Page 96 of Fallen Creed

She had stayed back. She couldn’t believe what was happening. The rest of them were high, but Libby had only pretended. She was expected to participate. Ruben handed her a bright yellow utility knife, but she slipped into a puddle. Banged her knee. Her palms were immediately stained.

While the others hovered over the bathtub, Ruben glanced back, not paying her much attention but instructing her to get more towels. When they first checked in, he swiped extra from a housekeeping cart in the hallway. He’d piled them on the bed. Libby wondered why they needed so many. A swim party? How naïve she’d been.

When she left the bathroom, she walked right past the towels and tiptoed to the door. Somehow, she managed to sneak out. They were all too absorbed in the task at hand. It was simply dumb luck that no one noticed her slip away. They didn’t even hear her stumble. Her knees had refused to keep her upright. She remembered crawling out of the hotel suite, keenly aware that she needed to hold the door so it wouldn’t make a sound.

She took the stairs. She could barely breathe. She missed steps and clung to the railing so she wouldn’t fall headfirst. Outside, it was cold and raining, but she didn’t care that she wasn’t wearing a coat or shoes.

None of that mattered.

A pitter-patter on the trailer roof made her sit up straight. She glanced around, trying to catch her breath. She needed to let the memories fuel her, not paralyze her. She tried to concentrate on the new sound, though it was barely audible over the hum of the generator. Her eyes darted out the window. Streaks of water etched the glass.

Meltdown. That’s what she was hearing. The snow on the branches above was starting to melt. The realization quickened her pulse. There was little time left.

Run or be found.

Beyond the streaks, she saw Ariel leaning against a tree, staring down at her hand. From twenty feet away, Libby could see the light of the cell phone. During the storm, Libby’s own phone had little to no cellular reception. Out here, it was sporadic even on a clear day.

But Ariel’s phone appeared to be working. Then Libby saw her pull off her glove and tap the screen.

She was messaging someone.

—75—

Something was bothering Jason. He was too quiet. Last night, Brodie thought he was just tired from the two-day drive. She wondered if he might be concerned about their sleeping arrangements, but she discarded that as soon as they went up to their rooms. He’d already created a comfortable area on the floor of Brodie’s room for all of them to be together, if that’s what she chose.

She was grateful Jason understood, though she wasn’t sure she did. Why was she still having panic attacks? She had learned to deal with so much when she had no choice but to survive. She remembered when Iris punished her with darkness by taking the only light bulb from the already dark basement. Brodie had learned how to go deep inside her mind, closing her eyes, because despite the black surrounding her, that simple gesture helped calm her. She still kept her eyes shut in the middle of the night when she felt the panic creeping back into her mind.

But she was safe now. No one would hurt her again as long as she was strong. As long as she had Hank and Jason and Scout. And of course, Kitten. She had smiled about that last night as she watched Jason feed the dogs and cat. Then, without even discussing it, they all settled down to sleep like it was part of their normal routine. With their bellies full, the dogs crashed and sprawled. They enjoyed the extra space after being confined to the Jeep for too many hours.

And they all slept. No nightmares. No Charlottes.

Brodie’s mind had been preoccupied with Ryder and Grace, but she found comfort in the exhausted bodies surrounding her and in the sounds of their breathing, even a few snores. Hank looked up once to make sure she was okay. Jason stirred a few times, then readjusted. Almost instinctively, all of them touched each other throughout the night in the subtlest of ways.

This morning her mind picked up where it left off, going over the things Maggie had told them about Ryder’s disappearance. Brodie sorted through the details and tried to fill in the gaps Maggie had left out. And now she was convinced the FBI profiler had left out what she didn’t want them to know.

To be fair, Brodie knew Maggie probably didn’t think she had lied to them. Brodie, unfortunately, had developed an innate lie detector. She had to in order to survive Iris Malone’s constant lies. The woman had used them to control Brodie. Withholding the truth turned out to be a crueler punishment than kidnapping her.

Lies of omission were trickier. Brodie understood that. She’d even used the tactic herself. Hannah said some lies didn’t count as much as others. And there were a lot of different kinds besides lies of omission.

There were little white lies and bold-faced lies along with lies people told themselves. Of course, they could just be stretching the truth or pulling your leg or yanking your chain. Brodie read a lot, so she recognized these. She didn’t always understand the reasons people lied, but she knew when someone wasn’t telling her the truth. She had asked Ryder to always tell her the truth, no matter the cost.

It wasn’t a request she could make of Maggie O’Dell, and so Brodie’s mind continued to imagine what Maggie knew that was too uncomfortable to tell. What was too terrible she felt she had to keep it from them?

The fact that Jason didn’t notice meant something else preoccupied him. Although Brodie was good at detecting lies, emotions were an entirely different subject. She couldn’t figure out her own emotions. How could she possibly figure out someone else’s?

But this morning Brodie realized Jason was worried about something. He hardly commented on breakfast. He loved breakfast. And the biscuits were better than the ones they’d had yesterday. She watched him load his daypack, sorting items, packing and unpacking them like he couldn’t decide what he and Scout would need. She’d never seen him so unsure.

Perhaps he simply wasn’t prepared for the temperature change. She casually recommended layers, and he seemed grateful for the tip. Yet it didn’t solve his hesitancy.

Maybe it was the snow that threw him off. When they walked from the hotel to the Jeep, his shoulders hunched together, and he lifted his feet too high like the snow might trip him.

Over the past several months, Brodie had spent a lot of time observing Jason. She found him fascinating in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Sometimes he hummed when he worked. She’d caught him singing once, and instead of being embarrassed he added gestures like he was playing a guitar, performing for her like a rockstar, just to make her laugh. It worked.

When she first arrived in Florida, she was still frightened of dogs. Iris had sent one of hers to attack Brodie once during an attempted escape. The scar on her ankle still displayed the indentions where the dog’s teeth had sunk down to the bone. In those first weeks, when Jason learned Brodie shared his love of reading, he took time to tell Brodie stories about each of the dogs in Ryder’s kennel. All of them were rescues that had been abandoned. Each had an incredible story, and Jason narrated them like fictional tales. Somehow he knew Brodie would relate to their plights and maybe not be as frightened of them. Again, it worked.

She felt close to Jason, but not like she did with Hannah or Ryder. So why couldn’t she read his emotions?

She helped him rearrange the dogs’ crates so they could restore a seat in the back for Maggie. Scout and Hank were excited this morning with pent up energy. They had walked them as best they could, but Scout almost pulled Jason off his feet, wanting to run in the deep snow.