Dead Girl Walking (12 page)

I couldn’t stop thinking about the guard. What was a Dark Lifer doing here? Had I attracted him? And he almost touched me! I had to tell Grammy. But I couldn’t perform my lucky chant without my rainbow bracelet. And it wasn’t safe to go back inside to get it from my real body. I ached with disappointment. Would Cola look for me when he finished his assignment? Or would he leave for his next assignment without letting Grammy know I was in trouble? I needed to get a message to him before he left the hospital. But I’d never get past that creepy Dark Lifer.

I might as well give up.

Yet I could imagine Alyce saying, “Ditch the self-pitying dramatics and just do what you have to.” She always cut to the reality of a situation, as if she viewed everything through a camera with a BS filter. Oh, how I missed her … and Dustin, and Mom and Dad and the triplets and even bitchy Aunt Suzanne. I’d lose them all forever if I just gave up.

I needed to either find Cola, or return to Room 311 and try to switch back into my real body. Who knew getting inside a hospital room would be so difficult? Chad hadn’t had any major problems sneaking into my bedroom. “Locks can’t keep me out,” he’d boasted. Did the same go for security guards and nurses?

Chad! Why hadn’t I thought of him sooner? He was my solution! All I had to do was to go back to the car and convince him to help. I wouldn’t give up until he came with me.

So I went back to Leah’s car—only Chad wasn’t waiting.

Unfortunately, a police officer was.

On the humiliating trip in the back seat of a police car, with doors that couldn’t be opened from inside, I found out I was being “returned” to Leah’s father.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Chad. Why hadn’t he waited for me? What happened to him? The Dark Lifer would have no reason to go after Chad. But Leah’s father would. If Mr. Montgomery reported the car as stolen, Chad could have been arrested. He was too good looking to survive long in prison with hardened criminals.

Stop thinking like Amber
, I reminded myself. Leah and Chad lived in a world of privilege. Chadwick Huntington Junior would be bailed out before his pedicured feet touched down in a cell.

But I wasn’t so sure what would happen to me. From the officer’s hostile attitude, I knew I was in a world of trouble. Escaping from the locked bedroom and driving off with “my” boyfriend were offenses that even the most easygoing father wouldn’t take lightly. And Mr. Montgomery had a reputation of being the
opposite
of easygoing.

It was ironic, really, because as Amber I’d been eager to meet this music industry mogul. He was infamous for his wheelings and dealings at Stardust Studios, catapulting garage-band nobodies to overnight mega-stars. Sure, there were rumors that some of his deals were shady, like when Tay Renault didn’t show up for a concert and Allejandro, a rising Stardust client, took the spot and soared to stardom. Tay was later found wandering in the desert, confused and battered. Another rumor had to do with the hot metal band, Eco-Dead, dumping their studio and signing with Stardust. I knew better to believe gossip … still, I had an uneasy sense of foreboding.

I should probably call Mr. Montgomery “Dad” or “Father,” but this commanding man could be nothing but “Mister Montgomery” to me. How was his daughter expected to behave? Should I greet him with a hug or outrage? What would Leah do in this situation? Shout, beg forgiveness, or give her father the cold shoulder treatment? I had no idea.

When we reached the Montgomery house, I said nothing as he led me to his office. I withered under his penetrating gaze as he told Leah to sit down in a hard wood chair.

Clasping my hands in my lap, I looked everywhere except directly at him. I heard only my thudding heartbeat and tick-tick-ticking from a compass-shaped clock on a wall-length bookcase. Staring past my white knuckles, I noticed every tiny bird design woven into the Oriental rug. And I wished for wings to fly away.

Mr. Montgomery cleared his throat, and stood up abruptly from his desk. He wasn’t a tall man, although with his sturdy, broad shoulders and his silvery head held high, he seemed like a giant as he stood over me.

“I hope you’re feeling better,” he said, as if speaking to a business associate rather than his only daughter. I’d expected him to shout, to chew me out for disobeying orders. But he smiled, his thin lips not quite meeting his cold gray eyes. His expression was devoid of emotion.

My throat went dry.

“It’s been a while since we talked,” he went on, relaxing back with his hands tucked under his desk. “I’m glad you decided to join me.”

Did I have a choice? I didn’t actually say this, although I would have if I hadn’t been sick-to-my-gut nervous.

“I’ll admit to being curious about your little adventure,” he said with a tilt of his head, as if pondering deep questions of life. “Whatever possessed you to drive to Community Central? I would think you’d had enough of hospitals.”

My gaze remained downcast, hiding any flicker of emotion. But my brain was buzzing. He hadn’t mentioned Chad, so he must think I drove there alone. Did that mean he had nothing to do with Chad’s disappearance? Chad must have left on his own. I was relieved—yet pissed off, too. I’d been worrying that something awful happened to him, when he probably took off to avoid the cops. Real loyal boyfriend—not! How could he say he loved Leah and then ditch her—me!—at the first sign of trouble?

I lifted my gaze to find Leah’s father studying me.

“How did you find me?” I asked, curiosity overcoming my fear. “This isn’t a big city, but it’s not small either, and finding one car so quickly is mathematically improbable.”

“Unless you have a GPS system,” he said proudly. “I had one installed when I bought your car. Only state-of-the-art systems for my vehicles.”

“I thought it was
my
car.”

“You are
my
daughter.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Oh … isn’t it?” He paused, peering deep into my face with a wry smile that gave me chills. “Tell me why you drove to Community Central Hospital. Who’d you see there?”

“No one.”

“Come, now,” he said with a click of his tongue. “Gathering information is a specialty of mine, and quite an asset in my business dealings. Knowing the personal details of a celebrity’s assistant or manager can mean the difference between making or losing millions. There are always ways to find out what you need to know.”

I sighed, seeing no reason to lie. “I went to see this girl from school who’s really sick, but visitors weren’t allowed.”

His forehead creased as if he was mulling this over, then he nodded. “I assumed it was something of the sort.”

“You did?”

“Why does that surprise you? I’ve always supported your causes. What’s the girl’s name? I’ll arrange to have some flowers sent in your name.”

“I—I already sent her flowers.”

“Admirable.” He narrowed his gaze at me. “But I trust there will be no further impromptu trips. You’re weak and need your rest. Doctor’s orders are for you to focus on healing. You will stay home until you’re well enough to return to school.”

I nodded, because that’s what he expected me to do— and something warned me not to make him mad.

“Excellent. Now we can move on to other business. Go ahead, stand up.”

“W—Why?”

“Let’s not play that game.”

“Game?” I frowned, puzzled by his almost playful expression.

“You will do as I ask.” He gave an impatient humph and tugged on my hand, jerking me to my feet. His touch startled me—it hurt because he was so rough. He stared at me, analyzing. “You’re too pale, and there are dark circles under your eyes.”

This was more of an accusation than an observation, and I had the ridiculous impulse to apologize.

“Stretch out your arms,” he ordered.

“Why?”

“Don’t be dense. You know the routine.”

No, I didn’t. And I was increasingly uncomfortable under his accessing gaze, as if I were a piece of livestock up for auction and he was gauging my value. Of course, that was absurd. I was his daughter (at least that’s what he thought). But a normal parent concerned about a suicide attempt would be either angry or comforting, not calculating cold. I was beginning to realize that things were far from normal in the Montgomery household.

Self-consciously, I lifted my arms and stretched them out.

“That’s more like it,” he said, nodding. “Now turn around slowly.”

“Turn around? You can’t be serious.”

“Am I ever anything else? Please turn around.”

Face flaming, heart quickening, I turned.

Halfway around, I felt a slap on my butt.

“What the hell!” I whirled to face him. “Why’d you do that? Are you some kind of—”

“Flabby ass,” he said critically.

“What?”

“You heard me. You’ve gotten soft and lost muscle tone.”

“You’re joking, right?” My cheeks burned and my butt still stung.

“I never joke about appearances, and yours is out of shape. Too much lying about in the hospital without any physical activity.”

“I know flabby, and this is not it.” I pointed effectively. “What do you care about how I look, anyway?”

But he wasn’t listening, his gaze sweeping over me like a cleaning inspector searching for a smudge. “Overall, the damage is minor, and easily repaired by a high-protein diet and daily workout. But those eye circles may require another Botox injection.”

“Botox? But that’s for old people. I’m only seventeen.”

“You were fifteen when you got your first injection.”

“No way!”

“You’re behaving oddly,” he said with a steely gaze. “But I think I know why.”

I gulped. “You do?”

“You need some incentive.” He reached out to run his hand over Leah’s long hair, the way someone would stroke a cat’s fur, and I shuddered. Somehow this was creepier than his butt slap.

“Could you
not
touch me?” I asked.

“Beauty is to be savored, appreciated … and rewarded.” He crossed over to his desk, opened the top drawer and drew out a navy blue velvet case. He flipped open the lid. Displayed on gold silk was a dazzling diamond and sapphire bracelet. “Like it?” he asked.

It was gorgeous. The sort of dazzling jewelry I one day imagined my fabulous husband giving me as a wedding gift. But the luster faded with intent. This was a bribe. What did he expect in exchange?

I pushed the velvet case away. “I don’t want it.”

“Of course you do.” He paused, arching one silver brow. “And you’ll wear it to Congressman Donatello’s reception next Saturday. I’ve already selected an appropriate evening gown.”

My head started to throb. Didn’t he even care that his daughter just got out of the hospital for attempted suicide? “I don’t want to go to a dumb party. You and Mrs. … Mom can go without me.”

“Don’t be absurd. Why would your mother go?” He scowled, as if I’d insulted him. “Of course you’ll accompany me. Congressman Donatello is looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Why would a congressman care about me?”

“Really, Leah. Fishing for compliments is so juvenile.” Mr. Montgomery’s laugh held irony and amusement. “Besides, it’s not as if anyone expects me to appear with your mother. Her condition is a badly kept secret, and everyone is quite sympathetic. You know she hasn’t gone to a social event in years. You, however, are welcomed with open arms.”

“Even though I attempted suicide?” I blurted out.

His expression darkened, and for a moment I thought he would hit me. I moved backwards until my back pressed up against a bookcase.

“Do not use that word,” he snapped. “You were very ill, and can’t be blamed for your behavior. It’s in the past, where it will remain. You’re much better now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He stepped toward me. “Because if you weren’t better, you wouldn’t be living in my home. Sadly, I’d have no recourse except to follow Dr. Hodges’ recommendation and commit you to a mental institution.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“By now you should know
never
to underestimate me.”

I frowned, afraid. I thought longingly of my own father, who laughed easily and loved me no matter what I looked like or how many mistakes I made. He would never threaten me or slap my butt.

“Here.” Mr. Montgomery pushed the velvet box into my hand. “You’ll look lovely in this bracelet. Be a good girl and I’ll buy you the matching necklace and earrings. I’ll have Angie bring you an exercise schedule and set up a Botox appointment.”

I cringed, tightening my fingers around the jewelry box. I wasn’t sure which was worse—being injected with poison that would freeze my facial muscles, or exercising. Probably exercise. At least the Botox injection would be quick and not involve sweat.