All the effort my dad’s put into sending and keeping me here, how adamant he’s been about secrecy, how insistent on communication, how paranoid over anythingsuspicious... it all tumbles down on me, confirming what I knew deep down.
My life is on the line.
Frustrated tears well in my eyes, a new wave of questions infesting my mind... None of which will be answered today.
“Can we talk now?” Matthews asks, stepping off the pathway and heading for the trees.
“I don’t think I have any choice in the matter,” I bite back, frustration morphing to anger. “What do you want to know?”
“Not me. Your father. I’m merely the messenger, Hailey.” He stares at me for a while, as if waiting for his words to strike a chord. They do. I can’t blame him for whatever Dad’s hiding. He’s doing him a favor. “Charlie’s worried about you.”
He always worries, but this isn’t normal parent worrying. This is laced with real threat.
I look into Matthews’ eyes, getting a hold of my emotions. Regardless of how angry I am about my father sending his colleague instead of driving over himself, while still keeping me in the dark, there’s something comforting about Jonathan.
The rustling leaves under our feet and the howl of the wind through the trees grow louder the further we walk into the forest. Matthews acts like he knows where he’s heading, though his flickering eyes give him away. Once the asylum buildings are no longer visible between the thick trunks, everything looks the same no matter which way I turn.
Still, we plod on, forward, always forward.
“We shouldn’t wander too far,” I say.
“Don’t worry, I spend all my free time hiking. I’m pretty good at finding my way in the wild.” He smiles, nudging my shoulder. “So are you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Charlie said you two went camping in the woods a lot when you were younger.”
I smile, recalling the times when the two of us trekked through forests, setting camp on high ground so we could watch the stars for hours.
“We never went in blind. Dad taught me to mark the trees.”
“Chalk, right? He said you carried a stick with you wherever you went for years.”
“I don’t have any right now.”
“We don’t need it today, Hailey. We’re not that far away. Someone would hear if you called out.” He slows his steps,glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. “How are you finding it here?”
“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but...” I tap my head, pulling an apologetic face, “...you’re a stranger. I know you and Dad are close but I don’t remember a single thing about you, so this feels a little odd.”
“That’s understandable. Your father’s one of the good ones, Hailey. It’s been years since I worked with someone I trust. Someone who’d rather risk his life than accept a bribe.”
I’m taken aback by the raw honesty. It’s not every day you hear a cop admitting the system is flawed.
“I know you don’t remember, but you and I... we’re pretty good pals,” he adds with a cheeky smile. “You kicked my ass at a whole lot of boardgames more times than my pride will let me admit.”
Against myself, I smile too. He does seem easy-going. Someone I’d get along with.
“One day, when I’m back home, maybe you can kick my ass for a change.”
“I truly hope so. It pains me to see Charlie like this. He never stops working and barely sleeps, trying to make sure you’re safe. He’s been there for me through thick and thin and now I’m trying to repay him a tiny bit.” He takes a seat on a fallen bough, stretching his long legs. “Charlie wants to know what you’ve remembered.”
My mind pictures the diary in my room. The pages are filling faster than I anticipated. Slower lately because I refuse to write about Alex’s sexual abuse. I doubt it’s connected to the accident, or the threat Dad’s hiding me from, anyway.
I’m too embarrassed to even think about how I let Alex use me, let alone write about it.
“Alex,” I answer simply, taking a seat beside Jonathan at the far end of the makeshift bench. “And Mom. Everything so far isabout them. I guess Dad won’t be interested in my memories of Mom’s death.”
“I suppose not,” Matthews admits. “He was there.”
