The Night Bird (Frost Easton #1)(72)

Are you looking for Katie?

Yes, I am. How did you—

She said she’s waiting for you at Ocean Beach.

What? Who is this?

A cloud of sand rose off the beach and blew grit into his face. White surf undulated from the water. His chest felt heavy. Time drew out, making each step a journey against an invisible tide. He didn’t want to get there. He didn’t want to see what was waiting for him.

Streaks of mud crusted over the car’s blue paint. He saw a single sentence scrawled in the dirt of the rear window. The same awful question.

What’s your worst memory?

Frost remembered everything about that night. Every sensation was tattooed on his brain. The blue-and-green wool of the blanket in the backseat, covering Katie. The cool metal of the door handle. Her torso spilling out, head nearly severed, blood everywhere, like a red ocean. The wail of his own screams.

He pulled open the rear door of the Malibu, and his heart seized. Again, again, again. A blanket covered Lucy’s body. Blue-and-green wool in the same diamond design. He knelt down, using both hands to peel back the blanket to reveal her face, and there she was. Eyes closed. Perfect and peaceful. He put two fingers on the soft skin of her neck, and he found— A heartbeat. She was alive.

Frost yanked the blanket from her body. She wore the same outfit as when he’d last seen her. Cropped jeans. Striped top. Gently, he lifted her torso and climbed into the back of the car beside her. He rustled her shoulders and whispered her name.

“Lucy . . . it’s Frost. Lucy, wake up.”

Her eyes blinked open and closed. And open again. She tried to focus, but her gaze wandered, as if she were following the buzz of a fly. Her limbs squirmed. A groan rumbled from her throat.

“Lucy. It’s me.”

She shook off the fog. Her fingers rubbed her face and left pink impressions on her skin. Through dry lips, she said, “Frost?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t—where are we?”

“Long story. Do you remember anything? What’s the last thing you remember?”

Her eyes blinked again. “I don’t even know.”

“That’s okay. Hang on. I’m getting you out of here.”

Frost climbed out of the car and listened for the wail of an ambulance, but he heard nothing. He leaned in again and put his arms under Lucy’s knees and around her back. Instinctively, she clung to his neck and let him carry her out of the car. He kicked the door shut with his foot and half ran across the Great Highway back to his Suburban. Part of him wanted to scream at the Night Bird, knowing the man was watching him.

Why are you doing this?

At his truck, he eased Lucy into the front seat, just as he’d done once before, atop the Bay Bridge. He called in an update and threw his phone on the seat between them. He headed east, driving fast and using his siren to cruise uphill through the stop signs. The nearest hospital was on the other side of Golden Gate Park, three miles away. Lucy stared vacantly through the windshield as the city flashed by on both sides. He kept looking at her as he drove, but she didn’t look back at him. Pieces of a puzzle worked their way through her brain.

Finally, she said, “He took me?”

Frost nodded. “Yes.”

Lucy was silent again as he sped through two more intersections, and then she went on: “How long?”

“More than twenty-four hours.”

“An entire day,” she murmured. “I don’t remember any of it.”

“What do you remember?”

“I—I remember picking out a dress. To meet you. I draped it across the bed. After that, nothing.”

He glanced at the expression on her face, which was intense, as if thinking hard would bring everything back.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“The hospital. I want you checked out.”

Frost kept driving through the residential neighborhoods, which were empty of traffic. The up-and-down hills made a roller coaster, and the Suburban nearly left the ground as he shot over each peak. He made good time. He was already turning toward the emergency room on the east end of the park when Lucy suddenly grabbed his arm and said in an urgent voice, “Frost, stop!”

He swung the SUV sharply to the curb opposite the University of San Francisco campus. “What is it? Are you okay?”

Lucy unhooked her safety belt and scrambled across the seat. She threw her arms around him and leaned into his neck. He could feel the heat of her skin. Her body shivered, and her breathing was crazy fast. “Frost, I’m scared. What did he do to me? What did he put in my head?”

“You tell me. Is there anything? Any memories? Any feelings?”

“No! It’s all blank! I need to know what he did. We can’t wait. Whatever it is, we need to get it out.”

“I can call Dr. Stein and ask her to meet us there. She’s the expert.”

Her reaction was volcanic. “No! No, not her, not her, I never want to see her again, ever. Ever. Don’t make me see her again, Frost. Please, I never want to look at her face.”

She burrowed closer to him and held him tight, as if she were hanging from a bridge and he could keep her from falling. Her fingernails dug deeply into his flesh.

“You don’t have to see her,” Frost said. “Don’t worry. We’ll talk to someone else.”