“Reyna, it is so good to hear your voice.”
Carter. “What do you want?” I snap. My tone is sharp, furious, and frankly—he deserves a lot worse.
“To check on you.” He seems honestly taken aback by my anger, his tone shifting from joyful to cautious. “I’ve been so worried. When Lance called and said you were missing?—”
“And Michael,” I snap.
“Of course.”
“He almost died. Do you know that? Do you know he was shot, then suffered fractured ribs, a collapsed lung, and still had to trek through the swamps after being beaten while we were held captive?” Carter is completely silent, and somehow, that only fuels my anger even more. “He had a massive infection by the time we got him to the hospital.”
“Reyna. I really am sorry.”
“You’re sorry. You know, Carter, my entire life, I’ve looked up to you. You were my strong, protective older brother who could literally do no wrong. But you really messed up this time, and Michael almost paid for it with his life.”
“I know. I just… How was I supposed to know they were connected?”
“How could you not?”
“Reyna. I didn’t know. You have to believe that if I genuinely thought you could be in danger, I would have done something.”
“Did you seriously not put two and two together after I was attacked weeks after you put a man in prison?”
“No. Because I hadn’t heard anything about it. Reyna, I put bad people in prison every single day. How could I have known that this one would put you at risk?”
“You sure worried about your family, though, didn’t you? They had protection. Which meant you were worried on some level. Yet, you didn’t even take the time to say, ‘Hey, Reyna, I just locked a bad guy up. Keep an eye on your surroundings.’”
He sighs into the phone. “My family lives with me. Every single day. They’re here in Boston. In the media. Anytime I’m working on a high-profile case like this, I take extra precautions.”
“Then you should have done it for us. He could have gotten to Mom, Carter. Dad. He got to me. I’m just grateful I wasn’t alone.” I consider how that might have been. I still would have tried to escape, sure, but even as I physically helped Michael to those swamps, I don’t imagine I would have made it far if I’d been alone.
“I regret it, Reyna. You have no idea how much I regret it.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath, my attempt at expelling some of the anger searing my insides. “Look, I don’t want to argue about this, Carter. I honestly don’t even want to talk to you right now. It’s been a long couple of days—weeks, really—and I want to get to bed.”
“How is Michael?” He’s trying to extend the conversation, but I have no interest in doing so. He wants to talk? He can wait until my life is no longer in danger. Until Michael can go back to his gym and I can resume my days. As of now, they’re going to have to find someone to step up in my place at the school—at the job I love—because everyone in town has to think I’m still missing.
“He’s alive. Goodbye, Carter.” I end the call, then offer the cell back to her.
“You all right?” She sets the cell back down, and I plant both palms on the countertop as she moves farther into the kitchen and starts scooping leftover spaghetti onto a plate to heat for Michael.
“I’m struggling with anger,” I admit.
“Toward Carter?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t say I blame you there. What he did must feel an awful lot like betrayal.”
“It does. I mean, I can understand from his perspective. He really does put dangerous criminals away all the time. And I know that if he had suspected for even a second that my life could be at risk he would have told me.”
“But he didn’t, and Michael almost died.”
“Exactly!”
She puts the plate into the microwave and starts it. “Are you angry with Carter because of what happened to you? Or because of what nearly happened to Michael?”
I consider a moment. “I’m angry at this entire situation. At the fact that people do evil things and others like my brother get targeted for doing what’s right. I’m furious that we can’t go after this Zeke guy for what he did to us, all because we don’t have proof, even though he nearly killed Michael and me.” My eyes fill. “God has a plan. I believe that. But how am I supposed to cling to my faith when everything around me is falling apart?”