Page 10

Nine

KNOX

H ope’s diary weighs heavy in my hand as it stares back at me.

I’m not stupid enough to think that a book has any feelings or intention, but this one feels evil.

I hate realizing how fucking awful I was.

Every page I open to is another horror story that I didn’t need to know.

It’s another step into Hope’s brain, which is clearly a place she has never wanted me to access.

“It’s fucking wrong,” I whisper.

Honestly, I feel like I need a shower. I need to scrub my eyes and my mind of all of this. But she handled it. She handled it, her father, and us three making her life hell. All this book is doing is showing me exactly how fucking stupid I was the entire time.

I thought I was so fucking smart.

I thought I had the world figured out.

Don’t get close to anyone except Coach. Coach was always right. Coach was a good man. Everyone else was a threat. Everyone else would hurt me.

I was fucking stupid.

Worse, I was willfully blind. I should never have believed that she wanted him.

I never should have believed a single word out of his beer-soaked mouth.

But I did because he was good to me . He made the pain stop.

He protected me. He made me better. Because of him, I got out of high school, got out of the hell that I was forced to call home.

I was able to make a life all because of Coach.

How can that be the same man who would do horrible things to his daughter?

A part of me didn’t want to believe it.

That same part of me was convinced this was some kind of creative writing experiment, but I’d seen the truth now and there was no going back. I couldn’t close my eyes against it. Then I just saw more. More of the horrors spelled out in Hope’s neat handwriting.

“The answer is in here,” I tell myself. “I have to find it.”

So I open the book again. I’m in summer, which is obviously the worst because there’s no escape, but since I’ve worked back towards the front, I’ve been finding out more about her mom.

Her parents argued, her mom always gave in, always got quiet first. Hope would cover her ears, listen to music—her mother always made sure she had good-quality headphones.

Dad said we needed time out of town . That being cooped up in our neighborhood was causing their fights . So we came to the cabin up north. Dad always feels better when he’s fishing. I think he likes knowing he’s capable, or the fresh air really is good for him. Mom and I enjoy it too.

It’s nice up here. I see squirrels and deer. This morning, Mom showed me how to get close without scaring them. We were able to roll them some apples and I hope they’ll come closer tomorrow. Dad’s been out at the water all day, so he’ll come home with fish for us.

Maybe we can have smores like we used to, sit around the fire, and Dad will tell stories about how fast and hard he fell for Mom. They’ll remember what’s important, like in the romcoms Mom and I watch when Dad’s coaching. Then we’ll be happy.

No one will have to pretend.

A cabin? He never mentioned a cabin.

I flip to the next page.

It’s not working this time. He’s so angry and I don’t get why, but Mom is angry too.

They sent me on a hike. I love the nature preserve.

There are rivers and mountains. The lake feels so good.

I dove into it after stripping down to just my underwear.

It felt good. No one else is around for miles. Just us.

But Mom and Dad are really terrible today. I tried to go back home and they both yelled at me to go enjoy nature. Mom didn’t even smile. She always smiles after she yells, like a silent apology. Dad says she should apologize more.

She shouldn’t. But I don’t understand how two people can be married and still have all this anger. If they don’t like each other, why don’t they just… break up?

Even now, they’re still arguing while I write this. I spent hours outside. I climbed trees like I haven’t since I was a kid. I swam. I tried to find otters. I even tried to name all the birds I saw. But being alone makes everything a lot less fun.

Dad’s really loud. The cabin walls aren’t thick so I hear him calling her useless.

I hear him telling her to try harder. That he never should have let her get this wild.

So many things that don’t make sense. Mom isn’t wild.

She doesn’t go out and party like some people’s moms do. She doesn’t even have friends over!

She’s quiet now. So quiet. I don’t like it.

But it will be better in the morning. I’ve heard that holding anger in is worse.

So if they get it all out tonight, we can go on a hike tomorrow, roast food over a fire, and everything will be good.

Dad always says nature is good for a person.

It helps remind them of what’s important.

She’s so different in this section. Like she has hope, like she believes that things will be good.

One more page.

I hate the cabin. I hate the entire nature preserve. There’s nothing good about mountains or streams or trees. Mom left. She left without saying anything. She didn’t even smile. She didn’t hug me. She didn’t promise she was coming back and so Dad isn’t waiting.

He says that she went to one of the neighbors. There are only three cabins on Dirt Lane Road—a really stupid name for a road in my opinion. Mom has never walked that far except on a treadmill or with me. Why would she leave?

Maybe she’s mad too—the quiet kind of angry. Or maybe she decided that she couldn’t be with us anymore. That Dad is too angry and I don’t protect her. That I look too much like him somehow even though everyone says I look like her.

I know Dad searched for her. I saw him coming back to the cabin this morning. His boots were covered in mud and dirt. He was sweaty and he looked like he’d cried.

So I won’t bring her up. She knows where we live. She’ll come back if she wants to, to get her clothes, to get everything she loves so much. Hopefully, she’ll get me too.

A road!

I almost kiss the page in thanks. Hope gave me a road name. And on the next one, there’s even a drawing. She has drawn Xs over certain houses. I’m sure that she checked them or her father said he had. There’s a lake, a river, a fucking map.

“You’re so smart,” I praise her even though she can’t hear me. “We’re going to get you. I promise you that.”

A car idles out front, echoing in the quiet of the early afternoon. I get up from Hope’s bed, keeping her diary behind me until I get to the door and see Dimitri and Jax approaching. They aren’t talking or looking at each other, which tells me some shit hit the fan, but that can wait.

I open the door. “We have a map and a road.”

Dimitri stares at me. “A cabin?”

“Yeah. Wait—how did you know?” I demand.

“He claimed it on a tax return. He didn’t list a road name, just a city, county, and zip code,” Dimitri answers.

“I have the road and Hope left us a map,” I inform.

Jax is utterly quiet until he looks at Dimitri. “Finally ready to try again?”

“Don’t fucking bring it up, Jaxon.”

“You’re his son. He’ll make time to see you. Forget your fucking problems with him. You’re an adult and you could tackle him if needed. Just make it happen or I promise you that your shit will be so rocked that—”

“Cut the threats,” I order. “Dimitri, we don’t need your dad specifically. Any officer will work.”

“Yeah, I have a feeling my dad is not going to give us a choice,” Dimitri says.

Even though Dimitri clearly has shit going on, Jax just turns and starts walking back to the car. I pat Dimitri’s shoulder. “You have us.”

“Yeah,” he answers.

It doesn’t change what we have to do. We all get in the silent, stuffy car and ride to the police station.

DIMITRI

I hate the sounds, smells, and general feeling of the police station. People yelling, fax machines and printers working, the sound of cuffs jingling and perps complaining. It’s all noise I could get over if one specific person wasn’t involved.

Okay, maybe two.

The second Johnny, (a cop my age who idolizes my dad) sees me, he beams. “Dimitri. I’ll get Officer Kessler for you.”

There’s no point in saying it’s not necessary. There’s no point in fighting it. I’m on my dad’s turf and he’s in control.

That means dealing with him.

“Could have done it over the phone,” Jax hisses. “While we head there.”

“Shut it,” Knox warns.

“We don’t even fucking need them. We have the address, let’s go.”

“Then he could call the cops and get us in trouble,” Knox reminds.

Shockingly, Knox has been the voice of reason. I don’t like the role reversal, but as long as Jaxon doesn’t get thrown in jail and cause us more problems, I don’t care enough to get involved.

A few minutes later, my dad’s in front of us. He adjusts his belt, lifting his pants as he stares at me. He’s still chewing the same gum—the kind that helps a person stop smoking with just a hint of nicotine. It makes no sense since he never smoked, but I know better than to say a word about it.

“What’re you doing here?” Dad asks, looking only at me.

“ We have something to report,” I say dryly.

“About that damn girl again?” He snorts.

Jax pushes forward. “Go ahead and ignore citizens reporting a fucking crime. See how well that goes for you.”

Knox grabs Jaxon’s arm. “We have evidence.”

He snorts. “We’re not a public spectacle. Let’s go.” He nods his head back to his office. “That girl is so tangled in trouble… Thought she’d turned her life around. Guess a zebra can’t change its stripes.”

Once we’re in the room, Knox’s air of pleasantness is gone. “You could have stopped this earlier.”

“Bullshit. Kids always see the worst in their parents, especially at that age. What’s the issue?” Dad dismisses, pushing more gum into his mouth.

“He kidnapped her. She didn’t go with him willingly. He found her, took her, and he’s holding her hostage,” I list.

He doesn’t believe me. I see it in his eyes. He just keeps chomping his gum. “Who’s he?”