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Rya lit up. “You know her?”
Regret crossed his face, presumably remembering that the girls had never met nor were sure of how they were related. He quickly covered up his response with a forced smile. “Yeah. She lives with me and my wife...” But Rya probably didn’t even see it as she peered right past him, staring at a house I hadn’t even noticed.
There were a few of them, off in the distance at the edge of a tree line. Like little vacation homes, they were spaced out under the trees.
Rya regarded me. “Anything at anytime.”
She was trying. I grabbed my chest. “That’s right.”
With an unnerving calm, Rya’s eyes panned back to Stew, “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Stew.” Not waiting for him to respond, she stepped around him and started walking toward the home I was now convinced housed the person Rya had been waiting to meet.
Quietly we followed, chills breaking out all over my body.
Softly, Stew told her, “Demi’s … been through … a lot.”
Rya continued trudging through the grass. “I know.”
Stew looked to me, silently asking if I had explained the depths of Demi’s trauma.
I shook my head.
I hadn’t had the heart to tell Rya of Chubs saving Demi from a place so horrid, he refused to talk about it. That she had been naked, bleeding in places little girls shouldn’t bleed. She had been tied, wrists to ankles…
“Rya,” tried Stew. “Demi doesn’t … talk—”
In a tranquil voice, Rya asked, “Do you like how the sun feels on ya skin?” Her face leaned back to soak in the sun, still high in the sky.
Stew looked to me as if asking for permission to answer.
I nodded.
Still following Rya, he swallowed before timidly answering, “I do.”
“Even when it’s nighttime, you can rememba it—the feeling it gives ya?”
As if sensing this questioning was going to change him, Stew answered. “I can.”
The little one led us closer to the house. “The same goes for the darkness that touches us. Bad people make me tremble. Very bad people make me have seizures.”
The. Fuck? Instantly, I thought of the fury holding her, her body jolting. It had been a warning.
Behind Rya, I covered my mouth. It was a huge revelation.
Perspective.
Rya let her hand graze a tall weed as she passed it. “Demi won’t speak until you get rid of who is in the ground,” she proclaimed without judgment as she pointed to our left. “Ova there.”
“Huh?” I studied the open field, my steps halting when I saw gawking men. “Wait. He’s here?”
No wonder Diesel had traveled with light guard. His biggest threat was at home.
The front door of the house under the trees opened, revealing Moola. Although older, she looked stunning with her dark hair and blue eyes. I wanted to run to her like I had Stew, to hug her, but my feet couldn’t move. With Diesel and Stew at my sides, we watched as Rya left us in our stupefied stances and headed straight for her.
Walking up two wooden steps, she said, “Hello, I’m Ryannon Stannon.”
Moola sucked in a loud breath, staring at Rya as if recognizing the similarities between the girls like Stew had. “Hello, I’m Moola.”
Moola was her comical stage name because she saw no need to lie to customers. She wanted their money—moola—so why not be up front? It was the only name I knew of hers before I was taken away by Piercer. Had she kept it for me all those years?
