13. Kali

CHAPTER 13

Kali

Early the next morning, Martinez strides into my room without a courtesy knock, followed by Dr. Betty, irritation written all over her face at his brusque entrance. I sit up, a sense of anticipation hanging in the air.

Maybe they found who did this to me.

He positions himself at the foot of the bed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Dr. Betty filled me in on your situation.”

My brows furrow. He’s fully aware of my situation.

“We wanted to station an officer at your home, but considering you don’t have one, we’ve come up with an alternative.”

Oh. That situation.

Dr. Betty steps forward, casting a sidelong glance at the guy. “I work with an incredible facility that specializes in helping people who have been through severe trauma. I highly recommend you stay there to receive the help you need. It’s located just outside Austin, so not far,” she explains.

Panic sets in as my gaze darts between her and Martinez. “Will I still have protection?”

“The owner’s husband is a retired police officer, and there will be another officer assigned to you at all times,” he assures me.

A fear I’ve never known creeps up. “Will I be safe?” Given the circumstances, it’s not an unreasonable question.

“Yes,” he states with certainty, but it doesn’t quell the fear clenching my chest. He reaches into his jacket pocket and presents a brand-new phone. “It has a tracker in it,” he informs me as he sets it on the table, next to my breakfast plates. “And you have a new number.” More like the only number I’ve ever had.

“Thank you for everything.” With a tight nod, he then turns to leave. I wait until he’s gone before asking Dr. Betty to help me set it up, as it’s the first phone I’ve ever had. It’s the same one Pearl has, so at least I’m a little familiar with it.

“How do the clothes fit?” she asks, picking up the phone. She brought a bag of clothes for me yesterday.

“They feel like butter against my skin. You didn’t have to get such nice stuff.”

She waves me off with a slight huff. “You needed something that was light, so it didn’t rub against your healing skin.” She skips the part about it needing to be easy to pull down for whoever is helping me go to the bathroom.

“That’s very sweet of you. I really appreciate it.” As she sets up my phone, I ask, “Do you really think this place will help me?”

She glances up, and her lips curve. “I do. It’s a wonderful place. They incorporate animals into your therapy.” Animals? Can I request Riggs? “And I’ll be with you throughout your healing. You’ll also have a nurse to help you with anything you need.”

“I’m scared,” I admit. I wanted to live. I wished for it. I begged for it. But how? How will I ever heal from this nightmare?

“It’s completely normal to feel scared. Healing alone can be a difficult journey. We’ll take it one day at a time. Remember, it’s okay to feel vulnerable. That’s part of the process and a sign of your strength and courage to face it.”

She thinks I have strength and courage left.

I’m not so sure.

When I said I would go to the rehab place, no one prepared me for a ranch in the heart of nowhere. A heads-up would’ve been nice—a chance to brace myself. One open field looks just like another one. Specifically, the one that imprisoned me. The weight on my chest gets heavier with each passing sight of yellow cornfields.

The officer seated next to me senses my rising panic. “These are good people,” he offers in a calming tone. I turn my head toward him. “They won’t let anything happen to you. I shouldn’t tell you this, but they are part of the FBI family. Their daughter and son-in-law are both in law enforcement. They understand the importance of keeping you safe.”

I nod, hearing his words, but they provide little solace against the storm of anxiety raging within me. Resigned to the fact my inner demons will follow me wherever I go, I fix my gaze back out the passenger window.

Smells I once loved twist my insides the moment the door opens for me. Fresh country air, wild grass, and dirt. Mother Earth’s stench forces itself to the back of my throat, and it takes a concerted effort to remember to breathe.

Smells like death now.

My death.

Taking quick, shallow breaths to avoid passing out, I follow the officer up the dirt driveway toward the ranch-style house. A man in a cowboy hat and boots stands beside a woman with the sweetest, most sincere smile. She descends the three steps to meet us.

“Hi, Kali, I’m Amy,” she greets me and points over her shoulder with her thumb. “And that’s my husband, Ted.”

“Hi,” I choke out with a small wave, then cover my mouth and nose with my hand, pulling in the scent of the sterile bandages. “Do you mind if we go inside?”

Without hesitation, Amy replies with a wave, “C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.”

As I follow her through the farmhouse, I steal glances at collections of family pictures along the way. She has a large family. I stop and stare at one that was taken right on her porch. Everyone is making a funny face. Except Amy. You can see the adoration on her face as she looks at her crazy family.

“They’re all nuts,” she jokes, looking over my shoulder at the picture.

I would do anything to belong to a large, loving, crazy family like that. We continue down a lengthy hallway. “Here you are,” she says, gesturing to the room. We walk into a bright yellow room, and she places my bag on the quilt with sunflowers all over. “The bathroom is fully stocked with whatever you need,” she adds, pointing to an open door. “Do you need anything right now? Something to eat or drink?”

I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m kind of tired. Is it ok if I just hang out in here?”

Her eyes fill with concern and empathy. “Of course. Just know we’re here if you need us. Dr. Betty will be out in the morning. She wanted to give you a little time to get settled.”

That would imply I’m going to get settled. In a place that reeks like death. Not likely .

Amy shuts the door behind her. The hum of the air conditioner brings a welcome coolness to my overheated skin until a shiver runs down my sweat ridden back. Uncomfortable with the silence, I grab my phone. I wiggle my free thumbs. Before leaving the hospital, they were able to wrap each finger individually on my left hand and keep my thumb out with just a Band-Aid around my knuckle. Still not easy, but usable. Very mummy-like. Enough to be able to hold things and use my phone. The right is still wrapped like a mitten. I open Spotify, turning on a random playlist. The nurses helped me set up the music app on my phone. I don’t remember most of the things they told me the phone could do, but I paid extra attention to this one.

A wooden rocking chair by the window reminds me of the ones Blackburn’s gossip crew would sit on, whispering away as people walked by. I can imagine that I’m the current topic. I turn it to face outside and sink into it, pushing off with my foot for a soft rock.

As I look out the window to a field of horses eating, a specific one grabs my attention.

“What do they feed that monster?” I whisper to myself, staring at a larger-than-life red horse. He and a white and black sheep dog play with a big blue exercise ball. Entranced by the two oddly paired friends and a best of the eighties country playlist, I lose track of time until a gentle knock at the door pulls me away.

Wrapped in a blanket, feeling at ease in the warm glow of the evening sun, rather than get up, I say, “Come in.”

The wooden door creaks open, and Amy peeks inside. When she spots me settled in the rocking chair, she walks in and slides a tray full of food on the dresser. “Thought you might be hungry. We’d love to have you join us at the dinner table, but we understand if you’d like to be alone right now.”

Do I want to be alone? No, I don’t. But I don’t want to be around a table of strangers either. I glance back out the window. “They make an odd couple,” I remark, pointing.

Amy laughs over my shoulder when she gets a glimpse of the peculiar duo. “They are inseparable. The dog is Charlie, and that’s Rusty, a.k.a. Ketchup.”

I pull my gaze from the window and look up. “Ketchup?”

Her smile reaches her eyes, settling on the edge of the bed. “My granddaughter’s nickname is Tater Tot, and she thinks Rusty is hers. In her words, tater tots always go with ketchup.”

“That’s adorable.”

“You’ll partner with Rusty.” Partner? What does that mean? As my eyes widen in surprise, she reassures me, “He’s a gentle giant. Don’t worry, you’ll fall in love with him.”

Still confused as to my role in partnering with that towering creature, my gaze flickers to him, now munching on some hay. Returning my gaze to Amy, I bite my lip, hesitating to express my lack of enthusiasm. “I’ve only ridden a horse once, when I was like five. It didn’t go so well. My feet do better on the ground.”

Amy’s lips twist, and she asks, “Did Dr. Betty talk to you about equine therapy?”

“She mentioned that I’d be working with animals. I guess I thought she meant like dogs and cats.”

She bobs her head. “Close.” In what world is that animal close to a cat? “What we do here is use horses as emotional support, helping guide you through recovery. I know it sounds weird, but horses have this unique sensitivity to how we are feeling.”

I sigh, my eyes swelling again as memories of where I was four days ago flood my mind. “I don’t think I want him burdened with my fears.”

She attempts to hold back her emotions, but they get lodged in her throat. She clears it. “You won’t, I promise.”

How can a horse help me? Unless he can find the man who put me in a grave and stomp on his head until he’s dead—which I’d be on board with—it seems like a lost cause.

“Kali, I can’t sit here and say I understand how you’re feeling because I can’t. I can’t even imagine the horror you went through. But with your strength and will, and by the grace of God that led that dog to you, you’re here today. What I can tell you is that Rusty has magical healing powers.” That sounds fishy. “You laugh, but I know firsthand. My daughter was his first partner. She also went through a horrible, horrible ordeal. I thought she’d never be the same snarky, bad-ass woman she once was. But she found her way back. And I believe you will too.”

I feel like shit for laughing now. But her daughter’s ordeal couldn’t have been as bad as mine. What could be worse than being buried alive? A heavy sigh escapes me as the full weight of my situation settles in.

“Thank you for the food,” I say, noticing the finger food, easy enough for me to pick up with my left hand.

“Of course,” she replies, not making a fuss about the shift in conversation. She pushes off the bed and walks to the door. “Again, you’re always welcome out with us. And if you need my help with anything because of your bandages, please let me know. I’m here to help you.”

I nod, and watch as she disappears, closing the door behind her.