Page 15 of Where He Ended

Putting my hand on the seat, I start to get in the car. Suddenly I'm transported back in time, to the moment that I was taken from my home. It makes my head spin, chokes the air from my lungs. “Get in,” Miles grumbles impatiently.

Pull yourself together,I tell myself. I inch my way inside, shoving my dress out of the way so it doesn't get caught in the door when he slams it shut. There's no one in here with me—well, besides the driver. I recognize Theo in the rear view mirror. He glances at me then he stares out the windshield, waiting for some unsaid instructions.

We're at the head of the line, like they want to make sure they can see me while we drive, as if it's possible for me to take control of this car and escape. I don't even knowhowto drive a car.

I do my best to ignore their ability to make me feel like a prisoner even while we're about to leave the estate. It's the first time I'll have left in six years, and my heart is hammering louder than the engine.

I settle against my seat; the material clings to the backs of my arms, making me regret not grabbing a warm shawl in my haste. Squinting through the windows, I wonder if Dominic is in the car with his parents. I haven't seen him yet. “Excuse me,” I say, tapping the driver's seat. “Is Dominic coming too?”

Theo looks over his shoulder at me, then steers us through the front gates. “Pretty sure he had other things to do tonight.”

At least I can keep my promise to Kara easier this way.But thinking that doesn't soothe my disappointment. I also hate the fact that I'm going to have to deal with Franklin again, especially without Dominic on site to swoop in for another rescue.It's only dinner.I can manage a dinner.

As we drive down the road, I push my nose to the glass and sigh. There are tall trees lining the street, packed tight so that I can't see beyond them. Their trunks are a pretty light gray; the leaves look like orange and red sprinkles. There are bits of green still holding fast and I study them longingly. Green is my favorite color, but it also hurts my heart when I think about it, because it reminds me inevitably of the place I grew up in.

It was always so green there.

I know what a highway is, but I'm still amazed when we exit from the quiet street onto the bustling, multiple lane road. It's late in the evening and the headlights glow in the dark. I look straight at some of them and flinch from the blinding spots, but I don't care, I want to see everything.

My excitement helps me bury the lead ball of fear in my belly. It's hard to be scared of anything when I'm exhilarated by new sights.

Theo turns on the radio; a gentle rock tune comes through the speakers. Music is one of the things that I have access to at my discretion. There's a whole room of records, and even more racks of CDs, in the house.

I spent many hours just sprawled out on the wooden floor, looking up at the skylight as drums and guitars rumbled through my ears. Mom had a lot of music, too. She'd play it on a battery-powered radio that crackled more in one speaker than the other. I missed it.

Theo curves down a highway exit, depositing us a few minutes later onto a winding driveway. It's nearly invisible with all the brush pressing in on either side. There are no gates or any kind of barrier, which shocks me. I'm so used to seeing those sprawling metal bars locking me inside.

The house at the end is two stories tall; the roof peaked like an upside down ice cream cone. It's a pretty ivory color, the trim a jungle green. Lamps line the leaf-coated ground all the way up to the rounded steps of the front door.

The engine cuts, then Theo exits the car. He comes around and opens my door. “We're here,” he says. He reaches out to help me, and I let him do it because I'm worried my heels will slip on the foliage covering the ground. When I'm free, he lets me go and backs away, standing watch by the driver's side.

Silas and Annie step into view. Miles exits their vehicle, walking around, speaking quietly to them both. Annie turns away, her long, velvety blue dress swishing leaves from the path as she heads for the house's door. Silas comes to her side, cupping her elbow, helping her up the steps. When they get to the top, she moves away from him, a subtle movement—but I notice.

I follow them, wondering why we're the only vehicles here. “Are we early?” I ask.

Silas frowns at me, but doesn't respond. The door slides open, Franklin standing there in a pair of brown slacks and a white button down. He doesn't have a tie on, and I feel like we're all overdressed compared to him.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says with a chuckle.

I look around with fresh eyes. “This is your house?”

“It is,” he says cheerfully. He looks at Silas and Annie one by one, as if to ask something to them silently. “Come inside,” he finally says, backing out of the way.

I follow everyone in, noting that the place smells like cigars. It's a heavy, awful smell that burns my nose. The front room is big; all white tiles covered by a circular gray rug that leads to a staircase with a balcony extending around the room. I wonder where it goes, but I don't have time to find out, because the others are walking through an archway to the right.

I follow them, still scanning the walls curiously. There are no photos, only the occasional painting of a lake or something more abstract. I wonder if Franklin picked out the paintings. He probably has some designer who figured out what looks best on his walls.

Stepping into a softly lit dining room with reddish walls, I hang back from the group. The table is long and dark. There are candles set on it; they look like they were lit a long time ago, because the wax is dripping down the sides, the wicks very short. Either he doesn't have many dinner parties and is reusing the same candles, or he was waiting for us for a long time.

I count the chairs; seven, but none have place mats or plates. I don't smell food cooking, just the damn cigar-stink. I go to reach for a chair but Franklin beats me to it, pulling it out for me. “Thanks,” I mumble, sitting stiffly.

His hands are on the wood behind me, his breath on my neck. “I'm so glad you came.”

I force a smile and face forward, looking at the far wall, where a display of fine China sits in a cabinet. “Your place is lovely,” I say. I put my hands on the table, fidgeting. “Where is everyone else?”

“Oh, it's just us tonight,” he replies. I hear the smile in his voice even though I can't see his face from where he is behind me. Franklin moves into view, running his hand down the front of his shirt, outlining his rounded belly. He drops next to me so hard that the chair groans. Annie and Silas sit across from us.

“Did you get the recent packet I sent you?” Silas asks, reaching for a pitcher of water that was sitting on the table. The ice cubes are almost all melted. He fills an empty glass, sipping.

---