The Revenge, page 19
I ripped Everly’s picture from the paper and studied it, willing my heart to beat at a normal level, willing myself to breathe slowly but surely, in and out.
I would fight.
I would kill Daniel if I had to.
I was going to fight for my life, and I wouldn’t lose.
Fifty-One
Tony
Bellingham said they would come with a warrant, that it was just a matter of time.
I didn’t have time, and neither did Hope.
“I can’t just sit around and do nothing.” I was at home, sitting at our dining room table with both of my parents, Alice, and Bellingham. We were eating fast food with the curtains drawn. The kitchen garbage was already overflowing with take-out wrappers and pizza boxes because there was a swarm of reporters out front again. Ever since I’d refused the search, they had become rampant, crazy, like a mass of barking dogs. It was hard to believe that was only a few hours ago.
“You’re doing exactly what you need to be doing, Tony,” Bellingham said.
I poked at a cold fry and stared at it. “I don’t feel like anyone is doing anything worthwhile.”
My mother put her hand on my arm and squeezed gently. “Everyone is working to find Hope, Tony.”
“Are they?” I didn’t mean it to sound sharp, but it did. “I feel like all anyone is working to do is to throw me in jail.” Bellingham, my mother, and my father were all staring at me. I didn’t care until I saw that Alice was too, her chin slightly dropped, cute kid rosebud lips a perfect O in a face that didn’t understand.
“Is Tony going to go to jail, Mama?” The tremor in her voice ripped me apart as my mother and father jumped in to console her. I left the table, hearing them reassure Alice, telling her I wasn’t going anywhere, but I wondered how they could be so sure. No one cared about finding Hope anymore.
No one cared but me.
I must have dozed when I went back to my room because when I woke up, the lights were blazing but it was pitch-black out my bedroom window. I paused for a second, sucking in my breath, wondering if Everly would appear again, would start knocking.
Then it hit me that she was dead.
Fifty-Two
Hope
There was no clock in here. There was no way to mark the time other than sun up versus sun down. I thought about stupid old-timey prison movies where the hero was stuck in some godforsaken cell scratching out the days with hash marks on a wall. I considered doing that, but all at once I refused. I wouldn’t be here long enough.
I think it was nearly morning now. I only knew that because the light that filtered in through the thick-as-a-wall plastic window was gray and cold-looking, and I could hear Daniel in the kitchen and vaguely smell bacon and eggs frying. It turned my stomach and made me hungry all at once. I wanted to eat—God, I wanted to eat—but that would mean Daniel would have to come back to this room, come back to me.
And then he knocked on the door.
The fact that he knocked made me livid and terrified at the same time. I couldn’t get out. He was the only one who could come in. And yet he knocked, like this was all perfectly normal, and I was some houseguest who could come and go as I pleased, who wanted to be here at all.
He knocked again.
“Yeah?”
He cleared his throat. “Breakfast is ready.”
I heard him start on the locks: one, two, three. I felt my eyes widen, felt the adrenaline crashing through my veins. The door opened and he stood there, looking every inch a man, nothing like the monster I’d built up in my mind.
“I’m not hungry,” I spat out, hating myself for the way I stepped back for each of his steps forward.
He didn’t break his stride or his smile. “You need to eat.”
I shook my head; that was all I could muster.
“Come on, Hope.”
He was on me, and I crumbled in the corner, tucked in the sliver of space between the desk and the wall. “Get away from me.”
Daniel sighed. “We’re going to be friends. You’ll see.” He smiled a little bigger, a little harder. “We’re going to be more than friends.”
“I’ll never be anything to you. You’ll never be anything to me but some kidnapping freak motherfucker.”
The smile dropped from Daniel’s lips. “That’s not a very nice thing to say. Especially after everything I’ve done for you.”
I wanted to explode, but the fight left me. “Just leave me alone.”
“No, you’re going to eat. We’re going to have a meal like two civilized people.”
He came for me, and I spat, my teeth gnashing out at the arm he offered. I tasted flesh, blood. I savored the sound of Daniel’s yelp—pained, surprised, outraged. He slapped me across the face, hard. I could feel my teeth rattle, but I kept them sunk into Daniel’s meaty flesh. I could feel his blood mixing with my saliva, the molten concoction dribbling over my chin.
He hit me again and again, and finally I let go, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the carpet and glaring at him, daring him to hit me again. I was a wild animal. I would tear him limb from limb with my teeth if I had to. I didn’t know how or when it happened, but I was crouching now, hands and bare feet digging into the carpet, ready to spring. He held my stare.
“Be a good girl, Hope.”
I pounced. Pummeled him. Head to chest. I bashed my forehead hard against his collarbone, scratched and clawed and bit at whatever I made contact with. My hands were around his throat. I was squeezing. He gurgled and groaned, and some sad, strangled wet breath came from his chest. He was pushing at me, hitting, kicking.
His knee made contact with my rib cage, and my mouth exploded open, a deep, loud oof coming out.
I squeezed tighter at his throat, pinching bits of skin between my fingertips and digging my nails in.
I knew I was being hit, kicked, but the pain didn’t register. I wouldn’t let it register. Daniel shoved me hard, and I had to loosen my grip. I heard the sound of flesh against bone, the crack of bone against bone, but the pain didn’t hit me for a full minute after. My head was spinning, my eyes wobbling in my own head, and Daniel was painted in swirls of black. I was falling backward, losing consciousness.
And then I saw it again.
The edge of the forgotten newspaper.
Everly Byer. Dead.
Daniel.
I gritted teeth that felt loose and paper-thin. I expected them to crack, but they didn’t, and every muscle in my body was bolstered by this fact. I went for Daniel again.
I felt his fingers on my flesh, pulling at my shirt.
The rage was overtaken by fear.
Don’t, don’t, don’t—
But he didn’t.
I felt the prongs against my skin first. Icy cold metal. In a millisecond, I was on fire. My skin felt too tight. My bones protruded. My teeth rattled, and the electricity blossomed from my rib cage, from the tiny points of those two cold prongs and up and down my spine. My head wobbled like a cheap toy at the end of my spine. My toes spread, my hands fisted, and I was sweating everywhere. I blinked it into my eyes, tasted it as it rolled over my lips, felt the rivulets between my breasts, down the center of my back, pouring from my underarms.
The current stopped, and I flopped to the ground, my body molten, my mouth hanging slack because I couldn’t work my muscles. My brain couldn’t fire off a single command. I caught my breath as Daniel hung over me, staring. He slowly moved a hand in front of my face, close enough for my eyes to focus on the hot-pink thing he had in his hands.
It looked like a ladies’ electric razor.
He smiled, another of those hideous, slick, twisted grins, and I watched his thumb move to the side of the little pink machine, watched as he depressed a black button.
Electricity.
The cracking, horrible sound: half-harnessed electricity, half memory of bones clacking against each other. My body involuntarily stiffened, my eyes glued to the volts of blue light pulsing between the two tiny tongs.
Daniel flicked the stun gun off. “It belonged to your friend Everly.”
I looked up, tried to focus.
“Why her? She was a phony, Hope. She was trying to take your place. I knew it would make you happy to have her gone. I did good, right?”
Fifty-Three
Tony
Once again, Bellingham told me to sit tight. To wait for his cue. I didn’t. I had started this whole thing, even if Hope had kept it rolling, and I was going to end it. I slammed my car door and drove to the police station, every mile closer, my throat tightening, my heartbeat speeding up.
MacNamara was at front desk when I walked into the station.
“Tony,” she said, eyebrows up. She looked surprised to see me.
“I want to make a statement.”
She looked over my shoulder. “Shouldn’t we wait for your attorney?”
I shook my head. “I need to do this now.”
“Okay, but we need to get your parents or guardians—”
“The reason why I was the last person to talk to Hope Jensen is because she was getting me back for putting all of her personal information online. I shared her location, and she wanted to get me back, so she staged a kidnapping.”
MacNamara just blinked at me.
“Tony?”
Pace walked into the precinct with the chief of police on his tail. Right behind him in a flurry of camera flashes and boom lights were Bruce and Becky Jensen, looking television perfect.
“What’s going on here?” the chief wanted to know.
MacNamara stood up and came to my side. “Tony Gardner wants to make a statement. Mr. and Mrs. Jensen, if you would like to come with me—”
“No.” I had no idea where my confidence came from, but I didn’t question it. “They need to hear this. Hope is in trouble. She wasn’t, but she is now. She staged a kidnapping. She—”
“We were just about to host a press conference,” Bruce Jensen said briskly.
“This is what the press needs to know. That Hope is out there, and she’s in trouble. It was my fault. I put her information online, and Hope wanted to teach me a lesson. She pretended she was being kidnapped. She wanted me to believe that someone actually took her, and now I think that someone actually did.”
I waited for Bruce and Becky to spring into action. For police lights to start flashing, for something to start happening, but nothing did.
“Are you hearing me? Hope is really in trouble.” It felt like the world dropped into molasses slow motion, and then I understood. Hope wasn’t just in on the prank. Her parents were too.
Fifty-Four
Hope
It took everything I had to stay composed. “You did really good, Daniel.” I bit the words hard. “Thank you for everything.”
He beamed. “You’re welcome.”
“So you watched me so that you could find me.”
Daniel pumped his head. “I was going to rescue you, but you came to me. That made me very happy.”
“Now we can start our life together.”
“I’ve been waiting so long to hear you say that.”
I nodded carefully, then glanced around. “I think we need a fresh start, don’t you? A new place. Something that’s…us.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
Fifty-Five
Tony
Knowing hit me square in the chest, the realization so horrifyingly overwhelming that I gasped audibly.
“Oh my God. You knew about this. You knew.”
The Jensens shared an uncomfortable look—fleeting, miniscule—immediately replaced by practiced professionalism. “I don’t know what you are trying to imply, Mr. Gardner—”
“I’m not implying it,” I said, bolder now. “I’m saying it. You knew what Hope was planning, and you…you staged the thing yourself.”
Bruce’s eyes went steel-blade cold. “You better check yourself.”
“Your daughter is in trouble. This is not some publicity stunt. It went sideways, Mr. Jensen. It went wrong.”
“Can someone get this kid out of here?” Becky had her hands on her hips, then seemed to remember that she was playing the part of the tortured mother. “I can’t deal with this, with our baby, Hope, missing…and now…and now…” She fanned herself, the act so dramatic it was almost comical.
“What exactly are you saying, Tony?” Pace asked.
I sidestepped Pace and went straight for Bruce Jensen. “You knew what Hope was planning, didn’t you?”
Bruce looked hard at me and avoided Pace and MacNamara. “You don’t want to do this, Tony. Just play along, okay?”
“Are you kidding me?”
Becky made a beeline toward me, her voice a slight octave above a whisper. “Hope had a plan. We overheard it. She was going out with her friend. No harm, no foul. Just play along for the cameras, okay?”
Bruce and Becky were framed in the harsh fluorescent lights, and I saw them then for everything that Hope said that they were: Desperate. Fame hungry. So rolled up in their own agenda they had no idea Hope’s high school revenge plan had taken on a life of its own. That their own daughter was in danger while they rolled film. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly sorry for Hope.
Fifty-Six
Hope
Daniel had the stun gun in his pocket. He had a knife in the kitchen and a gun somewhere in his house. I had nothing, but I would get out of here. I would get free.
“So you know I’m a good guy. I’m saving you. I saved you.”
I could see that Daniel really believed what he was saying so I nodded. “Yes, I see that now.”
He beamed. “I’m going to cook us dinner. And I’m going to start preparing now.”
I cleared my throat. “Can I come in the kitchen with you? I think I”—I almost choked on the words—“I think I would like to be with you right now. I don’t want to be alone.”
A crimson wash went over Daniel’s cheeks. “That would be nice.”
“You’ll have to unlock me.”
“Okay.”
I stood a little too quickly, and he narrowed his eyes. “You’re tricky, but I have this.” He brandished the stun gun, and an involuntary sweat broke out all over my body. He pushed the thing against my skin and I bristled, every muscle tightening, teeth clenched, but nothing happened.
“Zzzz!” he said. “I wasn’t going to do it, but if you try anything…” He pulled the machine from my skin and flicked the button, the blue-white electricity crackling to life. “Okay?”
I nodded, silent, terrified, but still determined.
Daniel went to work unlocking the clamp around my ankle with one hand, the stun gun at the ready in the other. I made a show of being a good girl, of not moving. I even forced a sweet smile and tried to make small talk. “The room looks nice. Thank you for cooking dinner.”
He shuffled me down the hall in that same slow walk I was beginning to get used to and despise, and when we entered the living room, the television was on again. This time was the news, and once again it was my parents. Daniel turned the volume off before I heard them speak.
“They’re getting really famous,” he said again. He pulled out a chair. “You can sit right here.”
I sat dutifully, and Daniel rifled through a drawer and produced two zip ties. I shook my head sternly. “You don’t have to,” I said simply.
“I think I do.”
“I heard what you said. You’re a good guy. Just saving me from my parents.”
I could almost see the cogs turning in Daniel’s head. He wanted to believe me, looked like he was desperate to. I leaned forward, let my hand find his, even as his touch made my skin crawl. “I understand now.”
“You do?”
I nodded.
“I’ll sit here, and next time, I can cook you dinner.”
Daniel pumped his head. I clasped my hands in my lap, and plastered on my sweetest, more serene smile. I stayed silent and unmoving while he pulled things out of the cabinets, the refrigerator, even though each move made me want to flinch, made my muscles remember the shock of electricity and recoil.
“We’re going to be happy, Hope. You and me.”
Fifty-Seven
Tony
“I’m not going to play along. The person who has Hope isn’t playing along.”
Becky’s grip was firm on my arm. “His name is Rustin. He’s a friend.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. She’s not with Rustin anymore. She’s gone.”
Becky blinked. Bruce blanched.
The red lights of the cameras clicked on. Light flooded the station. For once, Bruce and Becky Jensen were caught off guard, caught looking slightly imperfect.
“Don’t film this,” Becky said.
“We’re not rolling yet,” Bruce barked.
Pace stepped forward and addressed the Jensens. “Where is Hope?”
“We’re going live in five, four…” the cameraman started.
“This isn’t about fame anymore. This is about your daughter!”
“Three, two—”
“Where is she?”
Fifty-Eight
Hope
I squinted at the screen. “What’s going on?”
The news on the television broke into a disheveled scene at the police department. My parents looked awkward, pained. There were police officers and—Tony? I rushed to turn up the volume, but Daniel snatched me by the arm.
“You said you wouldn’t!”
I twisted the volume knob just in time to hear Tony, to see my parents pale.
“See? See, Hope? They don’t love you.”
