Prodigal

Chapter 18

18

“So what’d they do with you?” Grant asked, face inscrutable.

Adam shrugged before remembering—with a little gasp—that the motion would be painful. “I don’t know. Took me to the office, I guess. I was so freaked out, they said I kicked some of the teachers. Iris had to come get me.”

Luther stood by the stove, forgotten cold packs on the counter next to him, but made no move to join them.

JJ asked, pointedly, “Can I look at his ribs now?”

Grant nodded.

Adam found it hard to meet JJ’s eyes, unsure of what he would see there. But she was all business as she motioned for him to raise his arms and began moving her hands methodically over his torso.

“I know it hurts, but stop holding your breath,” she said.

“Everyone in the school heard about it,” Grant said, “but I guess nobody that wasn’t in your classroom really knew what happened. Is that when Iris sent you away?”

Adam dropped his arms. “She didn’t send me away.”

Except she did.

Adam raised his arms again at JJ’s prompting.

Sure, Iris had said he could come back, and had welcomed him in the summers for a while, but she’d also said he couldn’t stay there. She’d made him leave his home. The closest thing he’d had to a home.

JJ tilted her head while considering a particularly tender area of Adam’s ribs. She pressed harder, and Adam grunted.

“Sorry. I think you lucked out, though. Doesn’t look like anything’s broken, but you might want to get it checked out by somebody who knows more than me.” She dug around in the first aid kit and made a frustrated sound. “I’ll be back.”

Adam watched JJ stride toward the back rooms, and felt Grant’s eyes upon him. He felt raw, but it helped when Grant met his gaze across the table without looking away.

“You think I’m crazy,” Adam said, somewhere between a statement and a question.

“Was there actually another person in the van?”

“I don’t know,” Adam admitted.

Grant pressed. “What’s your instinct?”

“I don’t know,” Adam repeated.

“Don’t suppose you got a license plate.”

It was obvious by Grant’s tone that they both knew the answer. Adam couldn’t help a half grin. “No.”

“Was that the first time you saw something like that?”

Adam swallowed, and he felt a tremble begin in his body. He looked down at his hands, but the vibration wasn’t visible yet. He wondered if Grant could see the motion of his heart pounding in his chest, pulsing at his throat.

JJ set a bottle of pain meds on the table, and Adam jumped, triggering a pained grunt. JJ dropped a flannel shirt across his lap, too, but she made no move to help him put it on.

“Adam,” Grant pressed, “was that the first time?”

Adam stared back down at his hands, unable to comprehend why they weren’t shaking hard enough to knock the table over, because he was inside. “No, it wasn’t. The first time was at Iris’s, not long after Danny was taken. I woke up screaming on Iris’s couch. And your father was there.”

A wet thump sounded from the kitchen. All eyes swung to Luther, picking up a cold pack he’d knocked to the floor.

Grant turned back to Adam. “Did you tell him about your dream?”

Adam closed his eyes, but it didn’t help. Nothing came back. “I’m sorry. All I remember is being afraid he’d arrest me.”

“Adam, you were twelve years old,” JJ said.

Adam shrugged, this time on just one side, but it still hurt like hell.

“What about Iris?” Grant asked. “Did you tell her?”

“Maybe,” Adam said, unsure. “After your dad left, Iris told me to forget about whatever I’d seen. She said not to tell anyone, and if I didn’t tell, the dreams would go away.”

Grant raised his eyebrows, but not like he was surprised. More like he was stretching his forehead. “So, how does all this connect to Rachel Nicholson?”

JJ stood, grabbed the flannel shirt from Adam’s lap, and held it in front of him. The first sleeve wasn’t too bad, but getting into the second was so painful, he wished he’d stayed shirtless despite the cold. They left it unbuttoned and Adam sat, hands on his lap, until he had enough control over his breathing to speak.

“Thanks, JJ. Things got a little crazy for me at school after that. Iris kept me home for the rest of the week. When I went back, everybody was staring. I couldn’t take it. Most days, Iris would drop me off in the morning and pick me up again by lunch. I’d hide in my room—quiet-like—all afternoon while she cut people’s hair in the kitchen.”

Adam pinched the shirt together at the bottom and held it between his long fingers. He felt the cold settling in. “I don’t know how long things could have gone on like that—there’s a limit to the leeway people are willing to give even an orphan kid—but it ended up not mattering. I had another dream about Sarah Edmunds one evening.”

“And the girl was in a cabin in this one?” Grant asked.

Adam nodded.

“What cabin? Where was it? What did it look like?”

Adam shook his head. “I have to be honest, once these dreams are done, it’s hard for me to remember them, especially after Iris told me not to. But when I saw the little girl this morning—”

“Rachel,” JJ interrupted.

“Rachel,” Adam repeated. “I dreamed about Rachel this morning. And when I woke up, I knew she was in the same cabin Sarah Edmunds had been in.”

“Could you see her?” JJ asked, leaning forward. “Did she look all right?”

If this doesn’t make them lock me up… Adam continued anyway. “I couldn’t see her, but I know she was okay because I was seeing through her eyes. Like I was inside her.”

Adam’s shirt collar had slid sideways on his neck. He bent to adjust it and held his breath as his ribs twinged. That’s when he remembered something else. “She was okay, but her chest hurt. It was tight, like maybe she’d been coughing a lot?”

JJ fell back against her chair, speechless. Grant asked, “What did you see?”

Adam closed his eyes. “All I have is impressions now. Blankets on a bed or a cot or something that her ankle was tied to. It was cold and it was dark—so dark—inside.”

“Then how do you know it was the same cabin?” Grant asked.

Adam opened his eyes. “I just do.”

“Wait a minute,” JJ said. “If you thought she was in a cabin somewhere, why’d you go after Otto?”

“Someone turned on a light in the cabin. I didn’t see who, but the last thing Rachel said before I woke up was, Please, daddy, don’t hurt me.”

JJ’s hand flew to her mouth.

“What kind of light?” Grant asked. “Electric?”

Of course—was the cabin off the grid? This was why you needed cops, trained professionals who could think straight. Adam closed his eyes again. “I don’t think so. It got brighter slowly, so maybe a hurricane lamp.”

“What about water? The smell of wood smoke? Anything else?” Grant pushed.

Adam considered. “I’m sorry. That’s it. That’s all I have.”

Luther shifted in the kitchen. “Sheriff,” he said, “how about I go get the truck warmed up?”

Grant nodded. He and Adam and JJ sat in silence at the table, until the sound of the SUV’s engine stirred JJ to action.

“Can I send some coffee with you?” she asked, getting the pot going.

“No time,” Grant said, rising. “We’re done for now. Unless there’s anything else Adam needs to tell me.”

Adam wished it were easier to breathe. Then maybe he could think straight, too. “No. But Sheriff, no one else knows about this, the things I told you.”

Heavy boots made their way up the front steps. Trooper barked at the door before Luther had a chance to knock, if he were going to. Adam’s lips went numb, like the blood had drained from them, as he experienced another moment of déjà vu.

JJ glanced over at him and asked, “Are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”

Adam took a breath, and the world seemed to settle on its axis again. “Trooper barked when Rachel was taken,” he said.

“Of course he did,” JJ said, sounding almost offended.

Grant stared out at his waiting deputy. “I gotta go. JJ, will you walk me out?”