Unlocked (30 page)

Then I remembered more of Harrison's words from earlier. He had said,
Yes, Hannah, fight for your own free will. That will be entertaining.

I grabbed the tablet, and I wrote those words in large black letters. I tore the sheet off, and I posted it to the front door of the cabin. I would fight. He'd given the command, and I would use it to my advantage.

“You're not strong enough.”

“Be gone!” I yelled.

The fog thinned. My thoughts became clearer. I leaned against the wall of the cabin, and a memory resurfaced. The hypnotist had called me by name on the stage in the arena. He knew who I was. He lured me behind the food truck at the fair. That's when he planted the trigger phrase in my mind and told me to overreact to every little thing. That was also when he told me to always answer my phone when I saw his number on caller ID.

I sank against the cabin's porch and tried to catch my breath. The dark mists began to swirl at my feet. I hadn't defeated the demon. I didn't know how. And I couldn't defeat Harrison, because I didn't know how. I was losing this battle.

But I still had to ascend from this place in my mind and try to save Plug. I stood and set my hand on the sheet I'd posted to the cabin's door. The hypnotist had given me permission to fight for my own free will, and that little crack in the chains that bound me had to be the key for me to escape him. I emerged from my meditation.

I opened my eyes and pulled in a long, slow breath.

I was still slumped in the back seat of Harrison's sedan, but my mind was more alert than it had been in days. I needed to move, but my limbs remained immobile. Maybe the demon was right. I wasn't strong enough. But then the tips of my fingers and the tips of my toes began to prickle as sensation began to return. I scrunched up my toes and moved one finger at a time.

A week ago, I only thought about starting my senior year of high school and preparing to leave for Princeton. I wanted to date Manny. I wanted everyone to get along and have fun.

Now, I only wanted to save the people I loved and reclaim my free will.

Harrison came out through the front door. He closed it behind him and wiped the knob clean. He slid into the driver's seat of the sedan. Without a word, he shifted into reverse and drove out of the neighborhood. I couldn't turn my head to see if Kyla's house was on fire, but I knew he'd started it. He smelled like gasoline and smoke.

• • •

Harrison drove toward downtown. I rotated my wrists and bent my elbows. Each mile we traveled put Plug that much closer to death, if he was even still alive. I inched my hand toward the door. My heart beat faster, but I steadied my breathing. Up ahead I saw a busy intersection.

We stopped at the red light.

I bent my elbow and lifted my fingers to the handle. I kept my gaze away from the rearview mirror. Harrison could not know I was alert.

The light changed, and Harrison accelerated. I had to escape before the car's speed increased too much. With stilted movements, I reached for the handle, unlocked the door, and flung it wide open. Before Harrison could react, I grabbed the frame and launched myself out into the road. The asphalt caught me with unforgiving hands.

The driver behind us slammed on his brakes that squealed as he honked. A minivan in the next lane swerved to avoid plowing over me.

Harrison leaned out of his window and squinted at me, but he shook his head at the gathering commotion and drove away. The back door of the sedan swung shut as Harrison sped down the street.

Tremors traveled throughout my body. I'd done it. I'd escaped. The driver from behind ran to me and helped me stand. My legs wobbled. I tightened my grip on his arm and watched Harrison make a left at the next intersection.

“Are you okay?” the man asked.

Road rash blanketed my bare legs and arms, but otherwise I seemed intact. No fractures. No major injuries. Cars honked and drove past. I had to find Mom. I had to help Plug.

“Can I use your phone?” My voice was too faint, and he leaned in closer to me.

“What?” he yelled over the traffic noise.

I cleared my throat and tried again. “Your phone?”

He pulled his cell from his pocket and offered it to me. I dialed 911 and told the operator about the fire at Kyla's house. I read to her the address that Plug had written on the palm of my hand.

“Hurry!” I said. “Eugene Polaski is unconscious inside the house.”

The man next to me paled. “What's going on?” he asked.

I dialed Mom's cell. I hoped Harrison had lied about having her. I hoped she was fine and with the police. She had to be okay.

“We need to get out of the road,” the man said. I turned my back to him and waited for Mom to answer. Cars continued to honk.

“Hello, Hannah,” Harrison said.

My knees went weak, and I nearly dropped the phone, but the man behind me steadied me and looped his arm beneath mine.

“You can stand in the road all day,” Harrison said, “but I'm coming back for you. If you contact the police, I will kill your mother today.”

I ended the call and screamed at the top of my lungs until my throat ached. The man who'd been helping me took a step back and gaped at me. This couldn't be real. Harrison couldn't have Mom. It couldn't be true. I chewed on my cheek and tried to concentrate. I dialed my home phone number and dashed across the busy street, dodging cars as I went.

“Hello?” a woman's voice said.

“Who's this?” I asked.

“Hey!” the driver yelled. “Give me back my phone.” He started to come after me, but then he retraced his steps to his abandoned car in the middle of the road.

Sirens howled in the distance.

I stepped onto the sidewalk and paused, out of breath.

“I'm a police officer,” the woman on my home phone said. “Is this Hannah? We've been—”

“Is my mom there?” I asked.

“No, but Hannah—”

I hung up. I refused to accept the idea that Harrison had Mom. I scanned the area to get my bearings. Mom's hotel was a few blocks away. I tried to remember the phone number. I dialed information instead. They connected me, and the hotel operator answered.

“May I speak with the general manager, Beth O'Leary?”

“I'm sorry, she's unavailable this afternoon,” the operator said. “May I take a message?”

I dropped the phone on the concrete, kicked off my flip-flops, and started running. Harrison had Mom, and I had to find her before it was too late.

About a block before the hotel, I stopped on the sidewalk. A police cruiser was parked under the canopy. I assessed my options. On the left side of the road were office buildings. On my right was a church. Mrs. Santos's face came to mind. She believed with absolute faith.
A prayer can help. If you have faith, God will bring good things to you, but you have to invite him in,
she had said.

I needed all the help I could get. I stepped up to the alcove of the church, closed my eyes, and offered a silent prayer, pleading for God to listen and to help me. The sun-heated concrete began to burn my feet, and the road rash along my legs throbbed with pain.

I opened my eyes just as Harrison turned onto the street. I leaned backward into the shade of the church's overhang and hid from view. Harrison sped past me and pulled under the hotel's canopy, right next to the police cruiser. Harrison tossed his keys to the valet, and then he entered the hotel. The police weren't searching for the hypnotist. They were searching for me.

The door behind me opened, and I stumbled backward. A pastor grasped my arm to balance me.

“Would you like to come inside?” he asked.

“I just need to sit for a minute,” I said. I needed to think. With the police at the entrance and with Harrison lurking somewhere inside, I had to find a different way into the hotel.

“You're injured.” The pastor motioned toward my bruises and wounds.

“I'm okay.” I sank into an oversized chair in the foyer and leaned forward. I needed to catch my breath and figure out a solution.

The pastor sat in the chair next to me and waited in silence. After a few minutes, he suddenly said, “You must open your heart to truly open your mind. Let the good light illuminate your path so you'll no longer walk in darkness at noonday. He speaks with a soft voice and will guide you with inspiration.”

I lifted my head. He spoke in riddles like Mrs. Santos had. I missed her comforting hugs and warm smile. It broke my heart that she thought I would intentionally set fire to her house.

The pastor set his hand on mine. “Your sorrow brings Satan joy. He attempts to tie strings to your mind and body so he can manipulate you like a puppet. Take action, fight against the evil, and it will lose its energy. You have the power to dismiss Satan and his evil spirits. Have faith in your own abilities and listen to the still, small voice.”

He squeezed my hand, and I wept.

“I will get you a glass of water.” He rose and walked down the hall, but I didn't wait for him to return.

I wiped my face and headed back out onto the street. I had an idea.

I stayed out of the sight of the police officers and darted down into the parking garage. I ran to the spot in back where Mom usually parked. Her red Toyota Prius was there. I checked doors, locked. But my foot snagged on a soft lump hidden partially beneath her car. I reached down and tugged out Mom's purse.

Harrison must've grabbed her here. On the phone, Mom had said she was about to leave. She was here when she shrieked on the phone.

I had to find her.

I rummaged through her purse and found her keys. I unlocked the car door and sank into the back seat. I lay on my side and tried to compose myself. I could drive back to Kyla's house and help Plug, but I'd already called 911 and reported the fire. They should be there helping him. There was nothing more I could do to save him. But I had a strong feeling my mom was somewhere nearby. Harrison was here. She had to be, too.

I searched Mom's purse again and found her master key card to the hotel. That would help. I sat up and scanned the parking garage. I was alone. I ran to the freight elevator and rode it to the fourth floor. I knew from experience, fewer rooms were rented on this floor. People either wanted the top floors for a better view or they wanted the lower floors to avoid the elevators. I stepped into the vestibule and peered in both directions down the hallway. No one. I moved over to the house phone and pressed zero. The hotel operator answered.

“Do you have vacancies tonight?” I asked.

“Yes, we do.”

“I want to reserve a specific suite. Can you tell me which ones are available?”

“The White Clouds, Tetons, Cascades—”

“Tetons,” I said.

“The name for the reservation?” she asked.

“Jane Smith.” That was too obvious. I should've thought of a more realistic name.

“And what credit card would you like to use to hold the reservation?”

I cradled the phone between my shoulder and my ear and dug through Mom's purse. I found her wallet and pinched out her American Express card. I read the number to the operator. The operator read back the details. No problem. As a hotel manager's daughter, I already knew they wouldn't run Mom's card until tomorrow at the earliest. I needed them to hold the room and not check anyone else into it so I could have a place to hide and formulate a plan. A master key would get me into the room, but a reservation would keep other people out. And I needed a guarantee that I'd be alone and safe until I knew what to do.

“One more question,” I said to the operator. “Has John Harrison checked in yet?”

“Yes, would you like me to connect you?”

“No, thank you,” I said and hung up the phone. I also knew from experience it was pointless to ask the operator what room Harrison was in. They weren't allowed to give out that information. I had to be smarter than he was.

I rode the freight elevator to the top floor and hoped no one would be lurking in the halls to question my appearance. I ran through the empty hall to the door of the Tetons suite and slid Mom's master key card into the slot. The door opened. I slipped inside, closed the door, and sank to the cool marble entry.

The bottoms of my feet were solid black from running on the concrete and asphalt. I forced myself to stand, and I cringed when I put my full weight on my feet. Now that the adrenaline was fading, pain shot up from the soles of my feet to the joints of my hips. I stumbled across the plush white carpet and sat at the side desk. I fumbled through the drawers for a phone book. Once I found it, I turned to the yellow pages and began dialing hospitals. I asked each one if Eugene Polaski had been admitted. Nothing. I couldn't call Kyla or Nick, because I didn't know their numbers. Besides, they were probably still at the police station.

The sun was setting. Darkness began to creep from the walls of the room toward me. I was being sucked into an emotional black hole. How could I help Plug or my mom if I couldn't help myself? I switched on the desk lamp. A small light glowed over the desktop. It was ineffective against the looming malevolence. I had to find a way to lock the doors of my mind and soul so that nothing could break through ever again.

I rubbed my temples and tried to slow my breathing. I pictured my safe place. Colorful flowers filled the rolling hills and a grassy patch waited for me beneath the cottonwoods.

“It won't work.”

I jerked open my eyes to see who'd spoken, but I was alone. An ant dropped from the ceiling onto my arm. And then another fell.

Don't look up,
I told myself.

I closed my eyes and wiped my sweaty palms on my thighs. I imagined my field of flowers. My trees. My breeze. I directed my thoughts. Plug had given me keys. Rose had given me keys. The pastor had given me keys. It was all related—hypnosis, meditation, guided imagery, and prayer. They all connected the mind, body, and soul. The difference was in the intent. Good or evil. Positive or negative. Hope or despair. I would use all of these keys I'd gathered together to close the door and lock out the demons.