I throw my arm over my eyes and groan, then push the button of the seat and lean back. I don’t want anyone to see me. Not yet.
“Well, why don’t you look at that?” he says in awe, slowing down the car. “Heather, look.” He nudges my arm, and I bite back the annoyance, push the button again, and sit up.
I gasp when I see all the people lining the streets. They are holding signs that say ‘Welcome Home’ and ‘We love you.’ They are cheering for me. A few women stand together and hold a pink banner that says, ‘We are here for you. Survivor’s Unite’ in big bold font. I cover my mouth with my hand and become emotional, in a really good, sad, way. The people of the town are being so supportive, but I hate they feel like they have to be because of what happened. Person after person waves as they see me, and I take my hand away from my mouth, giving them the tiniest of waves.
Tears fall in rapid sessions down my face as the line keeps going on and on down the road. It’s never ending. “Oh my god, they are here for me?” I ask in astonishment.
“The entire town is here. They are glad to have one of their own home, right where she belongs.”
Signs range from ‘Thomas the Titan’ to a simple painted red heart on a poster board. I look in the rearview mirror and notice the crowd following the car. A massive wave of people marching down the street, holding up their signs.
When we pull up to the police station, they have metal gates blocking the crowds on the sidewalk so I can walk in the building without being interrupted. Officer Howard grabs the gear shifter and puts it in park. I stare at outside the window and feel overwhelmed. What if who I am now is a disappointment, not just to my parents, but to everyone else? Why do I feel obligated to show them I can heal and be the person I used to be? I only want to be obligated to myself. I’m the only one I need to focus on. No one else.
For some odd reason, I see Asher’s parents at the entrance of the police station with my mom and dad. They are right inside the doors and an officer is holding my mom back from getting to me. Typical her. She always has to bully her way to what she wants. It’s what I love about her.
Seeing Asher’s father makes me think of Asher. They look a lot alike, but they couldn’t be more different. I’m not sure what my dad sees in Mr. Haven, but it can’t be anything good, which makes me think my dad isn’t as good of a man as I think he is.
“Ready?” Officer Howard asks, grabbing the handle of his driver’s door.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Okay, stay in the car. I’m going to come around.” He pops open the door and the muted cheers of the crowd become a deafening roar for a moment. He runs around the front of the car and I take one last deep breath and think of Asher’s blue eyes comforting me. He might hate me, but his kindness will always be remembered as what saved me.
Howard glances at me through the passenger side window and silently, by meeting my eyes, asks me if I’m ready.
No, I’m not, but I’m going to have to be.
I tilt my chin in a quick affirmation and the click of the door slices through the air. The cool, dry hair hits me in the face and Howard’s hand stretches out to help me out of the car. Right when I place my hand in his and my foot touches the ground, cameras flash and questions are being yelled at me from behind the gate.
“Heather, how does it feel to be home?”
“What happened, Heather? Did you runaway?”
“They say you were kidnapped, is that true? If so, what happened?”
Microphones are being shoved in my face and Officer Howard throws his jacket over my head, his arm around my shoulder, and pushes the microphones out of the way without saying a word. He bulldozes through them, and I keep my eyes focused on the ground, the gum stains on the concrete, and how my shoelace is untied— another gift from Quinn.
The doors to the police station open as a uniformed cop greets us. When we are safely inside, Officer Howard takes off his jacket and the door locks behind us, so we have privacy. I didn’t think this would be such a big deal. It’s just me…but I guess being the governor’s daughter now puts a target on my head.
“Heather?” my mom’s broken, tearful voice comes from a few feet away and when I look at her, I barely recognize the woman in front of me. Not because I’ve been away for too long but because she looks so disheveled. Her brown hair is in a bun and not in the elegant waves down her shoulders like it usually is. She isn’t wearing makeup and her eyes are red and puffy. She looks like she’s lost a little weight too. Her cheeks are a bit hollowed out and her lips are chapped. My dad isn’t in his regular suit and tie, but faded jeans and a shirt that has a food stain on it, where he always drops his dinner because he constantly misses his mouth. “Heather, is that you?” My mom takes a step forward, unsure if she’s able to run up and hug me.
Is she in disbelief too?
“Mom?” when I see them, the uncertainty of not wanting to be with them fades, and I run to them, slamming myself into the frail frame of my mom. Dad engulfs us in his arms, and I’m buried between them for a few minutes while we all cry, relieved that we are finally together again.
“You’re home. Oh god, my baby, you’re really here. You’re here,” mom states, cupping the back of my head with her long, slender fingers.
“My little girl.” My dad never chokes up. He is a very stoic man, but right now, he is crying like a baby. “Let me see you?” he takes a step back and his smile fades when he sees the bruises on my face, my arms, and the cuts that decorate my flesh. They are all over. His bottom lip wobbles and he rubs a hand over his mouth, the stubble of his whiskers make sandpaper noises against his palm. “No,” he buries his face in his hand when he comes to the conclusion of what happened to me himself. “No, please,” he grabs me again, this time, wrapping me up in his arms and burying my head in his chest. I hold him tight too. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry.” He sniffles.
“What? What happened to you? Why are you all bruised up?” my mom sounds hysterical.
“Whitney,” dad tries to stop her from asking, but she can’t be stopped.
“No, Timothy. I want to know what happened. Heather, what happened, baby. You can tell me, I swear you can tell me,” her voice is pitchy. “Please, it can’t be worse than me dreaming that I was going to find your body on the side of the road.”
Officer Howard takes control of the situation and places a hand on my mom’s shoulder. “I think we should take this into a separate room, away from knowing eyes, if you know what I mean, Governor Thomas,” Howard is professional when addressing my father. “Sheriff, I don’t know your department. Please, direct us where we need to go.”
“Absolutely,” the pot-bellied Sheriff Teizer pulls up his pants by the belt and stretches out his arm. “Right this way. Heather, it is good to see you back home.”
I cross my arms over my waist and look down, my face heating when he comes to the conclusion about what happened to me. Is it written all over my face?
Is that what people are always going to think of me? That I’m a rape victim? Great. I wonder how long that’s going to last.
Maybe I need to move to another town.
“Everyone all over the country has been looking for you, Heather,” Sheriff says as he opens the door to one of the interrogation rooms.
Well, scratch the moving part. I won’t be going anywhere.
I turn my body to the right and squeeze by him, making sure I don’t touch his big stomach, but it’s impossible since he sticks out further than Santa. I understand why he is the Santa Clause every Christmas now at the local mall.
Officer Howard pulls out a chair for me and my mom and she grabs onto my hand, bringing it her mouth to give me a kiss. “I’m so glad you’re back. I was so scared,” she gets choked up again and turns away. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s a very emotional day,” Officer Howard takes control, and the Sheriff doesn’t seem to care. He is leaning up against the two-way mirror, waiting
for something to happen. I don’t know what, but it’s making me uncomfortable.
“Can’t we go home?” I lean in and whisper to my dad, who has bags under his eyes from sleepless nights. “All I want to do is go home.”
“Absolutely. We don’t have to stay here. Especially, when they haven’t given us a reason.” He slides out my mom’s chair and helps me up from mine.
“Woah, now. You guys can’t leave. I need Heather to give a statement and tell me what happened.” Sheriff finally pulls out a piece of paper and a pen and Officer Howard rolls his eyes and hands over a tape recorder.
“So she doesn’t have to go through this again. I made a copy for you. Now, can she go home? She’s been through enough, as you will hear on the tape recorder.”
“I’m sorry, but she needs to confirm what’s on the recorder. I want you to get home as soon as you can, and we need a medical exam—”
“She’s already had that done and the doctor has sent everything to your fax machine and to the hospital.”
My dad is impressed with Howard and sticks out his hand. “Are you the man that saved my little girl?” he asks.
I know that this is where the lies come in. I can’t say where I’ve been for Asher’s sake. I deserve to give him his freedom that is more than well deserved. “He is. He saved me, dad. I don’t know what would have happened to me if he didn’t find me.” It isn’t a lie. I know he had Owen’s help, but Officer Howard helped so much. He led me away from the cabin, through the forest, and if I remember correctly, he carried me.
“I was just doing my job, sir,” Howard says, casually.
“Nonsense. Any officer who saves my daughter deserves a fucking promotion, a medal, name it, and it is yours.”
“Really, I’m content where I am.” He is hiding something. I know he wants to say what he wants, but he doesn’t want to take dad up on his offer.
“Well, I don’t believe you. We will talk later when my family is settled.” Dad’s hand lands on my shoulder, his gold wedding band shining in the bright light of the interrogation room.
“Okay, we are going to play the recorder now,” Sheriff Teizer says and not just dad, but mom too, narrows her eyes at him.
Dad can replace Teizer with a snap of a finger if he wanted.
“Just tell us if everything is accurate.”
“Okay, Sheriff Teizer.”
The button clicks and Officer Howard’s voice comes through first. “Are you Heather Thomas? The woman that has been missing for the last two months?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Thank you. Whatever you say stays here, okay? Now, why don’t you tell me what happened?” his voice is nothing but kind, reassuring, and soft.
Static breaks over the recorder before I speak, “I can’t remember that far back right now. It all happened so fast. I know it’s a cliché thing to say, but right now, I just…I see what he did. I feel what he did, and I …” I cry.
My mom starts sobbing and my dad closes his eyes tight as they listen to what happens next and this time, everything is described in detail.
“This is going to be hard, but I need you to tell me everything he did,” Howard asks, and in the distance behind the static and his voice, you can hear the scribble of a pen writing on paper.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Take your time. I’m not here to rush you.”
“I don’t want to,” I argue.
“I know.” Howard says apologetically. “But the other women there, the ones buried in the grave, they can’t speak. I’m not trying to guilt you, but you’re the only one with a voice.”
“There’s that other girl. I think her name is Jolie.”
“Yes, you’re right. I apologize,” Howard states, taking full responsibility for his mistake.
“How will this help anyone? The man is dead.”
I wipe a tear from my face and glance toward the wall. I don’t want to meet anyone’s eyes as they are looking at me.
“Well, there are a lot of missing women in the state of California, it will bring awareness to the issue. More policies, more laws, better education, cops being more observant, the higher ups will be held accountable for not doing their jobs. Nothing can change right now, but in the future, you never know what can be stopped without testimonies like this one. It might give other women the strength to come forward about their own experiences. A lot of different things are at play here.”
“Everything?” I ask.
“Please,” Officer Howard says.
Plastic crinkles as I drink out of the water cup. “I only remember waking up in his trunk. When he pulled me out, I was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods. I begged him to…uh…” I begin to cry. “I begged him to let me go, but all he kept saying was how he needed me. He missed me. He would uh…” I twisted my hair around my finger in memory. “He’d smell my hair and tell me how much he loved my scent. He dragged my inside by my arm. I fought him off, but he slapped me.”
I lift my hand to my cheek, remember the first sting.
“His house was small, a cabin in the woods. Leaves were everywhere. I remember thinking I used to play in them with my dad.” I break down. “I just want to go home.”
“I know, just a little longer, Heather. You’re doing great.”
“I’d stay in a room with two beds. It was messy and it smelt like alcohol. He kept me strapped to the bed most of the time and he’d place my feet in these…um…stirrups to…” my voice gets high and emotional. “To spread my legs and he…he…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“He proceeded to rape you, Heather?”
Silence.
Because I nodded because I couldn’t speak since I was throwing up in a trashcan.
“That’s enough,” my dad says, wiping his eyes with his hands. “That’s enough!” he roars, taking the recorder in hand and smashing it against the wall. He runs his fingers stressfully through his hair, tugging the strands until they are sticking up all over the place. “Just stop,” he begs.
“Everything on the recorder was true and it was me speaking. Can we go now?” I ask, picking at my cuticles.
I want to disappear because I can’t stand how my parents are watching me. Like I’m broken, like I’m damaged, like I’m used.
Maybe I am because as of right now, I feel useless.
Ten
Heaven
One month later.
“The Governor and his family make their first debut since his daughter was found, safe. He is giving his first speech this afternoon…”
I turn off the TV because seeing her makes me feel ill. She looks so different on TV, wearing a blue dress and freshly done makeup. Her hair is up in an elegant French twist and she looks exactly like the Heather I used to know, but her face said something else. She isn’t the same the woman as she was before the kidnapping happened. She looks like she can’t stand to be on stage.
I miss her.
Just the small amount of time I had with her was enough to reaffirm that the only woman I’ve ever loved was her.
I toss the remote on the bed and rub the ache in my chest. This time it is for a completely different reason. My wound has healed. My sternum aches every now and then, which is normal. Owen says it can be a year until I feel one hundred percent, but whatever, at least I’m alive. That’s all that matters, right?
Right.
“Hey, you about ready to go?” Jaxon opens the door to my bedroom and winces and plugs his nose. “Oh my god, when was the last time you cleaned your room?”
“Well dad, I’ve been going through some stuff and needed to clear my head.”
“Well, son…” he mocks me. “Clean your room, get in the damn shower, and be ready to go by two. We have a job.”
“I’m not going,” I say simply and plop back in the chair.
It would be the first job since I broke my leg. I have been out of the game for a while and I have no want or need to do a job right now.
�
�You’re going. That’s fucking final, Heaven. You’ve been moping around this damn room for far too fucking long. You understand me?”
“God, you aren’t my actual father. You don’t need to get high and mighty on me.”
“Then stop acting like a child. Put on your big boy pants and get ready to go do a job. We need you. It’s intel on Richard.”
“The mother fucker who broke my leg?” I sneer.
“To be fair, he broke your leg because we tried to get into the vault.”
“Well, if his vault wasn’t loaded with explosives, then my leg would have been fine,” I mumble the weak argument.
“Just be here. The team needs you. You’re the only one that can really get into tight spaces. You’re leaner than the rest of us.”
“I might be lean, but there is one thing on me that isn’t,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Jaxon rolls his eyes and shuts the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My room is a wreck. There are takeout boxes from The Lighthouse Grill and empty cups. My sheets haven’t been washed either and when I lift my arm, I immediately put it back down because Jaxon is right.
I smell.
I can’t help the funk I’m in. I never knew how much I missed her until she was here, then she was gone, and my stubborn stupid ass didn’t even say goodbye. I knew if I did, I would have begged her to stay, but how fair is that?
It isn’t.
She deserved to go home with her parents. They are good people who searched high and low for their child. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her all to myself, even if that is all I really want to do.
Sighing, I gather the dirty clothes flung around my room and put them in the hamper, strip my bed, then spray Febreeze in the air because holy shit, it does reek in here. I crack the window in my room by spinning the handle and the glass swings open outside, allowing fresh salty air in. I haven’t even been outside.
Wow. I really am depressed.
I’m never depressed. Ever. I can’t even remember what it is like to feel that happiness that would want to burst out of me. It’s gone. My spark, the pilot light of heaven has disappeared. I inhale a lungful of fresh air before stepping into the bathroom, undressing, and hopping in the shower.
Cruel Captivation: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 5) Page 10
