Just My Luck Adele Parks (if you liked this book txt) 📖

CHAPTER 43

Lexi

Just when I believe the longest day of my life will never end, it does so with a sweet, sudden abruptness. At ten o’clock on Sunday night Jake does exactly what I need him to do—he finds our girl.

I had not even noticed, until it was too late, that when he’d strode out of the house this morning, he’d taken my phone with him. He must have discreetly pocketed it, knowing it was the way the kidnappers would communicate. When I realized, just ten minutes later, I was wild. I felt thwarted, infantilized. Isolated. I had no way of reaching him and, more importantly, no way of hearing from the kidnappers. In frustration, I threw a plate at the kitchen wall. It smashed satisfyingly. The shards splintered in every direction. The discarded jam toast that had been on the plate clung to the pristine white wall for a moment. I watched in fascination as it slowly loosened and then slipped, smearing jam, the color of blood.

“How dare he!” I yelled.

“He’s trying to protect you, for fuck’s sake,” snapped Jennifer. I saw that it hurt her to acknowledge as much. She was defending a man that she—what? Loved?—to his wife. She was pointing out her lover’s kindness and responsibility to his wife. Not an easy position to take. She must have been wondering where she stood now.

I had no choice but to accept the situation Jake had left me in, but I clung to my dignity and a semblance of control. “Send him a text. Tell him he has to keep me informed,” I instructed. “He needs to give me updates regularly or I’m calling the police.” She texted swiftly. Almost instantly, her phone pinged in response. Wherever he was, he clearly didn’t struggle to receive her messages, the way he struggled to receive mine all the time. “He says okay, he’ll text updates and he’ll call on my phone when he has news.” Jennifer placed her phone in the middle of the kitchen table, just where mine had been. I fought the urge to think the replacement was symbolic. The day passed at a snail’s pace. On about a thousand occasions, I reached for Jennifer’s telephone to check to see if I had somehow missed a call from Jake. Time after time I was faced with a blank screen. He didn’t keep his promise to keep me informed. Why did I think he would?

“I’m going to call the police,” I said more than once.

“No, you are not,” replied Jennifer or Fred, sometimes forcefully, though as the day mooched on, they were less forceful, more bored, as though they had identified my threat as empty, dull. As though they knew I was ultimately weak and would do what Jake had asked.

When the phone finally rings, it is like an ambulance siren. It fills the house with dread and promise. Threat and hope. Jake cries out, “I have her. I have her. Lexi, I have her.”

The relief is so overwhelming, it feels as though my body explodes into a million pieces and then in a fraction of a second pieces itself back together again, sharper, more focused, euphoric. I have never in my life felt such happiness.

“Is she okay?” Tears are in my throat and eyes. I rest my forehead on the kitchen table, which feels solid and steady. It might shore me up when I hear his answer. What they could have done to her has played around and around my head and heart for nearly twenty-four hours.

“Yes.” He pauses. “Mostly. We’re on our way to the hospital.”

“I’m coming.”

“Yes, come at once. Meet us there.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“She’s not herself.” I hear the catch in Jake’s throat.

“Please put the phone to her ear if you can.” I assume he has followed my instruction and I murmur down the phone, “I’m coming, my baby girl. I’m coming.”

“I think she understood,” says Jake. “She’s not fully conscious.” I don’t want to talk any longer. I just need to see her. I hang up. Naturally, Jennifer tries to muscle in on this deeply personal family moment. “You shouldn’t be driving, you are not in a fit state,” she says. “I’ll drive you.”

“I’m perfectly capable, thank you.”

“Which car will you take? Jake took the Audi. Are you even insured for the Ferrari?”

“Are you?” I challenge. She might be for all I know. “I’ll get a taxi. Please stay here with the boys, keep an eye on Logan for me.” Logan is still oblivious to what we’ve all been going through. He’s spent the day playing video games with Ridley. I’m not sure whether Ridley showed impressive maturity in protecting Logan from the reality of what was going on or whether he simply wanted to keep out of his parents’ way but, whatever his motivation, I’m grateful. I’m a fast learner and, copying my husband’s trick, I pocket Jennifer’s phone unnoticed. I call an Uber and then I call the police.

CHAPTER 44

Emily

Monday, May 27

When I open my eyes, I am beyond relieved that everything is cream and light, not black and shadowy. I can hear the beep and hum of hospital machines, Mum and Dad are at my bedside. They look like shit and from the look on their faces I guess I must be worse. Mum looks as though she’s bruised. I squint a bit to try to focus, the bright lights are a bit much after the darkness. I realize Mum’s face is swollen, red, purple and blue through crying, not because she’s had a beating. I try to move a bit. My body protests loudly, suggesting I might have taken a beating.

“Hello, darling, how are you feeling?” murmurs Mum. She has hold of my hand, she leans forward and kisses it, like I’m royalty or the Pope or something.

“Okay,” I mumble back. I don’t feel okay. I ache from head to toe. It’s more than pain, it’s like a fragility—if I move, I’ll fall apart.