I had never been so out of my element before. There were reasons I kept my distance from just about anyone the past few years. This was definitely one of them.
I glanced up at the door as it opened. I wasn’t surprised to see Luke, but the woman who walked in behind him was new.
She was a tiny thing compared to the detective. Short, but the way she held herself said she wasn’t frightened of anything that would come her way. Heck, her gray eyes seemed like she’d seen more than anyone her age ever should.
“Is this a bad time?” Luke asked, hoovering in the doorway.
“I think any time is bad,” I muttered. Louder, I said, “You aren’t getting any answers today.”
“May I?” the woman asked, gesturing towards us.
I nodded, even though I had no clue what she was going to do.
“Sorry. This is Scarlett. She was in the neighborhood and wanted to pop in,” Luke said, almost off-handedly. “Ryker.”
“And this is Emery,” she said, already assuming so. Then, without words, she picked up the discarded blanket and sort of wrapped it around the boy in my lap the best she could. At her touch, Emery jerked, pressing himself closer to me.
“It’s okay,” I soothed against his head, wishing I could help somehow.
“How long has he been unresponsive?” Scarlett asked, stepping back. In the same motion, she tied her long, blond hair into a low ponytail.
“Less than twenty minutes, that I know of. He was like this when I came in.”
She squinted before turning to Luke. “Who was in here before that?”
“His therapist. Gale Summers,” Luke answered easily.
“I’d like to talk to her,” Scarlett demanded. Then, turning back to me and lowering her voice, she asked, “Does he have any anti-anxiety meds?”
“On the counter.”
With a nod, she stepped around the furniture and found them. Seconds later, she handed me a pill and a bottle of water. “He trusts you.”
“How can you tell that in all of five minutes?” I grumbled, more to myself then to her. My emotions were bordering on the line. I wanted to hurt whoever the hell hurt Emery, and it was getting harder and harder to contain my rage.
“He jerked when I laid the blanket on him,” Scarlett said gently, not upset about my lack of control. “That’s how I know. It’s common that survivors find someone that they can lean on and feel comfortable with. You’re that person.”
She must have seen my expression of uncertainty and confusion, as she was quick to explain as I got Emery to take the pill and a tiny sip of water. It was a bit difficult to manage with his face pressed up against my neck.
“Someone who has had their entire life shaken, and some more than once, needs to have a person they can count on to keep them safe. To keep them anchored. Hell, most survivors don’t even care if someone else hurts them as long as they feel an ounce of safety.
“Emery may not be mentally aware of what’s exactly going on around him right this second, but he knows you. You are his safe place.”
“Oh, okay.” It took a moment for the words to make sense.
“I’ll be back in a few. I need to go talk to his therapist about what happened. Because no one in their right mind would leave someone alone in his condition.”
I was sure Emery shouldn’t have been left alone way before today, but I kept my mouth shut. Now wasn’t the time to state that, because all that mattered was getting through to the boy who was more than welcome to stay on my lap forever.
Emery
With every bump, my body jerked. My hands, already past numb, were secured to some sort of hook against the metal bottom of the van.
My eyes, swollen shut, refused to work.
I had no clue where I was, who I was with, or where I was going.
What I did know was that death was close. I could taste it.
