“Police in Maine have rescued two women who have been held captive for twelve years. This is eerily similar to the case in Ohio, where two girls were abducted as teens and held for ten years.”
Lilly froze. There were others like her? As the women’s photos appeared on the screen, first the older ones from Missing posters showing them as teens, and then shots of them as they emerged from the house that had been their prison, she wrapped her arms around her waist and her eyes filled with tears. She knew these women, not personally but in spirit. In their sad gazes, the tightness around their mouths, and the way they walked, shoulders rounded as if they expected a blow, she recognized herself.
She barely heard Kane emerge from the bathroom. Engrossed in the story, she didn’t look up. Nor did she make a move to wipe away the tears streaming down her face.
“What’s wrong?” He sounded alarmed. When she didn’t respond, he dropped down onto the bed next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Lilly?”
Gathering her shredded composure, and überconscious of his arm, she gestured at the TV, where they were wrapping up the segment. Then she whispered, “Those women were held captive for twelve years. And they mentioned there were others, held somewhere else for ten.”
“Yes.” He hugged her. She wasn’t sure whether to stiffen, push him away or simply accept the comfort he offered. In the end, she stayed where she was.
“You’re not alone,” he continued.
Enough of this wallowing in emotion. “They told me that in therapy.” Pushing to her feet, she swiped the back of her hand across her wet face. “Are you about ready to go?”
Watching her carefully, he nodded.
“Give me just a minute.” And she hurried to the bathroom, where she blew her nose, splashed some cold water on her face and shook her head at her image in the mirror.
They ran through a drive-through and grabbed breakfast sandwiches and coffee. In a few minutes they were back on I-90, heading east. Something about the motion of the car made her sleepy, and she accepted this as a gift. When she opened her eyes again, she saw several hours had passed. They stopped for lunch and this time when they got back on the road, she felt jittery and wide-awake.
Noticing this, Kane turned down the radio. Stomach sinking, Lilly glanced sideways at him. He was going to ask questions. She recognized the signs.
“You know, I’ll never forget when we found you,” Kane said. “All those years, with both you and Lucas believing the other one dead.”
She nodded. Lucas was the only one with whom she’d spoken honestly. As twins, their emotions usually were mirror images of each other’s. But Kane had been kind to her and he was her brother’s friend. Trying like hell to calm her jangled nerves, she took a deep breath and braced herself for his curiosity.
“Seeing my brother was the highlight of my life,” she told him honestly. “At first, I thought I was dreaming. I’d carried the knowledge of his death for so many years.”
“What was it like?” Kane asked, his casual tone not fooling her one bit. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I can’t imagine.... It must have been pretty awful.”
“Awful doesn’t begin to describe it.” She gave a rueful smile, settling back in her seat and folding her hands in her lap. This, discussing her captivity, was something she’d actually grown accustomed to. After all, she’d been dutifully attending therapy sessions twice a week ever since she’d gotten out of the hospital. And before that, she’d had to tell her story numerous times to the police, the FBI and the media.
She had gotten quite adept at giving details without revealing any of her inner turmoil.
Glancing at the large man behind the steering wheel, she launched into the standard, memorized description she’d given so many times before.
“You saw where he kept me,” she said, grimacing. “Dark, cold, isolated. Exactly where demons should be kept, according to him. Sometimes I was left alone for days at a time. They fed me just enough to keep me alive. I craved water more than food, maybe because that was doled out sporadically. I had a large bucket to use as my bathroom. It was rarely emptied and stank, but after a while I didn’t even notice the smell.”
Rote stuff. She’d said it a hundred times in exactly the same way. Usually, it was enough. She raised her eyes to find him watching her. The observant look in his narrowed gaze told her for him, it wasn’t. Somehow, he knew.
Such a look... The sharpness of it might have stripped another woman naked. But Lilly had been through much worse. Though the slightly guilty pang she felt inside surprised her. She didn’t care what he thought. Or she shouldn’t. It was all so puzzling.
Confusion exhausted her. Instead of continuing, she closed her eyes and tried to pretend he wasn’t making her remember, making her hurt. In fact, she tried to act as if he didn’t exist.
“Are you okay?” The gentle tone in his whiskey voice made her insides quiver.
“Yes.” Short answer, total untruth. Keeping her eyes closed, she averted her profile, hoping he’d take the hint.
“If you don’t want to discuss it, that’s fine,” he said. “But don’t feed me all that bullshit you rehearsed for the press. I saw the interviews. I read the news magazine reports. If I could find one right now, it’d probably show you parroting the same exact thing you said then. Why is that?”
Was that anger vibrating under his words? She took a moment, mulling over the fact that she felt no fear, instead a sort of baffled curiosity.
She understood what he was saying, even if it made absolutely no sense. Kane barely knew her. Why did he want so badly to know the inner her? She’d shared that with no one, including her own twin brother. Though she suspected Lucas had a good idea, not only since they were so much alike, but because he too had briefly suffered at the hands of their father.
At her lack of response, he gave a slow shake of his head. “If you don’t want to talk about it, all you have to do is say so.”
Clenching her teeth, she swallowed. “I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It.”
“Fine.” His jaw appeared as tight as hers. “Let me know if you need anything.” And before she could even consider replying, he turned up the radio and began singing along to the music, some country-western song about something called a redneck.
Mystified, she turned away and faced the window. She decided to practice her deep breathing, something her last therapist claimed would help calm her but which hadn’t worked so far. To her complete amazement, with Kane singing happily in the background, this time she felt tranquility washing over her. But it had nothing to do with her breaths and everything to do with Kane’s deep, melodic voice. The night before, she’d thought it was the guitar, but she realized now she’d been wrong. The instrument was only part of it. The rest was him. Something about the way he sang reached deep inside her, into her bones and her blood.
Chapter 3
Foolishness. Or so Lilly quickly told herself. That didn’t stop her from enjoying the respite from the constant buzz of trepidation that usually swirled inside her, mingling with the fear. Abstractly, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be so uneasy,
