by Stacy Green
“So he can get to Preacher.” She caught on. “But here’s what’ll happen. I come in and talk, they offer me a deal. I take it and go to some safe place or shelter so I can get back on my feet. Even if Preacher does get arrested, his boys come for me. I get the ass beating of my life if I’m lucky. And I’m out of a job ’cause no pimp will ever trust me again.”
Now was the time. I could leech into her subconscious just like Preacher had, tell her I understood. I could even talk about my sister, about how I was damaged because of her. Bring up the dead trucker. I would read her expressions and know exactly what the next thing to say was. If she wanted money, I had it. Power, I had it. I could make her do what I wanted.
Instead, I could only manage, “I trust you. And you can trust me.”
“Sarah trusted you. Look where that got her.”
Her words sliced me as sharp as a switchblade. “Sarah talked about me? When? It had to be just before her murder.” I stepped too close, taking away her personal space, forgetting about anything but my own desperation. “What do you know?”
Riley must have seen something in my eyes, or maybe a sixth sense warned her she was up against someone much more dangerous than Preacher. Maybe I’d hinted just enough for her to be legitimately scared. And maybe she should be. I didn’t know what I’d do to protect my freedom.
“Sarah called me freaked out after she talked to you,” Riley said. “She didn’t really believe you were a con artist, but she thought you might be her way out.”
“Then why was she scared?”
Riley tugged at the ends of her scarf. “She’d been drinking. She did that too much. And she kept talking about how he was watching her, that he always knew what she was doing. She was afraid he’d ruin everything before she could fix it.”
I grabbed her shoulders. Riley flinched. I let go, but not before I gave them a hard squeeze. “Who? Who is ‘he’?”
“She never said. I assumed she meant Preacher. Especially when I heard she was dead, and he showed up with her locket.”
Fat tears welled in Riley’s eyes. “Sarah was trying, okay? She didn’t want to be involved, but Preacher had something on her. But she still tried to help us.”
“Help you how?”
She clamped her mouth shut, backing away. “I can’t say any more. Sarah was right. He’s always watching. If he’s not, then one of his boys is.”
“Riley, you can’t walk away from me. I need you to talk to Detective Beckett. Tell him everything you know.”
Her head snapped back and forth. “Can’t do it. Won’t.”
“You have to!”
“I ain’t got anyone else,” she burst out. “No one’s going to take me in off the street, give me a meal or two. Preacher’s the only one who ever said nice things to me.”
“Because he knew what you wanted to hear,” I shouted back. “You’re an easy mark for people like him. You sop up the compliments like a drug. He knows exactly what he’s doing every time he gives you anything. And so do you.”
“What are you getting at?”
“At some point,” I jabbed a shaking finger at her. “It’s not coercion anymore. It’s not trafficking. It’s your decision. At some point, the police are going to say, ‘You know what, you’ve had all the opportunity in the world to get out,’ and when you need them to believe you, they’re going to charge you and put you in jail. And Preacher will still be out here pimping and selling little kids. Let me tell you something. Your friend who got a ride on the green semi? You think she’s free and clear now? She’s not. She dared to find a way out, and Preacher sold her to someone else. That truck took her to Ohio, and she’s probably way worse off now than she was then.” If she was even alive. She might have been used and then tossed away.
Riley swallowed hard.
“And what about the little boy I told you about the other day? He wasn’t even ten. Taken away from his family, stuck in that semi with that nasty man. You know what he made him do. He was destined for Philadelphia, and probably for Preacher. If not Preacher, then someone just like him.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Her lips twisted, her hands digging into her hair.
“Because I want you to know what you’re protecting. Whatever Sarah was doing that got her in trouble, if it was talking to me or something worse, you need to man up and tell the truth.”
“You have no idea–”
“I don’t care!” The ugly burst out of me. “I don’t care what your consequences are, because I know I can protect you. I will stop Preacher. Detective Beckett will do right by you. So I don’t care about whatever fears you have. I am giving you an out your friends didn’t have. One that Sarah didn’t have.”
Tears dripped off Riley’s nose and into the blowing snow. As if I’d been dropped into a christening tub, I realized my hands and face were tight with numbing cold. Still, anger coursed through me at a frightening speed. The empathy I’d felt for the girl–that I still felt, somewhere deep–was buried beneath the intense desire to save myself and to regain control. I hated her for making me feel so shattered.
She cowered away from me, arms raised to cover her face. There were scratches on her hands to match the one on her cheek. Behind her splayed fingers were dull, frightened eyes. Her entire body trembled.
Without realizing it, my fingers had walked into my pocket, searching for the vial they wanted to be there. I saw myself throwing it on her, watching her fight for air and collapse, just like Brian Harrison. Would I feel remorse?
Chunks of broken bricks were scattered around the foundation. I could smash her head in before she knew what hit her. The darkness would give me cover. Who would miss her?
I stepped back.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” I barely opened my mouth in the effort to hold it together. “I’m freaked out, and I’m desperate.”
She sucked back a sob and wiped her dripping nose.
“You still have my card?”
She nodded.
“When you decide you want justice for Sarah, call me. Or call Detective Todd Beckett. I swear to you he’ll be fair.”
I left her in the alley before it was too late.
My breath came in hard gasps. Blindly, I made it back to Chris’s car. I fell into the seat.
“Christ.” He took my arm and twisted me to face him. “You’re white as a sheet. What the hell? Did Preacher show up?”
I shook my head and then pulled my knees to my chest without thinking of Chris’s expensive leather seats. Burying my face against my jeans, I curled into a ball.
“You’re freaking me out.” Chris nudged my shoulder and then tugged at my hair. I refused to budge, pinching my eyes closed and breathing in the smell of cold that still clung to my clothes.
Finally, his hand came to rest on my back. “What happened?”
I didn’t want to talk about it. I couldn’t voice it out loud. “Nothing. I’m just…stressed out. Please, take me home.”
He didn’t want to. He argued. Pleaded. Offered to buy me a carb loaded and extremely unhealthy breakfast, the kind he knew I usually couldn’t resist.
“Just take me home.”
He finally obeyed. The second he stopped in front of my building, I raced out of the car, shouting a promise to call him later. I wouldn’t keep it.
Inside my apartment, I locked the door and stumbled to the couch.
I’d truly wanted to kill her. Not for duty or justice, but because she’d pissed me off and I’d had enough. That truth absolutely terrified me.
22
Chris called on and off all day. I ignored him. Hours ticked by, and I sunk further into the couch. Any moment Todd and the other detectives would show up to arrest me. And maybe I wouldn’t put up a fight. What would be the point? Someone wanted me to take the fall, and I was certainly guilty of murder. The rest was just semantics.
Midnight came and went. Sleep tormented me along with the infomercials that seem to dominate the television. And then my b
uzzer rang. Glued to the couch with my own damp sweat, I felt as if I’d just stepped off the Flying Turns ride at Knoebels: swishy and sweaty and shaking with adrenaline, but this time it wasn’t driven by joyriding. Mac took me there during the summer of my freshman year of college. We’d spent the day riding the thrill rides at the park and eating all the food my mother said would kill us. Mac was going to be so disappointed in me.
Was the lethal injection table cold?
The buzzer wouldn’t stop. I stood up and nearly toppled onto my coffee table. Stumbling for a center of gravity, I shuffled to the door and hit the button.
“Who is it?”
“Justin Beckett. I’ve got to talk you.”
Immense relief nearly made me sink to the floor, and then déjà vu rolled through me. Last time this kid showed up unannounced, he dropped an atomic bomb on my life. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“It’s an emergency. My brother sent me.”
Since Chris still refused to see his newly discovered sibling, Justin was referring to Todd. A flicker of hope or a warning signal? Either way, I had to know. I pressed the button on the intercom so hard my finger turned white. “Come on.”
Justin moved quickly, softly knocking just a few minutes later. I didn’t hesitate. “Get in here.”
Still lanky, with the characteristic gait of today’s lost youth, Justin hurried into my apartment. His hair was a bit shaggier, but his eyes were brighter. He stood straighter than he used to, a new confidence coloring his once dark aura.
“You look good,” I told him.
He blushed. “Thanks. I’m seeing somebody.”
“I heard. Looks like she does you good.”
“Yeah.” He brushed his bangs off his forehead. “Listen, Todd sent me. He can’t contact you directly.”
Fear singed the hairs on the back of my neck. “What is it?” I knew the answer, heard it in the frantic tone of Justin’s voice.
“Tomorrow morning, the district attorney is going to charge you with Sarah Jones’s murder. They’re still waiting on the fibers, but he’s been convinced they’ve got a strong enough case without them. They broke your alibi.”
I expected to feel a resurgence of panic, for my legs to go weak and my stomach to revolt. But all I could do was stand and stare at Justin. My brain was aware of the irony of my being arrested for a murder I didn’t commit but probably would have eventually, and the unstable part of me wanted to laugh, but I could do nothing but stand in shock.
Finally, I spoke over sickly cottonmouth. “ADA Hale is charging me?”
“No,” Justin said. “The district attorney is handling this himself.”
So the client pushing the buttons had serious power. Senator Coleman’s greasy smile flashed through my mind, and I swayed. I grabbed the arm of the couch.
“Todd knows you’re innocent. He got into it with the chief, and he was kicked off the case.”
“And he sent you?”
Justin nodded.
“He’s going to get in trouble.” Why was he helping me? He thought I killed others, so what did the technicalities matter? I didn’t want to owe him anything. And I didn’t want the shame of knowing he’d helped me at great risk to his job and his own ethics.
“He didn’t use his phone. Used a pre-paid one like I have.”
I looked around my apartment, wishing Chris were here. “What do I do now?”
“We think you should hide.”
“What?”
Justin spoke so fast my addled mind barely kept up. “We thought about putting you on a plane, but they’ll track that. They might even catch you before you leave for the airport. Right now they think they can spring you out of sleep, but if your credit card is used, they’ll track you.”
I finally sat down. He’d lost me several sentences ago. “Hide?”
Justin sat next to me. He smelled like Aqua Velva. “I don’t know the details, but the guy behind this and his wife are willing to testify that you and Sarah had a bad relationship.”
“That’s not exactly true.”
“They’re willing to lie.”
“To hide his crime.” I couldn’t even feel disgust at the wife’s choosing to aide her husband’s sickness. She wasn’t the first, and she wouldn’t be the last.
“Plus other witnesses, and the phone thing and a bunch of other stuff Todd mentioned. He said if you get arrested, they’ll find a way to take it to trial. And then you’re screwed.”
“Not if I get a good attorney!” I lied to myself again. “Chris will help me.”
Justin winced at the name of the man who refused to acknowledge him, but he shook his head. “Todd said other people in the department know his theories about the Harrisons, whatever that means. They’ll start digging. He said you’d know what he meant. And that he’s sorry he didn’t keep that theory to himself.”
My head dropped against the back of the couch. That’s why the district attorney felt so strongly. If he couldn’t get me on one charge, he had more to go after, and whoever was pulling the strings would be happy, because I’d be silent.
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” I said. “My parents,” an involuntary shudder tore through me at the idea, “can easily be found. They know about my friendship with Chris. I’ve got some cash, so I can try checking into a low-rent motel, but that’s the first place police will look, and I don’t have enough cash to stay long.” And I didn’t want to face my mother’s smug attitude or see her revel in the glory of yet another child embarrassing her.
“No. The best place to go is the shelter I volunteer at.”
“Are you serious?” It wasn’t a bad idea. If I played the part, I could blend in. And I was good at playing a part.
“It’s crowded with this cold, but I can get you a bed. No one’s going to think of checking there, at least not for a day or two.”
“But what’s the point? I can’t run forever, and they’ll charge me when they find me.” Helplessness seeped into my system.
“It gives you more time with this Riley girl, gives my brother a chance to keep investigating. I’ll help too. And Chris, if he’ll answer my call.” He grimaced. “You’ve got to listen to Todd.”
Mousecop meandered in from the bedroom to check out the visitor. He jumped onto the couch and settled into my lap, gazing up at me with accusing eyes, as if he knew I was thinking about abandoning him.
“My cat,” I choked out, rubbing the top of his head. “I can’t leave him.”
“You won’t be gone forever, and I’ll take care of him. I promise.”
“You’ll be seen coming and going. They’ll watch my apartment. If they see you…”
“Then Chris will. You know he will.”
I wanted to call him and ask what I should do, but he was working, and he wouldn’t want me to go to a shelter. He’d try to hide me in some fancy hotel, implicating himself. My attention shot back to Justin.
“You can’t do this,” I said. “You’re trying to get your juvenile record cleared.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “I won’t let you go to jail.”
“Why? I tried to ruin your life.” These Beckett men had their priorities seriously messed up. What about revenge? Vengeance? The bitterness the rest of us lesser beings dragged around?
“But you didn’t. And you helped give it back to me.” He set his jaw, and I knew he wasn’t giving in.
My fingers wove through Mousecop’s long, silky fur. “You’ll make sure Chris takes care of him?”
“I swear.”
I didn’t want to go to the shelter. But it was a good idea, a solid plan. Better than the alternative. I wasn’t quite ready to give up. “I need to pack a few things.”
“Light,” Justin reminded me. “No weapons, and nothing that looks like it’s worth anything. Hide your cash in your shoe. If you’ve got a backpack, use it. If not, I have one.”
“I have one.” Valuable items were the least of my concern. If the police were planning on arresting
me, they’d search my apartment. I couldn’t leave the cyanide and the insulin in the hidden compartment in case they found it.
And I had a feeling I was going to need it.
23
Wearing my scratchy blond wig and the oldest coat I owned, I followed Justin onto the subway. We sat shoulder to shoulder, saying nothing. This time of night meant the train was mostly empty, save for the insomniac or night worker. Talking would have been safe. I just didn’t feel like it.
How had my life derailed so fantastically in such a short amount of time? And why did all the people who should despise me want to help me? I wasn’t sure which question made me feel worse.
Disappointed faces flashed through my thoughts, as real as the streaking lights on the other side of the train windows. My mother’s, laced with a smug satisfaction because she’d have something new to be a victim about; Mac’s, his skin gray and his heart weaker; Todd, because he’d really been hoping to be wrong about me; and Chris, because I’d made a stupid mistake and gotten caught.
Except I hadn’t made a mistake this time. Had I? I slogged through my murky memory, knowing the answer waited. I just didn’t want to see it.
I’d taken Sarah personally. Let my ego run the show. I wanted to embarrass her, to make her feel guilt. To make her understand I was the one in charge. And I’d gotten careless. I shouldn’t have allowed the confrontation. Shouldn’t have been so vain about the cashmere dress that shed so easily.
I should have listened to Chris and not tried to bring down the ring. It was too big for one person, especially someone like me who wasn’t looking for legal justice. I’d just as soon kill them all. My mistake was not walking away from Exhale. If I’d listened to Chris, he and I would be together, searching for Mother Mary. We might be slamming into dead-end walls, but I wouldn’t be riding the subway in the middle of the night on my way to hide at a homeless shelter.
We exited at Spring Garden station and walked the remaining blocks to the same shelter I’d found Justin at months ago when I was determined to pin Kailey Richardson’s kidnapping on him. My eyes teared up against the blistering cold, and my face felt like it was splitting in two. Finally the shelter loomed, its plain brick walls and dimly lit windows a glorious sight.
