“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.”
As soon as we pull out of the airport parking lot and get onto the highway, my eyes drift close and my thoughts blur.
When Candice shakesme awake later, I open my eyes and see that we’re parked across the street from a large, rather ugly white house with a manicured lawn in front. It has ornate columns, a wide front porch, and a god damn turret. I know enough from my years of wood working to be able to see right through it. It’s no authentic Victorian mansion—it’s a tacky imitation.
“It’s really quite something, isn’t it?” Candice says, staring at the house with me.
“It’s exactly the kind of house I pictured her parents living in.”
Candice snorts. “At least it looks like everyone is home.” Two gleaming silver sedans sit in the driveway. “Let’s go.”
We hop out of the car, and I can immediately tell that the hour of sleep I just got has done wonders for me. My thoughts feel clearer, and I’m more steady on my feet.
“How do we want to play this?” Candice asks as we walk across the street.
“Just let me do the talking. Don’t mention the Morning Joe in front of her parents. And record everything.” I shoot a pointed look at the cell phone in her hand.
“And what if Winnie doesn’t want to leave?”
“I’m not leaving here without her. So if she’s not leaving, then I’m staying.”
“Okay, well as long as you have a plan.”
I give her a small smile. In all honesty, I haven’t considered what I’ll do if Winnie insists on staying. I’m fairly confident she won’t, though.
The front door is painted a bright shade of blue, and has a stately door knocker fixed to the front. Candice grabs the brass lion head and knocks a few times. After a minute, a red faced man opens the door. He’s dressed in a golf shirt and light wash khakis. He scrutinizes our faces for a moment, and once he figures out who we are, his face turns even redder.
“You’re not welcome here.” He moves to shut the door, but Candice sticks one heavy boot-clad foot out and stops him.
“I think we are,” I say, giving him a pleasant smile. And then I push the door open further, and muscle my way inside and past him, Candice at my heels.
Inside is just as gaudy as the outside. A parquet floor has been put in, but it feels like vinyl under my boots. And there are several chandeliers dripping in faux crystal. I even spy a gold sconce on one wall.
“Richard, who is that?” a woman’s voice calls out.
Candice and I follow the sound of it, Richard trailing behind us, blustering on about how he’s going to call the police and have us arrested as we go. In the living room, we find a camera set up, with Winnie in front of it. Her back is towards us, and her mother is fixing her hair. It looks like she has an awful blonde wig on, and she’s wearing a butter yellow dress.
Her mom’s head whips up and when she sees us she just glares.
“How could you let him inside, Richard?” she hisses at her husband.
Winnie whirls around in her chair, and when she sees me, all of the color leeches from her fake tanned face.
“Jonah,” she mouths, shock written on her face. “What are you doing here?”
I stride across the room, gently pushing her mother out of my path as she tries to stop me. I lean down and envelope Winnie in a hug. She’s stiff at first, like she still can’t believe I’m here, and then she’s hugging me back, clinging to me.
“I have a plan. We’re going on the Morning Joe tomorrow morning, and telling the world our story, inourwords. No one else,” I whisper to her, making sure it’s pitched quietly enough that her mom won’t hear. “Is that okay?”
I glance down at her, and can see her quick mind working through what I’ve just told her, sorting through whether this is the right thing to do or not. She casts a look at her father, who is now standing by her mom with his arms crossed, anger written on his face. Her features twist in fear, and then she looks up at me and nods.
Whatever happened here in the last few days has her wary—has herafraid. It’s past time I got her out of here. I turn to face her parents, angling my body so that Winnie is behind me. From the corner of my eye, I see her move and scoop up two phones from the chair next to the one she was sitting in.
“I’d say it was nice to meet you both, but I’d be lying.” I level her parents with a flat stare. In the corner, Candice glares at their back, her face set in fury.
“I’m going to call the police now,” Richard huffs. “Right Melissa?”
Her mother nods.
