Page 111 of Amnesty

Absolute nothing.

I fell back in the chair, slouched into it, and crossed my arms over my chest. My thoughts wandered to Robbie. I wondered how he was, if surgery was nearly complete, and if he was still alive.

“We found Sadie. We went to your island, and there she was, down inside the hole. It wasn’t even locked like usual. She said he wasn’t there, but he was coming back and she had to stay. Eddie convinced her to leave the island. She’s been here for a while now. She just got released from the hospital.”

Something in the room changed.

The air shifted; a knowing feeling moved down my spine.

I sat up, staring at her still form. “I don’t think Sadie can handle everything that happened. She seems angry. She keeps saying he’s coming back. She, um, stabbed my friend today, tried to kill him, and now no one can find her. He’s in surgery right now. I don’t know if he’ll live. The police are out looking for her, but I can’t help but feel like this has to do with him. If only I knew who he was. Where he might be. Do you think she’s with him now? Do you think he’s still controlling her?”

I waited for an answer. I waited so long for her to blink, for a random beep from the IV machine. I watched her fingers for even a flinch.

I poured out everything. I begged for help.

I got nothing in return.

Eventually, I grew weary, my patience and hope dimmed. I wanted to go find Eddie, who was surely wondering where I’d gone by now. I should have told him, but I knew he’d only try and stop me. I wanted to know about Robbie and to call Maggie.

“It was worth a try,” I told myself, using the side of the bed for balance as I pushed myself to my feet. After dragging the chair back to its rightful place, I moved back to the side of the bed and stared down at the widow.

I reached out and grazed my fingers over her hand. “I hope at least wherever you are, you have some peace.”

As I was drawing away, her finger moved. A sudden jerk, perhaps an involuntary reaction.

“Widow West?” I whispered, leaning over her, looking into her foggy eyes.

She didn’t move again. Her hands stayed still.

With a sigh, I pulled back. Her hand shot out and gripped my wrist. I squeaked, taken completely off guard.

“Did you hear anything I said?” I asked, letting her continue to hold my arm. “Please, if you know anything,pleasetell me.”

Her mouth worked slowly, as though it were trying to remember how to form words. My patience nearly crumbled, waiting, trying not to grab and shake her. All at once, her eyes closed. I saw them shifting beneath her lids.

Please,I prayed silently.

When her eyes reopened, they weren’t quite as glazed over, though they still had a film over them, making me wonder how coherent she was.

“He’s my son,” she rasped, her voice a near whisper. “My… son.”

There was no way to contain my reaction. I gasped and my wrist dislodged from her slight grip. Her hand fell back onto the mattress beside her body.

Her son? How could that be?

“I thought your child died,” I said, recalling theBeloved Childheadstone next to the one belonging to her late husband.

“Where… is… he?” she croaked, her fingers trying to find mine once more.

I grabbed her hand, squeezing it lightly in mine. “I don’t know. No one knows. Where would he have gone?”

“Not… well,” she said, her eyes slipping closed. “Find him. He will…” Her voice stopped mid-sentence.

“He will what?” I demanded, almost desperate. I lifted her hand, giving it a shake. “He will what, Widow West?”

“My son,” she moaned. Then her grip went slack.

“Widow West!” I exclaimed, lifting her hand again. “Ms. West!”

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