Page 26 of Lethal Abduction

Then the sirens downstairs. A flash of annoyance in the dead eyes.

“If you are alive, I will find you, Abby. And then I will kill you.”

I swallow hard on the old terror. Jacey’s chilling promise has lived inside me like a curse from the day he uttered it. Six years later, I can recall the cold certainty of his warning as if it were yesterday.

“You didn’t think to come home then?”

Oh, I thought about it, alright. I thought about it when the police burst into my hostel room and pulled me out of the closet where I was hiding. I thought about it when they threw me intoprison without a trial. And then I thought about it every day for the two years I spent eating decomposing food in La Buen fucking Pastor.

“I guess I just wasn’t ready.” I give her a weak smile.

Change the fucking subject, Abby. Fast.

“It was really Darya who changed my mind about coming home,” I say. “I was her bridesmaid a few months ago.”

For a moment I’m back there, in the sunlit meadow, my heart seizing with bittersweet joy as I watch Roman and Darya say their vows, Dimitry’s eyes blazing at me from where he stands at Roman’s side, his love for me written all over his face.

That was the day I knew I had to leave.

“Darya,” I say, grasping at the name like a lifeline, “told me I should come back here. She said that I had to at least try—that six years was too long.” I turn my nearly empty glass in my hand, staring at it. “I knew she was right. I’d known for a long time.”

I meet my mother’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Mum. I should have told you where I was, or at least that I was okay. I know it’s been hard on you and Dad.”

“Yes.” My mother’s head moves slowly up and down. “Yes, it was, Abby. It was very difficult for your father and me.”

“I know.” I’m battling tears. “I never meant—I never wanted to hurt you.”

For an excruciatingly long moment, the whirr of cicadas is the only sound disturbing the late afternoon. Then Mum takes another sip of wine.

“I seem to recall you having a good try.” She shoots me a rather dry look. “To hurt us, I mean. Or at least, to hurt me. I believe your final words to me wereYou can stick your farm and your stupid pearls up your arse, Mum.”

“Oh, God.” I bury my face in my hands, half laughing, half crying. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“I like my pearls,” she says loftily. “Even after that comment.”

“You should.” I squeeze her hand. “They suit you.”

We sit there for a while like that, my hand over my mother’s, and for the first time since I came home, I feel a kind of peace.

Then a cloud of dust rises in the distance, just a blur on the flat horizon.

“That’s your father,” Mum says, squinting at it. “Oh!” Her hand flies to her mouth. “I forgot to pick his beer up when I came to get you at the pub.”

“I can go back into town.” I stand up. “I’ve only had one glass,” I say when she looks worried.

“It’s not that.” She bites her lip uncomfortably. “I guess—well, the last time you took a car, you never came back.” The words come out in a rush.

I stare at her in amazement. “Is that why you and Dad haven’t let me drive since I’ve been here?”

“Well—it’s more your father than me—but yes.” She gives me a sheepish look. “I suppose that is why.”

“I can understand that, I guess.” I give a shaky laugh. “But if it helps, I promise I’ll bring the car back. With Dad’s beer.”

“Of course you will.” She makes a face. “Gosh, I sound ridiculous, don’t I? Go on, then.” She waves me away. “Before your father gets here and realizes there’s only two beers in the fridge.”

“If I hurry, I’ll be back before he gets through them,” I say, heading for the utility.

“No chance,” she calls after me, and I laugh as I start the engine.

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