Good Sick: A Dark Psychological Romance

by Sansa Rayne

  “Yes, sir.” He stowed the radio and his knife, then drew the handgun from his hip. “Abigail. Stay close, okay?”

  I nodded.

  Mason peeked out into the hall, then waved for me to follow.

  “Did you see the way we came in?” he whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. That’s where we’re going. The exterior should be clear, but just in case we’re going to go fast, and stay low. Got it?”

  My heart raced; events seemed to be happening in slow motion. Fear sucked me down like a tar pit; I sank in deeper, unable to move or break free. I didn’t understand it: a few minutes ago, I’d felt calm, resigned to fate. Ready to die. Now every breath echoed in my head like it could be my last.

  “We have to go, all right?” said Mason.

  “Okay.”

  Everything past that point became a blur: a quick turn through the hall, out the side entrance to the house, a sprint through the lawn across the grounds. The guard at the gate turned and saw us, and I heard a shot so loud I thought my ear drums burst. Sawyer’s eye seemed to pop, then the man crumpled into the dirt. We ran right by, only slowing so Mason could kick aside the gun the guard had drawn from its holster.

  When we reached the line of cars parked along the path, a gigantic pair of headlights flashed in front of us. I screamed and skidded to a stop, but Mason grabbed my hand and pulled me past the vehicle, a massive van. Its back door rose open and Mason lifted me by the waist until my feet found purchase. A man from inside grabbed my hand and pulled me in the rest of the way; I recognized him immediately.

  “Hi Abigail, I’m Detective Frank Navarro. You’re safe now.” He took Mason’s outstretched hand and helped his friend up into the truck, then slammed the door behind us. He thumbed his radio. “Lamb is secure.”

  As soon as he said it, a police cruiser sped past the van, hurtling toward the mansion. Another cruiser followed, then more; SWAT vans joined them, and soon half a dozen helicopters bathed the area with their spotlights. We listened on the radio as squad leaders barked out orders and reports came in of rooms being cleared. Targets were downed, hostages secured.

  Mason put his arm around me and let my head rest on his shoulder as we watched the incursion from the front seats of the van. I was reminded of the raid at Good Souls, only this time I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t afraid.

  My hand still shook three hours later, churning the coffee in my Styrofoam cup. A dozen cops, agents and other men in suits surrounded me, holding out phones set to record my account. Dr. Davis was there too, listening quietly, sending me supportive glances. They let me tell it from start to finish, then asked dozens of questions, filling in the blanks. Mason held my other hand throughout the whole session, while Frank brought me donuts and refills on my coffee.

  When I finished, they asked if I had any questions for them. I had lots, especially one I’d had since I first saw Mason back in the mansion. “How did you guys find me?”

  “Mason?” prompted Frank.

  Giving my hand a gentle squeeze, Mason said, “You made it possible.” He took something out of his pocket: Frank’s business card. He tore it in half, revealing a thin, white wafer stuck inside. “GPS tracking pad. It emits a signal every half hour, and it lasts for a week. Hard to detect, because it’s not constantly transmitting. You kept it with you like I asked. It was in your purse, which was in Brady’s car. Without that, we never would have had a chance. I’m sorry I planted it on you without your knowledge, but…”

  “Yeah. I’m alive because of it,” I finished for him. Of course it was his fault Brady showed up at all, though. I would have to process that later.

  “Ms. Lamb, I’m sorry for deceiving you as well,” said Frank. “I hope you can forgive us. After ten years of searching for Brady, of knowing that women were disappearing every year, we couldn’t pass up a chance to get him.”

  I understood. I did. Nine women from the mansion were now resting, having medical exams or calling their families. If not for me, Mason and Frank, they’d be on their way to a life of sex slavery, or worse. I would have been too. Brady would be a free man, as would be all the others who were there to buy someone. I understood. They felt the ends justified the means; I just didn’t like being the means.

  “So when you saw I was… wherever Brady took me… you came after me? How did you know I’d been kidnapped?”

  Mason turned away, unable to meet my eyes. “I didn’t. I saw you’d left the city, and I had to know you were all right, so…”

  “When your signal stopped moving, and the location didn’t show up as any kind of hotel or park or something, he called us in,” added Frank.

  Mason nodded. “As soon as I got close, I realized what kind of place it was. I called in everybody. I waited as long as I could for them to catch up, and it killed me, Abigail. But I didn’t want to get shot and not be able to help you, so I waited. When they were a few minutes out, I went in.”

  I thought about how close I came to trying to kill Brady. If Mason had waited any longer…

  “Gentlemen,” said Dr. Davis. “If you have everything you need, I’d like to take Ms. Lamb home. Are you ready, Abigail?”

  “Yes, thanks,” I said. I let go of Mason’s hand and got up. The adrenaline was wearing off and, even with the coffee, I felt ready to pass out. Getting my statement had taken hours, and the late night had turned into morning; I’d been up for nearly an entire day.

  “Ms. Lamb, we’ll be in touch. For now, give us a call if you plan to leave town, all right?” said a man in a suit. I hadn’t gotten his name, but I assumed he was in charge of the investigation. He handed me his card. “No tracker in this one, I promise.”

  I smiled politely and accepted the card. Dr. Davis took my hand and the men in room parted to let us out.

  “Abigail,” said Mason.

  I turned to him.

  “I’m sorry for everything.”

  “No, you’re not,” I said, then followed Dr. Davis.

  —

  An officer drove me and the doctor to my apartment; a second car followed us in escort.

  “We’ll be here all night, Ms. Lamb,” said the officer as he led us up to my apartment. “If you need anything, anything at all, we’ll have a man posted outside your door.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  The cops swept my apartment before letting us in, but it was empty.

  “Abigail,” said Dr. Davis. “I’d like to talk to you about all this when you’re ready. If you don’t want to wait until our next scheduled appointment, come by the office anytime. I’ll make whatever arrangements I have to with my other patients.”

  “Thanks, Kerri,” I said.

  She hugged me tightly, then let me go. “You were incredibly brave today, Abigail.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re going to be all right.”

  “I know.”

  We said good night, and then she left. I peeked out the window and saw the squad car parked up on the curb; the light was on inside the car, and I could see the officer typing on his computer.

  Without bothering to undress I let myself fall into bed, and in seconds I was gone.

  —

  I slept for twelve hours and only woke because the cop guarding my apartment knocked to check in. I told him I was fine, then loaded up my laptop. Once again, I was front page news; thankfully, though, the picture being used wasn’t mine: it was Brady’s.

  His face was marred by bruises and tiny white bandages where cuts had been stitched. He wore a bright orange prison jumpsuit, hands and ankles cuffed. Maybe I was the sole person who could see it, since I’d known him for so long, but there was a trace of a smile in his mugshot. Like he was glad for some reason.

  When I turned on my phone, it nearly melted from the flood of text messages and voicemails that were delivered simultaneously. I spent two hours responding; the other girls from Good Souls, most of whom I hadn’t heard from since the raid, had written to express their sympathy
. Elspeth left six voicemails begging me to call her, and Dr. Davis had left one, reminding me she was available at any time.

  I decided not to call back Dr. Davis; our next appointment was scheduled for the next day, so I could wait until then. I called Elspeth, who picked up on the first ring.

  “Abbi! Oh my god!”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Thank god. I saw the news when I got up this morning. I can’t believe it. Listen, if there’s anything I can do, please tell me.”

  I smiled, relieved. “Want to come over?” I asked.

  “Sure! Want me to bring dinner?”

  “Bring wine. We’ll order dinner.”

  —

  Elspeth brought two bottles of Riesling, the same kind I’d brought her, since we both liked it. We had Thai food delivered since I’d never tried it before. Red curry burned my tongue and throat, but I ate two helpings, enjoying the spicy sauce. Once my mouth cooled, I gave Elspeth the rundown of what had happened. I wish I could have played a tape of the statement I gave the police; repeating the story was harder than I would have thought.

  “Unbelievable,” she said when I finished. “So who is this Tarquin guy? Did the police get him?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to ask Mason.”

  “Will you?” she asked, juicing a lime wedge over her pad Thai.

  I sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, between the trials and everything I’m sure we’ll talk. But what am I supposed to do? He lied to me again and again. He used me as bait to catch a dangerous criminal. I was seconds away from dying, Ellie. Literally seconds.”

  “Yeah,” said Elspeth, “but he was trying to find his sister. For ten years. You know, nobody tried to find us. That kind of dedication and love… I mean, I wish I had somebody that caring in my life.”

  “Maybe.” I finished my glass of wine and poured another.

  “Look, you said Mason kissed you when he found you. How did you feel then?”

  I hadn’t thought about it. “Safe, I guess. For the moment. I thought I was going to die, and then he was there.”

  “You didn’t try to push him away?”

  “My hands were tied… but I get what you mean. I didn’t want to push him away. I was glad to see him.”

  Elspeth smiled. “Sometimes you just have to trust your instinct.”

  “Really? Because that’s caused me a lot of trouble in the past.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve learned a lot since then.”

  Outside the apartment, I heard the synthesized squawk of a police car. A number of news vans had tried to set up on the street throughout the day, but the cops kept shuffling them away. I wondered if Dr. Davis would consider coming to me for our session tomorrow, but reasoned I’d have to go out eventually. I couldn’t stay inside forever.

  “Abigail, can I tell you something?” asked Elspeth.

  “Of course.”

  She put her silverware down and got up. “I wanted to tell you that, despite all that’s happened to us, if I had known everything would turn out the way it did, I would still let Brady take me to the farm. I’d like to think I would, anyway. I mean, thanks to us, a massive sex trafficking ring has been discovered and shut down. What we suffered, a lot of women won’t have to. As much as I hate what happened, I can live knowing that we prevented others from going through the same. It gives me comfort when I have nightmares. Do you know what I mean?”

  I nodded.

  Elspeth wiped a tear away from her cheek. “And I think that if I feel this way, and if it’s right that I feel this way, then Mason should get to feel it too, because he had a part to play in this.”

  I waited for her to keep going, but she didn’t. “That’s all, Abbi. I just wanted to say that.”

  “Thanks.” I wasn’t sure I agreed with her, but I got up and gave my friend a hug. She quaked in my arms, and I lost my composure too. It was okay, though. I was happy to be sad together. Until then, I didn’t know that was possible.

  The next morning, the police knocked on my door to offer me a lift to my appointment with Dr. Davis. I peeked out the window to see a dozen photographers milling about, waiting for me to emerge.

  “Whenever you’re ready, ma’am. We’ll clear a path,” said the officer standing guard.

  I changed into jeans and a loose sweater. It was windy outside, and clouds threatened to open sometime during the day.

  As promised, a pair of cops forced everyone back while I made a bee-line to the squad car. They drove me to my appointment, but from there I asked them to go. I needed to be on my own a bit. I couldn’t have a detail following me wherever I went for the rest of my life.

  “It’s good to see you again, Abbi,” said Dr. Davis when I arrived. She met me in the waiting room, not wanting to delay for a second. She wore a simple tan blouse and black leggings; her hair hung loose. I think she wanted to make me feel comfortable by not dressing up too much; like she could be more accessible, more sisterly, by matching my own appearance. I didn’t mind.

  “You too, Kerri.”

  We talked for nearly an hour, processing my kidnapping. She wanted to know if I was experiencing any post-traumatic effects, or depression, or anything. She asked what I thought about seeing Brady get beaten, or the guard, Sawyer, that Mason had shot. I’d never seen somebody killed, but it hardly even registered with me: Mason killed him in defense of himself and I. What else was there to know?

  “Did you really mean it when you said you’d visit Brady in jail?”

  “I meant it at the time,” I said.

  “Will you, though? Seeing him could be very painful.”

  “I made a promise. I think I should keep it.”

  Dr. Davis nodded. “If that’s how you feel, then all right. Whether or not he deserves it, I expect seeing you would make him happy.”

  “Sure, but it’s not really about what he deserves. It’s what I said I would do.” I checked the clock and realized we were over our usually allotted time.

  Dr. Davis noticed. “It’s fine, Abigail. The patient who comes in after you accepted my apologies for canceling on him. We can keep talking.”

  “Okay.”

  “I wanted to ask you a question regarding Good Souls,” she said. “Now that you know Brady made it all up, you don’t think about the demons anymore, do you?”

  “No. I hadn’t since you mentioned it, actually.” I smiled, recalling all the ways they taunted me, dragged me down, twisted me. As soon as I knew beyond a doubt they weren’t real, they vanished. “Thanks for pointing it out.” I knew I’d still hear my own doubts and insecurities, but at least they wouldn’t be sentencing me to hell for my transgressions.

  “It’s normal to make mistakes, Abbi, and to beat yourself up over them,” said Dr. Davis. “Just so long as you know the difference between what you believe, and the lies you were fed.”

  “I know. I’m sure I’ll be sorting it all out for a long time. I even had a little idea on how to do that.”

  The doctor perked up, leaning forward. “Oh?”

  “I thought about what you said about spirituality. Other religions.”

  “Okay…”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for that. But I was thinking I might take some religious studies classes in college. Maybe even minor in it, or something.”

  Dr. Davis beamed, a lovely sight that made me smile too.

  “That’s a great idea, Abbi. I think it will be eye-opening, and if you want to help people like yourself someday, very useful.”

  “Thanks,” I said, blushing. I had thought it was a good idea; now I knew for sure. It was good to feel validated.

  “On that note, have you had any time to work on your college essay?”

  I laughed. “I might have to update it now.”

  The doctor chuckled too. “I somehow doubt you’ll get too many rejection letters at this point.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Just wait, Abigail. I don’t know how comfortable you’re going to be with all this
, but the world is going to pay attention to you, at least for a while. Publishers are going to come to you with book offers. The media will pay for an exclusive interview. Criminologists studying human trafficking will want every detail. Experts in cults too.”

  “Well, if I can help people by telling my story, I think I want to,” I said. I told her what Elspeth had said to me the night before. “I don’t know if I could say the same, but I get where she was coming from.”

  She nodded. “She’s a very noble person, for sure. You and Ellie are more alike than you may think. What you would do in a hypothetical scenario isn’t as important as what you plan to do in reality, and it sounds like you and her are on a similar path.”

  “I hope. Thanks.”

  “I don’t mean to put undue pressure on you, but remember: the two of you are considered heroes now. Survivors. The decisions you make are going to matter to people. If they hear that you’ve gone out and made a life for yourself, that you’re happy, then they’ll be happy for you. Even though they’ve never met you.”

  I nodded solemnly. She was right: that did put pressure on me. However, I also found comfort in it. There were people out there rooting for me. They wouldn’t recognize me if I passed them on the street, but that didn’t matter. I thought back to when I left Mason’s after overhearing him on the phone, and I regarded everyone nearby as little islands, utterly apart from each other. Maybe I was wrong.

  “Keep in mind, you may have to be on your guard a bit. There will be people with good intentions reaching out to you, but some of them will not have your best interests at heart.”

  I had no doubt. “Isn’t that true for everyone, though?”

  Dr. Davis nodded. “Quite right.”

  Of course, it occurred to me that there was someone in my life who was strong and intimidating, somebody highly protective of those he cares about, with fighting experience and intelligence…

  “What about Mason? Does he have my best interests at heart?”

  “That’s a hard question to answer, Abbi.” Dr. Davis opened the drawer in the coffee table and took out a file folder. “Take this. You can keep it.”

  “What is it?” I asked, opening it up to see a picture of Mason. He looked extraordinarily young; he wore a police ceremonial dress uniform.