Stockholm Page 7

  “I’m not a fucking victim. I chose this.” Her pulse jittered, causing her to hold on to the sides of the couch when her head began to spin. She might be a victim, but in a different way, and not at the hands of David.

  “That is where we differ, Cole. I love you, and I will keep this secret. Of course, I will. There is no one I love more than Lucas and you. I need space, though; not from you, but from David.”

  “I understand.” Her tone was mimicking the release of air from a flat tire, and just like her timbre, her whole body barely stood as she deflated.

  “I’m not going to make you choose because obviously there is nothing you wouldn’t do for David.”

  Her eyes locked on Maribel. “Short of murder, I guess you’re right.”

  Taylor

  Dexter was a nightmare this particular day. She felt her nerves unraveling, and Blake had left her the longest list of chores. All she wanted to do was rest while Dexter was down for a nap. It took him an hour to fall asleep. Whoever termed it the terrible twos never had a three-year-old. No was the only word that little demon of hers used.

  It was apparent to those around her that she didn’t have that spark anymore. Her sister said, “You’re pregnant, you should glow.” Even Blake couldn’t really hide his controlling nature around her parents anymore, but he was perfect as an altar boy on Sunday around his parents. It made her wonder what sort of marriage Libby and Adam had. Did they hide behind closed doors? But that couldn’t be true. Libby seemed happier than Taylor, and she had lost her daughter.

  The chicken for dinner wasn’t thawed yet, and she had checks to pay and Blake’s ironing to get done before five. It was nearly three, and her spastic toddler would be awake soon. She had thought about sitting down with Blake and coming to a compromise about housework once the new baby was born. Blake wouldn’t allow her to take Dexter to preschool. “This is why you stayed home, Tay, to be a stay-at-home mom. To invest in our son’s life. It makes no sense to send him to school just for you to get a break when he will be in school for the rest of his life.” It would be hard to juggle a three-year-old and a newborn along with all his daily demands.

  She hoped her milk would come in this time. He’d made her feel like a failure as a mom when she couldn’t nurse Dexter. “He’s starving to death,” she’d plea.

  “Every lactation consultant says your body knows what to make, so he’s getting it.”

  After Dexter lost two pounds from his birth weight, the doctor told Blake if he wasn’t given a bottle and gained a pound within the next week, he’d call CPS on Taylor and him.

  He went to the store and got formula, but he was mad at her the whole time for failing her son.

  She then thought of Libby and the idea of losing a child at an early age, and she knew right then that having a controlling husband was not as bad as it could get.

  It was nearly nine p.m. before she had Dexter settled and in bed. In their master bath, she eyed her body, from her face to her toes, and couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—admit the toll her marriage had taken on her. In her mind, Blake was the loving and doting man she married.

  Turning on the electric toothbrush, she was in her own world when she’d rotated to see eyes seething at her, and her heart lurched. “Why the fuck can’t you answer me when I call for you?”

  Turning off the switch to her toothbrush, she tried to form a smile because surely, he’d understand she couldn’t hear him over brushing her teeth, but more so, she didn’t want Dexter woken up by his loud requests.

  “Sorry, babe,” she replied, placing her toothbrush down and grabbing her hairbrush. “I couldn’t hear you.”

  With a loud sigh, Blake dismissed her words. Grabbing her arm closest to him, he said, “I expect you to be able to hear me when I call for you. I work; you stay at home. Believe me, you have the better part of the deal.” Changing his tone to the Blake she’d once known so well, he took her by the hands and placed her on the bed. “I was thinking; this nine o’clock bedtime of Dex’s is not working for me, Tay. I need time with you where I’m your focus, so I’ve decided no naps for Dex anymore.”

  She whipped back her head and said the one thing she’d barely had the courage to say. “Nope, Blake. I need him to have a nap. This is not negotiable. Not now, not when I’m about to have another baby. And maybe, just maybe you can help me in the evenings. For shit’s sake, I’m growing your baby.” She went to walk away, but it couldn’t be that easy. Could it? Taylor wondered when his large hand grabbed her right before she made it out of the room.

  Libby

  When she lost Mikayla, the little baby down the street lost her mother. In the last twelve years, she foraged a friendship with Delaney Norman. She was now almost thirteen, and though Delaney was not her daughter, Libby took pride in the beautiful, kind girl she had become. Now that she didn’t need daily supervision, she treated Delaney to the fun things in life that a girl who only had her dad might not get. This consisted mostly of shopping. Delaney loved clothes with a passion, and Libby never could deny her.

  She often wondered why Mark Norman never remarried after the death of his wife. He was such a good-looking man, even now at nearly forty years.

  When Mark found out about the letter the previous night, he’d come over to let her off the hook from the plans she’d made with his daughter weeks ago. “No way, Mark. That girl, as she did twelve years ago, still needs me, and I need her.” Mark left knowing he couldn’t talk her out of this task and thanked her again as he always did for all she did for his daughter.

  The activities around her daily routine gave her perspective when it came to her Mikayla. Perspective was certainly what Libby needed.

  9

  12 Years Ago

  Within the first month of the kidnapping

  Mikayla

  It had been two days since she saw Nolan. True to his word, he left her alone. Dropping her meals promptly at nine, one, and six o’clock, he delivered them with care and always with that signature flower. He put more thought into making sure she’d stay hydrated by leaving bottles of water outside her door. On the second day at lunch, she found a note. Reading it, she hated that it caused her insides to melt in a different way than any other man sparked within her. She read every word as if he’d been whispering in her ear. I miss seeing your pretty face. Please let me know if you need anything.

  Her purpose for her “time alone” was supposed to be to investigate the weaknesses of the farmhouse, wandering around to look for keys or a phone or something—anything. In the end, she realized he was not stupid.

  It was a long two days, and as much as she hated Nolan or tried to ignore it, the loneliness in his absence dominated her thoughts. His desire made her feel wanted and special, but in her diluted mind, she was special enough to kidnap. She understood there was a psychological reason she’d been reacting this way to her captor. It was stupid, for fuck’s sake. There was a diagnosis, but she couldn’t think of it right then. She wasn’t falling for her captor; she wouldn’t allow it.

  After the two days were over, Mikayla walked out to the kitchen, and he was there with his stupid big smile. It’d been two days since she wanted to slap that look off his face but also take it all in. “How was your time alone?” he asked.

  “It was wonderful. I didn’t have to see your fucked-up face.”

  He continued to smile at her. He had to be certifiably insane. There was no way Nolan was letting her leave in six months. “Well, I missed you, sweetness. You are quite the companion.”

  “I hope you die a long and slow death,” she said, grabbing the hash browns and bacon that he had on her plate.

  He watched her as she devoured her breakfast. “I see being mean and mouthy makes you hungry,” he joked.

  “Mean? I’m mean? Are you serious? You kidnapped me. I’m your prisoner. So, asswipe, if I look up mean in the dictionary, I’m sure that is just one definition.”

  “I want to think of you as my guest, but I guess there is truth to it
. What do you want to do today? I had some movies sent to me. We can watch them and even pop some popcorn.” He didn’t skip a beat, admitting to his cruelness in keeping her prisoner and planning his day all in the same breath. She stood abruptly, almost tossing the small table over.

  “Are you fucking for real right now?” As much as she wanted to yell, she was more confused. Changing her tone, she finally admitted, “Sure. I guess. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

  “You could recon again? I mean, it was the reason for your little sabbatical from me, right?” He smiled, and she knew he was certainly baiting her, though she was playing into his hand.

  “Eat shit,” she replied, knowing she was busted. He must have cameras. The hopelessness she felt at that moment, knowing she was indeed stuck in this situation, made her heart race as if it might pound out of her chest. She had to hide that. He couldn’t see her look so broken. No, she’d have to just be the best actress he’d ever seen.

  “We can watch a movie later. I was hoping you would share something with me again. Sometimes, the questions a person asks another reveal more about the person asking the questions than the answer given.”

  This was her chance, but she wasn’t sure what angle to take with him. She thought long and hard for several seconds. “Sure, I have one. What’s your plan? Surely, you think I will fall in love with you. I’ll succumb to you. I just have to have you. What then? A happy family. My parents will never believe I left willingly. And my brother will kick your ass. He’ll probably kill you,” she added for emphasis.

  “Well, we have options. It depends on what you want. The night I took you, you were yelling in your sleep. Don’t hurt me. Don’t say those things to me. No, no. But we all know why you were screaming it. You were not scared of me.”

  “That can be debated,” she quipped back.

  “I didn’t physically lay a hand on you. Anyway, I heard a name. You said, Don’t hurt me. No, please don’t.” But he never spoke the name she’d uttered. Bringing his hand to her face, he tipped her eyes to his. “Sweetness, who’s hurting you?”

  “No one. I must have had a bad dream. That’s all, a bad dream,” she bellowed stubbornly.

  Nolan leaned in, close to her and she could smell his aftershave again. He attempted to reach for her but pulled his hand back at the last second. “I know I’m not one to judge here. In essence, I took you from your family, but do you think I might have my reasons? The name you said; he’s someone you should be able to trust.”

  She needed to defend her words, not understanding them herself. “It was just a stupid dream.”

  “Does he hurt you?” He extended his hand to take hers, but then he pulled back. “Has he taken advantage of you?”

  “Ew, like sexually? NO! He’s just loud and mean at times. That’s all.” Mikayla’s face turned bright red as she denied the accusatory words.

  “It was enough to get you to cry out in fear.”

  “Wait, do you know more than you are sharing?” Mikayla pleaded; she needed understanding and answers about the night he’d taken her.

  “I’d never hurt you. And I swear I’m going to let you go home if that’s what you want. But, sweetness, I saw a sad girl the day you and I bonded in the library.”

  Scoffing his way, she replied, “I bond with people easily; you’re the only one who’s taken me against my will.” She hated him right now, making her remember who was really inflicting the pain. But it was never something she’d share with anyone. Why would she? She had a handle on it, right?

  Nolan’s arrogant grin swept over his face, but he was right. He had hurt her; the he she couldn’t even speak of had hurt her. Nolan finally said, “I wonder if whoever is hurting you has tried to justify his abuse toward you. I know I am defending what I’ve done, but I am not physically hurting you, sweetness. Maybe it’s the same thing. I have this very real and warranted anger toward him because I care for you.”

  This time, she reached for his hand and gave him a tender smile. “Then let me go now, Nolan. I’d never love a man who kept me against my will.”

  “First, sweetness, you are trying to convince yourself of this. I see how you look at me and how when I walk in the room, your tits become as hard as my cock.” She jumped at his crude words, but he wasn’t done, nor was he wrong. “Back to the person hurting you because, believe it or not, I will never let another person hurt an innocent woman again. I suppose you haven’t told anyone yet what he’s doing to you?”

  In her quietness, she couldn’t justify why she’d allowed someone to hurt her.

  Standing up, he poured her another cup of coffee and put just the right amount of sugar and creamer in it. Mikayla hoped this Spanish Inquisition was over but no such luck. “You are right, Mikayla. I promised you a movie, and regardless of the fact you didn’t willingly share with me, you did. It helps me understand you a bit better.”

  As she drank her coffee and watched him clean the breakfast dishes, she wondered how he’d made such great coffee, since he didn’t drink it himself. Her favorite breakfast was bacon and eggs, and he cooked it for her four to five days a week. She loved salads with lots of different ingredients in it. He always had grapes, celery, oranges, apples, avocados, cheese, cucumbers, walnuts, pecans, dried apricots, peppers, and onions on hand. He also made a homemade salad dressing that was to die for. She didn’t understand how he’d learned so much about her. She loved homemade mac and cheese. Her two favorite dishes were stuffed shells and meatloaf, and those were on the menu for dinner quite often. Not only her favorite foods, but her comforter was also purple, her favorite color. She loved giraffes and had several of them in her room along with her favorite magazines.

  “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

  “Yes, of course,” he said with his back to her, doing the dishes.

  “You know how I like my coffee and my favorite foods. You know more about me than my family does. How?”

  He turned around, and she knew he was entertaining how to answer her series of questions. He scrunched his face every time he had a hard decision to make, having done the same thing when she bartered for an extra day of solitude. Sitting down, he continued, “The medicine I used on you makes you forget. Those were questions I asked you as I walked you to your car. The medicine was in your water. I guess you thought I was going to ask you out.”

  “I barely remember talking to you.”

  “We had a great conversation. You told me you had a boyfriend, but you seemed interested in me.”

  “I did?” Though she already recognized the answer to this.

  “Well, if I was reading you right, you did.”

  “Then why didn’t you just take your chances and just ask me out?”

  Putting his own tea down, he didn’t look at her eye to eye as he normally would. “I know an abuse victim. I can read it really well, and I had to protect you. I can’t explain it.”

  “But you never revealed to me you wanted to protect me that night. Maybe I’d have listened to you. Why didn’t you just lead with that?” Mikayla asked.

  “I’m not sure. I have this thing about protecting girls from abusive relationships.” That revelation he’d admitted was a conversation she needed to dig deeper into, trying to understand what gave him this God complex. Maybe by knowing him better, she’d convince him to let her leave, breaking the distance and her need to put many miles between her and him.

  Libby

  Life was adjusting to the new normal, not that Libby wanted it to return to any sort of normalcy. In her mind, a future without Mikayla was not one she could even imagine. Maneuvering life without Mikayla was as if she had awoken to find her arm or leg missing.

  Her heart was still an organ that functioned as it should; however, it had a constant ache to it. There was hope she was still alive since Mikayla’s body had never been found, yet that optimism ate away at her every day. Could today be when her daughter came home? Her anticipation felt as if it were a two-ton boulder weighing
her down from day to day. Sometimes, it was so heavy, she couldn’t get out of bed.

  Today was a milestone for Jenna. She’d finished her Doctor in Pharmacology degree earlier than expected and was moving home. She’d been in Seattle for years, commuting on weekends to see her boyfriend, Trenton. Right before graduation, he, proposed to her, and she was going to live at home until she and Trenton bought a house. Losing her sister was something Jenna couldn’t articulate, and she barely held it together to complete her degree. “If I sit here and feel sorry for myself, don’t finish school, or make any plans with Trenton, how is that honoring Mikayla’s memory?”

  Libby was more concerned about Blake. He was incredibly close with Mikayla. She was shocked that Mikayla decided last minute to move into a dorm with Jill instead of staying at the house when Blake suffered an ACL injury, ending his football career, and moved back home to plan the next phase in his life. If she had, she probably wouldn’t have gone missing. She was gone for over twenty-four hours until anyone knew she’d vanished.

  Blake blamed himself. He seldom spoke about his sister. He was hurting, and Libby didn’t know how to help him. No one did.

  Blake had been devastated after his injury, and Mikayla was there for him at every turn. At her urging, he changed his degree from computer science to biology so he could apply to physical therapy. Then he could help athletes in a way no one could help him.