Already Gone (A Laura Frost FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1) Page 4

  “Why’s that?” the governor asked, the slight beginning of a frown poised to overtake his amiable expression.

  “Just to make sure we understand everything,” Laura said. She was mostly making it up as she went along. Someone would be assigned to talk to Amy, yes—but not her. It would be an agent who was trained in dealing with children, who knew how to speak to them and tiptoe around trauma. “It won’t be too much for her. I want to make sure she’s all right, and we haven’t missed any injuries, or anything like that.” She kicked herself inwardly for not having come up with a better excuse, but it was the only thing she had been able to think of. She was going to have to run with it now.

  “Isn’t that the doctor’s job?” the governor asked, but then the storm cloud that had been threatening his face cleared. “You know what, let’s go ahead. I’d rather be sure our little girl is all right.”

  Laura held up another hand to stop him from moving forward. She knew she was risking a lot—the governor had enough power to directly impact her career, as he’d just pointed out—but she needed to see if another vision would come. “It’s important I speak with Amy alone,” she said. “If that’s all right.”

  The governor hesitated, glancing at his wife. After a moment, he shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Laura nodded and turned to walk into Amy’s room, ignoring the fact that Nate was watching her with an obvious question in his eyes. She could explain to him later. Tell him how she just wanted to make sure the girl really was okay, how she felt responsible. He would accept it. Laura knew he wouldn’t question her then, and he wouldn’t stop her now.

  She felt a painful squeeze in her chest at the sight of the small five-year-old body in the middle of the hospital bed, cleaned up and dressed in pajamas now. She was bandaged up and tiny, and her large blue eyes were sleepy as she watched Laura come into the room.

  Laura took a breath before moving forward, needing to center herself. She’d recovered somewhat from her double visions, if not entirely. The coffee had helped. She just hoped it would be enough to allow her to trigger a new one—to let in the warning that little Amy so clearly needed.

  “Hey there, Amy,” Laura said, keeping her voice low and soft. She made herself smile, so the girl would be reassured and not afraid. “How are you doing?”

  “You’re the lady who got me,” Amy said, her head moving on the stack of pillows she was in danger of being dwarfed by.

  “Yes, I am,” Laura said. She sat down in the chair by the bed. “I just wanted to check that you’re all right.”

  “Yeah,” the girl said, pushing herself upright in bed, her halo of blonde hair tumbling down her back. “I was so happy when I saw you!”

  “You were?” Laura asked, smiling. Amy reached out, and Laura obliged her by taking her hand, moving to sit on the edge of the bed so she could reach. She was so small. Just like Lacey. Laura blinked back unexpected tears at the thought of her daughter. Something about Amy’s hand in hers brought a wrench to her heart. Maybe it was because she’d been so afraid for her, because she’d fought so hard to save her life. They had a bond now that was new and strange, and Amy’s immediate and natural affection only made it seem all the more real.

  “Yeah. I was really scared, and then you came and said it would be all right.” Amy leaned forward a little, shuffling to the edge of the bed. “And now I saw my mom and dad again! And the bad man’s gone. And the other man said you made the bad man go away.”

  Laura could only smile. She could see that the girl was a born chatterbox. But the vision she had been waiting for wasn’t manifesting, not even at the touch of her hand. “I did,” she said. “You don’t have to be afraid of the bad man anymore.”

  I think, she added mentally. Because she really couldn’t be sure. Not when the vision stubbornly refused to come.

  Laura tried to figure out how she could force it. There was nothing now. Not even that hovering darkness. Maybe she really had just made it all up, born out of a frantic mind. It had felt very real at the time. It had felt like a vision that couldn’t get through. But maybe she was wrong.

  “I thought I was going to go away like Grandma did,” Amy said, her voice quiet and low. “Until I saw you.”

  Laura bit her lip, her heart breaking all over again. “Your grandma went away? Where’d she go, to heaven?”

  “Yeah.” Amy paused, looking down at the sheets of the bed. “It didn’t feel like I was going to go to heaven. It felt bad. It hurt. And I was really scared about going away.”

  Laura squeezed her hand silently. There wasn’t much else she could say. Her heart ached that Amy would know that kind of feeling. That she had come face to face with her own mortality at such a young age.

  “But then you came,” Amy said, looking up and into her face. “I knew I was going to go away. I knew it. But you stopped that from happening. You changed it even though I knew.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” Laura said, putting on a brave face for her. “To make sure that doesn’t have to happen to you.” Inside, she was mulling over those words. Thinking about destiny, even though Amy was too young to know a word like that. That was what she was talking about. The ability to change destiny. Was that what Laura was doing?

  “You’re like a superhero,” Amy said earnestly. “Do you take care of bad men all the time?”

  “Yes, I do,” Laura smiled, patting Amy’s hand. She thought about sitting in bed with Lacey at nighttime, reading her a story. That kid always had more questions than Laura had answers.

  Laura pushed aside the thoughts of her daughter and the pain that came with them with impatience. Sitting here, trying to force a premonition… this was useless. There was no point in trying any longer. She had done what she had to make the optimal conditions for a vision. She’d rested a short while, taken painkillers for the very worst of the headache, caffeinated herself. She’d cleared the room to keep all those people from clouding the vision, causing confusion and interference. But nothing had happened.

  “There are lots of people just like me. You see this badge?” she said, wanting to at least put Amy’s mind at ease before she left.

  Amy peered forward at the FBI letters stitched into the front of Laura’s jacket. “Yeah?”

  “That means I’m from the FBI. It’s our job to make sure little girls like you are safe,” Laura said. “So, if you ever see the bad man again, or you ever get scared, you can ask your mommy to call the FBI or the police, and someone will come help you. And if you’re on your own, you just dial nine-one-one. Got that?”

  “Yeah, I knew that before,” Amy said, sounding a little uninterested in the process. “But you’re special. You’re my guardian angel. Mom said I had one but I didn’t know what you looked like before.”

  Laura laughed. She pulled away from Amy’s hand, sensing that she no longer needed quite so much comfort. “I don’t know about that. But I’m happy that you’re okay now.”

  “Will you come visit me again?” Amy asked, propping herself up on one hand and tilting her head to one side. Her hair swung down over her shoulder, her eyes getting even bigger and wider. “Pleeeeease?”

  Laura couldn’t help but laugh again. The girl was cute, and Laura had a feeling she was used to getting her own way already. Who could say no to big eyes like that? The thought sent a twinge of regret through her, of pain about her own daughter. She hadn’t see Lacey’s big eyes for so long. “Well, that’s up to your mom and dad,” Laura said. “They might not want me to visit.”

  “I’ll ask them,” Amy said seriously. Someone had propped a small, fluffy rabbit toy on the bedside table. Amy reached over and picked it up, swinging it by its floppy ears. “I need my guardian angel to look after me. And you can come back and see all of my toys.”

  Laura’s smile was wan this time, her eyes following the rabbit so that she didn’t have to answer right away. It was a nice thought, but it wasn’t reality. How could it be
? Laura wasn’t anyone’s guardian angel. She wasn’t good with kids. She’d failed as a mom, failed completely. She didn’t even know what her daughter liked to eat anymore. Lacey was growing so fast, and Laura wasn’t there. She’d allowed Lacey’s father to get the upper hand, to tear her away from Laura.

  No, she wasn’t likely to be allowed to see Amy again. There was no reason for her to. As much as Laura had found her heart touched by Amy, she was an FBI agent. She had no connection to Amy’s family.

  Then again, Laura had no doubt that the governor would give Amy whatever she wanted. And given that he had promised to oversee Laura’s career progression, it was possible, just slightly, that their paths would cross again. Maybe they would end up getting to know each other. And if she dared to admit it to herself, Laura hoped they would. Amy was a sweet little girl, and Laura wanted to look out for her if she wasn’t going to be able to look out for Lacey.

  “I should let you get some rest,” Laura said. She’d done what she needed to do. She was convinced, now, that there was no darkness hanging over Amy. It had all just been a hangover, a bad feeling born from the double whammy of the two visions slamming into her brain. The child was going to be all right.

  “Wait,” Amy said, arresting Laura’s motion as she made to stand up. “I want a hug!”

  Laura paused. Well, that was to be expected, probably. She’d held Amy close when she pulled her out of the box, after all. It was the only way children really knew to show affection. She gave Amy a warm smile and shuffled to the edge of her chair, keeping herself at the right height for Amy to throw her arms around her neck.

  And that was when she felt it. A sharp pulse of pain behind her eyes, like an electric shock. Laura drew in a sharp breath, her arms tightening around Amy’s tiny form—

  Amy was lying against the pillows in her bed, surrounded by stuffed animals. It was early in the morning, and she was playing with her toys as daylight filtered through the curtains. Laura could only just make out the scene.

  There was some kind of noise out in the hall, beyond the room. Shouting. Crashing. An angry voice cursing, rising and slicing sharply through the air. The governor. Laura knew his voice, even if she couldn’t turn the vision around and look at his face. The edges of the scene were completely out of focus. She couldn’t sharpen it, no matter how she tried. She was still tired.

  Amy looked up at the sound and hugged her stuffed bunny closer. Laura found herself turning now, slowly, as the sound continued. Turning and moving until she was behind Amy, looking over her head. The door to the bedroom was closed—but then it burst open with a loud clatter, slamming back against the opposite wall.

  “No, let her alone, it’s not her fault!” A woman, the woman Laura recognized as Amy’s mother, said. She was frantic, pale, hurrying after her husband.

  The governor filled the doorway like a wall of rage, his face red and twisted, his hands swinging in fists. “She drew on the papers—and she needs to learn!” he yelled, spit flying from his mouth. Amy cowered back from him. “She needs to be punished!”

  He was brandishing something in his hand. Pieces of paper crumpled now in his fist. A child’s drawing of a distorted pony in purple pen on the front of one of them. That was all Laura made out before the governor cast them to the ground, stomping toward Amy with furious movements.

  “No, please,” his wife begged, rushing forward and taking hold of his elbow, trying to pull him back. “Don’t—”

  Her voice was cut off as the governor slammed his elbow sharply back into her chest, throwing her off and making her stumble into the door before dropping to the floor. She clutched at her chest, and Amy cried out, afraid for her mother.

  “Now, it’s time for you to learn your lesson about messing with important things,” the governor said darkly, starting to undo his belt and pull it off his waist, pulling it between his hands until it formed a kind of club.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Laura shuddered with shock as she came back to herself, the pain in her head turned all the way back up. But that wasn’t the thing that was making her feel sick to her stomach. That wasn’t why she wanted to keep hold of Amy and walk right out of the hospital and never look back.

  “Are you okay, miss angel lady?” Amy asked, trying to pull away from her. Laura realized she was holding on tight and let go, allowing her to rock back onto the bed.

  “Yes,” Laura said, attempting to smile brightly. Inside, she could barely keep it up. She just wanted to cry. She couldn’t tell this girl what was waiting for her at home. She couldn’t tell the doctors. What was she supposed to do to stop this from happening? “Yes, Amy, I’m fine. I’ll come and visit you soon, okay?”

  “Yeah!” Amy cheered, but even as she sat back against the pillows, Laura could see that she was halfway to falling asleep. “We’re going to have a tea party, and the best time, and you can meet my doll.”

  “I will, honey,” Laura said, turning to go, because she couldn’t keep up the smile any longer.

  She only had a few steps between the bed and the door. Only the time it took for her to open it before she had to put the mask back on again. She couldn’t explain to anyone what she had just seen. Couldn’t tell them how she knew that Amy would be abused. If she told them about the vision, she’d be laughed out of the room—even more so, given the governor’s power.

  Laura walked the few steps toward the door, losing control over her face. Inside her chest, her heart was breaking. She could barely stand to walk away. But she had to.

  As her hand rested on the door handle, Laura made a promise to herself. She would visit the governor at his home, as early as next week. As soon as she could. It was the only way she could live with walking out of that hospital and leaving Amy behind.

  Laura opened the door and stepped outside, smiling up at Nate and the governor’s wife, studiously avoiding the eyes of the man she knew now to be a monster.

  “Everything all right?” the governor asked, his tone sounding falsely bright.

  “What?” Laura asked, then remembered her ruse. “Oh, yes. Everything’s fine.” It made her want to bite out her own tongue to say those words, but she had to play it safe. She’d been here so many times before—knowing something that she couldn’t possibly know. She couldn’t accuse him yet. There was no evidence. If there had been signs of long-lasting physical abuse on Amy’s body, the doctors would already have seen them.

  This was new behavior. Something that would start soon. And until it did, there was no way she could stop it. Child Protective Services wouldn’t take Amy away before the abuse happened. Laura’s mind raced for a way to get the child out of that environment, but she could think of nothing.

  “Are you sure?” the governor asked, making Laura look up sharply in spite of herself.

  He was studying her closely, she realized. She must not have been controlling her voice, or her face, as well as she thought.

  “Quite sure,” she said, then forced herself to take a deep breath and put on an even bigger fake smile. “Thank you, Governor. I hope you’re able to bring Amy home as soon as possible.”

  “No, thank you,” he said, with a slight narrow angle to his eyes that told her he still wasn’t convinced she was telling the truth. With his arm on his wife’s lower back, he turned back to go inside, leaving Laura to clench her fists in the corridor and use all of her willpower to avoid running after him and tearing Amy out of his arms.

  She would do it—but first, she had to figure out how.

  ***

  Laura stared at the empty wine glass on her kitchen counter, trying to find the strength in herself to put it away.

  If she didn’t put it away, it was going to sit there waiting to be filled. And if she kept looking at it, wishing it was filled, she would go out. She would walk or drive to a store somewhere outside of the radius of those she had asked not to serve her. She would pick up a bottle—maybe three bottles—and bring it home, and she would fill the glass.

  And she w
ould drain it. And she would fill it again. And she wouldn’t stop until she was so drunk she missed a few days of work and a few days of memories, and she knew deep inside it still wouldn’t be enough to stop herself from remembering what she’d seen in that hospital.

  Laura let out a long, low sigh, then forced herself to get up right when she’d exhaled every last gasp from her lungs. She drew in another hasty breath as she snatched the wine glass up and shoved it back into the cupboard it came from, so hard it almost smashed. She slammed the door closed and leaned on the kitchen counter for a long moment before turning to walk out into the hall.

  Laura headed for her cramped, ramshackle living room, needing to be as far away from the kitchen as her small apartment would allow. The apartment was always supposed to have been temporary; Laura couldn’t bring herself to upgrade it to something more careful, because that would have meant admitting defeat.

  Besides, getting a decent apartment on a single wage in this city wasn’t easy. Not even for an FBI agent. Given the way the alcoholism had ravaged through her savings, Laura counted herself lucky to have been able to scrape together the deposit for this place, furnished with cast-offs and donations as it was.

  She glanced out the window, taking in the skyline, thinking of all those people out there. All of them managing to have a single drink and then stop. They were crowding in bars and restaurants now, she knew, somewhere out there in the DC evening. She envied them. She wished she could be one of them.

  Laura reached into her pocket and pulled out the forty-five-day chip she had received almost two weeks ago. One and a half weeks, to be precise. Just a few more days, and she would be back at the sixty-day mark of her sobriety. Visions like these, like the abuse of Amy at the hands of her own father, always threatened to drag her back under. To drown her. Especially when she couldn’t do anything about them. So many times she had beaten her demons, or thought she had, only to fall back into old habits.