Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series) (9 page)

That’s when we heard the car door open.

“Fuck,” John said, and dropped his arms from me. He took off after her, through the prickly underbrush that bordered the parking lot.

“Matthew!” I called, but he was already sprinting after them.

“On it,” he said. “Get in the van with Ethan. Corey, Sean — come with me.”

I watched them race after John, then crash into the brush.

She didn’t get very far. I watched from the van as John came out, a minute later, with Catherine struggling against him. Matthew had his hand clamped over her mouth, his other hand shielding his balls. She must have tried to kick him.

I could see the pain on John’s face. I don’t know what she’d said to him, or if she’d said anything, but he looked as if he now understood that his little girl wasn’t happy about being brought home. Aside from being pale, wounded and a little dirty now, she looked good — well-fed, well-groomed, in good shape. He couldn’t think that she was being beaten or tortured anymore by her captors.

“Ethan, get the tape,” Matthew said as they came up alongside the van.

John looked grave as he forced Catherine into the back of the van. “Catherine, honey, we’re gonna tape your mouth shut,” he said. “I don’t want to do that, just like I didn’t want to have to grab you back there. But you have to cooperate,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Can you do that? I know it’s been rough, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Catherine continued to stare at him. He stood up and took his hand off her mouth. Matthew handed him the tape — but not soon enough.

“Fuck you,” she said to John, the second he let go, spittle flying from her lips. “They’re coming for me. You should just let me go now.” She looked up at him, enraged and desperate at the same time. “Then I might tell them to leave you alone.”

“Catherine,” John said, and tried to stroke her face. She shook him off like she was worried he might infect her — with manners, perhaps, or human decency. “I’m your father. I’ve been looking for you for
years.
Those monsters stole you from
me.
”

“No, they didn’t,” she said, exasperated. “Let me go. I didn’t come back because I didn’t
want
to come back.
Let me go.
Otherwise, they’re going to cut you up into little pieces, especially
you
,” she said, and turned to me.

John sighed and put the masking tape over her mouth. He did it a little too gently for my liking.

“Can’t you just hit her again, and put her back to sleep?” I asked Matthew. John shot me a look.

Shut up,
my inner voice quickly counseled.
Shut up now.
Then John pulled out some handcuffs and cuffed her to part of the van. He checked her foot and changed the bandage. “We need to get a doctor to meet us at the hotel,” John said to Ethan. “This needs to be stitched up.”

“On it,” Ethan said, scrolling though something on his phone.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, as John slid in next to me. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re going to have to tell me everything that happened,” John said.

“After a shower. And a steak,” I said. My stomach roared at the thought.

John managed to smile when he heard my stomach. “Yes,” he said. “After a shower and a steak. Not necessarily in that order.”

I never thought food eaten in the back of a van, eaten with plastic silverware from a styrofoam container, could taste this good. I’d gone into the back with Catherine. I asked John to stay up front, so he wouldn’t watch me shovel food into my mouth like an animal.

“Liberty, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said.

“I’m gonna try to get her to eat, too,” I said, jerking my head towards the back. She’d been staring out the tinted back window since he’d cuffed her. Her mouth was still taped and she was sitting at an awkward angle because her foot was propped up, but she seemed to be more calm. Maybe she was just taking a timeout to plot her revenge.

“Hey,” I said, sliding along the metal floor of the van towards her. I had my open container of food in front of me — well-done filet mignon, baked potato with sour cream, and asparagus. I’d only eaten about a quarter of it, and I wasn’t sure I could hold down anymore, at least right now. My stomach had probably shrunk to the size of a tennis ball over the past month. It was going to take time adjusting to real food again.

I closed the cover of my container and slid Catherine’s meal over to her. It was identical to mine.

She looked down and me and glared. Her beautiful clothes were muddy and torn from all the fighting and her escape attempts.

“You want your food? It’s good,” I said, trying to extend her more courtesy then she’d ever shown me.

She shook her head and went back to staring out the window.

“You know, if you want to try to escape again, you’re gonna need to keep your strength up,” I said lightly, kneeling up and grabbing the edge of the masking tape. “No yelling or it goes back on. With a slap,” I added, under my breath, as I ripped the tape off.

“Ow,” Catherine said. I just raised an eyebrow and looked at her.
Really, Catherine? Really? I have cigarette burns up and down my arms and you’re complaining that I just pulled the tape off too roughly?

We just contemplated each other for a second. At least she had the decency to not scream.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said, “but I
really
don’t want to talk to him.” She cocked her head towards her father. “His ‘good daddy’ routine is getting on my nerves.”

I shook my head:
okay.
I wanted to spare him the pain, not her. My desire to protect him was greater than my desire to irk her. For now.

“I guess I’ll have some steak,” she said.

“Good girl,” I said. She gave me another dirty look but I ignored her. I cut up a small piece and put it into her mouth.

“This is like
Freaky Friday
,” she said as she chewed. “Now you’re me and I’m you.”

“I’ll never be you,” I said and smiled at her sweetly.
You bitch.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see John watching us. This must be bizarre for him — his young, dirty girlfriend feeding his slightly older, slightly less dirty, bleeding, handcuffed daughter a steak.

“Can I help?” he asked. I knew he wanted to. I knew he wanted to be the one back here, feeding her and talking to her.
But I had to get somewhere with her. I was the one who’d found her; she was my cross to bear.
She clearly wanted nothing to do with John. I had to fix that.

I turned and smiled at him. “We’re good,” I said. I turned back to Catherine and she was scowling at me.

“Really? You think we’re good?” she asked quietly.“Just don’t expect me to start calling you
Mommy
anytime soon.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I said to her, and roughly shoved another piece of steak into her mouth.

It was starting to get dark again. “We’re stopping soon,” John called back to us. He’d told me they wanted to get as far from the border as possible. I’d fallen asleep with his coat in the back, near Catherine. She was asleep, too, her head hanging at an odd angle, like she was a rag doll.

I sat up and tried to wake her. “Catherine. We’re almost to the hotel,” I said. She woke up quickly, squinting at me like I was a bad dream.

“We need to take her cuffs off,” I said to John. I wasn’t sure how this was going to work. “Where are we?”

“Austin,” John said. “I’ll send the guys up first. Then we’ll go up through the side door, or something.”

I looked down at myself and winced. “I’d like to go through the side door,” I said. “I’ll scare everyone in the lobby.”

John came into the back. “You need to rest,” he said, and kissed me lightly on the forehead. He turned and saw Catherine watching us with mild interest. “So do you, honey,” he said gently, looking at her.

“Don’t ‘honey’ me, John. Don’t you ever get tired of all the platitudes?” she asked, and yawned. “I know mom sure did.”

I watched his whole body tense. “Your mother misses you,” John said, ignoring her snub. “Not that you’ve asked.”

“Your girlfriend already filled me in. I’m sure Mom’s fine — always is,” she said, sounding bored. “Are we getting out of here? Because I really need to pee. I need to wash my bleeding foot. And I desperately need a cigarette.”

“What?” asked John horrified.
Out of everything, this is what he was going to freak out over — the fact that she smoked.
He’d never sounded like such a dad to me before.

Catherine let out an exasperated sigh. “I
am
twenty-four years old,” she said. “I smoke. I swear. I actually really want some vodka, too, once I take a shower.”

John just stared at her.
Oh honey, you don’t know the worst of it,
I thought. What was he thinking? If the drinking and smoking bothered him, he was in for the nastiest surprise of his life.
She’d put out cigarettes on me for fun.

Did he think this could still be his little girl, after years of violence?

Someone rapped on the side of the van and I jumped. Matthew opened the door. “Must be a slow night because I got three rooms, all adjacent,” he told John. He handed him the card keys. “You want me to do some shopping?” he asked.

“Yes,” said John. “Are you up for it?”

“I’m fine,” said Matthew, looking at the three of us. “I’m pretty sure I’m doing better than you guys.”

“I need clothes for the girls,” John said. “Mediums and smalls. Pajamas, clothes, shoes. Toiletries. Deodorant.” I laughed when he said that. “Get poor Liberty some pretzels, candy bars, and a book or a magazine. And Catherine would like a pack of cigarettes.”

“Actually, I’d like a
carton
of cigarettes. And a bottle of good vodka,” Catherine snapped.

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thanks Matthew. Call me if you need me.”

“D’you want me to send one of the guys back down?” Matthew asked, eying Catherine.

“I got it,” John said. He didn’t stop pinching the bridge of his nose, though.

“Maybe get some Ibuprofen, too,” I told Matthew. He looked at John.

“I have a headache,” I said, defensively.