She’d buried her baggie deep beneath Charlie Cactus on one of those trips, double-wrapped in plastic bags from Red’s. Sara had kept lookout. Sara hadn’t asked what was in the bag; she’d just helped Rainy get rid of it. That meant that after she left the compound for good, Sara could have gone back for it and dug it up.
She’d been so lost in thought thinking about Sara and her son that she’d forgotten about the texts on her phone. She read through the updates Grant had sent first. He didn’t mention anything about her staying in Vegas, which meant that the husbands were still out of the loop. She looked at the time, calculating the difference between her and Grant. It was three o’clock in the morning for him, so she’d text him when she got settled in the hotel and he had a chance to wake up for the day. There were four texts from Viola, asking what time she was getting back, detailing the snowfall the night before, and then another, sent an hour later, saying, Never mind, they told me you’re staying an extra day, party animal. In the group chat, Ursa had taken to updating their status through the check-in process like Rainy might change her mind at any minute and come after them. Braithe and Tara were strangely quiet. She decided to ask Viola if she knew anything more about Braithe staying behind. Viola sent a voice text.
“I texted her whatsup this morning and she told me she’d stayed. She seemed to be fine. She sounded elated actually. She mentioned getting a flight early tomorrow, said she’d be back before you all had time to unpack. That was before she knew about you staying, too, and—”
Viola’s voice cut off abruptly and Rainy frowned while she waited. When the text never came, she sent a question mark.
A few seconds later, a shorter voice text appeared. “Sorry... I totally forgot we’re late for a doctor’s appointment. Tata is pulling the car around, talk soon.”
Rainy sent a quick message wishing them good luck and leaned her head back against the seat.
19
Then
They weren’t allowed watches, so she had no way of knowing what time it was. Dawn and Frank came to get her, and just like Sara said, they took her to Ama and Tom’s room.
“Why do I have to stay here?”
Dawn pretended not to hear. Sara had told her she’d have to wait at least an hour before Sara could come and free her, but the wait already felt agonizing. She pounded the door with both fists in frustration. Sara would come. She had to. It was Summer’s only chance.
Sometime later she was sitting on the floor, head between her knees, when she heard a key in the lock. Jumping to her feet, she waited for the door to open. Five seconds...ten...nothing happened. Going to the door, Summer tested the lock; it was open. She hadn’t even heard the door being unlocked.
The hallway was empty, but hanging on the outside of the doorknob was Sara’s favorite scrunchie. Summer slipped it onto her wrist and ran.
What if she missed them, what if they left without her? What would happen without her mother here to protect her? Who would she belong to? The answer to that was so terrifying she ran faster. It was late—maybe midnight; everyone else was in bed. Would this be the last time she ran through these halls? If she failed at this, they would never let her see the outside again; she knew that deep in her gut, because she would never stop trying to leave and she would never do what they said. They had killed her mother, and they would kill her, too, for refusing to marry Taured. As she approached the old sign that still said Chapel with all its letters, she made a sign of the cross like her mother sometimes used to do. She could hear voices, faintly, like they were coming from outside instead of Taured’s office. But no—as she neared the door and pressed her ear to the wood, she could hear them inside. Sara’s father, Taured and three other voices she didn’t recognize: two men and a woman. They were outsiders, the timbre and tone unfamiliar to her. She placed her hand over the doorknob and blew out the contents of her lungs.
Her forehead was touching the door as she prayed to her mother’s God, pleaded with him to help her. The god behind the door was a falsehood, a killer, and his people worshipped him out of fear. She didn’t know what life would meet her past the doors of the compound, but she wasn’t afraid of it.
Four people were seated in chairs in front of Taured’s desk in formal clothing. They all looked up in surprise when she stepped into the room. She was wearing an ankle-length dress and she felt embarrassed to be standing in front of them barefoot, but her shoes had been taken after her mother had died. For a few terrible seconds, her vision blurred in and out, and she thought she was going to faint. She didn’t look at Taured, who she knew was sitting behind his desk, or Sara’s father, who stood slightly behind his pastor, ready to carry out instructions at a moment’s notice. She stood in front of the three men and one woman. She heard her name spoken from behind her, but she ignored it. The female police officer didn’t look happy to be there and since Summer wasn’t, either, she directed her words to her.
“My name is Summer Downey. My mother was Lorraine Downey. My father is dead, too, and I want to go live with my grandparents, Mark and Gilda.”
“This is the minor that you said ran away?” The female police officer stood. Her hand was on the holster at her waist.
The man sitting next to her, a jowly, bald man, said, “Sit down, O’Connor.” O’Connor sat down. “Where have you been, young lady?”
“They locked me away so I couldn’t speak to you,” she said.
He turned to Taured, his little downturned mouth wriggling unhappily. “Explain this, Taured.”
They weren’t asking her, she realized. But then he did something that straight-out shocked her. Taured looked Summer in the eyes and said, “Why don’t we let the young lady explain herself.”
Not what she was expecting.
She turned to the woman—O’Connor. “He killed my mother. It wasn’t an accident.”
The toad man spoke up. “Young lady, we know it wasn’t an accident. Your mother was ill in heart and mind. She was an addict. Do you understand that?”
“There was nothing wrong with her. She was fine. She would never take drugs. She hated what they did to my dad.” Summer stared between the three strangers, trying to understand why they were reacting the way they were. The only one who looked disturbed by what she’d just said was O’Connor. Summer looked at the third person now, a man who’d been quiet for the exchange. Seemingly unbothered by the entire ordeal, he looked at his watch.
“We’ve tried to protect her from a lot of it,” Taured said.
“That’s a lie! He locked her in a room and starved her—he tortured her! And not just her. He’s done it before! Ask anyone!” She was shaking now—her entire body and her voice. The quiet man looked at Taured.
“These are serious accusations.” He spoke softly and with a slight lisp. You had to strain to hear him, which made everyone listen very carefully when he spoke. “Is there truth in this?” he said to Taured.
“Of course not. Dr. Browley can speak to Lorraine’s condition in the last couple years, as he was her physician.”
“He wasn’t,” Summer said. They all turned to look at her, but she didn’t shrink back.
“Is there someone here who can corroborate your story?” the man with the lisp asked.
Any name she gave them would result in the same thing: they’d lie to protect Taured and their standing in the community—young or old, the rules were the same. Also, any person she named might be punished later just because she mentioned them. In her own mind, she’d made the comparison to the Salem witch trials, which she’d read about on Taured’s precious internet. No matter what she said, she’d be punished, or someone else would.
“Sara,” she said desperately, despite the crushing guilt she felt. She saw the surprise on Dr. Browley’s face, then the anger. Summer knew she had crossed a line, especially after Sara had got her this far. His daughter would now be dragged before these people.
“Get the person of whom she speaks.”