The Espionage Effect(59)

Another current pulled at us, sweeping us in another direction: eastward, out to sea. The floating peacefulness mismatched the riot of emotion clashing inside me. The images of the prisoners Escobar held, the girl pleading for help, assaulted my mind.

A cramp at the base of my throat choked me. My lungs burned, screaming for air. But I couldn’t find it. Couldn’t inhale even one breath. Barely escaped from the snapping jaws of danger, I couldn’t taste freedom.

The walls of captivity closed in on me regardless. Surrounded by the sweet promise of air, I suffocated. Buoyant on the surface of an entire sea of turmoil, I drowned.





Uncontrollable shivers racked my body, but no sensation of cold bit into my skin. Water swirled around me, but didn’t carry me any longer. Dead weight, I slogged through wet sand. Fell onto my knees. Coughed salty water from my lungs.

Numb.

I’d been lost in the blissful haze of it, body and mind. Like I’d frozen solid, then fractured, then in slow motion, burst apart, every shard drifting away from its whole, no longer connected.

Fringing into my awareness, pressure tugged at my arm, at the elbow.

My knees gradually unfolded. My stomach sank as I distantly felt drawn upward. The dark, wet granular earth withdrew, fading away.

Solid warmth tucked under my backside, surrounded my arms, curved under my legs. A gentle crush enveloped me, and I curved into it, needing it, seeking the tight security it provided.

Weightlessness spun my mind, whirled the air around me. Nauseated, I closed my eyes and swallowed the bile back down.

A slight tilt forward. A metal click in the background.

Cool air danced over my skin. A peachy glow breached through the protective cover of my eyelids.

I pinched my eyes tighter shut. Burrowed deeper. Sought the confining, dark warmth.

All too soon, my cocoon fell away. Bare feet touched a cold, hard surface.

I cringed. A weak whimper filtered into my ears. My brain dimly processed that the odd sound had come from me.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Devin. I’ve got you.” The low tone soothed me. I clung to the voice, leaning forward, seeking its protection.

When I blinked open my eyes, Alec’s face slowly crisped into focus. Even though we stood in a dark room, dim light from somewhere beyond illuminated the angular planes of his face. Concern shadowed his eyes, drew his brows together. But then his features softened.

“Don’t…” He brushed his knuckles against my cheek.

I lifted my fingers, entwined them with his until warm moisture coated my fingertips. My vision blurred, and I rapidly blinked. Confused, I pulled my hand in front of my face while still linked to his. Tears.

“We could do nothing. Don’t blame yourself,” he urged.

The weighted realization of what we hadn’t done crushed in on me. I collapsed into a heap right on the cold stone floor. But he instantly dropped too, catching me as I fell, softening the impact.

But none of it mattered, did it?

“I didn’t deserve to escape,” I wailed, voice threadbare. “It should have been me. They should have taken me.” With every successive word, I slipped further into the dark abyss, my voice fading, sounding more and more detached.

“Of course you did.” His body curved around me, solid thighs and bent knees bracketing me on either side. His arms followed as he tugged me off the floor and into his hold.

“No,” I croaked. “They took her. She grabbed my hand. I tried to hold on. But then she screamed, and a light came on, and they ripped her away from me. Stole her. Took everything.”

Alec’s arms tightened, a vice clamping down on me. They remained that way until I had to push my arms outward, fight his hold, to take my next breath.

Silence followed.

My heartbeat gradually slowed with the breaths he allowed me. And the more they settled into a calmer rhythm, the more leeway he gave, until I had to move my arms infinitesimally outward to confirm he still embraced me.

I closed my eyes, secure in the knowledge of where I was, who held me.

“My baby sister,” I whispered, voice growing hoarse. “She would have turned five the next day. A birthday party had been planned. Balloons hovered in the corners of our living room. An ice-cream cake sat in a box in our freezer. Shiny presents with brightly colored ribbons had already been piled in the center of the table.

“She was too excited to sleep. Crept from her room across the hall and snuck into my bed. We’d giggled and laughed with the covers pulled over our heads, until we’d finally fallen asleep.”

I took a shuddering breath, vivid memories scrolling forward as I watched, helpless to stop them. “They took her, not me. Two men wore black ski masks. Even through them, I saw the confusion in their eyes. There was only supposed to be one girl in my bed.” My voice cracked on the last word—confession complete.

The logical part of my brain, the one that was supposed to rule geniuses, render their emotions moot, knew the painful symptom I suffered through was survivor’s guilt. But mine was more than a transference of my own feelings about making it through the ordeal alive when another hadn’t. Mine was literal.

They’d meant to kidnap me.

But had taken her.

No one had ever heard that confession. No other soul had born witness to the testament of the scathing pain I’d endured.

Of course, my sister’s captors knew the circumstances of the situation, along with my parents and the three-hundred-dollar-an-hour therapist—along with the police, the FBI, and any number of crime-scene professionals and investigators tasked with finding my sister within the twenty-four-hour window of highest probability of her being found alive.