Page 66 of Love Bleeds Red
Polly’s eyes dart quickly to mine, then away. “Miss,” she murmurs.
Ms. Harrington’s sharp gaze moves between us, clocking every micro-movement or unspoken gesture. We both stay silent and still she clicks her tongue. “Polly will escort you to your cottage today after her cleaning duties. I have other matters to attend to.” She turns on her heel and leaves us alone.
For a moment, neither of us say a word. I still don’t know what to think of her, and I’m sure she’s sizing me up as well. Then she asks, “Are you finished?”
“Yes, I’ve had enough.” Although a part of me wants to stuff bacon and toast down my bra for later.
“If you’ll wait in the sitting room, I can escort you once I finish clearing the table,” Polly says.
“I can help, if you’d like?” If anything it would save me from extra time sitting in my cottage alone and possibly give me some time to feel Polly out.
She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “I couldn’t ask that. Please, I’ve got it.” She reaches for my water glass and our fingers brush for just a moment. The contact is so quick but in that brief touch she managed to pass me a tiny folded up note. I keep my expression neutral, while I casually move my hand to my lap. “Follow me,” she says. Her face shows no change in expression, her tone completely dull. If I didn’t have this piece of paper in my hand, I’d think I was imagining things.
I follow her into the sitting room and she gestures to the striped upholstered chair by the window. “Take a seat, I’ll only be a few minutes.”
As soon as she disappears back into the dining room, I turn and pretend to look out the window into the bright morning sun while my fingers work to unfold the tiny piece of paper. I need to be careful, there’s cameras everywhere. I haven’t seen them, but in the months here, I’ve picked up enough to learn that.
I’ll have to read it discreetly, with small glances.
The handwriting is small and cramped, like she wrote in a hurry.
You’re not alone.
I read the words again, trying to control my racing heart. Three simple words, but they mean more than she could ever know. I’m not alone, not as isolated as I thought. We’re in this nightmare together.
The sound of dishes clinking carries from the dining room. I fold the note, and discreetly stuff it in my bra.
“Ready?” she asks in that same neutral tone.
I nod and follow her outside, unable to hide the spring in my step. When I know for certain that we’re alone on the stone path, I whisper, “Thank you.”
Polly’s blank expression doesn’t change, but her step slows slightly. “Keep your head down,” she murmurs, so quietly I almost miss it. “Do what they say. But keep watching.”
“Watching for what?”
Her eyes dart toward the main house before she settles on me. “Opportunities.”
“But—”
She continues down the path ahead, speaking low. “I’ve been here a long time, watching, learning.”
“How long?” I ask, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and her hunched posture.
“Long enough.” She stops once we reach the cottage, opening the unlocked door. It’s always unlocked, unless I’m inside.
“Will you be here later? Tomorrow?” I have so many questions… but more than that I just want someone to talk to.
“Be patient.” She glances around again, before leaning in. “We’ll find a way out of our cages.”
Then she’s gone, making her way back up the path. I’m left feeling oddly hopeful for the first time in months.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LEON - PRESENT DAY
The weightof three handguns and ammunition in my backpack presses against my spine with each turn. The price Knapp demanded was steep, but facing my father and anyone else in my way unarmed isn’t an option. At least Knapp kept his word, which is more than I can say for most men in his line of work.
I coast down the street toward Mum’s, my engine barely above an idle to avoid waking the neighbors. It’s past one in the morning and every house sits dark and silent. With the weapons secured, I’m finally one step closer to finding Bailey. That thought dulls the ache in my bruised ribs and the sting of my split lip.
