Chapter 19
Grease and salt hit my nose before I even open my eyes. Something warm presses against my lips and I jerk back.
“Ba-con—your favorite.” Andrew straddles me, grinning and holding a strip inches from my face.
Dad scoops him up before he can shove it into my mouth, and Andrew throws his head back, laughing like a maniac. That kid.
I push up onto my elbows. “How does he have this much energy? My head feels like a moose used it as a trampoline.” I run a hand through my hair, surprised again at the velcro feel.
Dad raises Andrew into the air, “The doctor already released this one from the hospital. You took really good care of him, Darcie. I’m proud of you.” He sets Andrew on his shoulders, letting him bounce out his energy there. “Mom’s settling up with the office now—lots of paperwork.” He moves closer. “Want to sit up? Eat some breakfast? We ordered your favorite.”
I nod, and he raises the bed. “It wasn’t me.” My eyes fall to the floor. “Grover did everything. I just sort of existed.” The words don’t even sound like mine. “I need to…use the bathroom.”
Andrew giggles like I said something naughty.
Dad frees the IV lines and walks me toward the door. “Yell if you need anything,” he says.
My reflection shocks me. I don’t recognize the girl in the mirror. Baby curls. Raccoon eyes. Someone new. I don’t know who she is yet, but I’m done pretending—whoever I am now, I’m going to be real. Amelia said she was sorry—but that was in the cave—when she was delirious. I wonder if she’ll remember saying it. I wonder if she’ll still mean it.
Mom knocks softly. “Everything okay in there?”
I open the door and she folds me into a hug. “You okay, Pumpkin?”
My shoulders shrug, and she leads me back to my bed. Breakfast is laid out on the tray table. Scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes. I stare at the platter. How can I eat pancakes when someone’s going to jail? Pancakes are not jail food. “Has anyone seen Grover? And Amelia—how is she?”
Mom glances up at Dad before she answers. It’s quick, but I catch it. They know something. “We don’t know much about Grover. The hospital can’t give out personal information.”
“Well, what about Amelia? Can I try to see her?”
Dad lifts Andrew from his perch. “How about I take Andrew for a little walk, see if we can find out anything more?” They slip out of the room, Andrew babbling about going to see his friend.
Mom walks around the bed straightening the covers and tossing used cups and napkins into the trash.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” I take a bite of the bacon; it tastes like cardboard. “What’s up?”
Mom slides in beside me. She pauses a beat, trying to decide, I guess, if I’m too fragile for what she has to say. “Armed guards are stationed outside Grover’s door.”
The words hit me like a slap. Armed guards can only mean one thing: they think he’s dangerous. They think he belongs in jail. My gaze falls to the blanket on my lap. We have to do something.
“They’re not giving out much information. Just that it’s an ongoing investigation.” She clears her throat. “I know you’re trying to help, but whether he thought he had good reason isn’t really the point. He kidnapped three kids.”
“But—”
She shushes me. “They have a lot to sort out.” Her eyebrows crinkle, then she says, “The police have asked to speak with you this morning.”
“Do you think the police will listen to me?” Suddenly, I’m exhausted. I push the breakfast tray away and pull my feet back under the covers. “And what about Amelia? Have you at least talked to her dad?”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve only seen her grandmother. No one else. “You rest, Sweet Pea. I’m going to find Dad.”
Once she’s gone, the room is quiet, except for the occasional beeps and buzzes from the machines behind my head. I try to think about the questions the police will ask. I know I’ll have to tell the truth. But for the first time in my life, I can see how things aren’t really just black and white. They’re gray—dirty, stinking, cave wall gray.
Hours later, I open my eyes to Barney Fife—the guy from MeTV. I’m not kidding. The cop standing at my feet looks exactly like him—right down to the nervous smile. My eyes fall to his gun, and I have to fight the urge to ask if he keeps his “one bullet” in his pocket. This is going to be easy. I scoot up higher and yank my covers straight.
My parents are still out of the room, which suddenly feels…not great. Did he want them gone, or is he less Barney Fife and more “surprise quiz you didn’t study for?”
“Hello there, young lady!” he says, like he’s selling me something. “You’ve had quite a time, haven’t you?” He sniffs, adjusts his belt. “I’m Officer Howie Briggs.”
I plaster on a polite smile. “It was an adventure, for sure.” I say, reaching for my water and splashing it down the front of my pajamas. Calm down, Darcie. Jeez. “I’m fine though...we’re all…good.”
He pulls out a chair and a pad of paper. “Would it be okay if I asked you some questions? Just a few. I’ll be outta your hair quick as a wink.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I say. “Ask away.” I weave the IV tube through my fingers like I’m spinning a rug.
He clicks his pen. “Can you give me the name of the person who took your brother from the cabin?” He sits back, all casual-like. He knows his name—he just wants me to say it.
I rip away a sliver of thumbnail. “Grover.” I whisper. “His name is Grover.”
“Last name?” He twirls the pen between his fingers, eyes narrowed.
“I…don’t know.” My brain is a bowl of microwaved oatmeal—pure mush.
He nods like he expected that. “And were there any other adults involved in this abduction?”
Abduction. The word tastes like metal in my mouth. “Well. No. Not in the abduction.” I pick at a loose thread on my blanket. “I guess.”
“You guess?” His eyebrows creep up. So much for Barney Fife. This guy knows exactly what he’s doing. “Were there other adults involved at any point between the time you left the cabin and your rescue?”
Yeah, this is definitely not Mayberry.
I squirm. “Um. Grover’s mother. Mommy. She was in the cave.”
“And how would you describe her demeanor?”
The picture hits me: Mommy—wild hair, angry eyes—standing at the mouth of the cave like a crooked shadow.
Tears flood my eyes before I can stop them. I wipe them away with the back of my hand, hard. “She was…really happy to see Andrew.” It comes out tiny—like a squeak. “She hugged him. She was—just—she was really focused on him.”
This interrogation is a disaster. Great job, Darcie. Really nailing it.
Officer Briggs keeps going—firing questions at me so fast that I don’t have time to think.
Yes, we were given food and water.
No, we couldn’t leave the cave.
No, Mommy wasn’t in her right mind.
Yes, Grover separated us from Andrew.
Every answer is another weight in a bucket labeled GROVER IS GOING TO JAIL.
I try—I really do—to say something good. Something true. But the questions—they turn my brain upside down—so only bad stuff comes out. All the good parts hide in the back of my mind like scared little mice.
By the time Officer Briggs closes his notebook, my insides have shriveled like an old mushroom. I look down at my hands. They’re twisted together so tight they’re purple. Grover’s in big trouble, and I just handed over every piece of evidence they need to bury him while he’s still alive.
The officer says something as he leaves, but the buzzing in my ears is so loud it’s like I’m underwater. I don’t even catch the words. Probably better that way. I don’t need to hear his thank you, or that I did the right thing. Because I didn’t. I totally just betrayed my friend.