The Water Keeper(68)

I sat, rested my hand in hers, and said, “My name’s Murphy. Most folks call me Murph.”

Her eyes closed lazily and then opened. She slurred her words. “Pleased to meet you.” She swallowed. Another long blink. “Casey.”

“How you feeling?”

“Alive.”

“You remember anything?”

She shook her head once. Then she spotted Summer and the Jerusalem cross hanging at the base of her neck. She considered it. Tried to shake off the fog. “I had . . . My temperature was getting high. Really high. Somebody put me in a tub and filled it with ice.” She shook her head. “Packed me in ice. Armpits. Everywhere. A girl. When I came to, she was gone . . . I made it to the shower.”

“You remember her name?”

“Never met her.”

I held up my phone, showing her Angel’s picture. “This her?”

She nodded. She looked up at Summer. “She yours?”

Summer nodded.

Casey reached for Summer. “When you find her . . .” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Hug her for me.”

Summer kissed Casey on the forehead.

Casey spoke without looking at me. “The men were . . .” She turned her head farther. The shame fell like a shadow. “One after another. I lost count. Weeks.” She swallowed. “Then they injected me . . .” She looked up at me. “Is my life over?”

This right here was what the men spit out. The residue. When they were finished, this was what was left over. My anger roared. Countless times I’d knelt by similar bedsides and been asked similar questions. I shook my head. “I think you’re only just beginning.”

“Feels over.”

“You have any family?”

“No.”

“You up for a little travel?”

She nodded. “Anywhere but here.”

“I’m going to talk to these doctors, and when you get well enough to travel, I’m going to request they release you into my custody. Or at least, some folks who work with me. They’re going to come get you and fly you on a private plane to Colorado, where they’ll nurse you back to health, give you a place to live, and get you in school. You’ll meet other girls like you.”

“Total losers—”

I laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. We all lose our way. Sometimes it just takes somebody else to find us and bring us back. Remind us.”

She laughed. “Of what?”

I leaned in close and spoke slowly so my words would register. “That we were made to want and give love. That no matter how dark the night, midnight will pass. No darkness, no matter how dark, can hold back the second hand. Whether you like it or not, whether you want it or not, whether you hope it or not, whether you build a wall around your soul and cut out your eyes, wait a few hours and the sun will crack the skyline and the darkness will roll back like a scroll.”

The tears drained. “This place . . . is it really real?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be there?”

“I’ll come check on you.”

“You promise?”

“I do. But first I have to go find someone.”

She glanced at the cross. Then back at me. She was shaking her head. “They won’t let her leave.”

“I know.”

“They’re saving her. Taking bids. Her and a couple others. An online auction. They take pictures of her. Some when she’s passed out. Then they post them. Bids get higher. They’re bad men. Guns and . . .”

I nodded. “Any idea where they’re going?”

“They’re hush-hush. But I heard them say Cuba. They’re excited because they’re getting a lot of money for her and they don’t want to end the auction.” She squeezed my hand. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh.” I stood. “Breathe in. Then breathe out. Then”—I smiled—“do it again. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. You’ll like Colorado this time of year.”

She stared at the window. “I’ve never flown on a plane.”

“Well, this will ruin you for ordinary travel, but it’s a great way to start.”

She was crying now. A fetal ball. Sobbing silently. Holding it in. Summer sat and cradled her. For a moment, Casey wouldn’t let it out, but after it built and she couldn’t hold it anymore, it burst forth. I’d heard the same noises before, which made it all the more painful. The deputy poked his head in, but when he saw what was happening, he nodded, backed out, and stood guard.

I knelt next to her bed, my face inches from hers. When she opened her eyes, she was looking beyond me. Into the past. All the ugly stuff. The memories the darkness painted. She tried to make the words, but they wouldn’t come. Finally, she whispered, “Who will ever love me after . . . ?” She motioned to herself.

I cradled her hand in mine. Waited until her eyes locked on mine. “Right now there is a man walking this earth who can’t wait to meet you. He’s been waiting his whole life.”

She chuckled. “I thought I was the one on drugs.”

“When he meets you, his heart will flutter. His palms will sweat. He’ll think somebody stuffed a bag of cotton in his mouth. He won’t know what to say, but he’ll want to.”