I called Bob's Burgers. Junior had the day off to take care of important business, his boss informed me. I opened the phone book to the M's and counted ninety-seven listings for Martinez. Since I was pretty sure Junior lived on Willow Lane, I tried M. Martinez on Willow Lane and got lucky.
Junior's mother was not thrilled to receive my phone call.
"Junior not here," she screeched. "Gone! Gone!
Before I could say another word, she slammed the phone down. Out of time and money, I headed for the main entrance and saw our truck parked close by. I kept a sharp look-out for Revelle as I trotted out the hospital entrance. In fact, I was looking back over my shoulder when I yanked the door open.
"Hey there, you must be Allie!
My head whipped around at the sound of the deep, masculine voice. I turned slowly and, with a sinking heart, checked out the guy sitting in the passenger seat. Broad shoulders. Longish blond hair tucked behind his ears. White tank top and jeans. The name "Mona" tattooed on his right forearm. His left hand resting on Faye's thigh.
I stifled a groan. Faye had a new boyfriend. Sometimes, it sucks to be me.
Chapter Twenty One
"Hi, I'm Roy.
The jerk jumped out of the truck and offered me his hand.
I ignored it.
"Are you getting out here?" I asked hopefully.
"Nope, thought you'd want to sit next to your mother." "I don't." He gave me a sickly grin and lowered his hand. I
glared at Faye. "Tell me you're not taking him to our house," I said.
Faye glared right back. "He needs a lift to the lower valley. Is that all right with you, Miss Smarty Pants?" She patted the seat beside her. "Jump in, Roy. Allie likes the window."
Yeah, right, I thought bitterly. I'll sit by the window and hang my head out like a dog sniffing the breeze.
Roy sat next to Faye. I climbed in and pressed my body against the door, as far away from Roy as possible. Faye shifted into first and hit the gas. We shot forward, all three heads snapping back simultaneously, and almost side-swiped an ambulance pulling slowly out in front of us. Faye peered around Roy and shot daggers at me with her eyes.
"Not that it's any of your concern, Allie..." She paused to make sure I knew she meant business. "Roy's car is in Peacock Flats. A friend of his is working on the motor.
I ignored Faye's danger signs. "Will it be done soon?
Faye hands tightened on the steering wheel, probably to keep from slapping my face. I knew I was pushing it but couldn't seem to stop.
Roy lifted his hands and grinned. "Hey, girls! No fighting over Roy.
As if. I turned and stared out the window the rest of the way home. As soon as Faye pulled in by the trailer, I jumped out of the truck and headed for the Trujillos'.
I heard Roy say, "Man, she's one angry little chick.
Faye murmured, "She'll get over it.
Juanita gave me a bowl of her chicken molé, and I watched General Hospital with Mercedes for a while When I calmed down, I tried calling Junior again. Twice. The last time, his mother's voice reached new levels. "I tell you, Junior not here! You bad girls! Always after my Junior!
I paced the Trujillos tiny living room and tried to figure out what to do next. Thankfully, Mercedes was in her fantasy world and didn't fire a million questions at me. After pacing, fretting and mumbling a few well-chosen words, I could draw only one conclusion. I had to keep Junior away from Revelle.
I thanked Juanita, waved bye-bye to Mercedes and started down the driveway. Faye and Roy were nowhere to be seen. Matt was hosing mud off his Jeep. Good old dirty-minded Matt. Probably harmless enough in broad daylight. Aunt Sandra sat in a lawn chair under a tree sipping lemonade. She watched me approach, a phony smile stuck on her face like clown make-up.
"Where are you off to, Allie?
"Just checking to see if Matt can give me a ride somewhere.
The words surprised me as much as it did her.
Her smile disappeared.
Matt grinned. "Sure.
Aunt Sandra spoke sharply. "Aren't you supposed to pick up Summer?
The very mention of Summer's name made me grind my teeth.
Matt dug a cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number. He turned away but I heard, "Gotta run an errand ... I'll be late ... aw, come on, baby, don't be like that." He turned to face his mother. "I took care of it. Hop in, Allie.
Like the gentleman he wasn't, he opened the door for me. I could feel Aunt Sandra's disapproving gaze on my back as we pulled away.
"Your mother doesn't like me." I said.
"Yeah, well, that's her problem, not mine.
We reached the end of the drive way.
"Where to?" Matt said.
"Willow Lane. I think it's that way.
I waved my hand in a vague southerly direction.
Matt glanced at me and turned right on Peacock Flats Road. "Willow Lane, huh? I saw Junior Martinez here the other night. Are you going to his house?
With residual anger at Faye still boiling through my veins, I almost said, "What's it to ya?" Instead, I bit my tongue and nodded. But Matt couldn't leave it alone. His gaze flicked over my body.
"Is he your boyfriend?
I recalled the ugly things he'd thought about me, about wanting to be the "first," and decided to yank his chain.
"What if he is?
"Junior runs with a gang. You could get hurt.
"Guess you never hurt anybody, huh?
Matt's blue eyes widened in feigned surprise. "Me? Heck, no. I'm a good guy.
He reached over, took my hand and made slow circles with his thumb. "You gonna be home later? Maybe we could get together, you know, do something.
I decided to act like a dumb kid. I gazed at him with wideeyed innocence. "Do what?
He squeezed my hand. "I'm sure we'll think of something.
I pulled my hand away. "Gee, do you think that might hurt Summer?
Caught in his own trap, Matt said in an offended tone, "Jeez, Allie, why are you so mean to me?
I pointed at an intersection ahead. "There's Willow Lane.
"I know where Junior lives," Matt snapped.
He pulled up in front of a small, blue house surrounded by a cyclone fence. The front yard was freshly mowed, the flower beds planted with colorful petunias. I thanked Matt for the ride. He drove off without saying a word.
Risking the wrath of Mama Martinez, I marched up to the front door and knocked. No answer. Was she inside, peeking through the curtains, muttering Spanish oaths? I knocked again.
"My mother's not home. Are you looking for Junior?
The voice belonged to a pretty, young Hispanic woman with a baby in her arms, standing on the other side of the fence. She smiled.
"I'm Silvia. Junior's sister. We live next door. I saw you drive up.
I stepped off the porch and grinned back at her. "I guess a lot of girls come here looking for Junior. I'm Allie.
"Oh yeah, I've heard Junior talk about you.
"I bet you say that to all the girls.
Silvia laughed. The baby clapped his chubby little hands and gurgled. I walked to the fence.
"Do you know where I can find Junior? It's important.
She raised an eyebrow and glanced at my belly. I blushed when I realized what she was thinking.
"I'm not pregnant or anything. Junior and I are just friends. He could be in danger. I really need to talk to him.
She thought it over for a long moment then sighed. "He went to Vista Valley early this morning. Said he had to take care of some business. You wanna leave him a note?
"Is it okay if I sit on the porch and wait for him?
Silvia shrugged. "Suit yourself. I gotta go run some errands.
"What about your mom? Will she be back soon?
I wasn't anxious to go toe-to-toe with Mama Martinez.
"Not until tomorrow. She just left to go visit her sister.
Silvia put the baby in his car seat then brought me a pen an
d some paper in case I got tired of waiting and wanted to leave a note for Junior. She folded her arms and stared down at me like she was trying to make up her mind about something.
Finally she said, "Oh, for God's sake, you look like a lost puppy. Junior will be pissed if he comes home and sees you sitting on the front steps.
She brushed by me and unlocked the front door.
"Go on in," she ordered.
"Are you sure it's okay?
With a snort of impatience, Silvia waved me into the house and left before I could thank her.
Standing in Junior's living room, I felt like an intruder. It reminded me of a dream I have at least once a month, where I'm standing in a stranger's house, a house I shouldn't be in. A car drives up. I hear heavy footsteps on the porch, a key in the lock. When I try to run, my feet are stuck to the floor. Terror-stricken and unable to move, I wait, knowing something awful is about to happen. That's when I wake up screaming. Maybe if I knew what happened next, I wouldn't have the dream again.
I tried to shake my feeling of unease as I stood in Junior's living room. Even though the house was old and the furniture shabby, it was spotlessly clean. An olive green area rug hid most of the yellowing linoleum floor. The windows facing the front and north side of the room were covered with voluminous, dark gold drapes, closed tightly against the sun. A brown davenport, matching loveseat and two gold recliners were angled to face a large TV setting on a shelf against the south wall.
Hanging from the wall over the TV, was the largest crucifix I'd ever seen outside a church. The cross was rough-hewn and carved from a solid chunk of wood and featured a realistically rendered Jesus who was obviously close to death. Droplets of blood dotted his forehead from the crown of thorns. His body sagged lifelessly, and his eyes were closed against the pain. I tried to picture Junior's family, gathered together around the TV, watching their favorite show. Maybe even laughing at a sitcom. Call me crazy, but that crucifix would definitely suck the joy out of my TV watching.
I checked out the rest of the house. Three bedrooms, one bathroom and a tidy kitchen. Looked like a mansion compared to my place. I wondered where Junior might have hidden the moonstone. I briefly considered launching an allout search, but it felt too much like snooping. I wandered back into the living room and almost turned on the TV but decided against it. Somehow, it didn't seem right to enjoy myself with Jesus hanging there.
Finally, I curled up on the brown davenport and settled in to wait for Junior, wondering what his reaction would be when he opened the door and found me in his living room. Joy? Anger? None of the above? A fleeting thought raced through my mind. What if Junior really was a Trimark? I remembered the words, "All of them have the ability to relate to their victims using charm ... etc." Without question, Junior was a bonafide charmer. Don't go down that road, Allie.
I'd just picked up a Spanish language newspaper when I heard a car pull into the driveway. Had to be Junior. I ran to the door, preparing to fling it open and yell, "Surprise!
My hand was resting on the doorknob when I heard muffled voices. Men's voices. I snatched my hand away, unsure where to go, what to do. I stood frozen in place and listened to the approaching footsteps. I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't caught up in my awful dream.
A heavy fist banged against the door. Since I wasn't dreaming, and my feet weren't stuck to the floor, I went to the front window and parted the drapes a fraction of an inch. Revelle and another guyprobably Baxterstood on the front porch. My mouth went dry. I tried to fight the panic I knew would keep me from thinking straight. Had I locked the door when I came in? I couldn't remember! No time to waste. I crossed to north wall and ducked behind the drapes, my heart thudding painfully in my chest.
Filled with dread, I waited to see what Revelle and his buddy would do next. I heard the door knob turn, the squeak of a floorboard. Oh my God, I hadn't locked it!
"Hello," Revelle said. "Anybody home?
He waited a beat and muttered, "We're in luck, Baxter. Nobody here.
I peeked through the tiny opening where the drapes didn't meet and saw Revelle step into the living room, his gaze sweeping the room. Baxter had a shaved head, a thick body and darting black eyes. His big-knuckled hands were curled into fists.
When Baxter spotted the crucifix, he gasped and jumped back. Revelle whirled around at the sound. His body tensed and his right arm shot out, palm forward, toward the crucifix. He turned his head to the side. His lips curled away from his teeth, his mouth opened, and he hissed, a reptilian sound that made my skin crawl. Baxter, his eyes rolling in fear, did the same. They held the pose for maybe thirty seconds then lowered their arms and turned their backs on the crucifix, which meant they were facing my wall. I didn't dare twitch, much less breathe.
Baxter's face was ashen, his forehead beaded in sweat. He swiped the back of his arm across his forehead and drew a shaky breath.
"I'm not up for this, man," he told Revelle. "That thing's huge, and this house is tiny. We need to get out of here.
"Suck it up, Baxter," Revelle snarled. "In and out fast. The kid said Allie hasn't been wearing the moonstone. She's real tight with Junior, so he could have it stashed here.
The kid? What kid? I must have missed something.
"Check the bedrooms," Revelle said. "I'll take the kitchen.
Baxter grumbled but walked toward the back of the house. When Revelle left the room, I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to make sense of what I'd seen. I was dealing with Trimarks. No doubt about it. The crucifix was a huge threat. Baxter was obviously scared out of his mind. Could it be his power wasn't as strong as Revelle's?
And what was the deal with the palm? Had the mark of the inverted triangle somehow deflected the danger? An involuntary shiver swept through my body as I recalled bared teeth and the hideous hissing sound. I tried to remember my monster lore. Did vampires hiss? Werewolves? My frazzled brain had no answers.
Then another thought occurred to me. What would happen if I stuck my hand out and flashed my star? I felt a little silly, but poked my hand through the drapes anyway, palm facing the crucifix. Of course, I didn't hiss or turn my head away. That would be stupid. Nothing happened. In a way, I was relieved.
I heard the sound of breaking glass in the kitchen. My head turned toward the sound. Revelle muttered a curse. When my gaze swung back to the crucifix, the hair on my arms stood up and I gasped in shock. The crucifix had changed. The roughened edges of the cross were burnished with gold. It glowed with a soft light that seemed to emanate from deep within.
And, oh yeah, Jesus' eyes were opened, and he was looking right at me.
I must have made a sound, because Revelle stopped banging around. I could feel him listening. I dropped my arm and ducked back behind the drapes. Through the crack, I saw Revelle and Baxter come into the room.
Baxter said, "What's up?
Revelle held up a hand for silence and gazed around the room, his eyes darting around the room. He took a step toward my hiding place. Then another. Paralyzed with fear, I watched him approach, my heart stuttering in my chest. Could kids my age have a heart attack? I considered making a run for it, but he was too close. Too close!
Without thinking, I raised my hand behind the draperies, palm forward. My only rational thought was oh, please, no, oh, please, no. The words played over and over in my mind, like a mantra. I held my breath as Revelle hesitated then stopped. Suddenly the crucifix flew from the wall, crashed off the TV and landed, Jesus side up, on the floor.
With a shout of fear, Baxter ran from the house. Revelle whirled, extended a palm toward the crucifix and began edging toward the door, his gaze averted, his teeth bared in a grimace. When he slipped out and closed the door behind him, I collapsed in a boneless heap.
Chapter Twenty Two
I heard Revelle's car back out of the driveway and spray gravel as it tore away from Junior's house.
My mind screamed, "Move, dummy. What if they come back?
I tried to obey
, but my legs were like two limp noodles. Maybe fettuccine noodles. I remembered Cory's Fettuccine Alfredo remark and fought off a fit of hysterical laughter. Compared to Revelle and Baxter, Cory seemed as harmless as a teddy bear. With the sound of Revelle's car receding in the distance, the strength returned to my legs, and I struggled to my feet.
Warily, I approached the crucifix. What if Jesus was still staring at me? Should I thank him? I hadn't spent much time in church, so I didn't know the protocol. I needn't have worried. Jesus' eyes were closed. With a sigh of relief, I lifted the heavy wooden cross and, teetering under its weight, slid its looped hanger over the thick nail protruding from the wall.
I checked the rest of the house for damage. Chunks of broken glass littered the kitchen floor. I cleaned it up and checked the bedrooms. After tucking Mama Martinez's undies back in the drawer, I scribbled a quick note to Junior and stepped out onto the porch. The sun was slipping behind the foothills, its slanting rays bouncing off the roof of a passing car. Dark, scudding clouds gathered to the north. A storm was blowing in, and it would soon be dark.
With adrenalin still pumping through my system, I jogged down Willow Lane to the intersection and turned north toward home. I'd lay low tonight and try to catch Junior tomorrow.
Peacock Flats Road was not designed for pedestrians. With each oncoming car, I had to leap over a drainage ditch to avoid being road kill. Adding to my anxiety was my worry over Revelle. Back in the house, he seemed to sense my presence. Maybe Trimarks could smell fear. The crucifix would keep him away from Junior's house, but he might come looking for me.
I trotted down the road past orchards, hay fields and lush pastures. A wizened old guy in bib overalls stood on a flat bed wagon hitched to a green John Deere tractor, tossing hay to his cows. He leaned on his pitchfork and watched me jog by. I waved, and he touched a finger to his straw hat.
As the distance grew between Junior's house and yours truly, my body responded by falling into an easy, rhythmic lope. My mind, no longer faced with eminent danger, relaxed, and I tried to make sense of what I'd seen and heard. I didn't dwell on the crucifix scene. It had no logical explanation, so why spend time agonizing over it? One thing I had learned from the experience: a crucifix strikes terror into the heart of a Trimark.
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