Finding Courage Read online

  Finding Courage

  The Searchers #4

  Ripley Proserpina

  Copyright © 2018 by Ripley Proserpina

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Content Editing by: Heather Long

  Copy Editing and Proofing by Jennifer Jones at Bookends Editing

  Cover Art by KD Richie at Storywrappers

  Created with Vellum

  To All the Readers Who Wanted More

  Contents

  1. How Did We Get Here?

  2. Who, Me?

  3. Give Me Five

  4. Our Pasts

  5. Share

  6. Dreams and Responsibilities

  7. Doubt

  8. Zero Dollars

  9. Cai Ignores Doctor’s Orders

  10. Secret Secret

  11. Daft

  12. Peel Away

  13. Anniversary

  14. Day of Bad Ideas

  15. Cai’s Past

  16. Work

  17. Deadly

  18. Fear

  19. Listen

  20. History

  21. What It Will Look Like

  22. Gym Time

  23. Chapel

  24. Married

  25. Marriage

  26. Tyler Check-In

  27. Sharing Is Caring

  28. Alimony

  29. Never

  30. Stories

  31. Trust

  32. Long Night Drives

  33. Goodbyes

  34. Video

  35. Choices

  36. Get Out of Town

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books by Ripley:

  How Did We Get Here?

  Cai

  “Cai, man! Wait!”

  Cai didn’t. All he could think about, all he could focus on, was the innocent teenager who was locked up in a psychiatric ward.

  Put there by the doctor he’d trusted.

  A doctor who’d taken advantage of Tyler Caswell’s lack of family and traumatic background to drive him mad.

  Now that doctor sat in a bar, uncaring of the lives he’d ruined. Cai Josephs had spent hours, as had his best friend, Ryan Valore, trying to get permission to visit Tyler in the locked hospital ward three hours south of Brownington.

  Ryan, a pre-law student, had gone to each contact he thought could help in the small network of lawyers he knew. He’d even gotten his professor to help him write motions to give Tyler’s medical decision making to Cai.

  None of it had worked.

  Dr. Daniel Murray had medical power of attorney over Tyler and the court saw no reason to take that away from an actual medical doctor and transfer it to a twenty-five year old social worker—i.e., Cai.

  So Tyler, one of the teenagers Cai counseled at the center where he worked, remained frustratingly out of reach. And Cai was slowly going crazy himself, thinking about the young man locked away. The only person who had access to him was the doctor who’d caused him to lose his mind in the first place.

  Surrounded by colleagues as Cai had walked by, Dr. Murray sipped his beer. The man seemed relaxed, at ease. He rested his arm along the back of a booth, smiling at whatever his friend said. Something must have struck him as funny, because he threw his head back, laughing.

  It was the last straw. Cai lost it. His friend and roommate, Matisse Boudreau, grabbed his arm to hold him back, but he wouldn’t stop. Ignoring Matisse’s exclamation, he strode forward, yanked the door open, and went inside.

  “Murray!”

  Dr. Murray’s eyebrows lifted as he tracked Cai across the bar. “Cai Josephs.” The men seated with him turned around. Their gazes went from Cai’s feet to his face and back again before they faced forward again, dismissing him completely.

  “I want access to Tyler,” Cai ground out. His jaw ached as he clenched his teeth.

  Murray shook his head. “Tyler’s a danger to himself and others.” He took a sip of his beer. “You’re others, Cai.”

  Cai grabbed a chair from a nearby table and slammed it into the ground before sitting.

  “Oh, so we’re joining them?” Matisse asked. He scraped another chair along the ground, spun it, and sat. “Great.”

  Leaning forward, Cai dismissed the two other men at the booth the way they’d dismissed him. He knew about posturing, knew he risked escalation by insulting them with his body language, but he did it anyway. His heart pounded and pulse raced. Tyler was what mattered right now, and his only goal was to get him away from the sick son of a bitch drinking his nine-dollar craft beer. “I know what you did,” Cai said. “I’ll expose you. I’ll expose every fucking detail of your disgusting experiment.”

  The experiment had nearly taken Nora Leslie’s life. The experiment had taken her foster brother’s, and Tilly Mason’s, and four innocent kids at the high school. Matisse had hacked into Murray’s files and discovered just how sick and twisted the man’s psychology study was.

  Murray never took his eyes off him as he placed his beer on the table. “I don’t think you will.”

  “You have no idea who you’re threatening,” a huge blond man said, leaning forward.

  “Grown-ups are talking,” Matisse interrupted, wagging a finger. “Shush.”

  The man bristled and Cai barely contained a groan of frustration. “I will,” he assured Murray. “I have nothing to lose.”

  “No?” Murray asked. “One of your best friends still doesn’t have U.S. citizenship. Another has a record. Still on probation, Matisse Boudreau?”

  Matisse flipped him off all while smiling hugely

  “Ryan Valore has to sit for the bar. How about Apollo? How’s that underground fighting going for him? And you. You have quite the past.”

  “I think four dead high schoolers will trump an illegal fight,” Matisse said. “But you do what you gotta do. Not one of our pasts will hold a candle to the shit you did. Brainwashing? Psychological torture?” He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Good luck making us look like the bad guys.”

  Murray pushed his beer away and leaned across the table toward them. “How about Nora Leslie?” he asked. “Police have cleared her for now, but lots of evidence could still turn up.”

  “You fucker—” Matisse stood up so fast his chair crashed backward.

  Cai stopped him with a hand on his arm. “There’s an easier solution. Stop the study. I won’t expose you. Let me help Tyler. There’s no reason to keep the people who care about him from him anymore.”

  Murray shook his head. “This study will save lives. You don’t get it, and I don’t owe you an explanation. Tyler will stay where he is.”

  Cai hadn’t seen red in a long time, but he did now. Murray was a bully, exerting power and control over people who had none.

  You’re not powerless. No. He was a grown man who had choices and options.

  Propping his fists on the table, Cai stood to tower over Murray and his friends. “Be a human, for God’s sake. That boy has no one.”

  Murray rested his back against the booth. “Get out of here, Josephs. I’m done talking to you.”

  Before Cai could reply, Murray’s friend, the blond one, swept Cai’s arms off the table. He lost his balance, catching himself right before his face slammed into the wood.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Matisse push the man. His friend was a strong guy, and scrappy, but no match for a man whose size rivaled Apollo’s. With one well-placed shoved, Matisse flew backward into a table. Glasses crashed to the floor and someone yelled out.

  Ca
i’s focus was on Murray, but it shouldn’t have been because the blond man went after him next. Bright lights flashed in his vision as the man’s fist connected with his temple.

  Then it was lights out.

  Cai groaned. His head weighed a thousand pounds, contained a marching band, and somehow had its own heartbeat. Rolling to his side, he forced his eyes opened and blinked at the wall. It took him longer than it should have to realize—this was not his room.

  Flopping onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling. That was not his cracked plaster ceiling. He shot up, and his head spun.

  “Bonjour, asshole!”

  Cai glanced over, taking in the room detail by detail. In less than a second, everything made sense.

  And nothing made sense.

  Cinder block walls. Bars on the door. Matisse seated on a metal bench.

  “What did you do, Matisse?” he asked his best friend.

  Matisse’s dark eyes widened, and he placed both of his long-fingered hands on his chest. “What did I do?” He shook his head and studied the room like someone would give him an answer. But it was only the two of them. “What did I do, he asks.”

  The marching band’s drummer had taken up residence behind his eyeballs in order to hit them like a triangle. Closing his eyes, he rubbed them. “Enough, Tisse. What happened?”

  Matisse’s shoes clacked against the concrete floor. A waft of alcohol slammed into Cai’s nose as his friend sat next to him. “It involved alcohol.”

  “Clearly,” Cai replied dryly.

  “Why don’t you remember? How hard did you get punched?” Matisse asked, and Cai’s eyes popped open. His stomach roiled as he whipped his head toward Matisse.

  “What?”

  Matisse wiggled his fingers in front of Cai. “Go back in time…”

  “I’m in jail…” he began, and Matisse nodded, waving a hand to encourage him. “I got in a fight…”

  “You’re taking too long,” Matisse interrupted. “You followed Dr. Murray from Brownington College to a bar, demanding he give you access to Tyler. He wouldn’t. His buddy, the big blond, shoved you. I was forced to intervene. You got punched, fell into a bar, broke some booze, some stuff happened, here we are.”

  “Oh Jesus.” Cai dug his hands into his hair and stood, even though it made him want to puke. Pacing the length of the cell, he tried to recall everything Matisse had told him. “I don’t remember any of that. Shit.”

  “Whoa.” Matisse stood when Cai came closer and gripped his shoulders. “You really don’t remember? You aren’t messing with me?”

  “No.” He clenched his teeth so hard the muscles in his jaw burned.

  “You said you were fine!” Matisse’s attitude disappeared. He stared hard at Cai, eyes boring into his as if he could see Cai’s brain. “You didn’t lose consciousness!”

  “I’m sorry?” The whole thing was a big black space, so maybe an apology was necessary.

  “Shit. Apollo’s going to kill me. Shit. And Nora. Fucking-A, Cai, you just got out of the fucking hospital!”

  Matisse’s enumeration of the people who’d be upset with him was the final nail on the puke coffin. “I’m going to be sick.” Desperately, Cai scanned the room. There. He dashed to the toilet and vomited.

  “My friend has a concussion,” Matisse called out.

  “Good timing, then,” a deep voice said. Wiping his mouth, Cai glanced toward the voice. The door opened and Detective Vance lifted his eyebrows. “You’re free to go.”

  “I told you we didn’t do anything.” A hand dropped on Cai’s back. Matisse was silently supporting him, but given that Cai still hadn’t flushed, it was too weird. Standing, he shut his eyes and breathed through his nose.

  “And I told you we had to ask questions,” Detective Vance said. “Witnesses corroborated your story. No one is pressing charges, and Dr. Murray and Gunderson have reimbursed the bar the cost of the damage.”

  “Gunderson.” Cai flushed the toilet and slowly turned around. “That was the asshole’s name. He’s the one—”

  Matisse’s dark eyes flashed. “Yeah. The asshole who scared the shit out of Nora with that crazy ride through town.”

  “Speaking of Nora,” Detective Vance said. “She’s been waiting for you with a couple of intimidating guys since you were brought in. I assume the phone calls I’ve been getting from every lawyer in Brownington has something to do with the missing roommate.” He chuckled. “Get out of here before she wears a groove in the floor.”

  Cai’s stomach clenched again, but this time for a different reason. Nora had been through so much. She’d survived being shot by her foster brother at the high school, had stayed strong when everyone in town thought she was guilty of helping him, and had kept her sanity when Dr. Murray had tried to make her believe she was losing her mind.

  Like he had Tyler.

  Who was still in the psych ward.

  Cai hurried to the door, ready to see the girl who’d stolen his heart when Detective Vance stopped him. “I know about Dr. Murray. And I’m looking into Nora’s claims. If you help me, I’ll help you.”

  Cai nodded. Disclosing everything they knew wasn’t only up to him, though. “I’ll call you.”

  The detective handed him a card. “Okay.”

  Matisse pushed against his back. “Hurry up.”

  Cai could understand his anticipation. He hurried past the exit signs up the stairs to a waiting area where Nora Leslie and two of his roommates, Apollo and Seok, waited for him.

  Something inside him settled when he met Nora’s frantic brown eyes. Despite all his worry, the girl who ran to him and threw her arms around his waist made everything better.

  “Hey,” he whispered and kissed her head. Her hair smelled like coconut, and he breathed in deeply.

  “I was so worried,” she said.

  “He has a concussion,” Matisse offered, unhelpfully.

  “What?” Nora jerked out of his arms, and he glared over her head at Matisse.

  Asshole, he mouthed.

  But Matisse merely winked.

  “Let’s go,” she said, grabbing both his hands in hers and pulling. “We’ll bring you to the hospital.”

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital,” he said, allowing her to drag him to the door. Outside, the weather was freezing. His nose immediately began to run, and he sniffled.

  “You have a concussion, Cai!” she yelled. “And you just got over strep! I’m not arguing with you.” She dropped her hands and shoved them against her hips.

  “Man. You should go to the hospital,” Apollo said.

  “I’ve had concussions before,” he replied to all of them. Seok just watched him disapprovingly, so he spoke to him as well. “No screens. No exercise. Rest.” He glanced at Seok again.

  Seok lifted his eyebrows and shook his hair out of his face. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he replied. He’d been in the hospital too much. With time and rest, he’d recover. He wanted to get home and ask more questions about what had gone down earlier.

  Apollo took his keys out of his pocket, pointing the fob at his car. “Come on. You two jailbirds must be exhausted.”

  Nora took his hand again, lacing her fingers between his and squeezed. “I wish you’d get checked out.”

  “I promise, I’m okay. This isn’t my first concussion.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” she sassed and crawled into the backseat.

  Apollo got into the driver’s seat and Cai got in the front. Behind him, Seok and Matisse squeezed in on either side of Nora. He glanced over his shoulder and shut his eyes when a wave of dizziness hit him.

  “Cai…” Seok drew his name out like a warning.

  “I’m fine,” he said, though when Apollo threw the car in gear and they fishtailed along the icy road, he wasn’t so sure. Rolling down the window, he sucked in lungfuls of cold air. They lived less than five minutes from the police station. He could make it five minutes.

  Apollo roll
ed to a stop and a wave of diesel from a public bus snaked through the window. God, he hoped he could make it five minutes.

  The car began to move again, and he focused on breathing. Ibuprofen. A dark room. If he could just make it home, those things would be his.

  Behind him, he could hear Matisse whispering. With the window open, the wind masked what he was saying. He thought about making it out, trying to pay attention, but the thundering in his head made it impossible.

  “When we get home,” Nora said in a louder voice. “I’m doing an internet search.”

  The car stopped suddenly, and Cai jerked forward.

  “Sorry,” Apollo said.

  He opened his eyes. They were home. The door opened and Ryan Valore stood in the doorway, glaring at the car. With a sigh, Cai unlatched his buckle and opened the door.

  “I expect this from Matisse,” Ryan called out, and despite himself, Cai chuckled.

  “Look,” Matisse said, “I’m not the only one with a record here.”

  “What?” Nora asked. “Oh yeah. You mean me.”

  Who, Me?

  Nora

  Nora knew Matisse wasn’t talking about her, but she had to laugh at his look of utter horror when she commented.

  “No, chére. I didn’t mean—”

  “I’m kidding, Tisse,” she said, spinning around to hug him tight. “My name’s part of an investigation, but I don’t have a record.”

  She let him go to study Cai. He had one foot on the step and a hand on the bannister. Obviously he was done with her teasing and ready for bed. His eyes still had an unfocused and dazed quality that reminded her too much of when he was feverish and in the hospital. Without thinking, she went to him and touched his forehead.