Pivot Point (Pivot Point #1)(74)

I step out of the car, and that’s when I see Poison standing like a dark shadow under a streetlight, twenty feet away. Screaming is my best bet, but as I open my mouth to do so, my throat constricts.

Not a good idea, he says inside my mind.

I claw at the invisible hand squeezing my neck. Then I walk again on mind-controlled legs. My lungs burn, and the street sways.

When I stand in front of him, he says, “Don’t scream. I just want to talk.”

I nod, and my airway clears. I cough and gasp for breath, steadying myself against the dizzy nausea.

“I need you to make a phone call. Just one little phone call, and you can be on your way.”

I don’t believe him for one second, but in order to buy some time I say, “To who?”

“No questions. All you have to say is, ‘Hello, this is Addie.’ That’s simple enough.”

“Why should I?”

“I thought I just showed you why you should. Do you want me to show you again?”

“No. Fine. I’ll do it.”

“That’s a good girl.” He pushes a button on his phone and then hands it to me with a reminder: “When he answers, just say, ‘Hello, this is Addie.’ No more, no less.”

I nod, trying to plot my escape when this is over because I know he’s not just going to let me walk away, but then the man answers, “Coleman here,” and all thoughts of escape are gone.

I almost whisper, Daddy, but bite my tongue. If I say anything, my dad will think I’m in trouble. Technically I am, but I don’t want my dad doing whatever Poison is going to demand of him. Not if I still have a chance at escape.

“Hello?” my dad says again.

I slip my thumb up to the End Call button and push it. The line goes dead. “Dad? Is that you? This is Addie.” I try to say it with panic in my voice, which isn’t hard, since my heart is thumping in my throat.

“That’s enough,” Poison says.

I bring the phone away from my ear, and before he can take over my body again, I push End, pretending to hang up.

“No, you idiot,” he says. “I needed to talk to him.”

“What do you want with my father?”

“He’s telling lies about me. He needs to know I won’t stand for that. I thought I’d give him a little incentive to stop.” He holds out his hand for the phone. I start to give it to him, but I let go before it reaches his hand. It drops to the sidewalk with a clatter. I pray that it broke. As he bends down, cursing, I turn and run toward Bobby’s house, screaming at the top of my lungs. I only get through the sentence, “Help me” one and a half times before my throat is constricted again and my whole body is frozen in place.

Just when I think I’m going to die, Bobby walks out onto the porch and glances wide-eyed between Poison and me. Never have I been happier to see him.

“Addie?” he says, and suddenly I can breathe again. My body drops to the ground, and I land on my palms.

“Bobby, help me,” I croak.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

I stand on my own accord, keeping an eye on Poison while I walk toward Bobby. “Just leave me alone,” I tell Poison. “And my father too.”

Once at Bobby’s side, I grab on to his arm, my legs feeling like jelly beneath me. He protectively takes a step in front of me. “Get out of here, or I’m going to call the Bureau,” he says to Poison.

Poison lets out a low laugh, shoves his hands in his pockets, and then walks away whistling.

Bobby turns toward me. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head no.

“Come on, I’ll get you something to drink. Do you want me to call Duke and have him come over?”

I shake my head no again. “I just want to sit for a minute, and then I’ll go home.”

Bobby leads me inside.

I am overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude toward him. He just saved me.

“Was that the guy you and Duke had me research?” Bobby asks.

“Yes. Thanks for helping me.”

“No problem.” The door shuts with a swoosh, and he slides the security bar across and punches a code into the palm pad.





CHAPTER 34


NORM?less: n. absolutely no normalcy in given situation





I sit up in a cold sweat. My sheet is wrapped around my legs, making it hard for me to move. I untangle it and swing my feet to the ground, looking around my dark room. Something woke me, and I try to remember if it was a bad dream or a noise. Just when I’m about to lie down again, thinking a bad dream was the most likely culprit, my phone chimes. I search the blackness for the lit screen, blindly groping the top of my nightstand. It’s not there. Then I remember I shoved it under my pillow before going to sleep. I pull it out.

Both messages are from Laila. The first reads, Help. The second, Forgive me.

I stumble to my dad’s room. “Dad,” I sob, grabbing hold of his shoulder and shaking him awake. “Dad, I need your help. It’s Laila.”

He sits up, groggy, his hand going to his hair first and then to the digital clock on his nightstand. “What?” he says, when he finally looks at me.

“I should’ve Searched, but I didn’t. I was going to, but Trevor left too late, and I was tired. I might’ve seen something—”