one—on Carl. On both of them. I called the lawyer I kept on retainer for anything to do with Abby and filled him in on the situation.
“Get his parole revoked, Milo. Put a tail on him. Keep him the hell away from Abby. Her mother too.”
“On it.” He hung up.
Then I calmed myself, centering my thoughts the way I had learned, and concentrated on finding Sunny.
The cliff—the place Sunny and I used to hide—came to mind. I had purposely never developed the land around that area, even though I owned all of it. I had never planned on going there again, but I wanted to know that somehow, some small part of us still existed.
Would she go there?
There was only one way to find out.
I started the car and headed toward that end of town.
I was relieved to have found her, grateful she agreed to listen to me, and cursed myself for not thinking of bringing an extra jacket or a blanket. Her tears gutted me, and I wanted to hold her, but I knew she didn’t want that. I had to wait until she heard my story.
I stared out over the dark water, feeling the heat of the flames at my feet. My shirt didn’t offer me much protection from the cold, but with Sunny beside me, I was fine. I was happier knowing she was warm and protected. I gathered my thoughts, then spoke.
“Abby arrived one day about six months after I had been sent to Toblacove.”
“That was the town?”
“No, the name of the”—I held up my fingers in quotations— “‘establishment’ where I was held. It was really a prison—a place rich people sent their kids they gave up on and washed their hands of. They spoke of rehabilitation, but it was a holding cell, to be honest. We were fed, sheltered, and ‘taught,’ for lack of a better word. If you call grueling workouts, constant lectures on what ungrateful people we were, military-type discipline ‘teaching.’”
“Oh, Linc,” she whispered.
I kept talking. “The institution, because that is what it really was, was outside a small village.” I frowned as memories hit me. “No one spoke a word of English outside the compound, and very few of the, ah, students, as we were referred to, were allowed to go to the village. Some who had been there for a long time, or had proven their trustworthiness, were allowed a day every month or so. Never announced, so no plans could be made. I was never allowed, as per my father’s instructions. No matter what age you went in at—you didn’t leave until you were nineteen, unless your parents got you.” I paused. “That rarely happened. We were sent there and forgotten about.”
“Oh.” Sunny made a low noise in the back of her throat. “Were there a lot of girls?”
“No. Very few and they mostly kept to themselves. Everyone did. Friendships were not encouraged. The rest of us kept our interactions to a minimum so not to draw notice. We did as we were told. Studies, gym, chores, meals. There was very little free time.”
“I see. But you became friends with Abby.”
“I learned how to get around some of the rules. Where to go to get away from the cameras. Whom to trust. You had to in order to survive. In order not to completely fall apart.” Turning my head, I met her gaze. “To make sure they didn’t drum everything remotely real and human out of you. I refused to become one of their robotic zombies. I simply let them think I was.”
Her eyes shut, and when they blinked open, I saw the glimmer of fresh tears in them. I didn’t think as I leaned toward her and brushed them away this time. She let me touch her, which was enough—for now. I cleared my throat and continued.
“She arrived the way I did. Unconscious and drugged out of her mind. I saw her wandering the halls, confused, disoriented, and scared. Something about her reminded me of you. Maybe the light hair or the vulnerability I saw in her eyes. She was two years younger than me, and she didn’t deserve to be there any more than I did. I tried to show her the ropes. Where to eat, where things were, who to avoid, all those things.”
“Was everyone drugged?”
“No, some kids came willingly. I think given the choice of what they had at home compared to what this place offered, they took it. I always assumed their life before the