Unfiltered & Unsaved

by Payge Galvin

  “I have to go,” Hope said, and stood up. “Thank you very much.”

  “Wait! I said I didn’t want to know what you’re going to do with it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know something. Like what was up with the son of a bitch who kicked in the door last night?” Brittany caught her by the elbow as she unzipped the duffel bag and stuffed the gun under the magazine touting the accomplishments of ASU-RV’s latest football star. “Hey, is that Blake? I know Blake! Cool!” She grabbed for the magazine before Hope could stop her, and even though it didn’t quite come out of the bag, it came out far enough to reveal what was underneath it.

  They both froze. Brittany stared down at the cash, and while she was in a money-induced trance, Hope quickly shoved the magazine back down to conceal it again.

  “My God,” Brittany said. She sank down on her bed again, and lifted her gaze to Hope’s face. “Who the hell are you, and what did you do with Jesus Camp Girl? What did you do, rob a bank? Wait, that doesn’t make sense. You’d borrow my gun first, not after. What the hell, Hope?”

  “I can’t tell you what’s going on. Just—please don’t say anything. Please.”

  “That much cash doesn’t come without serious problems, you know that, right? That’s murder money, right there.”

  Brittany was right. If not murder money, it was at least blood money—stained with the memory of what had happened at The Coffee Cave, and of all the actions she’d taken since then. “I’m going to use it to help people,” Hope said.

  “Starting with giving me a single room? Was that for me, or for you?” Brittany was way smarter than Hope had ever given her credit for. “Where the hell did you get this stuff?”

  “I—” It hovered right in her mouth, burning like a hot coal, and she almost spit out the explanation. She’d told Elijah, but somehow that was different than telling Brittany. This wasn’t some high-school pinkie-swear promise; peoples’ lives and futures depended on her holding her silence. So instead, she just shook her head. “Let’s just say I found it.”

  “Trust me, sweetie, nobody loses that much cash and just forgets about it. It’s not a dollar on the subway; that’s at least, what, fifty thousand? That’s murder money, like I said. Someone’s looking for it. Was it that guy who busted in the door? You’re going to get me killed. My Jesus-freak roommate is going to get me killed for drug money.”

  “It’s not drug money!” Hope blurted.

  “You are such a liar. Nobody packs that much cash in one place unless it’s drug money, murder for hire, or ransom. However you look at it, it’s something someone wants to keep quiet, and that means someone’s going to kill us, don’t you get it? God! Give me my gun back. I’m probably going to have to shoot some fools.”

  “I can’t,” Hope said. “I need it. Brittany—” Brittany scowled at her and picked up her cell phone. “What are you doing?” Hope asked.

  “Calling the cops. I’m not dying for this!”

  “Please,” Hope said. “I’m asking you, please don’t do that.”

  “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t!”

  For answer, Hope silently unzipped the bag, took out three fat stacks of cash, and put them on the bed beside her.

  Brittany put the phone slowly back down on the table.

  “All I’m asking for is a day,” Hope said. “One day. Then you can call the cops and tell them whatever you think you have to. But there are some people I need to help with this money, and I intend to do it. Then I’ll be on my way, and I promise, you’ll never see me again.”

  “Okay, fine. But I’m going to take that gun back. With what you’re into, that’s trouble I really don’t need.”

  “Brittany—”

  “Not negotiable.” Brittany held out her hand, and after a long hesitation, Hope pulled the gun out of the bag and put it on her palm. “Sorry, but shooting some asshole with my totally registered weapon when you’re carrying this kind of dirty money means I end up accessorizing.”

  “You mean, an accessory?”

  “Exactly. Wait.” Brittany’s head cocked slowly to one side, but she didn’t take her focus off the money sitting on the bed next to her. “You said you’re giving the money away?“

  “Yes,” Hope said. “Almost all of it. I plan to keep enough to get me where I need to go, but everything else I’m giving away. So that’s why I’m giving some to you.”

  “Why?”

  “To keep you from calling the police,” Hope admitted. “But also, because … because as much as you’ve irritated me, as much as you’ve been mean to me, I think you need it. You never said so, but I know you got here on scholarship, and I know you’re short of money. I know you’ve been looking for a job but you couldn’t find one. I know you get depressed about it. So … consider it a grant. You’re not stupid, Brit. But you act out when you feel bad about yourself, and you get yourself in crappy situations because of it. I just want you to—take better care of yourself.”

  “You going to pray for me, too?” It could have been flung as a challenge, but instead, it came out softly, almost sadly.

  “If you want me to.”

  Brittany shrugged and looked down at her hands. She turned the cell phone restlessly, then put it aside. “Okay. Sure, pray for me. I can probably use a little divine intervention on my next test or something.” She paused for a second. “You know, you weren’t so bad, for a roommate. I mean, you were neat, and you were quiet, and you didn’t give me any shit. I guess the reason I kept pushing at you is that I—I sometimes wished I was more like you.”

  “Then we’re even,” Hope said. “Sometimes, I secretly wished I was more like you, too. I wanted to just … let go. But I couldn’t let myself.”

  “Until the pretty preppy guy?” Brittany raised her eyebrows. “Come on, confess your sins. You did, didn’t you? You totally did. You got it on with him.”

  “We’re not having this conversation,” Hope said, but she was smiling. Insanely, she was smiling.

  “I’m just happy to know that even saints hang their halos on the bedpost sometimes. Did he do that thing with his tongue …”

  “Really not having this conversation.” Hope zipped the duffel closed. “If that guy Skinner comes back …”

  “He’d better be careful if he shows his ugly face around here again, because this time I’m keeping my gun in easy reach. Besides, I’m totally calling my brother and staying at his place for a while.”

  “That’s good,” Hope said. She was surprised when Brittany suddenly, impulsively hugged her.

  “You be careful,” she said. “I can take care of myself. You’re all … nice.”

  “Not all nice,” Hope said. “I think I’ve left that behind. But I’ll be praying for you, Brit.”

  It was a good feeling, being hugged, and Hope hugged her back, and when illogical tears started burning at the back of her eyes, she pushed away, put the heavy duffel bag on her shoulder, and walked away.

  “Seriously,” Brittany called after her, “you should ask him about doing that tongue thing—”

  Hope closed the door behind her.

  ###

  She didn’t expect that Solomon would have kept Elijah and the others at the Rio Verde Valley Inn; he’d have moved them in case she called the police, of course. Like E.J. had said, they were mobile, and if Solomon was smart he’d have dragged them all off to another town, another score. But she did have something.

  She had the number to Elijah’s disposable phone.

  She hadn’t written it down last night, in the wake of that shocking text message, but for some reason it had stuck with her … probably because of the shock more than anything else. When she concentrated, she could still conjure up that text message, and the phone number.

  She pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot of the motel and dialed the number. It rang for a long time before it clicked a connection, and she heard Elijah’s voice whisper, urgently, “Who is this?”

  “Who do you think it is?” Hope
asked him. “Where are you?”

  “Van.” It was such a soft word it was almost lost in the sound of road noise. The van was clearly moving. “Don’t do this.”

  “I’m going to find you,” she said. “You want me to, don’t you?”

  There was a long pause, filled with the rumble of the van’s engine and the hiss of its tires. Then he said, “Yes.” Just that. Yes. And something that had clenched hard inside her let go.

  “Then tell me where you’re going.”

  “Flagstaff,” he said. “But—”

  Whatever he was going to say, he didn’t have time. She heard a shout on the other end, and then a struggle and someone female crying out, and then the phone went dead.

  Flagstaff wasn’t that far, straight up I-17. It had a small university in it, and she guessed that was Solomon’s basic strategy, hit the less-well-traveled schools, the more conservative the better, where people would believe the well-scrubbed approach much more easily. What was scary was that this new defiance from Elijah might be the last that Solomon would tolerate. He needed obedient slaves, whether they were willing or not, and E.J. had proven, more than once, that he wouldn’t be controlled that easily.

  Solomon might even believe that she’d been given the phone number, and this was all part of Elijah’s plan. Ironic that it was just the opposite—that he’d tried to break all ties with her and leave her behind to protect her, and his friends.

  Hope put the car in gear and headed for I-17.

  ###

  She was about an hour into the drive when her phone rang. She checked the number, afraid it would be Elijah’s, but that Solomon would be on the other end … but it wasn’t him at all.

  Hope hit speaker. “Brittany? What’s wrong?”

  “A lot,” Brittany said. “Look, I was down with the whole wait-twenty-four thing, especially for cash, but the fact is you didn’t pay me to lie to the cops.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. Wait, police? The police are there?”

  “They’re looking for you,” Brittany said.

  Hope’s heart fluttered, and she had to take in a deep breath. “Why?” she managed to ask, although she thought she already knew. Drug money. Murder money. Oh, God, it was all coming apart.

  “Apparently, they’re worried about you, because after that Breaking Bad extra broke down my door, he broke down yours, and you’ve been reported missing, I guess. I told them I saw you, and you were freaked out by the whole thing but okay. They want you to call, I guess, just to be sure you still have a pulse or something. I’m going to text you the number; it’s a Detective Perez.”

  “Okay,” Hope said. Some of the panic eased. Nobody was looking for her for The Coffee Cave incident, at least; that was something, if not everything. “I’ll call and tell him I’m all right. You didn’t tell him—”

  “Honey, where I’m from, you don’t tell the cops anything you don’t have to, and if you do, you get your ass witness-protectioned out of there. You’re covered for now. But if somebody comes asking about money—”

  “I know,” Hope said. “I wouldn’t ask you to get involved.”

  “Did you find him yet? What’s his name, anyway?”

  “Elijah.”

  “Of course it is. Religious girl goes for Bible-named guy. You couldn’t have fallen for somebody named Trent or something?”

  “If it helps, Elijah’s a criminal.”

  “It helps a lot. Thank you for throwing me a bone. Not, you know, a bone …”

  Hope found herself smiling, and she really knew she shouldn’t be. “Goodbye, Brittany.”

  “See ya. Or not. But you watch your back.”

  “God has my back,” Hope said. “And so do you.”

  “You’re weird. But … yeah. I do.”

  Hope hesitated for a second, then said, “One last thing. I don’t want you to think I’m meddling, but … stop drinking so much, okay? I worry.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know.”

  Brittany clicked off, and after a few more seconds, the tone rang for a text message. The detective’s number had come through. Hope picked up her phone and started to hit the link to dial, but then she hesitated. If she got on the phone with him, he could trace the call, couldn’t he? Did she want him to?

  Maybe she did.

  She thumbed the link, and the phone dialed just as she passed a road sign that read Flagstaff, 70 miles. It rang three times, then went to voicemail, which was something of a relief. She cleared her throat when the tone sounded for her to leave a message. “Hi, this is Hope Adams. I think you were looking for me? I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay, but that incident at my dorm scared me pretty badly. I’m heading back home to my folks, I think. I’m going to find another school where I’ll feel safe again. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not hurt or anything. I’m not missing, I’m just … moving.”

  That was, she decided, good enough. She hung up, and put on some more speed.

  Next stop, Flagstaff. She knew enough now about how Solomon worked to know the kind of place he’d pick to house his slave labor, and where he’d send them to work.

  She was going to find Elijah.

  And then she was going to set him free, however that needed to happen.

  Chapter 7

  It didn’t turn out to be quite as easy as she’d hoped, because despite all her good intentions, she couldn’t find Solomon’s hideout. None of the cheap no-tell motels that she checked had the tell-tale white van in the lot, and her cruise around the local university campus told her nothing. Maybe this time they were canvassing door-to-door in neighborhoods, or maybe Solomon had decided to change destinations when he’d caught Elijah on the phone. When she tried to call the number again, out of desperation, a recording told her it was out of service.

  She’d lost her only lead to him.

  Hope spent a precious few hours making contingency plans. She didn’t like the options, but she knew better than to underestimate Solomon now; she could only hope that he’d underestimate her. She bought a new phone—disposable, of course—and a reloadable cash card. And a new duffel bag, this one with the Northern Arizona University logo screened on it.

  Then she called Brittany, and made a plan. It wasn’t the best plan, in that it relied on Brittany doing something, but it was better than nothing.

  One more stop at the rental car place, and she was finally ready.

  Hope parked in the campus lot and walked to the University Center, which of course had a coffee shop in it; the smell of it still repulsed her, so she avoided the brew and bought a bottled water and a sandwich and took a seat with her ASU-RV duffel bag at her feet. There were plenty of students around, chatting and studying, texting, gaming; it felt safe and above all, normal. If Solomon or Skinner found her here, they wouldn’t dare a move openly.

  But she didn’t think they would find her, and that was a double-edged sword, because it meant she wouldn’t find them, either. She was losing energy, and her optimism, fast. The sandwich helped, and so did the water, but she couldn’t for the life of her think of any other roads to explore. Make another round of the motels, maybe. And hope that Elijah found a way to get a message to her.

  She was just finishing the last bite of her lunch when she saw a familiar face, and her whole body reacted with a flash of pure adrenaline. It wasn’t Elijah, though.

  It was Avita.

  The pregnant teen looked even more fragile and tentative in a school setting than she had in the motel parking lot. She’d showered and dressed in campus-friendly clothes, all neat and correct. She looked like a very young freshman, and Hope could understand why Solomon would want to keep her in his stable of workers; she had a certain vulnerability to her that made people want to help, and if helping meant buying a few magazines, well, sure. Who wouldn’t?

  Hope tossed her lunch trash, grabbed the duffel bag, and tried to look casual as she followed the girl down the hall. It could be a t
rap, of course; she was hyper-aware of the people around her, but she didn’t see Skinner, the one she’d really be afraid of spotting. Avita didn’t seem to pay attention to her, but she paused at an intersection to tie her shoe. Hope slowed as she came near, and after a glance around revealed no threats, she studied a flyer on the wall for an upcoming student political rally. There were a few liberals around, apparently. And they promised cake.

  “Are you Hope?” Avita whispered.

  “I am.”

  “Elijah said you’d come. But you need to be careful. Skinner’s looking for you too. He’ll kill you if he finds you.”

  Hope stared at her, hard. Some strange, newborn instinct in her was stubbornly telling her to watch out. She’d fallen for so much already—starting with Elijah’s initial approach, all the way up through his ditching her at the hotel—and she fought an entirely foreign urge to be cynical. What if she’s playing you, too? Are you willing to risk that?

  Well … she had to be willing to risk it. Because the alternative was to distrust a pregnant teen in trouble, and she couldn’t do that. Even if she was wrong and got betrayed, it would be so much worse to let Avita get hurt because of her own selfishness.

  So, with an effort, she shut up that nagging voice, and said, “Where’s Elijah?”

  “At the van. They didn’t let him out this time. He’s the hostage for me to come back. They’ll hurt him if I don’t bring enough cash, and hurt him a lot worse if I try to run.” Avita hesitated. “But something’s different now. I think—I think Solomon’s ready to get rid of all of us and start over. Maybe we’re too much trouble now.”

  “Get rid of you? What does that mean?”

  “Dump us somewhere,” Avita said. “It doesn’t matter what we say after that. We’re the ones people file fraud charges against, not him. He just changes whatever name he’s using and hires new people and starts over. It’s easy for him.”

  “He won’t …”

  “Kill us? Why should he? He doesn’t need the cops coming after him that hard. He’ll just kick us out and keep going.”