Page 29 of Reckoning

“Not your mom or the police, but your co-worker. You have thirty minutes.”

“You’re letting me do work?” My fork clinked gently against the plate as I set it down, then pushed the rest of my food away. This didn’t sit right.

“You went to the party and behaved yourself, more or less.” He nodded at the phone. “Call.”

I frowned. “It’s Sunday.”

“And I’m not wasting half an hour of my workday tomorrow monitoring your conversation.” He grabbed for the phone. “I don’t have to let you do anything at all.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll call Caroline.” My fingers closed around the phone a moment before his, our skin brushing for the briefest second. I clutched the tiny rectangle to my chest, feeling comforted just by having it in my hand. I considered how long it would take me to fire off a text to my mother, father, anyone, but Meyer was already indicating I had to set it back down on the table.

Even though he was still being authoritarian, my heart softened toward him, just a little, just for a moment, and I hated it. He didn’t deserve any gratitude from me. He didn’t deserve sympathy for how obviously he had been lied to and brainwashed by his father. He didn’t deserve leniency for how he was treating me.

But in the midst of my depression and grief, I saw a different part of him. How he kept me clean and healthy and nourished when I felt unable to raise a fork to my mouth or turn on the shower. How he backed off the other day, despite his evident desire, and apologized—nearly—for what he did. He didn’t beat me. And now this, letting me work on my job that I missed so badly and continue to make an impact even from behind enemy lines.

I told myself it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. But another small part told me maybe, possibly, miraculously, it could.

I felt like I was losing my mind.

Caroline’s number came to me by memory, and I dialed as quickly as I could before I said anything I would regret. She answered almost instantly, voice screeching in the quiet room.

“Oh my God, Mads, I can’t believe it’s you! Are you okay? What the fuck is going on with you and Meyer Schaf? It’s all over the news today, and people have been—”

“She gets to call you Mads,” Meyer grumbled under his breath, but the look on his face was taunting. I glared at him as Caroline gasped.

“Is that him?”

I did not need her asking me more questions about this. “Don’t worry about it, Caroline. I can’t explain a lot right now. Just … get me caught up. What do you need from me?”

“Well, the Lily family hasn’t sent in their quarterly donation, and every time I call them, I have to leave a message, but they never get back to me.”

I’d dealt with that before. “You can’t call the number in their file; you need to talk to their daughter. Here’s what you do …”

We talked for half an hour exactly before Meyer reached over and hung up the phone, cutting me off midsentence. I snapped my mouth shut just as abruptly. As he turned off the phone and stuck it back in his pocket, the horror of my kidnapping and my depression from the past week came hurtling back to settle over me heavier than before.

“Do you feel better?”

I looked at him, then the remnants of my now-cold breakfast. The thought of eating more made me sick.

“No,” I whispered, looking out the window. Beyond the perfunctory backyard lawn was a mess of greenery, overgrown with wild blackberry bushes and other shrubberies and trees. Wild. I thought of the ways I could hide if I ever could get out there. “I wish I hadn’t talked to her at all.”

The reminder of everything I was missing was too strong. I missed being in our tiny, dark office—one of many in a building that provided low-rent spaces to nonprofits. I missed how the coffeemaker was so loud, you always knew when a fresh pot was brewed. I missed chatting with my co-workers between emails and complaining about difficult donors. I missed knowing I was helping people live better lives. There was no calling my mom after work to rant about a difficult donor or hitting the bar on payday to blow away half of my already minuscule paycheck on mai tais and margaritas with extra salt.

Instead, I was stuck here to settle some decades-old grudge between a monster and my mother. My captor was cruel and overpowering with just enough flashes of light and kindness to keep me off balance.

Worst of all, I was wholly engrossed with him. The small kindnesses like giving me my phone for half an hour, when he had no motivation to do so, or pulling me into the bed last night when I was so drunk I could hardly walk, were enough to draw my eyes to him whenever we were in the same room. Whenever he wasn’t around, I caught myself looking for him. I had let Anita lead me around last night, conscious that we were always moving away from him, but I kept looking back to make sure he was following.

It made my stomach roil. The feelings he stirred up in me were too overwhelming, too at odds with what I knew of him. I’d never been one to doubt myself, but being around Meyer made me second-guess every decision, every emotion.

When I looked back at him, he was studying me from across the table. His fingers were tented under his chin.

“You look like a supervillain.” Why would I say that? It was flirting. I shouldn’t be giving him anything. He was destroying my life, but all I wanted to do was please him. Tease out that elusive grin.

He opened his mouth to reply, but cut himself short. There was a noise outside like a large truck pulling up. His face contorted into a scowl, but something about it seemed forced.

“Fucking great,” he muttered, walking toward the door. Bounding after him, I slipped into the sandals Anita had left behind, grateful he hadn’t hidden them, and followed him outside. The day was so glorious, I didn’t even mind the way the sunlight aggravated my headache. Across the lawn, a trailer had pulled up to the stables. And walking out was the most beautiful dapple gray horse.

“You slipped one by me,” he muttered. I just stood staring.

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