The Truth About Lies
Page 19
He stared at me before giving his attention back to the ceiling. “You sure about that, Shane?”
My whole body jolted. My heart stopped. And in my very next breath, I remembered why I was there.
One in. One out.
“Please, Shane.”
“Positive.”
Cora
I was waiting on Penn to come back from getting his tools when my phone started ringing.
“Oh my God, you actually saw the bat symbol!” I exclaimed, lifting it to my ear.
“Uhhhh,” Catalina drawled. “What?”
I glanced around my empty apartment. River and Savannah were locked in their room, hopefully sound asleep after the night’s emotional turmoil, but more than likely, they were watching TV or playing on their cell phones.
“I’ve been hoping you’d call. I need advice.”
“Yes. You should leave tonight.”
I rolled my eyes. “I have five classes left. I promise I have one foot out the door. But that’s not what this is about.”
“Five classes will take you a year at the speed you’ve been going.”
I stopped pacing. “Can we put a pin in the college discussion and talk about the fact that I met a guy?”
As I suspected it would, the line went silent.
“Yes, I’ll hold while you process that tidbit of information. And while you are wrapping your head around it, I feel the need to go ahead and tell you that he is unspeakably gorgeous. Like the Voldemort of gorgeousness.”
“He was pretty hideous in the movies, so I’m not sure that’s a fair comparison.”
With a giggle, I switched the phone to my other ear. “His name is Penn. He and his brother are the maintenance guys who took over for Hugo.”
More silence.
And then a lot of not silence. “Are you insane!”
I pulled the phone away from my ear to avoid losing my hearing, but she kept right on yelling.
“Cora, what the hell?”
“They aren’t Guerreros. They’re…Walkers. Drew served time with Manuel.”
“Oh my God!” she cried. “That’s worse!”
I sank back down on the couch. “Relax. They aren’t like that. They’re good people.”
“No one who associates with my father is good people.”
“Well, Penn’s never met him. But trust me, they are nothing alike.”
“Oh my God. Please tell me you didn’t mention me.”
I huffed. “Psh. Now, you’re the insane one. I’m insulted you’d even ask that.”
“Oh thank you, Lord.”
Without a bed set up for me to flop down on, I walked to the den and settled deep into the corner of the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest. “The Lord had nothing to do with this. I’d never risk you or Isabel for a man. Even if he is insanely gorgeous, and kind, and thoughtful, and—”
She made a gagging sound. “You done yet?”
“Don’t be jealous. One day, Prince Charming will come for you too. He’ll throw rocks at your window. Then, in a very regal British accent, he will ask you to let down your leg hair so he can climb up.”
“Ew!” She burst into laughter.
It was a stupid joke, but there wasn’t much I wouldn’t say to make Cat laugh. She did it so rarely that I sat there grinning like a maniac as she lost herself in humor.
When she finally sobered, she whispered, “God, I miss you.”
“I miss you too. But, assuming you didn’t see the bat symbol and weren’t calling to hear all the juicy details about he who shall remain nameless, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“Hmmm…poverty,” she replied.
I suddenly sat up, putting my bare feet to the floor. “What now?”
“My power’s been shut off. Which we both know is nothing new, but the lady whose house I usually clean decided last minute to spend the summer in Maine, visiting her grandson.”
“Why?” I whined.
“I have no idea. Apparently, she likes him or something. The problem is: This leaves me high and dry until I can find something else.”
Catalina had spent her life as the crowned princess of the Guerrero family. Sure, they’d treated her like shit, talking down to her and using her as a pawn for whatever they needed. But the shoes she’d walked in may as well have been encrusted in diamonds. She’d never worked, and when Manuel had convinced her to take one for the team and marry the district attorney, Thomas Lyons, she hadn’t moved down the food chain. Right up until the day she left it all behind, she drove a Jag, lived in a seven-thousand-square-foot mansion, and had all of her clothes delivered by her personal stylist. On the outside, it was my dream life. On the inside, it was the same hell I lived in only with slightly better decorating.
Thomas beat her on the regular, forced himself on her when she tried to tell him no, and verbally abused her to the point that it may as well have been physical. She asked her father for help, but Manuel needed to keep Thomas under his thumb in order to stay out of jail.
They were an unstoppable team. Manuel the crime lord with his hands dipped in both prostitution and drugs and Thomas the crooked and narcissistic district attorney who thought he was above the law.
But in the miracle of all miracles, Cat got out. And, now, she was living paycheck to paycheck cleaning houses. To hear her tell it, she’d never been happier. She always sounded lonely to me though.
“How much is it?” I asked.
“No. I’m not worried about the power. We’ll make do. However, Isabel is still sick. I can’t get her better. Doc said it was tonsillitis last time, and the antibiotics seemed to clear it up, but it’s back. She’s freaking miserable and running a fever. Which, when it’s a fourteen-year-old, means she’s making me miserable too. I need to get her back to the doctor.”
“Damn, that sucks for both of you. How much is it?”
She sighed. “Well, a doctor’s visit for the uninsured goes for the low, low price of about two hundred bucks a pop these days, but I still have sixty from the last time you gave me money. You shouldn’t be giving me extra, though it’s come in handy recently.”
I smiled. “Just not handy enough.”
“Exactly.”
I stood up and walked to the front door. Putting my eye to the peephole, I peered out, finding no sign of Penn heading back this way. “All right. Let’s break this down. Power bill?”
“Eighty-seven dollars.”
“And the doctor is two hundred. How much were her antibiotics last time?”
“Thirty-eight and some change.”
I squinted one eye, mentally rounded up, and then carried the one. “Okay, so three twenty-six.”
“Minus the sixty,” she corrected.
“No. Not minus anything. You need some padding. These constant trips to drop off are dangerous for both of us. I’m gonna bring you two grand. Tonight. Pay all your bills and then pay ahead a month. Give yourself some wiggle room until you can find a new job.”
“All that doesn’t cost two grand, Cora,” she replied, but I heard a cry of relief muffled by her hand.
“Well, you didn’t let me finish. Then, with whatever’s left, I want you to find a bakery, buy a dozen chocolate cupcakes, and binge all weekend pretending I’m there with you.”
This time, she didn’t even try to hide her sob. “I can’t take that much from you. That’s your ticket out.”
“You’re my ticket out. We’re in this together, remember? Besides. I’ll get it back. I haven’t submitted the bills to your brothers this month yet. I’ll figure a way to work that money back in.”
Her voice cleared, fear overtaking the emotion. “Cora, don’t. That’s a lot of money to explain away.”
I made my way down the hall to my bedroom, locked the door, and slid the chair in front of it, holding the phone between my shoulder and my cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I got five off them last month. And, this month, I’ve got Penn’s receipts from the hardware store. Couple of extra zero
s here and there and we’re in business.”
I snagged a dirty T-shirt from my hamper and climbed onto the chair. After using my thumbnail to pry off the wood trim at the top of the door, I wrapped the shirt around my hand and removed the pink insulation, revealing clear plastic bags stuffed with more insulation. I grabbed one, dropped it to the floor, then shifted the rest around until they once again looked like a solid wall of fluffy fiberglass.
“Cora, please. You have to be more careful. Especially now that you’re sleeping with the maintenance guy.”
I curled my lip and replaced the trim. “Why does everyone think we’re sleeping together?” I climbed down, grabbed the bottle of Wite-Out I’d long since replaced with touch-up paint, climbed back up, and set about sealing the joints until it looked perfect again. I’d hit it with some dryer lint once it dried a bit. It had taken me a while to perfect the art of making things faux dirty. But, in that building, nothing drew attention like cleanliness.
“Uhh…because that’s what adults do when they’re dating someone. Wait—are you not sleeping with him?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Technically, yes. He actually just bought me a new bed. But if you mean sex, then no.”
She was silent for a second. “I thought you said he was hot?”
“He is! He’s all the things. He bought me cupcakes, and pulled up my carpet and put wood floors down, and lied to the girls tonight, telling them how much I talked about them when I didn’t.”
“Wow. He sounds like a real dreamboat,” she deadpanned.
I laughed. “I promise he really is. And good to me. So freaking good.”
“All right. All right. I’ll give Voldemort the benefit of the doubt. But keep your secrets close, Cora. Do not trust this man. Do not give him ammunition to take back to my family.”
I huffed. “I know. I know.”
“I just worry.”
I grabbed the baggy of insulation off the floor and carried it to the closet, where I shook it out on top of the safe. A rolled-up wad of five thousand dollars fell out.
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve got this covered.” I peeled off half, and then locked the rest of it in the safe. I liked to keep a little cash in there in case of an emergency. Say…Marcos or Dante showed up and accused me of stealing money. Twenty-five hundred dollars and a beating would be enough to feed their salacious appetite for justice, leaving my secret stash above their heads and five years’ worth of work intact.
“Are you going to drop it off tonight?” she asked uncomfortably. “No rush or anything. I thought you mentioned that or something.”
“Relax. I’ve got the cash and I’m headed to my car now. It’s over an hour drive, but I’ll be there soon.”
“I love you, Cora.”
“Love you too. Take care of yourself and tell Isabel to get better.”
Her voice smiled. “Will do.”
We hung up at the same time.
Penn still wasn’t back, and much to my dismay, my bed and him kissing me into better than good not-okay was going to have to wait.
After opening my texts, I shot off a message to River and Savannah that I was leaving to run an errand. When the text bubble didn’t pop back up from either of them, I thanked the god of tears for making people sleepy afterward.
After one last message to Penn, I purposely left my phone on the counter and headed out.
Me: Hey, I had to run out for a few. Keep an eye out for Savannah and River. They’re already asleep. I’ll hit you up when I get back. Xoxo
Penn
Ten minutes before I lost her…
“Calm down, Mr. Pennington,” the 911 operator urged into the receiver of my landline.
There was no calm left in the world. Not as they stood over her, their filthy hands in her hair, holding her to the bed, blood profusely seeping from stab wounds on her chest and stomach.
Her pink shirt was red.
I couldn’t focus.
I couldn’t breathe.
Everything was in fast forward and slow motion.
The knife in the air came too fast.
Her attempts to fight back were too slow.
I knew I was yelling. I was vaguely aware of the gravel shredding my throat, but what I was saying never passed through my brain.
Visceral rage rushed out of me like a dam had been broken in my soul. But, with nowhere for that violence to manifest, it was worthless.
I was worthless.
My wife was dying.
And I was absolutely worthless.
“Mr. Pennington, take a look around. I have police officers on standby. We just need to figure out where she is.”
“She’s in a hotel!”
“Where? Do you know the name of the hotel?”
I paused as an onslaught of every emotion I’d ever experienced peeled the skin from my body. “I…I don’t know. Somewhere in Chicago.”
Another stab.
Another cry.
Another plea.
“Get the fuck off her!” I roared so loudly that my body vibrated.
It was all I could do.
Her screams echoed in my ears even as they held a hand over her mouth. Her legs kicked wildly, her hands clawing at the men attacking her.
Acid forged valleys in my veins.
“Look around the room,” the operator urged.
The adrenaline fueling me like gas to a fire made searching the room while they tortured her impossible. But if it could help her…
“Oh fuck,” I groaned, forcing my mind to cooperate. Frantic, I scanned the room. “There’s a blue bedspread. And…and…fuck!”
His fist landed across her face, blood spraying on the wall. I felt it in my gut.
Pain exploded inside me.
The only things stronger were the guilt and desperation clouding my vision.
I’d never felt more helpless in my entire life. It was killing me.
And, worse, it was killing her.
“Take a deep breath, and try to focus, Mr. Pennington,” the woman ordered, drawing my attention to the task at hand.
“Okay. Okay. Shit. There’s, uh, a desk, a fucking TV.”
“What else? See if you can see a phone or notepad. Anything that might have the name of the hotel on it.”
I thrust a hand into the top of my hair and brought my cell closer to my face for inspection. “No. Nothing. It’s a fucking cheap-ass hotel room. It looks like every other budget hotel in the world.”
Another punch.
Another stab.
Another cry.
I broke.
Falling to my knees, I threw myself at the mercy of any god who was willing to listen. “Please. Please, I’m begging you. Please, God. Help me find her.” My voice shattered along with my heart. “Help me find her. Please. Please help me.”
Please: I’d never hated a word more.
“Where is she!” I roared at Drew, the pressure in my head threatening to split me in half.
“Relax. She’ll be back,” he replied with his back to our apartment door, preventing me from leaving.
“Move!” I snarled.
“You’re not going over there and waking those kids up. Her text said they were already asleep when she left and that she would be back in a few. You need to calm down before she does get back and sees you acting like a madman.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down. You know what the fuck I’ve been through.” I sucked an exasperated breath in through my teeth. My eyes were wild, and my chest didn’t feel much better.
She’d been gone for three hours.
Three fucking hours was not a few.
The first hour, as I’d paced a path in the parking lot, my mind screaming, my heart thundering in my ears and my anxiety skyrocketing, had not been a few.
The second hour, as I’d driven around the city, searching every possible location, constantly texting Drew to see if she’d shown back up but always coming up empty, was not a few.
And the third hour, as I’d destroyed our apartment, time-traveling from the past to the present through memories in my mind until I wasn’t even sure where I was anymore, was not a few.
One thing I knew.
Something had happened.
Whether it was Marcos or Dante or…fuck. I don’t know who. Something had happened to her.
And once again.
I had no idea where she was or how to help.
And I was suffocating, buried six feet deep in the what-ifs.
I’d called.
And called.
And fucking called.
She never answered.
And when I’d gone into the hall and heard her phone ringing in her apartment, my entire life had ended all over again.
She was gone.
I had no way to reach her.
And…and…
“Please, Penn. Please!” Her voice screamed in my head.
Fuck.
I choked on the bitter acid of reality. “We have to find her.”
He bulged his eyes. “She’s not Lisa, Penn. She’ll come back.”
“And if she doesn’t!” I yelled, the sound echoing around our apartment. “I swear to God, Drew, if they so much as touched her, I—”
His hands landed on either side of my head, his palms covering my ears, his fingers biting into the back of my skull, and his face filling my view. He spoke slowly and definitively, but he couldn’t hide the concern in his brown eyes. That same concern was currently burning a hole straight through me.
“She. Will. Be. Back.”
“No.” I shook my head repeatedly before stepping away. “We need to get back out there and look for her. Let’s go together. Get the gun. We’ll head over to Dante’s.”
“You already drove by Dante’s, Penn. Her car wasn’t there.”
“Well.” I planted a shaking hand on my hip and searched through my mind for any possible theory that would enable me to not only find her, but also bring her home—alive. “Maybe they weren’t there yet.”
He once again got in my face, his hand landing hard on my shoulder. Steady and confident, he said, “Penn. Brother. Listen to me. She left her phone, and knowing her attachment to the women in this building, not to mention River and Savannah, that was not an accident. Let’s be logical here. Maybe she doesn’t want to be found. Maybe she doesn’t want to be tracked.”