bill over the head. “How could you? I’m gone for less than a month, and everything goes to shit?”

  I steadied Holly’s hand, not that she could do much damage what with the pillowy layers of bandages. “Not recently. Forever ago. And that last part is my fault.”

  “At least you admit it,” Bill grumbled.

  Emily waved a damp tissue like a referee with a penalty flag. “Can we just agree that we’ve all made several mistakes in the past ten years and move on? Holly’s back. She’s safe. That should be all that matters.”

  “I totally agree,” I said.

  “As do I,” Bill added.

  I elbowed him playfully. “There’s a first for everything, right?”

  “Quiet, you.”

  Emily clapped her hands together. “We should throw a party!”

  “What?” Bill and I chorused, unenthused. Holly, however, straightened up at attention.

  “To celebrate,” Emily clarified, careful to avoid all of Holly’s wires and tubes as she sat next to her on the bed. “All of your friends will want to see you, and I think we all deserve a bit of fun, right?”

  “I’m always down for a good party,” Holly said.

  “Whoa, hold on a minute,” I butted in. “Holly, you’ve only been home for a few hours, and you have a lot to think about. It’s not like you just came back from the Peace Corps or something. You were abducted.”

  “Exactly,” she replied. “And what better way to rub in a failed kidnapping than to throw a party welcoming me home? Ooh, Emily, can we make kebabs?”

  “Whatever you want, dear—”

  I opened my mouth to argue more, but Bill shook his head. “It’s a losing battle,” he said. “Give it up, kid.”

  “Fine,” I agreed. “Y’all can throw a party after Holly gets better. I want clearance from her doctor beforehand too.”

  Holly wrinkled her nose. “Did you just say y’all?”

  My shoulders slumped as I stood up. “I need some air. Don’t talk about me while I’m gone.”

  I left Holly to fill Bill and Emily in on the rest of her misadventures, hoping that they wouldn’t touch on the darker details until we could work it out with a therapist. It was one thing to have everyone tell me how strong and resilient my sister was. It was another to see it in person. Even wired to heart monitors and IVs, she made it a point to put everyone else’s feelings before hers. She took care of me and Bill and Emily before she thought about herself. It was amazing to witness, but I worried that she was doing it to avoid confronting the truth of her experience. You could avoid reality, but you could not avoid the consequences of avoiding reality. Eventually, it would catch up to her.

  I really did need to get out of the drafty, disinfectant-scented halls of the hospital, so I took the elevator down to the lobby and exited, for the first time, through the front doors. It was a beautiful day even though it was sweltering hot. The storm from yesterday had cleared out every single cloud in the sky, leaving nothing but boundless blue. The sun burned down on the concrete, reflecting the bright white into my eyes. I shielded my face with the palm of my hand and went to sit beneath the overhang of the patient drop off and loading area. There, I closed my eyes and let the hot breeze dance through my long hair. It untangled my mess of thoughts, and I sat silently until my mind quieted itself. The jingle of car keys brought me back to real life, and I opened one eye to peek around.

  Autumn Parker, my best friend, stood a few feet in front of me. Her face was wet, but her expression was blank and empty. The pretty purple fabric of her summery dress billowed in the wind, occasionally framing her ever-growing baby bump. I stood up and took a hesitant step toward her.

  “Autumn? Are you okay?”

  Her eyes had a glazed look to them as she lifted them to mine. “He’s dead.”

  A weight settled in my stomach, as if someone had forced several pounds of lead through my throat. She was talking about Christian, the man who had played at Fox’s side for years without my knowledge. The man who had helped Emmett capture Holly to aid Fox in his revenge quest. The man who had held Mac at gunpoint before she flipped the script on him and shot him twice in the abdomen. He had bled out on the floor of Emmett’s basement, dead before the paramedics had even reached the scene. But Autumn hadn’t known all of that. To her, Christian Santini was her boyfriend of three years, the man she’d expected to marry someday, and the father of her child.

  She trembled as I took her by the shoulders and led her to sit down on the bench beneath the overhang. “Autumn, what did they tell you?”

  “Ever
ything,” she choked out, folding over to rest her face in her hands. “Or everything they could considering we weren’t actually married. Oh my God, Bridget. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  As she erupted into fresh sobs, I looked up at the sky and willed my own tears to stay put. “I should be the one apologizing,” I told her. “It’s my fault that Christian ever got to you in the first place.”

  “He was so nice,” she cried. “And so fun. He always took care of me. I can’t believe that it was one big elaborate lie.” She crumpled, laying her head across my lap. “What am I supposed to do, Bee? I can’t raise this kid on my own.”

  “Yes, you can,” I said firmly. “But you won’t have to. Autumn, you’re never alone. This whole town loves you. Besides, I’m sticking around to look after Holly, and I’m sure it won’t be a challenge to convince either one of us to babysit.”

  Autumn gaped up at me from my lap. “Holly’s home?”

  “Yeah, they didn’t tell you?”

  “No! Just that Emmett and Christian—” She broke off, emotions running too high again.

  I leaned down and planted a kiss on her wet cheek. “It’s going to be okay, Autumn. I know it seems like everything sucks right now, but we’re better off. Holly’s home, and the assholes who took her are gone.” I decided not to mention Fox. Scott and the rest of Belle Dame P.D. knew about him. It felt unnecessary to worry Autumn. “You are going to have a beautiful baby, and you’re going to be the best mom out there. Do you understand me?”

  She mumbled something incoherent into my sweatpants.

  “I didn’t catch that.”

  “I said if you insist,” she said clearly.

  “I do insist,” I told her. “We’re going to rebuild our lives together, okay? But before we start, do you want to see Holly?”

  “Yes,” she said, sitting up and wiping her eyes. “Of course I do.”

  7

  False Hope

  At three o’clock in the afternoon, Belle Dame High School exploded with action. Students poured from the building like ants rushing to escape the burn of a magnifying glass, spreading out toward the bus loop or the sidewalk to head home. I sat on the hood of Holly’s Jeep, slinging her key ring around my index finger and ignoring the shameless stares of the students who passed me. By now, every high schooler in Belle Dame knew who I was. For the last week and a half, ever since Holly returned to school, I’d dropped her off in the morning and picked her up in the afternoon. Maybe it was overprotective of me. Maybe it was borderline paranoia, but I had no plans to let my little sister out of my sight for any longer than necessary.

  It was easy to spot Holly in the crowd. As soon as she left the cool, shadowy halls and emerged in the sunlight, she was surrounded by a gaggle of other kids. Most of them were her fastpitch teammates, who pelted her with questions about when she planned on returning to the ballfield. She hadn’t been cleared to play yet, something that was getting on her nerves. The end of the season was fast approaching. Playoffs were in just a few weeks, and if Holly wanted to continue her softball career throughout college, she needed to participate in those games in order to impress the university scouts. Even at a distance, I could see her smile falter as she hugged her teammates and watched them head off to the stadium for practice. Then she caught my eye over the heads of the other students, waved, and walked over.

  “Let me drive,” she said, swinging her backpack through the passenger window and holding her hand out for the key.

  I hopped off the hood of the Jeep. “Not a chance.”

  “Bridget, come on. I’m totally fine.” She did a twirl on the spot as if to demonstrate. “See?”

  “It’s not because I don’t think you’re healthy enough,” I teased. “It’s because I don’t trust your driving skills.”

  “Says the woman who apparently nearly killed someone on a motorbike in Thailand just a couple months ago,” she replied.

  “That was one time,” I countered. “And I regret ever telling you that story, but if you insist—” I held the keys high above my head “—come and get them.”

  It was one of those moments where I forgot how much Holly had grown in the years since we’d last spent any quality time together because she gave me a look, reached up, and snatched the keys right out of my grip without issue.

  “That trick doesn’t work when you’re only an inch taller than me.” She opened the passenger door for me with a smirk. “My lady.”

  “Royal pain in the ass,” I shot back, climbing in.

  Holly fired up the Jeep and steered carefully through the swarming students toward the exit. As we passed, every head turned toward us. “I wonder what it’s like not to feel like a zoo animal.”

  “It wasn’t like this before?” I asked her, flicking off a gawking teenage boy. “After all, I’m betting you nailed more than one senior superlative.”

  “People knew me, I guess,” she said. “But that was because of softball. During the off season, I got way less attention. I liked it better that way, to be honest. Less pressure.” She slammed on the brakes as a trio of girls walked in front of us, completely oblivious to the Jeep’s progress. “Whoa!”

  The girls jumped as the vehicle jolted to a stop. When they saw who was driving, they began to whisper behind their hands. One of them even raised her phone to take a photo.

  I rolled down the window and stuck my head out. “Get out of the way, or I’ll really give you something to take a picture of.”

  With petrified expressions, the trio scurried off, but not before snapping a few more shots of me and Holly. I ducked back into the Jeep, and Holly got us out of the parking lot without further incident.

  “I’m not sure threatening high schoolers is the best way to go about this,” she said. “You’re starting to earn back your old reputation.”

  “I don’t give a damn about my reputation—”

  “Great song.”

  “All I care about is keeping you safe,” I finished, grabbing hold of the bar above the window as we trundled out into traffic. “Plus kids these days are so entitled. They act like everything should be handed to to them because they automatically deserve it.”

  “You’re living in the past, it’s a new generation,” Holly sang over the whoosh of the wind through the open window.

  “Can it, kid,” I grumbled. “Or I’ll tell the doc that I don’t think you’re ready to get back on the ballfield.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  I would never dare to do something that would hinder Holly’s happiness, but she fell quiet anyway. Silence filled the Jeep and the radio was broken, so we couldn’t cruise through the endless country stations in search of Joan Jett to break up the awkwardness. It had been almost three weeks since Holly had been cleared to leave the hospital, and we still hadn’t gotten the hang of being sisters again. At least not in the way that I wanted to be. It felt weird. For my entire adult life, I’d only taken care of one person—myself—but all of sudden, I had Holly again. The worst part was how little I knew about her. There was only so much information you could fit on a postcard. I’d counted on our shared love of softball to get us through the rough patches, but it turned out that softball wasn’t Holly’s entire focus. Yes, she loved it, but she also loved chemistry, horses, and drumming for the jazz band. When she talked about college, she spoke of softball as an opportunity to get a scholarship, and I heard more about the subjects she wanted to study than the potential teams she wanted to play for.

  Thankfully, the doctor’s office wasn’t far from the school. Holly had yet another check-up to make sure that she was recovering properly from her recent trauma. Hopefully this would be the last one for a while. If Doctor Waters, the Millers’ family caregiver, cleared Holly to play softball today, we wouldn’t have to visit her for another three months.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” Fran, the receptionist, said as we walked into the chilly office. She pushed the sign-in clipboard toward us. “You know
the drill.”

  Holly scrawled her name on the clipboard. I didn’t bother to sit in one of the waiting chairs. We had spent so much time at Doctor Waters’s office lately that they tried to get us in and out as quickly as possible. Moments later, a nurse came to collect Holly. I waited around as they recorded my little sister’s weight and vitals then followed them to an exam room down the hall.

  “Doctor Waters will be with you shortly,” the nurse said as she exited.

  I blew out a sigh, picked up an old, torn tabloid magazine, and sat next to Holly on the exam table. As I flipped carelessly through pictures of grocery-shopping celebrities—They’re just like us!—Holly kicked her heels against the metal step of the table.

  “Everything okay?” I asked her.

  “Just nervous. I really want this to be the last time I come in here for a while.”

  “You and me both.”

  She chewed on the inside of her cheek, the thump of her heels ceaseless. “Bee, how did you deal with everything? You know… afterward.”

  The pages of the magazine crumpled in my grip. It was only the second time Holly had ever asked me about my past. The first time was weeks ago after Emmett’s scarce funeral. We hadn’t planned to go, but Holly insisted, so I drove her out to the cemetery, and we watched as they lowered his casket into the ground adjacent to his mother’s grave. No one else had come to pay their respects. Holly cried quietly, and when I asked her why she bothered, she replied with a warmth that I was not capable of.

  “He was a person,” she’d murmured, linking her arm through mine and leaning her head against my shoulder. “No one’s born evil, Bee. You have to wonder what he suffered through to make him think he deserved to have you.”

  I pondered that while the funeral assistants filled the dirt back in. Maybe Holly was right. Maybe Emmett had been a tortured soul from the very beginning, what with his deadbeat father and suicidal mother, but all of that hurt didn’t give anyone the excuse to become a kidnapper or a rapist. Life was all about choices. Emmett could have chosen to turn around his situation through healthy, legal means, but he picked the darker way out.