by Rachel Rust
“What do you know about Victor’s job?”
Mason shrugged. “Not much.”
“Then never mind,” I said. “He just owed some people some…money.” I felt bad for lying about that particular part of the story, but Mason didn’t seem to hate Victor, and I didn’t want to be the person to break whatever non-drug dealing good guy façade Victor had created for his young cousin. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
Mason limped toward me, brushing the top of his head with his hand, removing the hood, revealing buzzed brown hair. Aside from the cut over his eye and a slight limp, he looked okay.
“Why’d you call Victor my cousin?” he asked.
“Because he is.”
Mason shook his head. “No, he’s not.”
Confusion plowed into me. My eyebrows scrunched down. “He told me you’re his cousin. Said he lives with you.”
“He rents a room,” Mason said, shoving his hands into his front pockets. “He’s like a family friend or something. My mom said he needed a place to live.”
“How long’s he been staying with you?”
“Maybe six months. I don’t know.”
“Why would he say he’s your cousin?”
“Beats me. We hang out at home sometimes, but I don’t know him very good.”
My mind spun. The only thing that made sense in the entire night had suddenly vanished. I hadn’t questioned why Victor would put himself into harm’s way for his cousin. But for a kid he didn’t know very well? Why? And why had he lied to me about their relationship?
“Where are Victor’s parents?” I asked. “Ohio?”
Mason shrugged again. “Beats me.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Just how many lies had Victor told me so far? I was beginning to lose count.
“Well, let’s get out of here.” I needed to get Mason home, not only for his sake, but because I had a million and one questions for his mom. He followed me to the car.
I sat down in Brody’s BMW. In a normal universe, I would have been sitting in the passenger seat where Mason now was, and Brody would be seated behind the wheel. We’d be kissing over the center console with his hand up my shirt. But the only action my girls had seen all night were Ramon’s eyes. A shiver of disgust ran up my spine and I started the car. “Buckle up,” I said to Mason. Despite the danger lurking in the darkness, seatbelts still seemed important.
Chapter Eighteen
Even the busiest streets of Rapid City were scarce at three in the morning. Nothing more than deserted asphalt and concrete corridors, lit up by randomly colored lights of businesses long-closed.
“I’m hungry,” Mason said, the sudden sound of his voice like a sonic boom.
Neither one of us had said anything in several blocks. There was a lot to talk about, but the silence was a welcomed relief. My brain was busy enough and loud enough for three heads.
I ignored his words about food. The city had a few twenty-four-hour food options, but stopping anywhere would make us easy targets for anyone who may have changed their mind about letting Mason go. And with me by his side now, reclaiming him would give them two for the price of one.
The dark, empty streets were punctuated occasionally by blinking red or yellow stoplights. Except the next intersection we approached had full working lights. It turned yellow and I applied the brake, unwilling to drudge up any more trouble, not even a traffic ticket. Especially a traffic ticket stamped three o’clock in the morning while driving a BMW. That would be super fun to explain to my dad—and to Brody’s parents. Plus, I didn’t want to take any chances of my name appearing on Detective Novotny’s radar again. The memories of his toothpaste commercial smile still scorched my retinas.
A lone car pulled up behind us. A blue sedan. My eyes fixated on it in the rearview mirror. It looked like any regular car, except that it was out at three in the morning and happened upon the same exact red light as I had.
The driver’s door opened. I nearly hit the gas, red light be damned, but the person who exited the car dumbfounded me long enough to stay put.
It was Krissy. Her tall, thin form was hard to mistake.
“What the hell?” I said.
“What’s wrong?” Mason asked, looking behind us. “Who is that?”
“A friend of Victor’s.”
“How can you be so sure? I think we should keep driving.”
“No, just wait,” I said. “I’ve met her. She’s nice and—”
Mason grabbed my arm. “Go! Drive through the light!”
It was too late, Krissy was alongside my window. I cracked it a few inches.
“Hey, Natalie.”
“Krissy,” I replied. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”
“What I’m doing is the least of your worries tonight.” She leaned down to get a look at Mason. “You can’t bring him home.”
“What? Why not?”
“You can’t go to his house, it’s not safe.”
“How do you know that?”
She glanced around, as though expecting company. “I just do, now please, you have to follow me.”
My grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Where?”
“There’s no time to explain, but you need to follow me, and whatever you do, don’t go to Mason’s house.”
“I didn’t tell you his name.”
“I know who he is. I sent you the text message telling you where to pick him up.”
My mouth opened for a solid five seconds before sound came out. “That was you? How did you know where he was?”
“I don’t have time to explain everything. We can’t sit here like this out the open. We’ve gotta go, right now.”
I glanced at Mason. The fear in his eyes was palpable. Krissy cleared her throat to get our attention again. The woman had a pastel wreath on her front door. Nothing about her cried bad person. She had been nice. Victor had obviously trusted her. And I had no one else to turn to. Even if I did drop Mason off at home, where would I go? I couldn’t go to Josh and Brody and bring more trouble their way. I didn’t want to go home and sit in a dark house, waiting for Little Bobby to come collect his new possession. I couldn’t go down to McNally’s without ending up in Victor’s position. The police were out of the question.
I had Krissy at my car window. That was it. She was all I had. “Okay,” I said. “Go ahead and I’ll follow.”
“What? Are you crazy?” Mason whispered. I ignored him again.
Krissy didn’t wait around to reply. She returned to her vehicle. The interior light of the car came on as she opened her door. Another person was in the car, in the passenger seat—the Lip Licker from Little Bobby’s and McNally’s. My mind filled with the images of him pointing a rifle at Victor’s chest, then helping to drag his limp body away.
Tremors spread through all my muscles. My stomach heaved. “Oh no,” I whispered.
Mason’s eyes glued to the side of my face. “What’s wrong?”
“We can’t follow them. They’re the people who have Victor.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The green light came on and Krissy pulled into the lane next to us.
“Better think fast,” Mason said.
Krissy pulled ahead and I followed. The cross streets were all residential, but I didn’t know the neighborhood. For all I knew, if I pulled into one of them, I’d be caught in a cul-de-sac with no escape options. I followed Krissy for a few more blocks, eyes on a blinking yellow light a quarter of a mile ahead. I knew the street. It was Roanoke Boulevard, a small two-lane road that ran south. I used it sometimes to go home from the mall when the bigger streets were too crowded. It led to a part of town that was uncommonly flat for Rapid City, where the streets were grid-like with a span of rectangular blocks that could be circled around to go any direction.
As we neared the intersection, Krissy stayed in her lane. She didn’t turn on any blinkers. I stayed a car length behind, in the same lane, as if
going straight like her. The nose of our car was halfway into the intersection before I finally hit the brakes and cranked the wheel left. The BMW had a tight steering radius and cornered as if enjoying its exciting adventure. Just before Mason and I disappeared around the corner, Krissy’s brake lights came on.
I slammed my foot on the accelerator and the car flew down the next two blocks. I took a sharp right onto the second residential road, then hooked a left at the next street and parked along the curb. My fingers fumbled with the controls near the steering wheel, trying to find the lights.
The windshield wipers came on.
“Shit.”
“Turn it the other way or something,” Mason said.
I turned the knob the other way. Fluid sprayed onto the windshield. Thankfully, the wipers were still going, so that problem was taken care of quickly. I clicked the wipers off. On the other side of the steering wheel was another controller. I moved it forward, turning on the bright lights. We may as well have had a neon light over the car—we’re over here! Please come kill us!
I clicked the controllers my direction and the lights went off. But it was too late. Headlights turned toward us from the far end of the block. A blue sedan crept closer.
“What do we do?” Mason asked.
I didn’t reply because I had no damn clue.
“We should run,” he said.
“No, I think we’re better in the car.”
“Then get us the hell out of here!”
There was a driveway behind us, to the right, with no cars. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Upon exhaling, I pressed on the brake and shoved the car into reverse. I let up on the brake and turned the wheel. The right tires of the car jumped the curb, but the maneuver turned the car enough that I was able to then drive away in the opposite direction of Krissy, who was now speeding toward us.
Rather than go back onto Roanoke Boulevard, I turned further into the residential neighborhood, lights still off. Two blocks up, I took a left without slowing, which took a few miles off Brody’s tires, but I didn’t want the brake lights to alert anyone to our presence. This block had an apartment building with a small parking lot out front. I weaved into the lot and parked facing the street. As soon as I had the car in park, my foot flew off the brake and I killed the engine. Everything went black and silent.
Mason and I slumped down in our seats at the exact same time, as though reading each other’s thoughts. My eyes were at the level of the dash, just able to see the street in front of us.
Neither of us spoke. It seemed neither of us breathed.
Krissy’s blue sedan drove by but didn’t stop. I had never been more thankful for my dull brown hair in all my life. Jenna DeBoer’s shiny strawberry-blonde locks would’ve been spotted in a split-second glance.
We sat in the car for several more minutes. Krissy never drove by again, which worried me. For someone determined to have me follow her, she sure gave up easily on finding us. I glanced both ways down the darkened street, wondering where she was parked. Maybe she had seen us after all and was sitting idle, waiting for us to move first.
“How far do you think your house is from here?” I asked.
Mason shrugged. “Don’t know. Five blocks?”
Thirteen-year-olds without driver’s licenses were not a good source for approximating distances. His house was probably a mile or more, depending on the route. Mostly up hill.
I glanced at his legs. “Do you think you can walk it?”
“Yeah. My right ankle’s just a little messed up from when they tossed me out of the trunk.”
“Well, you can take some ibuprofen when you get home,” I said. “I don’t think we can chance driving the car out of here. She’ll be waiting for us to do that.”
Mason agreed and we exited the car as quickly as possible, closing the doors softly behind us. We kept to the shadows in the neighborhood, which wasn’t difficult given its sporadic street lamp set-up. Plus, there was no shortage of big trees and bushes, which created numerous shadowed spaces. It took us a while, but we eventually ended up back near the main road where I had veered away from Krissy. In an alley, Mason and I stood, peering around the side of a brick pawn shop. No cars were on the road, but there was no way we’d not be seen crossing it as it was lit in every direction by large street lamps and signs.
“Can you run with your ankle?” I asked.
“If I need to.”
“You need to.” I stepped out from the shadow of the building onto the sidewalk. “Come on.”
With no time to spare, I darted across the road, headed for a shadowed area between two small offices on the other side—a clothing consignment shop and a veterinarian. Mason was a few steps behind me with a grimace on his face. Once between the buildings, he sat down and exhaled loudly.
I watched the street. No big movements in any direction. No blue sedan.
We continued north, slipping between buildings, walking along fence lines, and darting behind shrubs. In a way, it was natural. Like some old childhood game of hide-and-seek being played out on a bigger stage. Except one wrong move wouldn’t end in taunting from friends. It would end with me in the trunk of a white Mercedes, or sitting next to Little Bobby on his sofa. Or maybe I wouldn’t even see the end coming. Things would just fade to black and that’d be it.
A half a block down from Mason’s house, we hunched behind plastic garbage cans. There were quite a few cars on the street. No blue sedan, no Krissy.
“Anything look unusual?” I asked.
“No. I’m just glad my mom’s boyfriend isn’t here. He’d be pissed as hell if he thinks I ran away.”
I looked at Mason. “Your mom has a boyfriend?”
He nodded. “Leon.”
My skin turned to ice. “Leon?”
“Yeah.”
“Cross tattoo on his neck?”
“You know him?”
I nearly puked.
Chapter Nineteen
Shoulder to shoulder, Mason and I stood on his front steps. I pushed the doorbell, hoping to hell Mason was right—that Leon wasn’t home. It wasn’t safe being there, at the house where Leon might have been or could be returning to any moment. But my options for getting help—and answers—were running low. Mason’s mom had to know something and I needed all the information I could get.
The door in front of us popped open. The woman who had been yelling at Victor earlier that evening stood in front of us, wearing a green bathrobe with her brown hair in a ponytail, eyes red. She let out a high-pitched sound and grabbed Mason by the shirt, yanking him to her. He obliged and allowed her to cling to him. She said nothing, hugging and crying. I picked at my fingernails and stared at my feet as the reunion continued.
When his mom finally let go, she grabbed the sides of his face, inspecting and looking him up and down. “You’re hurt.”
He shook his head. “It’s only a scratch.”
The woman’s eyes veered over to me. “Who are you?”
“Natalie.”
“She’s a friend of Victor’s.”
The woman scanned me from head to toe. “How’d you find him?” She looked back at Mason. “Where the hell have you been?”
Mason and I exchanged a quick glance.
“I was just hanging out with some friends, Mom. I’m sorry, I shoulda called.”
“Damn right you should’ve,” she said. “You go get washed up for bed and then it’s straight to sleep for you. If you think you’re skipping school again tomorrow, you’ve got another thing comin’.”
Mason moved around her and disappeared into a back hallway.
The woman looked at me, hand on the door as if ready to shut it any moment. “Where’s Victor?” she asked.
“Have you seen Leon tonight?”
Her brow wrinkled. “What’s he got to do with anything?”
“Victor’s with Leon.”
She sighed. “Doesn’t surprise me. They hang out from time to time. Just wish it wasn’t in the middle of th
e night on a school night.” She shook her head quickly. “Sorry, you must think I’m incredibly rude.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Mary.”
“Natalie.”
She smiled. “You already told me that.”
I smiled back. The first smile in many hours. But it didn’t last long, wiped away by the image of Leon hitting Victor over the head at McNally’s. How this woman could date him was beyond me and it was super unclear as to whether she was friend or foe.
“Victor told me you’re his aunt, but that’s not true, is it?” I asked.
Mary took in a deep breath and waited a few seconds before answering, as if searching for a good response. “No, I’m not technically his aunt, but he’s like a nephew to me. Always has been.”
“How do you know him?” I asked. “Why is he living with you?”
She smiled a sad smile. “That’s Victor’s story to tell, not mine. You’ll have to ask him.”
“Yeah, well, I’d have to find him first.”
“What do you mean?”
My fingernails picked at one another once again. “Something happened tonight. Mason, he didn’t run away. He was kidnapped.” I studied her face, waiting for a freak out, but it never came. “Someone took him because they were mad at Victor, and now that someone has Victor instead. They hit him over the head with a gun and dragged him away. They have him somewhere and I don’t know what to do.”
Mary didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
“Did you hear me?” I asked. “Your son was kidnapped.”
“I know.”
My body swayed back. “You know? Did you get a ransom or something?”
“No. And it doesn’t matter how I know, I just do. I’ve known for a while.”
“Did you call the cops?”
“The proper people were alerted.”
The proper people? In a normal universe, that would be the police. But in this messed up universe, who knew who Mary was referring to.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to look her in the eyes. “Leon was the one who hit Victor over the head with a gun, knocking him out. I saw it happen.”
