Page 62 of Harley

Archer avoided my gaze. “And Mommy?”

“Yes, all of us will be together.”

“They hurt Mommy,” Archer murmured.

“Nobody will harm Mommy or you again,” I promised.

“Toys?” Archer asked, rocking.

“Yes, darling, we’ll find your toys. And get your routine in place. Do you remember breakfasts?”

“Monday is omelettes, Tuesday is toast and jelly, Wednesday is cereal. On Thursday, we have pancakes with bananas and strawberries, and on Friday, we have waffles. Saturday is scrambled eggs, and on Sunday, its Mommy's and Aunt Oak’s special breakfast,” Archer recited.

“Good boy,” I praised.

“Should I repeat lunches?”

“Would you like to tell Harley?”

“No,” Archer stated empathically.

“Okay, tell me,” I said, desperate to keep Archer talking. He was interacting wonderfully at the moment.

Hell, I was grateful that Archer remembered me. But Archer’s mannerisms were even more pronounced, and this incarceration had severely affected him.

“Auntie Oak, I liked my routine with you and Mommy. These people made us change,” Archer announced. “I don’t like it here. Porridge is not breakfast on any day.”

“No, Archer, it’s not. Today is Monday. How about… when we leave, we’ll stop and get Monday’s lunch,” I said.

“Not lunchtime yet,” Archer declared.

“By the time we leave, it will be. Do you have clothes?” I asked.

“Yes, I must dress at nine fifteen sharp. Is it time?” Archer questioned.

It had gone that, but Archer couldn’t see a clock. “Yes. How about we wait outside, and you get dressed?”

“Mommy dresses at nine-thirty,” Archer stated.

“That’s fine. Do you need help getting your clothes?”

“Today’s Monday. I wear jeans and my spiderman tee-shirt,” Archer replied. “And my blue underpants and socks. Then I put my sneakers on and wear my spiderman jumper if it is cold. After I brush my teeth, I wait for Mommy.”

“Okay, Archer, you’re such a big boy,” I said, putting as much warmth and approval in my voice as possible.

“You all leave now. Go and let me and Mommy get ready,” Archer urged.

In turmoil, I motioned everyone from the room, and we left them inside. I spun to Doc Gibbons.

“Aspen has been heavily sedated, and they’re using drugs to control her. It’s possible to take Aspen off them, but I’m concerned about how she’ll react to the sudden withdrawal,” Doc Gibbons spoke.

“Any signs of physical abuse?” Harley questioned.

“No. But I’ll need to examine Aspen’s medical record thoroughly. Law enforcement need to be involved here and conduct an investigation. The uniforms are calling a detective. From what I’ve seen, Aspen’s records are patchy, to say the least.”

“When can we get out of here?” I asked.

“Now. Steven has liaised with the police, and a kidnapping and false imprisonment charge has been levelled against your parents. Should they arrive here, they’ll be arrested. The manager is also being taken in for questioning. I’ll sign off onAspen’s and Archer’s release into my care, and we can get them home,” Doc Gibbons said.

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