CHAPTER ONE SAMPLE

The Key

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It was the call no one ever wants to get.

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“Your father has been in an accident,” the voice said. “You need to come to the hospital immediately.”

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Skye MacKenna sat in the waiting room of a strange, small-town hospital with weird black artwork on the wall behind her. She’d spent hours perusing different forms of social media on her smartphone to distract her while the man who’d raised her went through surgery. The sun was close to rising by now, meaning she’d been up all night, visually consumed too many cat videos, and had reached the point of exhaustion. Laying down on the couch, she finally gave in, shut her burning eyes, and fell asleep.

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She awoke to a hand on her shoulder with no idea how long she’d been out. Opening her eyes, Skye found a Dominican woman wearing green scrubs staring down on her.

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“Ma’am? Your father’s awake, and he’s asking to see you,” she said, removing the disposable hair net as she straightened back up.

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Skye nodded and got to her feet. “Thank you,” she said, tucking some of her long, raven hair behind her ear before picking up her Starbucks coffee from the side table.

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“Oh, honey, that’ll be cold by now,” the nurse said.

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Skye shrugged, drank some, and said, “It’s better than nothin’.”

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The nurse smiled. “That it is. Right this way.” She headed down the hallway without hesitation, and Skye followed.

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Skye hated hospitals. The only things people experienced here were pain, death, and sickness. Even birth, if humans could remember it, would seem traumatic. For Skye, it was the smell of the three Ds: death, disinfectant, and dying hope. It made her stomach turn. She hated it. In fact, the last time she’d been in a hospital was when her mother died. To be honest, Skye was just proud of the fact that she’d not run out the door screaming like her hair was on fire.

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Taking a settling breath, Skye forced one foot in front of the other. Her father needed her, so she would face her fears. After all, he was all she had left.

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The nurse glanced back at Skye briefly and gave her a weak smile before arriving at a closed door. “Keep him calm if you can. It’s touch and go right now.” Opening the door so Skye could see in, the nurse added, “He suffered serious head trauma and stress to his heart in the car accident. We were hoping to convince him to take something to lower his anxiety, but he’d hear nothing of it until he saw you.” Pulling a set of keys from her pocket, the nurse handed them to Skye. “He’s been asking for these.”

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Skye took them but found it difficult to speak. The sound of the heart monitor seemed so loud in the quietness of the space that it encapsulated her whole train of thought. All she could do was stare at the keys in her hand, as if they were some foreign object, and enter the room without so much as a thank you.

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Luckily, her father’s room was small and private. Three of the walls held the typically generic artwork found in most hospitals. The fourth was sparsely covered in glitter butterflies in different colors, and for some reason, they made Skye feel better. However, looking at her father did not.

With a bandage wrapped around the top of his head and stitch tape on his left eyebrow, he appeared rough, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration the other cuts, scratches, and bruises that covered his face and chest. Taking a seat on a chair between the butterfly wall and the bed, Skye pulled closer to her father just as the nurse shut the door. The noise of one or both woke him, and his eyes opened. Looking around about the room, his gaze landed on Skye and held steady.

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“Hey, Da…” she said, using the Gaelic term for dad or father, something her family had always used.

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“There’s my girl,” he said, his bottom lip trembling, causing his dark goatee to do the same. “I’m sorry, punkin’.”

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“Shh…don’t worry, Da,” she said, taking his hand.

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“I have to talk to you. There’s something I need to say,” he said, his voice shaking.

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Skye opened her mouth to protest, but he continued.

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“You need to listen,” he said, fighting tears.

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“Just rest, Da. I’ll be here. When you wake up, I’ll be right here.”

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“You can’t stay here,” he said, matter-of-factly. “You have to leave town, today. They found me. I don’t know how, but they did. I promised your mother they would never find you.” He swallowed, and Skye had no words, so he continued. “My keys, take them. There’s a key to a safety deposit box on them. Go to it. Empty the contents. Check in to a motel with an ID that’s inside.”

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“Da…you’re scaring me.”

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“I’m sorry, astore,” he said, using his term of endearment for her. “I should’ve told you when you turned eighteen like I told your mother I would. She made me promise that if anything happened to her, you’d still learn the truth. But I was afraid you’d seek revenge. I wished to keep you from that world.”

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Confused at what he was rambling about, Skye merely said, “Da, just rest. You were in a car accident; you’re not thinking clearly.”

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“No, I am,” he said, tears finally escaping down his face. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, but you’re going to be fine—”

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“Please do as I say. Leave town. Go far away,” he continued.

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Skye shook her head, unable to process what he was saying.

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“For me,” he begged, and that hit a heartstring, for he never asked for much of anything.

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Her adoptive father was the most selfless person Skye had ever known, so she held out the keys to him. “Which one is it?”

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Taking them from her, he fumbled briefly, but he found the key he wanted and held it out toward her. “It’s at Chase Bank. The one we go to in town. Now go…don’t ever come back. Keep moving like we trained you.”

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“Da…I don’t—”

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“They tried to kill me…don’t you see?”

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The heart monitor began to beep faster, and Skye turned to see the numbers jumping exponentially.

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“Da…shh…just rest your heart.”

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“You don’t understand,” he said, the panic in his voice rising a level. “The home invasion wasn’t an accident. Your mother’s death wasn’t some random kill. She was murdered. Now they found me…and they’ll try for you next.”