The Tutor Read online

  “Angela Clark,” I croak.

  “Sorry?” Detective Salve says.

  “Call Angela Clark.” I give him the phone number and wait for him to leave. We’re not done yet. He told me that. But at least the unidentified girl in the car wreck has been identified. I buzz the nurse. She’s quick.

  “My head is killing me.” Dara nods, while simultaneously darting around. She reminds me of a butterfly with their erratic flight patterns. She’s dainty and delicate looking. Before I can blink twice, she’s handing me pills and the cup of water from the table. I swallow them down quick.

  “You should really try and sleep. The doctor will be around to fill you in soon.”

  I bite my bottom lip and try to make myself comfortable before I close my eyes. I shouldn’t close my eyes. I feel guilty for not getting up. For not finding Lotte or asking about her but if I’m here-safe, she’s probably here-safe. Scared but safe.

  When I sleep, my brain doesn’t hurt. The world is quiet. At least it used to be that way. Sleep was a heavenly escape. I didn’t dream. Sleep provided me sweet escape for eight hours. It’s dark out when I wake. Rather, when I’m roused from sleep.

  “Ms. Robertson.” An unfamiliar voice. I blink a few times before rubbing away the sleep crusties. My mouth is dry again. My leg throbs. My chest aches. Is this a broken heart? I stuff the idea way deep down—for Lotte.

  “Nora,” I scratch out. He tucks my chart under his armpit and hands my water to me. I drink the remaining liquid. It’s not enough. I’m somnolent and feel desiccated.

  “Nora,” he says.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re aware of the car accident, yes?”

  “Yes,” I answer. The road was uneven and icy. I remember screaming at Lotte to hang on as I yanked the wheel and slammed the brake pedal.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” he says and a part of me wants to laugh but I don’t. “You shattered your femur and part of your patella. You sustained a nasty contusion on your sternum and a serious concussion. It was estimated that you were pinned under your truck for at least three hours before help arrived, which is partly why you’re dehydrated and have moderate hypothermia.”

  “Okay. Where’s Lotte?” I ask.

  He stares at me a beat. “Who’s Lotte?”

  “Charlotte,” I say. “She was in the truck with me.”

  He pinches his lips closed. Swings his tongue around his teeth behind his bottom lip. “As far as I know, there was no one else recovered at the scene.” He looks everywhere but at me. Recovered. The word doesn’t sit right with me.

  “That can’t be right. She was in the truck with me.” I close my eyes, recall what I can. I know she was with me.

  He stares at me intently now. Then, “Tell you what? I will ask around for you. Maybe I’m wrong.”

  “When can I leave?” I ask.

  “We need to do a couple more CAT scans, get your fluids up and monitor your break. But outside of that—soon.”

  Now I do laugh. “That doesn’t sound very soon.”

  “It’s all relative,” he says with an easy grin. “Also, the EMTs didn’t recover any personal effects. Do you have health insurance or an emergency contact you’d like on file?”

  I frown and shake my head. “I already spoke with a detective. He’s calling someone for me but I don’t have insurance,” I groan. “Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all. Just another step to take. I’ll send someone up to get you officially admitted and work out payment options with you. I expect you’ll be moved upstairs out of emergency shortly.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “You arrived,” he looks at his watch. A big fancy one. One that looks expensive. I can hear the ticking from my bed. It’s amazing how much more you use your other senses after months living in the woods. “Fourteen hours ago. Most of that was spent in surgery to set your femur and get the screws in place.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you have any questions for me, Nora?”

  My gut clenches. “No. I’m fine.”

  The better I begin to feel, the more rested I am, the worse my panic becomes. He’s still out there and Lotte is missing. I am in deep trouble.

  Him

  I watched her as she disappeared behind ambulance doors, I couldn’t help but hope that she would know to appreciate the illusion of freedom while it lasted. I was not equipped to deal with her injuries. I had to call 911. This one was special. This was the woman. We were meant to be. She’d proved it. At least I thought she had but then she escaped. But now I can’t let it rest. I don’t want a new one. I want her.

  My hand tightened over the girl’s mouth. “Shh,” I whispered in her ear. “Or I’ll kill them all.” She went limp against me. Scared. She knows better than to agitate me.

  I watched until the bright lights of the ambulance couldn’t be seen. The girl shook against me, whether from the cold or fear, I couldn’t tell.

  Dark clouds roll in, threatening more sleet. We need to move. I pull the girl to the nearest tree and bind her there with rope.

  I have work to do.

  Nora

  When Detective Salve comes back, he looks perplexed. I always liked that word and it makes me happy to be able to use it. He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. He drags a chair right up to my bed and digs in.

  “You were reported missing twenty-four weeks ago.” I arch an eyebrow. I am genuinely surprised at this news.

  Almost nine months ago I’d taken a job. A job which was supposed to last almost three months. What I hadn’t known was that he was grooming me those months for what he intended to do later.

  “Who reported me?” I ask genuinely curious.

  “Angela Clark’s daughter, Aubry.” I nod because, it would be Aubry. Or Angela. But Aubry was my best friend. And Angela did what she could for me as a mother-like figure. She had enough on her plate as a single mom of three kids, without me added to the mix.

  Aubry had big, innocent eyes, dark loose curls, skin like ivory silk, to my almond shaped eyes, strawberry blonde fine hair and freckled skin. I’d always wished away my looks for those more like Aubry’s—but that was before.

  “It’s nice to know someone missed me.”

  Detective Salve cocks his head left. “That’s an odd thing to say.”

  I scoff. “Not if you’re me.”

  He purses his lips. They look like two worms snuggled together. “Where have you been for the last six months?”

  Never mind me. I need to find Lotte. “Where’s Lotte?”

  “Who is Lotte?” he asks. Salve wrinkles his face into a sour expression.

  “Charlotte. She was in the truck with me when we crashed,” I explain.

  Salve purses his lips—again, and slowly shakes his head at me. “No one was in the truck with you when the paramedics arrived.”

  My mind spins, trying to come up with scenarios. “That’s impossible.”

  “That’s a fact. Who’s Charlotte? Another runaway?” Salve pushes.

  “I didn’t run away,” I state. “And no, she’s only eleven.” I’m frustrated. I can’t remember seeing Lotte after we crashed but she was in the truck with me. And wait, she’s twelve now.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you did do,” he pushes. And just like that, I clam up. Holden’s voice rushes through my brain. Tell anyone and they die. Every single person you tell, I will kill.

  “When can I see Angela or Aubry?” I ask. I know Aubry will help me. Believe me. She can keep a secret.

  “When we’re finished here. They have quite a drive but I imagine they’ve left already. Nora, if you didn’t run away, where have you been all this time?”

  I look him directly in his nice eyes and tell him what I know I shouldn’t. I’m a bad girl for breaking his rules. But they’re on their way. I can see them soon. “Held captive,” I say.

  Nora

  I stuff another bite in my mouth and mutter, “Aubry, please. I will be fine.”
r />   “Three months in the middle of nowhere with a stranger is not fine,” she says seriously.

  I finish chewing and swallowing. “It’s a job. Tutoring an eleven-year-old girl. It’s three thousand dollars for three months! I can’t turn that down.” I give her a pointed look.

  Aubry stares at me with narrowed blue eyes but relents, no doubt thinking about the money. I looked and looked for a job here in town since freshman year of college finished but the pickings turned out to be pretty slim. Now it is nearly June and I have ten weeks until the fall college semester starts and I’m short most of the tuition for first semester.

  “Tell me one more time what this Holden dude was like.”

  “Actually, kinda hot. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s probably thirty. He said his girlfriend left him last month and she was homeschooling his little sister, Charlotte. His hair was a little long—scruffy kinda—but besides that, he looked presentable. He was charming, Aub. I swear. Not a weird hillbilly. He seemed really nice.” Holden was lean and tall. Probably from all the farm chores. He had these piercing green hazel eyes that had made my stomach flip over on itself when he first looked at me. And his smile was . . . beautiful. Could a man even have a beautiful anything? He’d made me feel capable and pretty, with just his smile. It had put me at ease immediately. No one had ever looked at me the way he had.

  “Why doesn’t his sister go to school?” Aub asks, pushing a chunk of waffle through syrup.

  I push some food around my plate. “He runs a farm or ranch or something like that out in the middle of nowhere.” I shrug. “I guess the trip to the closest school would take hours each way by the time she was picked up and dropped off.” Lots of kids in that part of the state are homeschooled because of the distance. I need this job. I need the money. It’s the best way to make fast cash and it will allow me to have a decent bundle saved for community college in the fall.

  “But . . .” Aubry sighs. “There’s really no visiting while you’re away?”

  I frown at her. “Nope. I can mail you letters when we go into town for stuff. He doesn’t have internet or electricity. He said they live off the land and you know, it’d be too expensive to run all those power lines up to his house.”

  “Are you camping or tutoring?” Aubry jokes. I laugh because it is strange. I was a little uneasy at first when Holden was telling me about the ranch, but he was so kind and calm and easy going, that I figured I’d get over the lack of luxury offered.

  “Both, I guess. I mean, there is a house though,” I tell her. “And Aub, it’s three thousand dollars.” I emphasize the last three words.

  She emphasizes hers more. “You hate strangers. And you’re even weirder about guys. And now you’re going to go live with a strange guy for like three months and be okay?” She reaches across the tabletop and grabs my hand. I bite my lip and stare at my plate. She’s right. This whole scenario is very unlike me. I’m the shy, reserved one. She’s the outgoing one. I’m the reader. The lover of words. I’d rather be in my house alone than at a party.

  “I have to. It’s the only way I’ll be able to start classes in the fall.”

  “Will you write me once a week?”

  “Will you?” I ask.

  She giggles. “Nope. I won’t miss you at all, so there’s no reason to write.” I pick up a piece of toast and throw it at her. She squeals when it hits her forehead.

  “I will mail you a letter whenever I can,” I tell her and I will because Aubry is my best friend. She brings me out of my shy-shell and forces me to interact with the world. She keeps a smile on my face, even in the darkest of times.

  “So, when you do start?” she asks and steals a home fry from my plate.

  I swat at her hand. “June 1st. I have to take a bus to Pocketville and he’ll pick me up there.” I stab at my eggs.

  Aubry’s shoulders slump and she pouts. “Pocketville is so far away.” Emphasis on so. I giggle.

  “I guess the farm is another hour’s drive from there. It’s only three months.” I wave my hand through the air dismissively.

  “Three. Long. Months.” Aubry is such a Sarah Bernhardt. She should have taught drama at school. Or be headed off to a theatre arts college.

  “You’ll be fine,” I say. “Plus, that’s three long months you get to live in my house. On your own. And it’s really only 86 days, so not quite three whole months.” I smile at her.

  “Maybe I can convince Mom to send you a care package.”

  I furrow my brow. “Don’t. She has enough to deal with and I’m not her kid.”

  I am nobody’s child. At twelve, my parents were killed in a car accident. My mother’s youngest sister moved into the house to take care of me. But what twenty-three year old wants to be saddled with a kid? Not a single one. That’s what. The last time I saw Aunt Amber, I was sixteen. Out of pure fear, I didn’t tell anyone except Aubry that she was gone. I was only a few years off from eighteen and I had my parents’ house and life-insurance money to sustain me. I didn’t need much. Just the basic utilities and food. I paid the bills online from the account Aunt Amber had put my parents’ insurance money into. I went to school like normal. Kept my grades up. I didn’t need anyone to look after me by that age.

  Aubry shoots me a look. “She’s practically raised you.”

  I nod in agreement. “But she has her own three kids to deal with.”

  “She’s pissed at you anyway,” Aubry says, but she doesn’t mean it.

  “What did I do now?” I ask.

  “You stopped coming over. She misses you.”

  “You’re always at my place,” I counter.

  “Because you make me come over!” Her grin is mischievous. We both laugh until our bellies are sore because her exclamation is true. I do make her come over.

  “I’ll come over before I leave. Tell her that.” And I will, because Angela Clark is the closest thing I have to a mother. I’ll just make sure Anton isn’t there and everything will be fine. Just fine. Aubry widens her eyes, inviting me to a staring contest. “You better,” she says.

  Nora

  Salve stares at me. It’s unnerving. I need him to understand that there are few people I care about in this world. I need him to know who they are because it’s probable I’ve already said too much.

  “Held captive by who?” he asks.

  “Holden.” A ripple of fear surges through me, followed by a little thrill. I still remember the first time the Devil told me his name. I still recall the way he called mine.

  “What’s Holden’s last name?” Terror grips my insides. I wrap my arms around my middle in a feeble attempt to calm my stomach. I shouldn’t be talking to this man. “Douglas. Holden Douglas.” His name tastes sour on my lips, as thoughts of Lotte plow through my brain. It didn’t always though.

  “And he lives in Pocketville?”

  I shake my head. “No. Farther. But he knew what he was doing. He knew I was the kind of girl no one would go looking for.” Salve looks at me wearily. Untrusting. He should, too, because that’s all I’m able to tell him. I won’t say another word. Not until I see Angela and Aubry with my own two eyes. He excuses himself to make a phone call. I count the ceiling tiles to pass the time until he returns. I’m languid and thirsty. I’m at 78 tiles when the door swings open and he enters again.

  “I’ve got someone running Holden Douglas’ name through our databases. We’ll see what pops up soon.”

  Fear is a funny thing. It changes the way you think. It alters your being. I’ve learned the heart is a wild beast, that’s why it is caged inside our ribs, that monsters are real and they look like humans and that love is a fickle beast. All my life, people promised that dreams could come true . . . but they forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams, too. I look down at myself. My body is cluttered with scars, a living quilt of near-misses. I’ve learned to never argue with someone who believes their own lies. It results in loss and people never get over substantial losses. They absorb them. Maybe my life isn’
t about having avoided scars, but rather collecting them to prove that I lived my life at all.

  “Are you okay?” Salve asks. Something drips from my chin. The clear liquid goes splat on my johnny. I wipe away the lingering trail of wetness. No more tears. I will them away and scour up some courage.

  I nod. “I’m fine. Can you go now?”

  Salve looks genuinely pained. “Not quite yet.”

  I slump my shoulders. “I’m tired and thirsty.”

  “I’ll grab you a drink,” he offers.

  When he comes back, he’s armed with a soda and he’s all business. “Nora, it is very important that you cooperate with me.” I clasp my hands in my lap, unsure what to do with them. “If you’re telling the truth, there is a little girl missing and a maniac on the loose. I can help you,” he says, then hands the soda to me. “If you talk to me, I can keep you safe.” He says this as if it is only just occurring to him, but I am familiar with his tactic. Holden used it often. Salve is pretending to be nice, expecting me to give in, if I perceive him as a safe person. I narrow my eyes at him. Salve will not get me to talk. Holden doesn’t change his mind. He told me not to talk. He said if I do, he will track down and hunt Angela and her three kids and kill them. They were—are—the only good things in my life. He said Lotte would suffer, if I escape. He said a good hunter possesses patience. The fine hairs on my arms rise and I shiver.

  “I need to rest, Detective. I’m too tired today to play.”

  “Hello!” A cheerful voice says from the door. “We’ve got a room for you all ready. It’s time to move you.”

  I smile.

  Salve acquiesces on a sigh and steps outside.

  Aubry

  “She has unusual scarring on her back,” the nurse says, “it’s . . . very difficult to look at.” I am squeezing my Mom’s hand so hard, that I can’t feel the tips of my fingers any longer. The hospital corridor appears never-ending before us. “The preliminary psychiatrist said she believes Nora is suffering from a fractured mental state and shock.”