SARAH
She’s gone. My baby girl was brought here to this awful place, locked up in a cell, and now she’s gone again. And for some reason I’m not going to look at too closely right now (because if I do I might lose control altogether), I can’t track her anymore.
Maggie’s chewing her lip. ‘We found her in the first place because I knew what road they’d taken. We could narrow it down by location. But by now they could be anywhere, and your magic can’t locate her.’
‘Icanlocate someone else,’ I tell Maggie. ‘If I can’t trace my daughter, I’ll damn well hunt down whoever’s got her.’
‘Luka won’t be with her,’ the cop says, doubtless thinking of the wayfinding teddy bear that first guided her to him and drew Harper into this nightmare. ‘The guard was clear they were held and processed separately. And Luka’s mom would probably stay with him. I reckon Theodorou’s our best bet. His car’s not here. Maybe he’s even taken Harper home.’
‘No.’
I can feel it in my bones. Now these vipers have got my daughter, they won’t let her go. So imagine my surprise when Maggie gets on the phone to Chester, insistent he pull up the GPS log of Theodorou’s vehicle – and we discover its most recent trip was to Sanctuary.
My cranky old Plymouth Sundance groans as it tries to keep up with Maggie, while she floors it toward the GPS location where Theodorou stopped. I’ve not cracked open the window to even a little gust of hope, until I see where our turns and crossings are inexorably taking us. There is the pink ship’s buoy hanging from a tree, even though the girl in this house is way too old to swing on it anymore. The enamel mailbox is still covered with birds and flowers, though the name has been repainted. JustPerelli, now. There’s an ache that Harper asked to be brought to Bridget, rather than to our house, but I tell myself it’s simply because I warned her to stay away.
‘I guess they really did only want Luka,’ Maggie says, as we meet on the sidewalk.
Maybe Harper thought it was time she and Bridget and Izzy spoke about Pierre. I can’t imagine what scene we’re about to interrupt and wish I could leave them to talk it out, but the urge to hold my child, to check every inch of her for the tiniest scratch, is simply too strong. I hurry up the steps and hammer on the door.
‘She’s here?’ I demand when Bridget opens the door. ‘Harper?’
‘Harper?’
‘The police brought her here.’
‘No.’
Bridget’s wary, keeping the door half closed. I’m shaking. Whatever I expected, it wasn’t this. My magic presses violently at my fingertips, urging me to hex Bridget and force the truth out of her, as I did to the jailers at that detention centre. I’ll do it, too, if she doesn’t start talking.
‘Theodorou?’ I prompt, giving her an opportunity to do this the right way. ‘Bridge, please don’t do this. Does she not want to see me for some reason? Fine. I’ll go away. But please, tell me she’s here and she’s safe.’
‘Why doesn’tsheknow?’ Bridget says, eyeing Detective Knight, as she steps over her threshold and pulls the door shut behind her.
Maggie shrugs. ‘Because Theo’s gone over to the dark side?’
‘I won’t leave till I know she’s okay, Bridget. I know you still hate me because of Pierre, but—’
‘It’s Luka. Harper isn’t here. The cops brought Luka Ortiz.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
Why would Luka be here? Why would he have been released, but not Harper?
Bridge has been holding her shoulders up warily, but now they slump with exhaustion. Once, I would have known my cue to wrap her in my arms. Now, my feet stay rooted.
‘Sandra called to say something’s happened that’s really upset him, which she needs to sort out, and asked me to keep an eye on him. Officer Theodorou and some woman lawyer turned up with him and I was horrified by the state he was in. Looked like he’d been crying his eyes out. I signed some paperwork saying I wouldn’t let him off the property, and he signed agreeing he wouldn’t try to leave, but his hand was shaking so bad he could barely do it. I gave him some Ambien and got him under the covers in the spare room. I should be there now, keeping an eye on him.’
‘You’ve got himsleeping in your house? When you know what he did to those people – to Bea?’
‘He was avictim, Sarah,’ Bridget says flintily. ‘Other witches preyed on him to vilify his mom. Your boyfriend Lachlan was probably the ringleader.’
I recoil, suddenly unsteady. How can I trust the ground beneath my feet to stay firm and solid, if I can’t trust my oldest friend to do the same?
‘Mom?’
The door swings open softly and Izzy’s standing there, wearing a cartoon-cute oversize T-shirt, her hair tied up in puffs and one of Bridge’s many elderly cats in her arms. She takes more after her dad in looks than her mom, and my eyes start to well up.
‘Go back inside, honey,’ Bridget tells her.
