The Wicked Trilogy by S. Massery
Caleb
Mr. Black meetsme outside the county jail, and I can’t say I’ve ever felt like more of a miscreant. I’m just glad it isn’t my uncle waiting for me.
After our ‘interview’, the detective said he had enough cause to hold me without pressing charges. So there I sat, while Margo was in the hospital without me.
“I found her,” I say once we’re in the car. “And they just—”
“He already suspected you. When you showed up with her at the hospital, her arms still fucking bound…”
Eli’s dad isn’t a swearer. He drinks expensive whiskey when the occasion calls for it—after a big day at work, maybe—but otherwise, he doesn’t like alcohol. For years, I’ve been trying to find his vice. Smoking, gambling, women.
There had to be something.
Instead, I found a good man. He went to church with his wife on Sundays and tried not to disappear into his office on the weekends. He was present. At the games, cheering us on. When we were younger, he’d pick us up from school and we’d grab ice cream.
Eli’s family was more like mine for a long time.
He hands me my phone. “Your uncle called.”
I grimace. “I was hoping to avoid telling him I’m out.”
“Did two nights in jail make you delusional?”
“Maybe.” I fiddle with it. “How is she?”
It’s been just under seventy-two hours. Almost three days exactly since I saw her. And every moment of it has been hell.
“She told the detective it wasn’t you.”
I didn’t expect anything different. It wasn’t me.
“Is she still in the hospital?”
His grip flexes on the steering wheel. “I think they were discharging her this morning.”
“Now?”
“She could be home already.”
I scroll through the missed calls and texts. Falling off the radar doesn’t go unnoticed in Rose Hill. But I’m only scanning for one name in particular.
Riley: It’s Margo. I’m home.
An invitation if I’ve ever heard one.
“Robert is still in the hospital,” Eli’s dad offers unexpectedly. “They moved him out of ICU, but I hear Lenora is trying to be in two places at once.”
I glance over at him. “Margo shouldn’t be alone. Not with a kidnapper on the loose.”
And Unknown still harassing us.
They knew I was going to get arrested. Knew I’d find the barn… but how?
He nods. “I figured you would say that. I checked with her case worker and made some calls. Riley and her mother are going to stay with Margo while Lenora stays at the hospital.”
Not good enough, I almost say.
I swallow. “Is the detective going to come after me again?”
“Apparently…” He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this. Margo told the detective she saw who took her.”
Something funny happens in my body. Every muscle gets tight. Alarmed. A lump forms in my throat, and it’s hard to breathe.
“Even more reason to stay with her,” I manage. “Who—”
“They were being tight-lipped about it. And,” he glances pointedly at me, “the charges were dropped, but Detective Masters is still considering you a person of interest.”
Mr. Black is a badass defense lawyer. He has sway in the prosecutor’s office and all over the county. Hell, half of New York City knows of Josh Black. I don’t think the district attorney has ever had a worse record in court against one lawyer.
And right now, I’m grateful for it.
I barely slept while in holding. They kept me separated, but it was county jail. All sorts of crazies were brought in. Mr. Black said my uncle called—well, he called the jail, too. Reamed me out and said I was an embarrassment on the family name.
I know it isn’t the charge that rankles—it’s that I got charged at all.
He thinks I did it, but he’s disappointed I got caught.
I don’t respond to Margo, or my uncle, or any of the other messages. I need to see her with my own eyes.
“I should’ve taken off the duct tape.” I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until Mr. Black has slowed the car and twisted toward me.
“Caleb.” His voice is stern. “You cannot say things like that, especially around the detective. You understand?”
“I found her on the floor.” I meet his gaze. “She was unconscious. I was more worried about getting her to the hospital.”
“All they’ll see is someone who wanted to keep her in check. Under their thumb.”
I bristle. “That’s not it.”
“I know that’s not it. I know you. But that’s what they’ll say, and that argument is what they’ll build a case on, if Detective Masters decides to charge you.”
“She said it wasn’t me.”
Eli’s dad tsks. “She was drugged. She could’ve been confused.”
“I found her!”
“How? How did you know exactly where to go? Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Fuck!” I’m tempted to jump out of the car.
“Son, I’m just trying to get you to see how the prosecutor would—”
“Yeah, I get it. Can we just…” I wave toward the road. We’re close to Margo’s house. I take a minute to be thankful that I didn’t even have to ask.
He steps on the gas, silent for a moment. Then he says, “I suppose it’s a good thing we’re going to see her now. Saves you a midnight trip.”
Ah, shit. “You know?”
“Just because you think you’re quiet doesn’t mean I don’t know everything that happens in that house.” He smiles, acting okay with it. Yeah, right. It’s just because I’m me. If it was Eli sneaking out… I see how he gets along with criminals. Gets on their side, earning trust.
“Your runs don’t usually end with you coming home in a reasonable time. And sometimes they involve your car.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, that may be true.”
We pull into Margo’s driveway, and he stops me from getting out with a hand on my shoulder.
“Seriously. We had the sex talk when you were fourteen. I don’t need to tell you to be safe, right? You’re smart enough to already—”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
He drops his hand, and I get out. Lenora’s car is in the driveway. Robert’s is probably at the junk yard… or in police custody. I didn’t see it, but I have enough mental imagery to last a lifetime.
Margo’s case worker arrives as we head up the walkway. Eli’s dad stops to talk to her, and I go to the door.
Lenora yanks it open before I have a chance to knock. “Caleb.”
She’s decidedly unfriendly.
I narrow my eyes. “Mrs. Jenkins.”
“Angela told me…” Her attention slides past me, to where Angela and Mr. Black are conversing on the sidewalk. “The charges were dropped?”
“I didn’t do it.” I stare at her, willing her eyes to come back to me. “I would never.”
She scoffs. “You seem to be the cause of a lot of heartache.”
“I can’t really do much about that unless you let me in to fix it,” I say quietly.
She only steps aside once Mr. Black and Angela are behind me.
The living room is empty. I glance into the kitchen, find that empty, and head up the stairs. My imagination runs wild. I walk down the hall to her room, and it stretches out in front of me.
Her door is cracked open, and it doesn’t make a noise when I nudge it open farther.
She’s… cleaning.
Shoving papers into drawers, straightening her books. Her small trashcan is in her hand, and she periodically shoves random things—a bauble, a paper, something that appears to be a seasonal decoration—into it. Her sheets are off the mattress, balled up in the center of the room. Comforter thrown on the floor. All her clothes are stacked in a pile on top of her nightstand.
Maybe cleaning was the wrong word. She’s doing more harm than good.
And she’s sniffling.
The whole room feels different. Like I left her one way, and now I’m coming back to someone new.
“Margo.”
She drops the trash and spins toward me.
Ah, my heart gives a nasty thump.
Her face is bruised. A few butterfly bandages are taped over stitches across her forehead—that gash was the source of a lot of blood. She probably has more injuries, but those are the only visible ones.
That, and the expression on her face.
I step toward her, and she steps back.
That’s not how this normally goes.
“You don’t think I had anything to do with this, did you?”
Her eyes widen, then skip to the window. I can’t help but notice it’s locked. A message if I ever saw one. I want to howl. Instead, I keep approaching. Her back bumps against the bookshelf—the very same one I found the spying figure on—and she freezes.
I relish the heat of her body, but I don’t touch her. I stop just a hair’s breadth away and meet her dark eyes. There are hours unaccounted for after the accident, and I would kill to give them back to her.
I force myself not to trace her jaw. To inhale the scent of her shampoo—because even that is off, tainted by the antiseptic smell of the hospital.
She’s breathing heavy, like me being in her room has stolen her oxygen.
This isn’t you, I almost say. This girl is scared—but she doesn’t need to be scared of me.
“Are you angry?” she blurts out.
Am I angry? “Furious.”
Now, I do give in to temptation. I drag my finger across her lip. It’s split, a little swollen, but she doesn’t move when I press on her lower lip, parting her pretty mouth.
Her tongue darts out, touching my thumb, and I grin. I’m getting harder by the second, but I think Margo knows what she does to me.
I lean down.
“I thought you might be happy to see me,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “Caleb…”
“Matt told me where to find you. He’s a computer whiz—I know, he doesn’t seem like it—but he…”
Her whole face has drained of blood. I’ve never seen her so pale.
“Matt Bonner told you where to find me?”
I squint at her. “Yeah. He’s actually been helping me try to figure out who was behind the mermaid…”
She grabs my hands. “Caleb, stop.” She takes a deep breath, like she’s afraid to say this out loud. “Matt was the one who took me.”
My stomach bottoms out.
“What?” I misheard her.
She’s trembling, a leaf in the wind, and the way she’s looking at me makes me think… I’m the storm.
“Someone was with him. Someone he knew, but I can’t—”
“And you think it was me.” That stings.
“No, Caleb, I don’t.” Sadness.
Why is she sad?
“My memories came back.”
Oh fuck.
