Page 59 of Drowning Her

“Can you drop me off at the monthly motel?” I asked.

Fiona took the first available u-turn. “What’s at the motel?”

“You remember Bambi?” I asked. Fiona nodded. That was her nickname, even before we started working. “She’s hanging there right now.”

Fiona bowed her head, opting not to ask questions. At the motel, she reached over for a hug, and I hugged her back.

“You have my number now,” I said, motioning to her phone on the console. “If you need a break from Mom or Dad, you can call me.”

“Thanks,” she said.

I went to the same room that we always rented. The shades were pulled close, and the lights were off. Bambi was probably sleeping. I took a deep breath. I could stay with Bambi, using the money I had leftover from Wilder. And I could call Wilder, telling him to meet me here.Away from his family.That way, I was still doing what he said—staying away from the farm while being close to him. And then we could leave. Together. We could figure it out, one choice at a time.

I knocked, but there was no answer. I used my old key card; the door automatically locked behind me. The room was still, the air stale. I flipped the switch; dim lights flickered on. An open lip gloss was on the nightstand. A bottle of ibuprofen next to the sink. One of the complimentary glass cups was filled with room-temperature soda. Bambi had been here recently. Was she working?

Bambi’s purse was lying next to the bed.

Blood fluttered in my veins. She didn’t go anywhere without her purse. I ran out to the parking lot. A few cars. Some trees. Crinkled junk mail drifting across the asphalt. Back in the motel room, I flipped over the mattress and the bedsheets. Ripped everything out of the closet and the desk drawer, trying to find a sign. A note. Anything. Her phone was dead, and her wallet still had money inside. It was like she had disappeared into thin air.

I dialed the front desk, but they had a strict policy about people like us. They weren’t any help. I found my charger, then plugged in Bambi’s phone. Maybe there would be a clue on her device.

Someone tried to open the door. Chills ran through me. For a second, I thought about Green. How angry he would be when he found out that she was gone. Like it was my fault. But he was dead. And he would have a key card. I searched for Green’s gun, but couldn’t find it. Then the lock beeped, letting the person enter.

Sawyer stepped inside. A few guards—ranchers I recognized from the farm—rushed in. Adrenaline spiked through me. I ran to the bathroom, scrambling to lock the door, but a man grabbed my legs, dragging me across the carpet.

“Your brother will kill you for this!” I screamed.

“I hope he does,” Sawyer said, grinning. He checked his watch. “How is it that he let you get this far away?”

I twisted in their grip, but handcuffs slammed onto my wrists, locking into position.

“You will never get away with this,” I hissed.

Sawyer chuckled, then bent down, meeting my eyes. “I don’t want to ‘get away with this.’ The opposite—I hope Wilder comes after me. That will make the rest of the Trial better.” He shook his head. “But he doesn’t love you as much as you think he does.”

I bit my lip and yelled as loud as I could, hoping that the front desk clerk or people in the other rooms would hear something, but no one ever did. We minded our business. And now, I was going to pay for it.

The ranchers threw me into the back of the SUV. They pried my mouth open, gagging me. Locked me inside. The scenery flashed by the windows. I banged my head on the glass, trying to break it, but it was no use. A headache pulsed through me. I recognized the trees, the grassy areas. We were going back to the farm. Wilder would be there.

But that didn’t mean that I would be safe. He had told me to never come back.

But I wanted to believe that Sawyer was wrong. Wilder loved me more than he realized. That’s why he trusted me, even when it was obvious he didn’t want to. Why he cared when he knew he shouldn’t.

Outside of the SUV, a cage was set on a rolling cart. My cuffs were removed, then the ranchers shoved me inside. I grabbed onto the bars, trying to find a weakness anywhere.

“You are sick,” I hissed. “You traitor?—”

One of the ranchers opened the door, then shoved a ball gag back into my mouth, covering it with a cloth.

“I’m sick?” Sawyer asked. “You’re the one who got my fucked-up brother to actually sleep with you.”

The ranchers rolled the cart between the equipment. The Feldman Farm carried on as usual. I screamed, but no one acknowledged me. I tried to search for Wilder, but there were only the other ranchers. Where was he?

The cart stopped behind the Calving Barn. I looked around, trying to figure out how to get out of the cage, if there was any escape. Light brown hair caught my eye. Those big round eyes. A woman crouched in a similar cage next to me, a gag in her mouth, her face streaked with makeup. Bambi.

Where was Wilder?

Chapter 22

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