Page 82 of Five
I rub my hands over my face. “Fuck, I wish Icouldforget them sometimes! But the therapists keep telling me childhood PTSD works differently than adult PTSD. They claim I’d developed coping skills by the time I went to war. And yet everything I’ve researched says kids who experience childhood PTSD don’t develop those skills properly, so that’s a complete contradiction.”
I kiss her temple. “All I know is it doesn’t make sense that the experiences I had as a child would have been replaced in my mind when I can recall every horrendous minute of my time in the military. When I remember Nicky and so many other details with such clarity.”
“I feel guilty,” Neve whispers, and there’s something in the way she says it that has my senses go on high alert.
I guide her head up so she’s looking at me and see torment in her expression. “What do you have to feel guilty about, sweetheart?”
She lowers her eyes, refusing to look at me, even though I’m still holding her face. “I’ve allowed myself to be swept off to some kind of pleasure island, here with you guys all pampering and protecting me. I’ve been indulging in a fantasy life which is really just an illusion. Because out there, away from here, there’s still some madman targeting the children of the Keys, and somehow, I’m connected to all that, even if I don’t know how or why. I can’t believe I’ve been selfishly trying to live my life with all of that going on.”
Her lower lip wobbles, and she bites it so hard I think she might break the skin. Pressing my thumb against her chin, I free the trapped flesh. “You think I don’t know how you feel? I do. I sit here in my safe haven writing books that take me away from the very real horrors of my past. But in the back of my mind there’s the constant knowledge that I didn’t manage to save the other boys that were taken. That I couldn’t locate that island and tell the authorities where it was. That failure lives with me every single day. But you know what? I’m just one person, and so are you. It’s okay to live your life. It’s okay to be human while dealing with inhumane things. If you don’t, it will drive you mad, and then you’re no good to anyone.”
“You’ve never remembered anything else?” she asks. It’s not a condemnation or a criticism. I know, because I’ve been subjected to both in the past from people who thought I should know more. Who believed I must be the key to unlocking the whereabouts of their loved ones and then got angry when I couldn’t.
I cast my mind back. Searching for something.
Anything.
“The moon,” I say, scrunching my face in concentration at this tiny sliver of new memory. “I remember the full moon shining through a high window. Sometimes it looked blue, or green, or orange…like maybe it was shining through colored glass. And every time I saw it shining big and round through that window, I made a scratch on the wall, so I could try and keep track of the months.”
I slump back. Defeated. “But what good is that to anyone?”
Neve sits up and cups my cheek. “It’s all right to live, remember?” She tosses my words back at me, her breath warm against my mouth before she presses a soft kiss to my lips.
I can’t help deepening it. She’s like a ray of light—hope—inside the battlefield which is my mind.
Because what’s crippling me now is doubt.
The news that a girl has been taken throws a wrench into how I’ve always made sense of my kidnapping. Now I’m second-guessing myself. Wondering if everything I’ve ever believed was a carefully constructed deception, crafted to help me cope with an altered reality.
I’m not sure I can deal with the implications of that. The possibility that I’ve been living a lie.
We’re interrupted by a hammering on the door, and both of us jump apart, hurrying to find out if there’s any news.
My brother is on the other side. He bounces on the balls of his feet, pent-up energy radiating off him in waves. This is as personal for him as it is for me.
“Search parties are being mounted on the main island. The guys have all volunteered.” He looks me in the eye and silent understanding passes between us.
They’re doing this for me. Even as a writer, I can’t put into words how that makes me feel.
I nod once. “I’ll join you.”
It’s the least I can do. Maybe something else will come back to me. Something more useful that will allow us to save this child.
“The guys are getting ready to leave. With all of our military experience, I’ve assigned us to the City Marina at Garrison Bight,” Oz explains rapidly, clearly impatient to make a move. “We don’t have any information on the suspect, only that he was bold enough to take the girl in a parking lot full of people last night, which is pretty damned ballsy. If this is the Lost Boys kidnapper, and we believe it is, then the change in M.O. means he is escalating, so this could be the most dangerous he’s ever been.”
“Why are you so certain that it’s him?” Neve asks, clearly desperate to believe he’s someone—anyone—else.
Oz rubs his hands over his face, his expression haunted, and I know he, too, is reliving a slice of the past. “The girl’s name is Gwendolyn. Gwennie.Wendy.”
Neve inhales sharply.
Oz continues. “With all of this heat on him, he is going to try to find a way to get her off the island.”
He sucks in a breath and gives himself an obvious mental shake, closing things down to a pinpoint focus just as we both learned to do in the military.
“Here…” He holds out a phone to Neve who’s been hovering at my shoulder all this time. “This is on our family plan. You can use it to stay in touch with us while we’re away, and also Caroline and anyone else important. But it’ll give you a break from the harassment on your personal line.”
She takes it, tears welling in her eyes, and I sling a comforting arm around her shoulders, knowing she’s feeling overwhelmed that Oz thought of her personal needs despite everything else that’s going on.
