Her mother reached out and cupped her hand. “There was no one there, Riley.”
She snatched her hand away. “Yes, there was.”
“Why didn’t you just come home?”
“Because I left my keys here. And Dad took my cell phone.” Riley could hear the frustrated quiver in her voice. “You weren’t here. The door was locked. I couldn’t get in.”
Riley watched her mother press her lips together and look away then slide Riley’s backpack off her desk. She unzipped a pouch, and Riley’s heart stopped. Her keys and her cell phone were nestled in the front pouch, just like they always were. She shook her head.
“No, they weren’t there. They were here. I left my keys on the kitchen table and Dad took my phone.”
“He gave it back to you last night.”
“No, no, he didn’t. I didn’t have it.”
“Riley, honey, did you stop taking your pills?”
Riley could feel the flush of heat over her cheeks. “My pills?”
Her mother dug into the backpack and produced the wadded-up Ziploc Riley used to hide the pills she spit out each morning.
Riley swallowed. “I don’t like them.”
“That’s fine, honey, but you shouldn’t have stopped cold turkey. It’s dangerous. There are all sorts of side effects.”
Fire burned in Riley’s gut. “Like thinking I’m being chased? I was. I was!” She kicked off the covers and tried to stand up, but her legs were heavy and noodly. Her mother rushed toward her and helped her gently back to bed.
“Don’t stand up. I’ve given you something to relax.”
“What?” Riley’s vision already started to blur. “You gave me drugs?”
Her mother stood up and pulled the blankets to Riley’s chin, tucking them in all around her. “We’ve all had a rough day, Riley. Go to sleep.” She straightened and smiled, her palm cool against Riley’s forehead. “Don’t you worry about anything. Your dad and I have it all taken care of.”
? ? ?
The clattering of dishes in the sink woke Riley the next morning. Her muscles were raw and sore and her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
“Mom?” Riley took a tentative step then picked her way down the stairs. Her mother was scrubbing a dish, but she turned when Riley walked in.
“How are you feeling?”
“OK. Where’s Dad?”
Riley’s mom waggled a coffee mug. “Gone to get coffee. He really needed to clear his head. Riley, I—”
Riley stepped back, holding up a hand. “Can we not talk about it right now? My head is killing me.”
Her mother sighed, exasperated. But there was something else too—exhaustion.
“Can I go for a walk?”
“That’s not—”
“Please, Mom? Just around the block?”
“Ten minutes.”
Riley nodded and scrambled for the door, ignoring the pain in her limbs. Someone had chased her; she wasn’t going crazy. And she was going to prove it.
Riley crossed the street, crouching down on the blacktop and scrutinizing it. She followed the path the black car had taken until she reached the house where she had hidden. There was a litter of dirt across the driveway and Riley ran toward it, sure that it would have tracked the car’s tire marks.
The dirt was undisturbed.
She searched around the house and found a trail of footprints—size seven and a half, hers. There was only one set. Riley dropped down on her hands and knees and began searching, inch by inch. She was vaguely aware of time passing or cars driving by, but she was desperate to find something—desperate to prove she wasn’t crazy.
“Riley!”
Riley’s head snapped up as her father coasted to a stop and got out of the car.
“Dad!”
His hand closed over her wrist. “Come on. We’re going home.”
Riley tried to pull back. “I don’t want to.”
Her father cut his eyes to her. There was something in them Riley had never seen before—something hard, something fierce. Fear zinged down her spine. “Dad?”
“Do you know how panicked we were yesterday? Your mother was sick. We asked you to trust us.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I really hope you do.”
Riley blinked into her father’s eyes—mesmerized and paralyzed. She felt her feet moving. She fell into step behind him, his palm still closed over her wrist. He said nothing to her but he was standing too tall, too straight, and his posture spoke volumes. He was angry, frustrated, sad. His jaw was clenched, and Riley veered back, knowing better than to talk.
Instead, she let herself be led, closing her mind off to the wild possibilities that were ricocheting inside her skull: she was being led like a lamb to the slaughter. Like an unruly teen by her frustrated father. Like a victim with the man who stole her.
? ? ?
Riley sat in the front seat, staring silently out the windshield.
“Where did you go?” her father asked.
Riley pretended she didn’t hear him.
“Did you talk to anyone?”
Again, silence.
“You’re going to have to talk to me eventually, Ry.”