The Wicked Trilogy by S. Massery

Margo

I wakeup much the same as I did last time: violently.

My body jackknifes, pain crashing through me. It goes straight to my head, and so do my hands.

Someone rushes in. “Margo, Margo, calm down. You’re in the hospital.”

Stars burst behind my eyelids, but I recognize Lenora’s voice. She eases me back, muttering about the lights. A second later, everything in my peripherals goes dim. I lower my fingers away from my eyes and blink.

It still hurts, but not nearly as bad.

Lenora hovers at the side of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. “I was so worried. I’m not allowed to tell you—”

A nurse comes in, followed quickly by a doctor. The doctor introduced himself, but I can’t focus on his words. I’m too busy eyeing the expression on my foster mother’s face… and trying to decipher it.

“You have a concussion,” the doctor says. I missed his name. “Expect headaches, maybe memory fragments.” He clears his throat. “There’s a detective outside who wants to speak with you.”

I widen my eyes. “Wait. You’re not going to tell me how I got here?”

He takes a step closer, sliding his hand into mine and squeezing. “Try to remember. Close your eyes.”

A nurse says, “You shouldn’t—”

“Leave us for a moment,” the doctor orders.

He notices I’m ignoring his directions and staring at Lenora. Her gaze has been on the floor, but now it flips up and crashes into mine.

“Can you give us a moment, Mrs. Jenkins?”

She flinches. “Yes, yes. But the detective can’t come in until her case worker gets here. She’s a minor.”

She leaves, and it’s almost like she was never here to begin with.

“Just us now,” he says. “So I want you to take a deep breath and think of the last thing you remember. Don’t say it out loud. Liz was right, I shouldn’t be helping.”

I grip his hand tighter. “What if I don’t want to remember?”

“We all grapple with ugly things. It’s how we respond that’s our true defining moment.”

Slowly, I close my eyes.

Last thing I remember…

Dad.

He said he was arrested for killing Caleb’s dad. Took a plea deal… but he said he was innocent. There’s truth buried in there. I was desperate to find it.

You still are.

Outside, into Robert’s waiting arms.

It was snowing.

His car. Driving, talking, and then—

I flinch, squeezing the doctor’s hand. “Car accident,” I whisper, blinking. “But… why does that warrant a detective?”

“Keep going,” he urges.

“First—is Robert okay?”

He doesn’t hesitate to say, “He’s in the Intensive Care Unit. His lung collapsed. Few broken ribs. It was touch and go for a while, but he’ll probably be moved to a regular room tomorrow morning.”

I bite my lip. The metallic taste of blood blooms across my tongue.

“Keep going,” the doctor urges. “Don’t focus on that.”

I shut my eyes and relive the car being hit. Going into a ditch and flipping over. Robert’s arm banded across my chest, trying to keep me safe.

And when the dust settled…

Someone pulled me out. Away. But instead of helping me, they were taking me away.

They knocked me out, and when I woke up…

I was in a barn. It was drafty, ice-cold. Two people argued. My head hurt spectacularly. My whole body did. And then…

Shit.

I sit up straighter. “Where’s Caleb?”

A man walks into the room as I’m asking, and he raises an eyebrow. “He really fooled you, huh?”

I flinch.

The doctor stands, shaking his head. “Really, Masters? You’re supposed to wait for Angela—”

“I’m here,” she says, slipping in behind the detective. “Traffic. I was across town. Margo, how are you feeling?”

“I’m alive, so…”

“Detective Masters wants to chat with you about what happened,” she explains. “I’m here to be your advocate.”

I nod, and the doctor leaves. I’m sad to see him go—even if I didn’t catch his name, he was nice. The detective takes his place at the side of my bed. He drags a chair over and makes himself comfortable, adjusting for a moment.

He has dark eyes and a smooth head. His leather jacket doesn’t scream detective, but it definitely fits his personality. There’s a badge at his hip and a holstered gun on the other side of his body.

“As Angela so kindly explained, I’m Detective Jim Masters. I’m just going to ask you some questions about yesterday.”

I shoot up. “Yesterday? It’s been—”

“About twenty-seven hours since the accident,” he says. “Your abductor brought you in around five o’clock yesterday evening. You were unconscious.”

I frown. “Why would they do that?”

He leans forward. “They? Did you see anything that could help me?”

I shudder. I’d forgotten that part.

He held the cloth over my face.

I tried to resist it, I really did. But then, I made the mistake of opening my eyes.

I take a deep breath and meet the detective’s gaze.

It’s time to name my kidnapper.

“It was Matt Bonner.”