by Rachel Lee
Then he spent some time enjoying daydreams. Did she guess he was coming? Did she even remotely understand that he needed her dead or why? How surprised she was going to look when she saw him.
He remembered the kid sister, the one he had read to and played with, but that kid, the one who had loved him, had died the night she’d run screaming from the house before he could clean up, make it look like someone had broken in. It was her fault he’d gone to prison.
He wondered if she remembered that.
* * *
DORY ERUPTED ON the conference. All caps got attention, and she was typing them to her cohort.
WHO THE HELL PUT MY WHEREABOUTS ON THE
WEBSITE?
We always do.
THE VICINITY OF KANSAS CITY IS A WHOLE LOT
DIFFERENT THAN WHAT YOU’VE PUT UP THERE.
But it’s a whole county.
IT’S A COUNTY WITH HARDLY ANY PEOPLE!
The team leader stepped in. Do we need to take this to Skype?
Dory drew deep breaths, steadying herself. Did she want her team members to know she was a woman? Did she want them to see her face? How many people might they tell?
No, she typed, forcing herself to be calmer. Please take that information down immediately. My brother’s a murderer. He just got out of prison. I don’t want him to find me.
Consider it done, the team leader typed back. I just removed it. We didn’t know. I’m sorry, D.K.
She refreshed the webpage and saw that Reggie was as good as his word. It was gone already. She just hoped it hadn’t been there for long. And why the hell had she even told them where she going? Because she’d had to explain why it would take her so long to get back on the grid? Because at the time it had seemed innocent enough? Because she hadn’t been paying attention to what they put on the webpage?
Because in her panic she hadn’t been thinking clearly enough. There was no other reason. She’d let slip some information because she’d been too afraid to realize that it might be unsafe to share with her coworkers. Because all she’d been concerned about was getting away from her last known address as Dory Lake.
Brilliant. She wanted to kick her own butt.
A whimper drew her attention, and she looked down. Flash was lying right beside her, but as he stared up at her without lifting his head, she got the distinct impression he was unhappy. He must be picking up on her anxiety.
He needed something to do, she decided, some purpose. She’d given him little enough, and right now she was in no mood to take a walk or a jog. Heck, right now she didn’t even want to step out her front door.
Because she couldn’t escape the feeling that George might have found out who she worked for. It wasn’t exactly the biggest secret on the planet. And if he knew that, what if he’d found that change on the webpage? She had no idea at all how long that change had been up.
God!
She looked into Flash’s soulful eyes and took pity on him. He needed something to do, and she needed something from him. “Flash, guard.”
At once he was on his feet, tail wagging. Then, as if he understood, he left her side to check out the other rooms in the tiny house. When he returned a short while later, he lay down with his back to her, head erect, ears alert. He was definitely on duty.
That should have made her feel better. After all, she had seen what he could do. But a dog as her only protection?
How was she to continue? Bad things could happen no matter what. She knew that indelibly. But nobody could live in the constant expectation that something bad waited around every corner. Her therapist had tried to hammer that home.
But that was also a kind of trust that Dory found difficult to gain. Trust that nothing bad would happen? Yeah, right.
A ping drew her attention back to one of her monitors. It was Reggie on private chat. You dropped out. Everything okay?
Yeah. Just taking some time to cool off.
She was grateful that he let it go. So how’s that flood simulation going?
I’ll have the roughed-out version ready for you in a few days.
Great. Ping me if you need anything.
Work, she told herself. Just get to work. She could bury herself in the intricacies of bringing a writer’s idea to vivid full-dimensional life. An endlessly fascinating process, and no matter how much of it she did, there was still more to learn.
She started up the flood sequence again, looking for any points that would give it away as animation. Animations of human beings were nearly impossible to make so real that you couldn’t tell it was an animation. But the stuff like this? It could fool just about anyone if she did it right.
She turned her viewing angle around slowly, seeking any hitches in the way the water moved. Just as she thought she might have found a problem, the doorbell rang.
Part of her wanted to ignore it, but then she noticed Flash had risen to his feet and was wagging his tail excitedly. He glanced back over his shoulder as if to say, “Hurry up!”
So it was someone he knew. She could guess who that was. Much as she wasn’t eager to admit it, she wanted to see Cadell again. It had been over a week. Betty had only popped in once. For a hermit, she was starting to feel a bit lonely.
She was right. She opened the door to find Cadell standing there holding a big brown bag, dressed casually in jeans and a black T-shirt. “Hey,” he said. “I brought dinner if you have time.”
Flash was sitting obediently beside her, but his hindquarters were twitching as if he wanted to jump up on Cadell.
Trying to shake away the fog in her head, she stepped back. “You’d better come in and pet Flash before he decides to jump on you. I guess he’s been missing you.” Then she remembered her last command to Flash had been to guard. Quickly she squatted down, catching his head in both hands and rubbing him. “It’s okay. Playtime.”
Happily he danced away, following Cadell into the kitchen. “I guess you’ve taught him a new command,” Cadell remarked as he began to remove foam containers from the bag. “Maude’s finest,” he added as he put things on her shaky table. “I’m assuming you’re a carnivore?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank goodness. If you’d said you were vegan, I’d be looking through here trying to find something you can eat. I’m not even sure the salad would be safe. I think Maude puts blue cheese in it.”
She wished she could laugh, when he was trying so hard to be lighthearted, but laughter felt far away.
“I hope I didn’t disturb your work.”
“No.” Truthful as far as it went. Concentration seemed to have escaped her since the shock earlier of finding her whereabouts on the website. She vaguely knew they listed her general vicinity but hadn’t really paid it much attention. Why the heck hadn’t she thought to tell them not to change it, or just not tell them exactly where she was going?
They were seated across from one another at the table when he spoke again. He pushed a tall coffee her way, then popped open the boxes for her to choose. “I’m not fancy. Just dig into whatever looks good.” He passed her plastic utensils.
She should get out some of her few dishes, she thought. Not that she had many. She’d never needed more than one person could use.
But then Cadell rattled her. “What’s wrong?” he asked bluntly.
“Wrong?” she repeated. She hadn’t said anything.
“It was written all over your face when you opened the door. You had Flash on guard, I could tell. What’s going on?”
She forgot the delicious-looking spread in front of her, any possible appetite disappearing. “Probably nothing.” God, she hated being always afraid, and most likely afraid of an eventuality that would never happen. How many times did she have to ask herself why in the world George would ever want to find her? Was there something wrong with her?
Cadell surprised her with a sudden change in tack. “Did you testify against your brother?”
She drew a sharp breath, her vision narrowing until she was looking down a long, dark tunnel. All of a sudden she was standing in that street again, screaming, screaming and not really knowing why, just knowing in her child’s heart that everything in her world was broken forever.
“Dory? Dory!” A hand gripped her upper arm gently. Cadell’s voice reached her through the darkness. “Tell me,” he said. A quiet command.
“Red paint,” she said. “Red paint.” She sagged into him, dimly feeling his arms close around her. It all came back, every bit of it, worse than the nightmares. Then everything went black.
* * *
THERE WAS A rickety couch in the front room, and Cadell carried Dory there, settling her on his lap.
What had he said? What had he done? He’d sent this woman into flight deep within herself, so deep it might be worse than a faint. All he’d asked was if she’d testified against her brother. If she had, she might have some real reasons to be afraid. She might not have even considered that her inheritance could be a threat. He’d found during his law enforcement career that most people didn’t have naturally suspicious minds. They didn’t think like criminals. Those kinds of ideas just didn’t occur to them.
He hadn’t even told her that her brother had disappeared from the halfway house after only two days. He had every right to move on, and leaving a place like that was understandable, especially if you hooked up with someone who could help you get on your feet. Lots of prisoners had contacts on the outside, some cultivated in prison. How else did they manage? Family, friends, a few agencies...
He felt a shudder pass through Dory. Looking down, he saw her eyes, as blue and deep as a cloudless sky, open. A Botticelli angel.
Only this angel was feeling like no angel. She squirmed, struggling to get off his lap. He refused to let her go. “Easy, Dory. Easy. It’s just me.”
It was then he saw Flash. Staring at him. His lip slightly curled. Ready to attack to protect her, but unsure because it was Cadell.
“Dory, snap out of it before your dog rips off half my face.”
That reached her. Those amazing eyes abruptly focused. She looked up at him, then over at the dog. “Flash, stay.” Then back to Cadell. “I don’t know what happened, but you’d better let go of me.”
Wow, talk about feeling as if he’d been slapped in the face. He released her immediately, ignoring his body’s natural response to her wriggling off his lap. “I was worried about you,” he muttered. “You all but fell out of your chair.”
An eternity passed before she spoke. Flash, at least, settled at her feet, but he kept eyes on Cadell. “I’m sorry,” she said finally.
“You don’t have to be. I just don’t understand what happened. I asked a simple question, then you said something like ‘red paint,’ and you were gone. Collapsing. Like you’d fainted.”
When she didn’t speak, he asked, “Do you need some water or something?”
“Water, please. My mouth feels like cotton.”
He rose, went to the kitchen and found one of her two glasses in a cupboard beside the sink. He filled it with water and returned, saying lightly, “You could use a few more dishes.”
She nodded but didn’t look at him. At least she didn’t object when he sat beside her. She took the glass and drained it, leaving little droplets of water on her lip that he’d have loved to lick away. Then he caught himself. Damn, was he losing his mind? This was neither the time nor the place, and most likely not the right woman. Besides, having been badly burned once, he wasn’t about to volunteer for another round.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Dory...” He gave up. She wouldn’t even look at him now, and he’d already told her she didn’t need to apologize.
“Red paint.” She spoke in a voice so tight it sounded as if it were ready to snap. “I never told you. I don’t know if I ever even told Betty. But for a time after the...murder, I was blind and couldn’t speak except for two words. Red paint. I thought all that blood was red paint.”
A seven-year-old girl? Of course she would have no other way to explain it. It also gave him a very clear idea of just how much blood she’d seen. Man, he ached for her. For the child who had been exposed to such horror.
“Anyway,” she said, her voice a little steadier, “they said it was a conversion disorder. Someone explained it to me years later. I couldn’t handle what I’d seen, so I shut down. My vision came back after a couple of months, but for a year I could speak only two words.”
“Red paint.”
“Exactly.” She let go of a long breath. “All of a sudden, when you asked me if I’d testified against George, I was back there. On that street, screaming. I don’t know how long I screamed. I vaguely remember the neighbors running up, the cop cars, the lady police officer who took me away. After that, I don’t remember much except my godparents taking me home with them. I was terrified because I couldn’t see. As for talking... I never really wanted to talk again.”
Taking a risk, Cadell reached out and covered her small hand with one of his much bigger ones. He was relieved when she didn’t pull away. He felt the faintest of tremors in her hand.
“Anyway,” she said eventually, “I have nightmares about that night. They’d almost stopped, but they’ve come back big-time since I heard George was being released. Why did he get only twenty-five years? I’ve never understood that.”
“Lots of things play into charging and sentencing,” he said carefully. “You could talk to our local judge, Wyatt Carter, if you want. I’m sure he could give you an in-depth answer. All I can tell you is from my own experience. First-degree murder is very hard to prove, for one thing. Intent isn’t always easy to prove in a courtroom, and that’s the only way he would have gotten a life sentence unless there were aggravating circumstances. If you want my guess...”
“Yes, please.”
“An argument with your parents. Tension for some time, from what you said. Your brother lost his temper and saw red. A crime of passion, without premeditation. That weighs into the charges a prosecutor thinks she can sell to the jury. It would certainly play into his defense. Basically, I guess what I’m saying is your brother’s sentence wasn’t unusual given the circumstances and his youth, being only fifteen at the time. I know that doesn’t make you feel any better...”
“No, it doesn’t,” she interrupted. “Not at all. He butchered them, Cadell. Butchered them.”
He dared to squeeze her hand and was relieved when she turned hers over and wrapped her slender fingers around his.
“So,” she asked on a shaky breath, “how likely is he to do something like that again?”
He couldn’t answer that truthfully. A quarter century in prison could straighten out a man’s head, or twist it more. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“No one can know,” she said quietly. “No one.” Then she switched course. “That dinner you brought is getting ruined and I’m suddenly hungry.”
He watched her stand and leave the room, Flash at her side.
Each new thing he learned about Dory filled him with more respect for her. She’d built a life for herself on some very brutal ashes. He knew well enough that kids all over the world had to survive as she’d survived because of war and natural disaster, but that didn’t make her any less remarkable.
Before he followed her, he allowed himself to reflect on his marriage, on the woman whose unceasing demands had left them both so unhappy. What a difference. Somehow he didn’t think Brenda could have survived half of what Dory had been through, or at least not with as much grace.
“Cadell? Are you coming?”
He rose and went to join the angel who hadn’t fully spread her wings for a quarter century.
<
br /> * * *
THE FOOD WASN’T that cold. Neither of them opted to microwave the steak sandwiches.
“I like cold beef,” Dory announced. “Cold roast beef sandwiches are at the top of my list.”
“Mine, too. Although the way I live, I seldom cook at home, so no roast beef.”
“I should make one,” she said. “We can share it. The only reason I don’t do it more often is that to get a well-cooked roast, you need more than I could ever eat by myself. And I don’t like it as much if I freeze it for later.”
“Well, that’s one job you can expect my help with. Let me buy the roast. You cook, I’ll carve.”
She laughed, a small one, but enough to ease his heart a bit. She was looking forward again, at least for now. It wouldn’t last forever. In fact he’d probably have to be the one who shattered her hard-won peace.
While they were putting the leftovers away, he said, “You looked upset when I got here. You never said why.”
She shook her head a little, drying her hands on a dish towel. “I was furious because my company put my whereabouts on their webpage. They thought it was vague enough. I had to explain that Conard County is underpopulated.”
“Wait,” he said almost sharply. “Back up. Why do they include anything about where you live?”
“I guess it’s felt that since we don’t have a central office we might make an advantage out of being scattered all over the country but still working together. Major Animation has three teams like mine. And we are scattered all over.”
“Okay. I suppose I can get that. Centralized without being located in one place. So how detailed are the locations?” His heart had sped up a bit. He didn’t like the way he was feeling right now. Worry had begun to gnaw at him like a hungry rat.
“Well, for example, they used to have me listed as being in the vicinity of Kansas City. There are a lot of people there, and nobody could have found me easily. But I screwed up. I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly. Anyway, I told someone on my team where I was moving, and today I saw it on the webpage. Conard County, Wyoming. They thought listing an entire county was vague enough.”
