“Left and then left again,” I say, directing him to Gaby’s.
“I know.”
Less than five minutes later, he pulls up in front of the three-story building where her apartment is. “You should pack your stuff and come with me.”
I stare at him, uncomprehending.
He angles his body toward me. “I’m taking you to my hotel. You’ll stay with me until we put your folks under surveillance.”
“They won’t hurt me. I can guarantee that.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He shrugs. “Anyway, even if they don’t, the Bauds might.”
“You’ll have them under surveillance, too?”
He nods. “I’ll make some calls while you pack. It shouldn’t take more than a day or two to set everything up. Once we have eyes on them, I’ll find you accommodations in Annecy, in a gated place.”
“A prison?”
A laugh escapes him. “I was thinking of a well-protected high-end residence.”
I tilt my head to the side and study him. “You’d rather go to all this trouble and expense than take action against my parents?”
“If you mean impressing upon them to stay away from you, then it will be done,” he replies. “But I promised you I wouldn’t exact revenge, so I won’t. Unless you want to relieve me of that promise.”
We stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.
Why are you so good to me?I itch to ask.Why do you care?
If it’s a sense of indebtedness, then it’s misplaced, because my inaction almost got him killed. If I hadn’t eavesdropped on my parents’ that night, he would be dead now. That’s how broken my moral compass was at the time.
“Give me fifteen minutes,” I say, opening the door.
“Fifteen minutes to pack up all your stuff?”
“Most of my stuff is still at my parents’ place. All I have at Gaby’s are necessities and some clothes. And most of that is already in my suitcase.” I smile. “Gaby has limited closet space.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m back in the front passenger seat, my bags are in the trunk, and we’re zooming to Annecy.
“Don’t you want to know what my parents had to say about Ivo Georgiev’s death?” I ask Darrel.
“I do. But I figured you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
“I am.”
I recount the story of how Mom and Dad met Ivo while hiking, how they saw the mark on his arm, lured him to our house, drugged him, and performed one of their idiotic rituals together with the Bauds. How his heart stopped, and they decided to get rid of the body. How they tried to erase my memory but messed up, because I’d convinced myself I’d killed a man with a rock. How they chose to go with it, realizing how well that suited them. It made sure I would become subdued, compliant, and forever grateful they’d covered up my crime.
“A real boon, your mental health be damned,” Darrel sums up.
There’s a question mark in the glance he shoots me.
I respond with a pleading look. “They’re still my parents, Darrel… I can’t relieve you of your promise.”
He nods.
No more words are spoken between us for the rest of the way. I look deep into my soul, trying to get a sense of where my decision stands morally. My heart is OK with it. Despite my anger and disappointment, I know that I can forgive the wrongs I suffered at my parents’ hands. That’s the only path for me to move forward without medication and without having to artificially desensitize a part of me.
But there’s something that doesn’t sit well with my conscience. I almost know what it is… One more mental effort and I’ll put a finger on it, a tiny little push—
