Page 28 of Logan

“It’s fine. Don’t apologize for having emotions. You should feel free to be as sad or as angry as you want.”

The sight of his blue eyes peeking out of the blanket was unbearably cute.

Or it would have been if his eyes weren’t red-rimmed from crying.

His face wasn’t covered by the blanket, but his voice still sounded very quiet when he spoke up. “It doesn’t make any sense. I shouldn’t be angry now.”

I sat next to him on the bed, keeping to the edge so some space remained between us. “You’re allowed to be angry.”

Clay snorted and looked away. “Yeah, maybe. But I shouldn’t be. There’s no reason for that guy to upset me so much. It’s certainly not the first time someone’s gotten handsy with me, and it’s not even the first time I’ve been called… that name. I don’t know why it affected me so strongly this time when I’ve never broken down like that in the past.”

He re-settled himself, so his arms were outside the blanket. A few scars curled over the tops of his shoulders, and although I couldn’t see them properly, I was certain they extended further down his back.

The thin lines looked like whip marks.

I turned my eyes away before I was caught staring and refocused on the conversation.

“You said you never got so upset before. Maybe that’s why. All those negative emotions have been building up with nowhere to go.”

He huffed, and for a moment it seemed like he wanted to turn away from me, but he didn’t. “Why now? I should be happy I’m finally getting away from that life. What’s the point in getting upset about everything now that I’m leaving it behind?”

That was the first time Clay had talked about his relocation as a permanent change. Until now, he always spoke like he was visiting his brother. Just a temporary guest that would go right back to the status quo of their life when the visit was over.

To hear him talk about getting away and leaving everything behind caused something tangled in my chest to unknot.

“Well…” I thought about a good answer for a moment, and I could only come up with one thing. “Hopefully, getting upset know means you feel safe enough to express those emotions.”

Clay was silent, biting his lip as he got lost in thought.

“You are safe.”

His words were distracted, like he was only half paying attention to them. Some other thought was bouncing around in his head. I could almost see the thoughts passing behind his eyes, but I didn’t ask. Instead, I sat in silence, listening to the room’s old analog clock ticking away each passing second.

The minute hand must have gone around several times before Clay finally spoke again.

“Bell ringers.”

I had no idea what that meant, but didn’t ask, certain that he would explain.

He did, but it took him an obvious amount of effort to get the words out.

“That’s what they called themselves. The Bell ringers.”

“You mean the people who kidnapped you?”

“Yeah.”

He laughed, a sad, pathetic little sound that made me want to hug him again, but I refrained.

“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.” His laughter trailed off and something dark settled behind his eyes. “That’s what they said, but that wasn’t where the name really came from. It’s about how they found us.”

“How they found you? When you were kidnapped?”

Clay didn’t look at me. He barely even seemed to remember I was there as he revealed the truth he’d been carrying around for almost a decade.

“They started back when door-to-door salesmen were a thing, but now they use any excuse to get into someone’s house. Handymen. Surveys. They’ll even pose as Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses for an excuse to knock on people’s doors. I think their favorite is pretending to be surveying gas meters. That’s how they scoped me out. No one questions a person in a uniform with a clipboard, so they can come and go as they please and get all the info on their target.”

I tried not to react, but there must have been a strange expression on my face. When I’d initially investigated the pedophile ring that kidnapped Clay, I’d never been able to figure out how they found their victims. There seemed to be no crossover or similarities between the victims, other than their physical appearance, and without this crucial piece of info, the investigation had stalled.

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