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It was almost like the woman in front of me knew what I was thinking when she straightened her back, her prominent spine blending into her skin once more, and said, “Find her. Save her.” I focused on the missing teeth in this girl’s mouth, all three of them, along with the missing tongue, making it harder for me to understand her. “And set me free. Right your wrongs, Remington Cole.”
I stared into the empty space where a demanding blue eye should be and took a breath.
“Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I needed a little time to get a sedative if she wasn’t willing to play dead. That, and arrange a place for her.
I stepped away from her, taking the pad and the pen that was no longer my favorite because it was caked in her innocent blood.
“And you’ll do it then?” She pleaded, moving on her knees to follow my sound as I tried to step away.
Her dirty fingers, covered in blood and who the fuck knew what else, wrapped around my knee, but the dried scum didn’t dirty my jeans any more than they were.
“It’ll be over soon, Rhylie,” I promised, shaking her off as I turned away.
Rodregez interrupted the appalling flashback, his name appearing on my phone screen.
I slid my finger across the screen and accepted the call. I’d been waiting for one all week, regarding Woodrow’s results and some of Cat’s from her checkup. All I’d been getting was a morning text, insisting Cat had the operation.
“About fucking time that I got a call. I mean, you text every morning, but you never answer, as you don’t like my reply.”
“I know, my apologies. I’ve been meaning to call, but it got busy last week with the new girl.”
The new girl, meaning the one I’d brought in from Rothbart’s, or Penelope, who had arrived here two days later because she would not fucking eat, or leave her room, or acknowledge anyone who wasn’t Ollie, who was hardly ever home.
“Penelope is fine now. Settled. Well, kind of. But she’s eaten the last two days, so that’s something.”
“Yeah, that’s great. Have you found out her real name yet?” Curiosity got the better of me. She’d told Ollie her name was Penelope. Cat knew her as Penelope. But something different would be on her birth certificate. Something Rothbart hadn’t called her.
“Not yet. Anyway, that isn’t why I called.”
“Why did you call?” Hopefully, regarding Woodrow or Cat’s results. Hopefully, both.
“I have some news for you. Good or bad first?”
“God. Give me the bad.” I collapsed back into my seat, already exhausted, before he spoke. I trembled, fearing the worst.
“Well, this isn’t news, more of a reminder. Cat’s dental appointment.”
“Unimportant. She’s recovering from a fucking heart attack, Doc.”
“I know, and in normal circumstances, it shouldn’t be done. But unless you want her suffering sepsis, I’m booking it for next week. I have some time.”
I wanted to argue that it wasn’t safe, but sepsis was a death threat by itself. “You’re confident you can pull it off.”
“I know the risks. On her life and my own.”
“Good. I’m glad of that,” I warned.
“The better stuff. Cat’s STD checks are back. She’s clean.”
“Thank God for that.”
“And your brother is healthy.”
I sighed in relief.
“Hallelujah, praise the fucking Lord.” I cupped the speaker, hiding my words from the doc because he was a semi-religious man once upon a time.
