Eventually he took a step closer. ‘You told me I could trust you before, but I didn’t believe it. Not until now. So I’m trusting you, Maya. I’m trusting you with my father’s life.’
The directness in him – the openness, after so many sessions of careful avoidance – was stunning. I forgot about danger. I forgot about psychology and my job and the relationship we were supposed to have and what was possible and impossible. I had a flash of stumbling through the Congdon grounds on a sprained ankle, thinking of nothing except the trail of blood spreading underneath Lucas’s body and getting to the hospital as fast as possible. The desperation had consumed me beyond all reason and only now was I beginning to understand it. I was the girl who didn’t need anyone and made sure things stayed that way – no matter how many therapy students had tried to befriend me or occasional, brave-hearted guys asked me out. I turned them all down and I was relieved when Dad went out on the lake and left me with only the dog for company. My life was lonely, but there was something vital in the loneliness, an imperative that I keep the space around me empty and weightless. The only time I let myself get close to -people was at Congdon and even though I loved helping my patients beat down their barriers, it was always so they could stand on their own someday, not near me. My work didn’t build relationships; it created more Mayas.
Somehow Lucas had changed everything. If it was possible, he was even more fiercely independent than me, yet he’d broken out of a guarded hospital room and traveled halfway across the city to find me, because he needed me. Not a random therapist doing their job. Not anyone else they’d tried to send to him. Me. And for the first time since my mother left, I wanted to be needed.
I realized I hadn’t said anything for a good minute, standing in the middle of the living room with Lucas staring at me, yet he didn’t seem bothered by the silence. He wasn’t fidgeting or pressing me for a reply like most people would and it occurred to me that his life up until now must have been one decade-long conversation with his father, where a pause could fill a breath, an hour, or several sky-bleeding sunsets.
‘Lucas, I—’
Jasper’s sudden bark cut off the words in my throat. Hair raised, he broke out of my grip and ran toward the front door. Limping after him, I peered through the peephole and saw a police cruiser pulled up at the curb with its lights flashing. Lucas shadowed me, his eyes darting from window to window.
‘What is it?’
‘The police.’ I didn’t stop to assess the situation, to rationalize. All I knew was that I wanted more time. I grabbed him by the arm and lunged toward the back door. ‘Let’s go.’
11
We darted through the house as Jasper’s barks echoed behind us. At the back door, I took a deep breath and motioned for Lucas to be quiet, then unlocked it and stepped into the night. The wind had picked up, battering us as we crept across the lawn. Each crunch of grass echoed in my ankle as I negotiated the roots and twigs, praying I didn’t trip over any of them and give us away. Why were the police at my house? Either Dr Mehta was worried that I hadn’t answered my phone or someone had seen Lucas in the neighborhood. I felt the weight of a thousand neighbors’ stares on our backs. Charges raced through my head: aiding and abetting, accessory, repeat offender. The last one found its mark and sent a shot of adrenaline through my system, bracing me, numbing me better than any drug as I acknowledged the full implications of what I was doing.
Behind us a flashlight beam arced across the neighbor’s lawn. They’d be turning the corner any second.
We ducked into the shadows of the garage and raced to the side door. There were no windows in here. We could wait out the cops and decide what to do next. With shaking fingers, I eased the creaky knob open and pushed against the wood. Lucas was a millisecond behind me as we rushed inside, then both of us staggered to a halt.
Dad stood next to his truck holding a tire iron.
His arm relaxed when he saw me, but he stared at Lucas, obviously trying to figure out what was going on.
‘Dad.’ I checked behind us to see the lawn was still empty. ‘This is . . .’
A few different lies zipped through my head, none of them really plausible with Lucas standing there in hospital scrubs and one arm bound in a sling. Before I could pick one, he cleared his throat and finished the sentence for me.
‘Lucas Blackthorn.’
Lucas glanced at me, apparently as unsure as I was about how to proceed.
‘Your picture’s been all over the news tonight.’ The surprise on Dad’s face melted into suspicion and even though he kept his eyes on Lucas, I knew the next question was for me.
‘What the hell’s going on here?’
‘Dad—’
‘Sir—’
We spoke at the same time, both of us stepping forward right as a policeman walked through the main garage door. He surveyed the scene and homed in on Lucas, easily identifying him in the light from the workbench. Without acknowledging any of us, he pulled his gun and radioed his coordinates in, asking for backup. It was over.
With a sinking feeling, I turned my back on everyone else and touched Lucas’s coat.
‘Don’t put up a fight. If you have to go to jail, I’ll try to get them to release you as soon as possible. Just ignore everyone like you always do.’
His arm was rigid, almost bursting with tension. ‘But’ – he dropped his voice, gaze frozen on the officer – ‘my father.’
‘It’s okay.’ I patted the sling, trying to reassure him, to sound like I had the power to make any of this okay. ‘Be mute. I’ll handle the rest.’
Dad stood off to the side, obviously listening to our exchange. I lifted my chin, determined not to be ashamed of the choices I’d made tonight. Our gazes met for a split second and then, just as the officer finished his radio call, Dad turned around and set the tire iron on a shelf.
‘Glad you stopped by,’ he said conversationally. ‘My name’s Brian Stark. Look who I found wandering around on the docks.’
‘Sir, this young man is considered a dangerous individual. I’d advise you to back away. You too, miss.’
‘Shit, him? More like a lost puppy. Come here, boy. Lucas, isn’t it?’
Although digesting the turn of events, Lucas seemed rooted to his spot. I leaned into him, nudging him forward. Shoulders still tight, his free hand fisted, he took a calculated step toward my dad.
He swallowed before speaking. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘You feel like hurting any of us?’
‘Of course not.’ His face, though, said the exact opposite.
‘See?’ Dad gave Lucas what appeared to be a pat on the shoulder, but I knew that move from the days when I’d run loose on the streets, unwilling to listen to a thing he said. Dad was anchoring him in place. ‘I brought him here to see what Maya wanted to do with him.’
‘Sir, you should have brought him immediately to the station.’ The officer still had his gun trained on his suspect.
I spoke up. ‘I work with Lucas at Congdon.’
The officer’s expression made it clear he didn’t think I looked capable of much more than graffiti, let alone having a career. ‘My orders said the suspect’s doctor lived here.’
‘She’s a speech therapist working for Dr Riya Mehta,’ Dad said. ‘Great woman. Anyway, we finished detailing the boat and I was headed back to my truck when I spotted this one dangling off the Northland Pier. I’d seen the news of course, so I went over and told him I was Maya’s dad and he came along with me. We were just fixing to take him back. Right, Lucas?’
I saw my dad’s grip tighten on Lucas’s shoulder and there was a beat before Lucas nodded and let his hand uncurl at his side. ‘I’m sorry if I caused anyone any trouble. I wanted to see Superior. I kept hearing about it and . . . wanted to see the water for myself.’