Lost and Found Read online

  ***

  After the others took turns coming in and out of the room to spend time with Riley, Winchester finally gave her the go ahead to sleep a quarter past midnight. But Connor stayed up well into the early morning hours watching her carefully; leaning close to her face to make sure her breathing sounded normal. His elbows were sore from the way he propped himself up to keep an eye on her but he ignored it. A couple of times he stroked the bandage on the right side of her face that covered most of her cheek and jaw.

  When his arms couldn't hold him up anymore, he fluffed his pillows so he was angled up enough to see her face while he rested on his side. He kept playing the accident over in his mind. It drove him crazy that he didn't know what went wrong. One minute she was fine riding ahead of him on Sunrise Highway with the ends of her long, blonde hair streaming out behind her. He looked away for just a second. Just a second... And she was flying off the bike, toward the guardrail. His stomach knotted at the memory of seeing her sprawled out on the pavement, not moving.

  He rolled onto his back and draped am arm over his face, blocking out the subtle glow of moonlight that streamed in through the open windows. This plan of hers was stupid. He needed to figure out a way to convince her to change her mind. At this rate, she was going to kill herself before they even got to Los Angeles.

  CHAPTER two

  The strong smell of caffeinated coffee woke me. For one brief moment, I forgot about the beating my body took the day before until I tried to push up off the bed just like any other morning. My weak arms shook from the weight of my upper body and I fell back onto the mattress with a groan. My entire body felt like one gigantic bruise. There wasn't any one place that didn't hurt. Even brushing my hair off my forehead caused a painful tingle along my scalp.

  After settling back against the mound of pillows that were propped around me the night before, I angled my body in a way where I could watch Connor. He must have been up late if my clumsy stirring didn't wake him. His mouth was parted slightly so I could hear his breathing as he inhaled and exhaled in his sleep. I watched his body rise and fall a few more times until Kris quietly came to the open doorway with a tray in her hands.

  I brought my hand up quickly to keep her quiet before I whispered, "Sshh. He's asleep."

  She nodded and set the tray down on top of the dresser and crossed the room. Her thick hair was just below her shoulders now and the length seemed to be pulling some of her frizzy curls out a bit. She had about one million more freckles splattered across her face than she did when I met her. After a careful hug, she reached up and gingerly touched the bandage on the side of my face. I had only known her for a few months but she was family; the little sister I never had. And maybe even the daughter I had lost.

  A few sips of the French roast were all it took to wake up fully, but it posed a problem too. I gestured to the bathroom and Kris helped me shuffle out from under the sheets so I could walk the short distance from the bed to the small room in the corner. Even though the pain was intense - I had to pee.

  Despite her protesting looks, she finally caved and helped me hobble out of the room and down the stairs to the main part of the cabin where I was greeted by my little lab/cocker spaniel mix that survived the world's deadliest virus with me. Zoey was all that was left of my previous life. I rubbed the top of her head vigorously until Kris pulled her away. The two of them had bonded tremendously over the last few months. Kris was seventeen now, having celebrated her birthday two weeks ago but she still rolled around with the dog just as a small child would and dropped everything to play fetch with Zoey.

  "Thanks for the coffee," I said with a smile. I felt the tug of the bandage pull on my skin and tried to hide the wince from Kris.

  "Sure. But if Connor wakes up freaking out that you're not there and finds out you went down the stairs without his help, it was all you. I will plead the fifth," she laughed.

  "Don't worry, I can handle Connor." I smiled as Kris rolled her eyes.

  "Are you hungry? Cause I was planning on making pancakes."

  My stomach clenched at the mention of food. "Yes, I'm starving."

  The kitchen stool proved too hard to climb up onto, so I opted for the couch again. At least there, I could prop the pillows around me and carry on an upright conversation with Kris. She had just poured the batter for the first pancake onto the griddle when there was a knock at the front door and Zoey rushed over to greet Winchester. He opened the door and poked his head inside but his smile faded when he saw me lounging on the couch.

  "You should be upstairs, in bed!" He tried to look upset, but the scowl on his groomed face was comical and I couldn't help but smile at him.

  "Mornin' Win. Don't worry; I had help getting down the stairs. If I lay in bed all day, I'll be even sorer, won't I?"

  "Where's Connor? I'll yell at him for getting you out of bed." He took a seat on the massive reclaimed tree trunk that served as the coffee table and leaned forward to touch my bandage.

  "It's not me you'll be yelling at," Connor's husky morning voice said from the top of the stairway as he took the steps down, two at a time.

  I tried not to stare at him, but I did as he was wearing only his boxers. And they hung from his hips so low that even Winchester blushed. Connor padded across the room, ignoring the dog that leapt at his legs and stopped directly behind the couch with his arms crossed, glaring down at me. I smiled, but still had a hard time keeping my eyes on his face, so eventually I had to turn away. Winchester raised his eyebrow, but said nothing as he began to peel back the bandage above my jaw.

  "Ouch." I flinched as the tape was pulled from my skin.

  Connor towered behind me as Winchester dabbed at the healing scrape with clean gauze. After he put more ointment and a fresh bandage on my face, he leaned back to inspect his work. Apparently satisfied, he moved on to my wrist to repeat the process.

  Kris lightened the mood by serving us all a steaming plate of pancakes. Connor was either unaware he was mostly naked, or was too stubborn to return upstairs to dress as he sat at the kitchen island on a stool to eat. I stole a few glances in his direction but our gazes never met. He was pissed at me and let everyone in the room know it. He's so damn overprotective, my mind raced.

  We were just finishing up breakfast when Zoey rushed out the front door and returned moments later with Jacks and Skip in tow. I had seen both of them the night before, but Jacks gawked at me when he got a closer look at the bruises that bloomed colorfully overnight, covering my arms, legs and face in every color of blue and green imaginable.

  "Shit, girl. You look like hell," he said as he leaned in to kiss the top of my head.

  "Thank you so much, you're too kind," I muttered as I swiped a hand across his arm.

  "Good morning, honey, how you feeling today?" Skip asked, as he too leaned down and kissed my hair.

  "Actually, I'm a little sore," I paused to steal a glance at Connor, who was still pouting on his stool. "But, I think I'll be fine."

  "Now's as good a time as any to talk about this plan you have, honey." Skip looked at each of the men before getting a nod from Connor to continue.

  "I'm still going." I stared into my lap. If it was an ambush they had planned, it wouldn't work.

  "Yeah, but honey, this is your second accident on a motorcycle, you honestly think you can make it all the way to L.A. on a bike you don't know how to ride?"

  Skip sat on the edge of the couch waiting for my answer while Winchester silently packed up the items he had used from his first aid kit. The box was the size of a large briefcase and he set it down on the coffee table before getting up to clean his plate in the kitchen. Even Kris refused to look at me as she bustled about the kitchen. It seemed no one was coming to my defense.

  I concentrated on making my face as rigid as possible before pushing away from the cushions and standing. I forced the wobble in my legs to stop as I took a step away from the couch. Skip and Connor both stood, unsure of where I planned on going. Winchester sent a sid
eways glance at Jacks before quickly looking down at the floor.

  "If none of you are man enough to go with me, I'll go on my own. Even if that means I'll have to take a damn Vespa."

  With that, I turned and walked slowly away from the group taking a great deal of satisfaction from the shocked looks I caught before rounding the corner to take the steps up to the second floor. It hurt but I made it to the upper landing without falling or bursting into tears. My thoughts ran wild as I turned the shower on and stuck my hand under the water stream, waiting for it to warm. What's wrong with them? Why am I the only one that cares about what happened to Mariah? I knew in my heart that the nightmares and constant wondering would never stop till I had answers.

  ***

  "But I'm not sure. Not really," Kris said while she sat on the edge of the bed.

  "Yeah, but there are way too many similarities for it to be just coincidence, Kris, you were the first one to say so." I watched her paint my toenails a bright orange color.

  "What are you going to do once you get there? I mean, how will you know where to look? It's been months. They could be anywhere by now." She paused to look up at me, before putting the finishing touches on my big toe.

  "I think we need to try. Mariah could be there still. What Matt and the others did…if she's still there, I can't live with that." I looked hard at Kris while she set the nail polish bottle on the side table.

  "If you're going, I should go with you." She avoided looking at me.

  "That's totally out of the question. You already told me what we need to know." I shifted so that I could swing my legs over the side of the bed.

  For a minute, we just stared at each other. I had never pulled the parent-card out with Kris; she wasn't my child, but she was only seventeen and I didn't want to put her in a situation that could be dangerous.

  "Look," I sighed, "…this isn't something any of us can figure out till we get there. I just have to know, I have to know if Mariah is still in L.A. and if the men that took her are the same ones that hurt you."

  Kris traced the scar that ran the length of her jaw with one finger and slowly let her hand trail down her neck to where the second scar was. They faded some over the summer but both were still noticeable. She had finally shared with me her story a few weeks back, about the two men that abducted her after she set out on her own when her parents died from the virus. They beat her up and dragged her to a nearby building where they kept her locked up for hours before trying to rape her at knifepoint. She had a pocketknife of her own wedged inside her boot and was able to get away thanks to a great deal of luck. Not long after that is when Jacks found her hiding out at a gas station on the southern outskirts of Los Angeles, bloody and scared. It was an experience no teenager should have to go through. I didn't want her to return there and have to relive the nightmare.

  "You still think anyone traveling up and down the west coast would try and go through L.A.?" she asked.

  I nodded. "Yes, I do. You said the parked traffic was bad and that could be a problem, which is why I thought taking a bike would be best. If you lived anywhere near there and survived this," I waved my hand around the room, "…many people would probably look for others there. You did." I watched her nod slowly.

  "Yeah. I guess you're right. And if others do pass through there, I bet those jerks are still doing the same thing…waiting and grabbing who they can." She shifted on the bed so she was facing me. She opened her mouth to speak but clamped it shut and looked down at her hands.

  "What is it, Kris? It's okay," I spoke softly.

  "Um…did you mean what you said about getting a scooter?" She blinked up at me, a bit embarrassed.

  "You mean, downstairs?" I laughed loudly but stopped when I realized Kris was looking at me nervously. "Yes, I guess I did. Learning how to stay on a motorcycle is proving to be harder than I thought. Why?"

  "Well, because I know how to ride a scooter, my best friend had one. So I could definitely go with you then." She stared at me, gauging my reaction.

  "Kris…even if we did that - took a couple of scooters, it's a long drive. And what if we do find those guys…or more like them?"

  Her brown eyes looked up at me, pleading for me to say yes. "Just think about it, okay? I could help, I know I could."

  She got up, snatched the nail polish from the bedside table, and hurried out of the room before I could object again. The only thing girly about Kris was the fact that she enjoyed painting her nails, and everyone else's around her. Connor let her paint his toes once, but that was after several beers and a full on dare from Jacks that he wouldn't walk around with painted toes for a week. He lasted almost a month before I told him his pink toes were clashing with my orange ones.

  After I leaned back onto the bed, I let my thoughts take over. She's right. She could help us; she's not a kid anymore. Maybe I should let her come. I dangled my legs over the edge of the mattress and swayed my feet from side to side until the pull on my bruised lower back became too uncomfortable. When I sat up, Connor was standing in the doorway, watching me.

  "How much did you hear?" I asked.

  "Enough."

  "And…?" I waited for him to answer but instead he walked across the room and sat down next to me.

  "And, I think if you're sure you want to do this, I'll go with you. But not until you're better and we've got a solid plan. Okay?" His blue eyes sparkled as they bore into mine.

  I nodded and let my eyes fill with tears as he pulled me against his chest. After burrowing my face into his shirt while he stroked my hair, the clean and fresh scent that was Connor, filled my nose. I was grateful for the millionth time, that it was he, who pulled me out of the San Diego Bay, back in January.

  ***

  The waves pull away from the shore leaving frothy bubbles along the wet sand and return abruptly, depositing fresh seaweed and broken seashells onto the beach before the ebb of the ocean pulls the waves back again. Even though the sun is partially obscured by the clouds, there is no mistaking the summer feel of the day. It smells of salt and coconut lotion…and goldfish crackers.

  "Mommy, look! Look what I found!" Dean skids to a stop at my feet, dripping cold water onto my toes and holds his cupped hands up to my face.

  "Eww, what is it?" I ask, while catching a glimpse of something slimy in his little hand.

  "Gel-fish! Mommy, it's a gel-fish!" He grins at me as I push myself up to my knees to get a better look at what he has.

  "Do you mean jelly-fish?" I ask with a smile, sure that it must be something else in his hand but when I peel back his short fingers I see that he is indeed holding a sandy piece of jelly-fish.

  "Oh, Dean! Where'd you find this? It stays in the water; jellyfish can sting you. Go put it back, baby."

  I turn him around and pat his bottom as he scurries toward the shore to deposit the chunk of jelly into the next wave. I don't have the heart to tell him it's no longer alive. I wave at Shannon as she jumps through the waves a few yards to our right, diving under the big ones and floating on her back when the water calms. As I look up and down the beach, I smile at the families playing in the surf.

  Eventually Dean comes bounding back up the sand and plops down on the towel next to me. Another mischievous smile lights up his face.

  I sigh before asking with a crooked grin, "So, what do you have now, my little biologist?"

  He tilts his head to the side, as if challenging me to wrestle his three-year-old hand open. I try not to cave in too quickly but my curiosity has my full attention, so I tickle his side until his fingers splay open on his lap revealing a large chunk of bloody flesh. I recoil from his hand in horror. I would know those blue eyes anywhere and I start screaming.... Because he's holding his sister's face in his hands.

  ***

  The strangled sound of my voice pierced through the night air, loud enough to wake the whole house. Kris came stumbling into the bedroom in her over-sized sleep shirt just as Connor shook me awake, ripping me out of my nightmare. At first, I
struggled against him as my body shook but he refused to let go, even after my hot tears soaked into his shirt. Feeling the sudden urge to throw up, I scrambled away from him and barely made it to the toilet in time to release my dinner.

  "Is she okay?" I heard Kris's shaky voice in the next room while I rinsed my still raw face off with cold water from the tap.

  "Just a bad dream, she'll be okay. Go back to bed kiddo, it's alright."

  Connor's answer was enough to send Kris stumbling groggily back to her room. His sleepy voice was fully loaded with hints of his Irish heritage. I loved to hear his accent; it was rare on account of all the time he spent in the States over the last twenty years.

  "I'm sorry," I mumbled when I finally left the solitary confinement of the bathroom.

  "Babe, don't apologize for having a bad dream. I've had a lot of them myself, lately."

  He pulled the covers back and scooted to the side, leaving enough room for me to climb under the sheets and cuddle up against him. I tried to relax and concentrate on the curves of Connor's body as his chest rested against my back, his legs tucked up close behind my thighs.

  Zoey huffed softly from down the hall, no doubt from Kris's room where she was not only allowed, but also encouraged to sleep on the bed every night. I shifted slightly, feeling comfort in the heaviness of Connor's arm draped securely around me. We sighed against each other silently and then something on the other side of the room caught my eye. My heart skipped a beat just before I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. A dark shadow was standing in the corner. It's not real, it's not real, I said to myself over and over. But I knew better. The same figure had visited me every night for a week. It wanted something, but I wasn't brave enough yet to find out what that was.