Say Goodbye Read online

  Titles by Karen Rose

  DIRTY SECRETS

  (enovella)

  Baltimore Novels

  YOU BELONG TO ME

  NO ONE LEFT TO TELL

  DID YOU MISS ME?

  BROKEN SILENCE

  (enovella)

  WATCH YOUR BACK

  MONSTER IN THE CLOSET

  DEATH IS NOT ENOUGH

  Cincinnati Novels

  CLOSER THAN YOU THINK

  ALONE IN THE DARK

  EVERY DARK CORNER

  EDGE OF DARKNESS

  INTO THE DARK

  Sacramento Novels

  SAY YOU’RE SORRY

  SAY NO MORE

  SAY GOODBYE

  BERKLEY

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  penguinrandomhouse.com

  Copyright © 2021 by Karen Rose Books, Inc.

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Rose, Karen, 1964- author.

  Title: Say goodbye / Karen Rose.

  Description: New York: Berkley, [2021] | Series: Sacramento novels; 3

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020047400 (print) | LCCN 2020047401 (ebook) | ISBN 9781984805331 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781984805355 (ebook)

  Subjects: GSAFD: Suspense fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3618.O7844 S28 2021 (print) | LCC PS3618.O7844 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020047400

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020047401

  Cover design by Faceout Studio/Lindy Martin

  Cover image by Vanessa Skotnitsky/Arcangel

  Adapted for ebook by Kelly Brennan

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  pid_prh_5.7.1_c0_r0

  To Sheila. I’m so very lucky to have your friendship. Much love always.

  To Canadian Sarah. Our door is always open, especially on Thanksgiving. I wasn’t able to slide your idea into the book, so I hope this is the next best thing.

  To Martin, as always. There’s no one I’d rather quarantine with than you. I love you.

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Titles by Karen Rose

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  EDEN, CALIFORNIA

  WEDNESDAY, APRIL 19, 10:30 P.M.

  Hayley Gibbs winced as her belly scraped against the doorjamb leading into the clinic. Dammit. She’d underestimated her current—and increasing—size yet again. Damn pregnancy.

  She gave her stomach a soothing pat. Not you, she silently told her unborn child. Her daughter. I’m not mad at you, Jellybean. Never you.

  She was mad, however, at her mother. She was beyond furious with the woman. And scared of her at the same time. The fury was nothing new. The fear . . . well, that was new. At least this kind of fear. It had always been the fear of not having enough to eat, or of where they’d live the next week, or what her mother would do if she learned that Hayley was having sex with her high school boyfriend Cameron, or that her little brother Graham was shoplifting electronics.

  Then she’d found out what her mother would do if she found out.

  Move us here. To this hellhole in the middle of fucking nowhere.

  From which Hayley was going to escape or die trying.

  She just needed to get into the clinic’s office.

  Drawing a breath, she eased her way through the clinic door and quietly closed it behind her. She stood statue-still, listening for the sound of anyone else. But it was silent.

  Thank you, she mouthed, not sure whom she was thanking. Probably not God, or not her mother’s God, at least. The God Hayley wanted to thank would help her keep her baby safe. The God she wanted to thank definitely wouldn’t approve of these . . . monsters.

  Eden was full of monsters and her mother had dragged Hayley and her brother here, kicking and screaming.

  Hayley rubbed her fingertips over the thick chain welded around her neck.

  Welded. Around. My. Neck.

  It wasn’t jewelry, despite the locket that dangled from it. It was a collar. It was ownership.

  It was also empty, at the moment. The locket. But after the baby came, her locket would be filled with her wedding photo. She was technically married now—and had been since the day they’d arrived in this awful place. Luckily her “husband” didn’t want to “consummate” their union with another man’s bastard in her belly, so she hadn’t been forced into sex. Yet.

  He didn’t want their wedding photo sullied with the evidence of her sin. He’d have the photo taken after the “bastard” was born. Which gave her a little more than six weeks.

  Hayley’s gut churned at the thought of being the fourth wife Brother Joshua would have—at the same time. Polygamy abounded in Eden, and Hayley wanted no part of it.

  She hadn’t wanted any of it. She just wanted to be with her boyfriend and live their lives the way they’d always planned since their first homecoming dance in the ninth grade.

  No, this baby wasn’t what she and Cameron had planned, at least not now. They were only seventeen, after all. But Cam’s parents had stepped up and said that they could live with them once the baby came, that they could still go to college.

  But her mother hadn’t agreed. The next thing Hayley had known, she and Graham had been forced into the back of some guy’s truck. And now I’m here.

  Here in Eden. Here in the clinic, closed at the moment. If she got caught . . . She shuddered at the very thought. But she had to try. She was more afraid to stay in Eden than she was of any punishment. And Pastor—the creepy leader of this creepy cult in the mou
ntains—he terrified her. The people here obeyed him like robots.

  She rubbed her stomach as it lurched again. Come on now. Don’t worry, Jellybean. I’ll get us out of here before you arrive. I promise.

  So now she had to. She’d just promised her daughter.

  Her daughter. She was going to have a daughter. She and Cameron had seen the baby on the ultrasound back at the ob-gyn’s office in San Francisco, had heard her heartbeat. Cam had cried, his hand clutching hers as they’d stared at the small screen.

  I love you, Cam, she whispered inside her own mind. I love you both.

  They hadn’t chosen a name yet, so they called her Jellybean for now.

  Her daughter didn’t even have a name, but Hayley would have given up everything to protect her. Which meant getting them out of this place, with its clinic that would have been considered medieval even in Little House on the Prairie days.

  She looked around the dark room, shrouded in shadow. There was no ultrasound here. No oxygen if the baby needed it. No painkillers. At all. Just a bed with stirrups and straps.

  Hayley didn’t want to know what the straps were used for.

  She did know that women died in childbirth here. She’d heard the whispers.

  It would be God’s punishment for her sin, one woman had said.

  She’s a whore, another had added.

  And then one old crone had whispered words that had chilled her to the bone: Sister Rebecca will take the baby and raise it as her own.

  Even if she lives? the first woman had asked.

  Even if the whore lives, the crone had confirmed. God wouldn’t want any baby to be raised by that Jezebel.

  Hayley cradled her stomach with both arms. No fucking way in hell. Even if Sister Rebecca had been a good person, which she was not. She was Brother Joshua’s “first” wife—the highest-ranking of all the sister-wives. Brother Joshua had a total of four wives and Hayley was at the bottom of the list, which meant she had to obey the other wives as well as her “husband.”

  Hayley wanted to spit the word out of her mouth. He is not my husband.

  He was a horrible person, snide and cruel. Unfortunately, Sister Rebecca was also a horrible person as well as being barren. That was the word the other women had used. Barren.

  It was like living in a costume drama from the 1800s.

  Sister Rebecca had three children, all taken from other women in the compound. Two of the women had apparently died in childbirth. The third had been birthed by an unwed mother. Like me. No one had mentioned what had happened to the unwed mother and Hayley wondered who she was.

  Nobody’s taking my daughter from me. Nobody. They’ll have to kill me first.

  Which . . . if she was caught in the clinic was a real possibility.

  So get moving, Hayley. Get into the office and—

  She stifled a shriek when the outer door opened and closed quickly. Spinning to see who’d entered, she let out a harsh breath of relief. “Graham,” she hissed. “What are you doing here?”

  Her brother Graham crept across the room, reminding her of a spider, all gangly, skinny limbs. He was taller than she was, even though he was only twelve.

  He’d be thirteen soon. Which meant he’d be apprenticed to one of the tradesmen in the community. Which, in a place other than Eden, might not be so bad.

  But people whispered. “Bad things” happened to some of the boys.

  Bad things. The words were whispered in the same way that the women whispered about the sex their husbands forced on them or the “fallen” who’d tried to flee this hellhole.

  Hayley had an idea of what those bad things were. And there was no fucking way she’d let that happen to Graham. Not while she drew breath.

  “What are you doing here?” he hissed back. “I followed you because you got that look on your face like when you’re planning something. You’re going to get us thrown in the box.”

  The box. It was basically an outhouse, with little ventilation. One got locked inside for a period of time that suited the crime. Whatever the hell that meant.

  “I’m trying to get into the office,” Hayley whispered.

  Graham’s brows lifted. “Why? There aren’t any drugs in there.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like I’d use while I’m pregnant? There’s a computer in there, assface. I’m sure of it.”

  Graham’s eyes widened. “Here? In Nowheresville?”

  “Here, in hell.” She gestured to the locked door that led to the healer’s office. “I was in here yesterday for my appointment.” Which was a joke. The healer basically weighed her and told her to eat more vegetables. “I heard a printer. I know it. This door was cracked open and the healer went real still, like she heard it and was afraid I’d heard it, too. I pretended I didn’t, but there is something in there. If it’s a printer, there has to be a computer.”

  Graham frowned. “How is it running? There’s no electricity here. How is it connected? There’s no cable, no Wi-Fi.”

  Hayley wanted to scream. Graham was all about the why of things. “I don’t know. I don’t care. If there’s a computer, I can get a message to Cam. He can get us out of here.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t have my baby here, Graham. They’ll take her from me. I heard the women talking. Even if I live through it, they’re going to give my baby to Sister Rebecca.”

  Graham’s mouth set in a firm line that Hayley recognized all too well. It was his stubborn face, which meant he was about to dig in—one way or the other.

  “I need your help,” she whispered pleadingly. “Please, Graham. Don’t tell anyone.”

  He nodded once. “Move away from the door.”

  She warily obeyed, blinking in surprise when her brother dropped to his knees in front of the door, squinting at the lock. “Piece of cake,” he muttered, then slipped off his shoe, revealing . . .

  “Is that a lock-picking kit?” she asked, already knowing the answer was yes.

  He glanced up, mid eye roll, before selecting one of the slim tools. “Duh.”

  Hayley shook her head. “I don’t want to know.” Graham had gotten involved with a rough group of kids back home and had spent a month in juvie for shoplifting. Turned out that their mother had been planning and plotting to bring them here the entire time Graham was locked up. Now they were both locked up, just in a different place.

  “You really don’t,” Graham agreed amicably.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know how I was going to get into the office.”

  “How’d you get into the clinic?”

  “It wasn’t locked,” Hayley said with a shrug.

  In seconds he rose to his feet, pushing the door open. “Ta-da!” He slipped into the office, letting out a breath at the sight of the computer on the healer’s desk. “It’s old,” he murmured, “but not that old. Son-of-a-fucking-bitch. They take our phones, but have something like this here? Assholes!”

  “Shhh. Be quiet. And stop swearing. They’ll throw you in the box for that, too.”

  He lifted one shoulder. “If they catch us here, swearing will be the least of our worries.”

  He was right. “Leave now. Go back to Mom. I’ll figure out the computer.”

  “Right,” he said with a shake of his head. “Shut up and let me work. Better yet, go back to your hut before Joshua or one of his wives realizes you’re gone.”

  “They’re all at the prayer meeting. They won’t be back for another twenty minutes.”

  Graham made a face. “Don’t know why they’re all pretending to pray for DJ. There’s not one person in this compound that wouldn’t be happier if he’d bled to death.”

  “Graham,” she chided, but her brother was right. Brother DJ was the only one allowed to leave the compound for supplies. And, apparently, to track down missing Founding Elders. One of the old guys, Brother Ephraim,
had gone missing. So far no one knew what had happened to him, only that DJ had barely made it back to the compound earlier that evening. He’d left the compound a few days before in Eden’s pickup truck, but had returned in a bigger delivery truck before collapsing. He’d been shot at least twice.

  At least that was the gossip. The prayer meeting was for DJ’s recovery, although Graham was right. Nobody liked DJ, Hayley included. He was handsome enough—on the outside, anyway. At least six feet tall with bright blond hair and deep dimples when he smiled. But his smile always seemed . . . off. There was something oily about the man that gave Hayley the creeps. He had pretty, dark eyes, but they watched everyone with a detachment that felt like he was sizing a person up, trying to figure out what he or she could do for him.

  Graham sighed. “Password protected. I was hoping they’d be too dumb for that.”

  So had she. “Now what?”

  “Now we try to guess. Or . . .” He lifted the large calendar that covered most of the healer’s desk, then grinned. “Or we hope that the healer’s memory is going and she has to write passwords down.” He pointed to the Post-it Note on the underside of the calendar and snorted softly. “Password is ‘Eden89.’ I could have guessed that.”

  The community had been founded in 1989, so that made sense.

  “And . . . I’m in,” he pronounced. A few keystrokes later and he’d opened a browser window. “This would have been so much easier if they hadn’t taken our damn phones. You can’t text. You’re gonna have to go old-school and e-mail him.”

  He tapped a few more keys and Hayley found herself looking at her own Gmail account. There were dozens of unopened e-mails, ninety percent of which were from Cameron.

  She gaped. “How did you . . . Graham Gibbs, you hacked me.”

  He huffed a quiet laugh. “I didn’t read your love messages. I just wanted to see if I could break in. Yours was my first hack. You really shouldn’t use Cam’s name as part of your password. You made it way too easy. What do you want to say to your baby daddy?”

  “Besides ‘HELP ME’ in all caps?”

  He smirked and began to type. “ ‘Subject: HELP ME’ in all caps. ‘Dear Cam,’ ” he murmured as he typed, “ ‘we are in a place called Eden.’ ” He clicked out of the e-mail tab to Google Maps and squinted at the screen. “There’s a way to get coordinates. Oh, yeah. I remember now.” He right-clicked on the flashing blue dot that was in the middle of a forest and entered the numbers into the e-mail to Cam. “We are at these coordinates,” he continued to type. “Please come ASAP and bring the cops. This place is insane and we are being held against our will.”