Page 89 of Rescuer
Mia’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it. It was from Aunt Susan. She winced. Jane and Anne Marie’s mother. She opened the text, preparing for her aunt to lambaste her with accusations.
Susan
Mia. Call me.
Mia didn’t want to. But she did.
“Mia. What’s going on? Jane’s crying and saying you did something to her, but she won’t say what.”
“Hold on, Aunt Susan.” Mia sent her aunt the picture she’d taken of Jane’s phone. “I just sent you a picture.”
Ten seconds later, Aunt Susan gasped. “What in the world?”
“Your daughter has stolen from us. All of us. And sold our items on eBay.”
There was silence. “Is this a joke?”
“No joke. She’s already sold most of it. What hasn’t sold, Gus and I want back. Or the money. Oh, and I warned Jane that if I heard her talking about me or spreading tales, I would be calling the police. I’m serious. If she continues to blame me for her bad choices, the cops will be called. I’m done with this, family or not.”
Aunt Susan quietly hung up, and Mia set her phone aside.
I wonder if she stole anything from Anne Marie? Mia’s younger cousin had never been the most forgiving person. She held grudges longer than anyone Mia knew.
You held a grudge against Jackson for over ten years, her conscience reminded her. She frowned, not liking the similarity.
The tea kettle whistled. She poured the hot water over the tea bag, inhaling deeply. She loved the sweet aroma. She added a touch of honey to give the hot drink a sweet boost, then carried her cup out to the living room. She glanced at the clock, hoping it was early enough to call Jackson. When she saw the time, that hope died quickly. It was almost ten o’clock at night. Jackson was probably asleep by now. She knew he was working in the morning.
She blew on the tea and took a gentle sip so she wouldn’t burn her mouth. The warmth slid down her throat. This was what she needed.
Sighing in pleasure, she lifted the mug to take another sip.
Someone knocked on the door. What on earth? She glanced at the clock again. It was after ten. Setting the mug on one of the coasters Gus had made, she stood and padded to the door in her bare feet. She went up on tiptoes and closed one eye to peek through the peephole.
Gasping, she backed up and yanked the door wide open. “Reggie!”
She motioned the boy inside. Bruises covered his face and arms. He limped inside. She could tell he was hurt, but she didn’t know how badly.
“I need your help, Miss Turner. There’s no one else to go to. I don’t know anyone else who’d help.”
She looked behind him. “Is Dylan with you?”
“They still have him. He’s in a cage.”
He stumbled, and she helped him walk to the couch. “I’m calling 911. Don’t move.”
Her blood raced through her veins. Dylan was in a cage? They’d had a feeling he’d been abducted, but this was horrifying.
She dialed 911 and reported that an injured student of hers had shown up at the door. When she gave his name and address, the dispatcher paused for a moment.
“I’m sending the police and an ambulance to this address. Ma’am, are you safe?” The male dispatcher asked, his voice calm.
What?
Then she remembered what had happened to Reggie’s mom. Did he know?
“Yes. He’s alone and nearly passed out on my couch.”
“Please stay on the line.”
