Page 93 of I Will Mend You
My heart clenches, and my arms ache to pull her into my chest, to offer a measure of solace. But I resist, despite my mind being in turmoil with conflicting emotions of caution, compassion, and guilt. It’s gut-wrenching to keep her in captivity, but she’s a danger to herself.
“You’re dehydrated, malnourished, and still under the influence of drugs,” I say.
The door behind me swings open and Isabel strides in. “I gave the order to secure you, not Xero. Your toxicology report came in earlier. We identified three types of hallucinogenic drugs in your system, along with traces of painkillers,antifibrinolytics, sedatives, and two substances we still can’t identify.”
“What?” Amethyst whispers, her lips trembling.
“We’re doing our best to flush them out of your system, but it’s impossible to tell what kind of reactions they might cause. We’re not trying to hold you hostage, Amethyst. The restraints are for your protection.”
My little ghost deflates, her gaze dropping down to her restrained hands.
“Am I dangerous?” she asks, her voice breaking.
My chest aches. She looks so small, so defeated. She spent years being drugged and controlled by her mother, only to end up still shackled. This is the opposite of the life she deserves.
I move closer and reach for one of her mitten-clad hands. When she flinches, my heart shatters.
“You’re not dangerous,” I say. “Just fragile. The cuts they made all over your body have reopened. We won’t be able to heal the damage until those drugs are out of your system.”
She bows her head, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
“We’ll get through this together,” I say, my voice cracking.
When she finally raises her head, it’s to gaze at me through red-rimmed eyes. “How the hell am I supposed to know if I should believe you, or if you’re only keeping me alive until you pump me for information?”
FIFTY-ONE
Tuesday August 24, 2010
I’m back where I started: On my knees, begging the Salentino family for mercy.
Dr. Forster’s secretary told me he’d left town and couldn’t be reached. The professional conduct situation he mentioned was an understatement. Six women accused him of crimes far worse than getting them pregnant.
Lyle’s brother, Clive, got arrested for making snuff movies. His trial was fast-tracked due to the overwhelming evidence, and he ended up with a life sentence. I managed to visit him in jail to ask where Dalton had taken my daughter, but he kept raging about being framed.
You know what? I believe him.
If Lyle can orchestrate such devastating revenge over the course of six months, then Dalton can set up the owner of a BDSM nightclub for a crime as heinous as filming the murder and rape of women. Maybe Dalton and Lyle weren’t really expelled from the FBI solely for protecting their targets’ victims.
The Salentino twins have confined me to a room while they conduct their searches. By the time I reached their mansion, I’d forgotten the name of the hospital Dr. Forster had transferred Amy to, and its location. I’m furious with myself.
Giorgi’s sisters have read this diary. It’s the only thing keeping me alive. Apparently, they knew Lyle was working for the FBI. He was their inside man, feeding them information to keep the authorities at bay. He told me we were “in hiding” from the Salentinos when, in fact, he’d continued working for them for years after I’d escaped, making everyone think I’d been abducted by a gang in New Jersey.
My disappearance from the family aggravated an already tense truce, and that led to the deaths of Giorgi, his father—head of the family, Don Salentino himself—and one of the Montesano cousins. Relations between the families are stable now, but the Salentino sisters say the only thing keeping me alive is that my girls will need their mother when they return.
The investigator they hired took a week to locate Amy. An entire army of men moved in on her location and extracted her from an asylum. She’s now staying in the infirmary at the Montesano mansion, under the care of the doctor they have on retainer.
While she was comatose, the twins debated whether to kill me and raise Amy as a Salentino. They were nice enough to stand outside my room so I could hear them discussing whether I lived or died.
I would call them cruel bitches, but they’re my only means of survival. Besides, I’m in no position to judge.
When Amy woke up, hallucinating Lyle, their plans to steal her from me turned to shit. Not wanting to be saddled with a mentally deranged girl, they arranged a house for her on the same stretch of road as their mansion and told me to give her a good life. Or they’d burn me in their incinerator.
They’re still looking for Dolly, but their detectives say the trail has gone cold. Dalton Grey doesn’t exist. Not in the FBI. Not in any criminal database, and the pictures I have of him don’t match anyone they can find.
He’s vanished into thin air with Dolly. The idea that my daughter might be lost to me forever is unbearable. She’s probably dead. Or trafficked. Or indoctrinated by that evil bitch, Charlotte.
Every time I look at Amy’s face, all I see is my failure. That, and her identical twin, who I handed to the wolves, and the beautiful baby whose life was cut short. I can’t help but wonder if we’d still be a happy family if I had been satisfied with my two daughters.