Fight Dirty

by CJ Lyons

  The silence that followed the slap seemed endless. Deidre and Nelson were trapped by some unseen force. Nelson raised his hand. Micah stepped forward, ready to defend Deidre, but instead of striking her, Nelson touched his cheek in surprise. He blinked, opened his mouth to say something, then fell into Deidre’s arms.

  Deidre wrapped herself around Nelson, and together they sank to the floor.

  “Nelson,” Deidre crooned, soothing her hand across the Red Shirt’s face, pulling his head onto her lap. “Why? You were my strongest warrior. How did you lose your faith?”

  Nelson shoved her hands away and pushed onto his knees, facing Deidre. “I’m aging out of this joint next week. My parents left me here for almost two years. Left me here to rot. In all that time, the Rev never called me in for any personal salvation. What’s that mean? My soul isn’t worth saving and yours is? Or is it because you’re fucking the old man?”

  His voice broke with unshed tears. It was obvious where the real source of his anger and pain lay. He was in love with Deidre. Faced with being forced to leave her, knowing she would never follow or reciprocate his love, it had driven him to rage. He wanted to hurt her, destroy everything she’d built.

  Morgan knew the feeling. It was exactly how she felt about her father. A twisted love-hate that couldn’t be put into words.

  Deidre wrapped her arms around the Red Shirt and pulled him to her. Morgan couldn’t hear what she whispered into his ear, but his shoulders twitched with silent sobs.

  Micah took a step to the door. Deidre glanced up, not at Micah, at her. The newcomer. The one who’d upset the delicate balance of the sizzling stir-fry of adolescent emotions that was ReNew.

  “You three. Wait for me in the room across the hall. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

  Morgan followed Micah and Tommy into the classroom across the hall. There were no desks or chairs. The only decor consisted of more ReNew banners with their promise of a rainbow sunrise. In the corner a group of khaki-clad students sat in a circle on the floor, passing a Bible and reading from it under the watchful eye of a Red Shirt.

  “Why did you do that?” Morgan asked in a low voice. “Offer yourself to him? You can’t show them any weakness or they’ll slaughter you.”

  Micah gestured for Tommy to join the others as if hoping that by blending in, Deidre might forget him. When he started to follow Tommy without answering her, Morgan grabbed his arm, tired of all this nonsense and more than ready to get out of there.

  “I don’t need any of your paternalistic crap,” Morgan snapped.

  Micah was silent. He didn’t look at her. He watched the other kids around them, especially the Red Shirts.

  “Need me to explain what paternalistic means?” she asked, annoyed when he didn’t answer.

  “It means treating someone like they’re a child.” His gaze met hers, then slid off again. “I wasn’t treating you like a child, Morgan. I was treating you like you were one of us.”

  “I told you, I’m not.” Last thing she wanted was him playing hero, getting in her way.

  “Doesn’t matter why you’re here. While you are here, you’re one of us.” He turned and faced her, accepting the weight of her stare without flinching. “And in here, we watch out for each other. Nothing paternalistic about it—it’s the only way to survive.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Nelson entered the classroom and beckoned to Morgan. To her irritation, Micah stepped forward between her and the Red Shirt. Had he heard nothing she said?

  “Deidre wants to talk with you,” Nelson told her. He placed a palm against Micah’s chest. “Just her.”

  The two boys faced off, but Morgan ignored them and walked to the door. She remembered Deidre’s rules: not looking a Red Shirt in the eyes, not speaking, not crossing a threshold without permission. It worked, because Nelson left Micah alone and joined her.

  “Follow me,” he ordered.

  They left, but not without Morgan looking back and giving Micah a nod, letting him know she was in control. It did nothing to ease the worry from his face. If he only knew what she was capable of . . . of course, if he knew, he would have never let her get close to any of these kids, kids he obviously cared about and felt responsible for. He would have made sure she was locked away, to protect them from her.

  It was the first time she could ever remember feeling regret about the truth of who she was. Just an instant, but it was an instant of weakness that she despised. Can’t change the past, she reminded herself as she shuffled down the hall behind Nelson.

  He led her to what could only be the music room. An empty classroom, identical to all the others she’d seen, barren of all furniture, not even any gym mats or plastic chairs, the only thing in it was a small upright piano without a bench. It was positioned facing away from the windows so that whoever played could sit on the radiator grill.

  No one played it now. Deidre leaned over the back of the piano, staring across the keys out the window to the March landscape appearing stark and cold in the glare of the spotlights ringing the school’s exterior. A no-man’s-land between winter and spring filled with brown grass leading to a brown forest, barren twigs scratching a moonlit sky. Deidre stroked the keys as if stroking a lover’s cheek, gentle enough that she caused no sound.

  Morgan watched Deidre out of the corner of her eye, waiting. Nelson shifted his weight in the doorway behind her, made a small sound. “Do you want me to stay?”

  Deidre shook her head without turning around. Nelson waited a moment longer, then finally left, closing the door behind him. The sound of the latch catching seemed abnormally loud, but Deidre didn’t flinch. Her fingers caressed the keys, forward and back, forward and back.

  Finally she pressed one white key. A single tone filled the space before dying.

  “I imagine you’re confused,” Deidre said, her voice soft but loud enough to carry to Morgan.

  “Yes,” Morgan answered, still not looking up.

  “You don’t know what to expect.”

  “No.” Morgan let the silence grow, sensing Deidre wanted to talk—just as Micah had earlier. It was a useful tool, silence. Norms hated it, always wanted to fill it up, would tell you their deepest, darkest secrets just to end the silence.

  Deidre sighed, turned to face her. “I’m sorry you heard that. What Nelson said. He’s upset about leaving his family.”

  “I thought he was going home next week,” Morgan ventured.

  “You don’t understand. We’re his family—not the parents who abandoned him. Just like we’ll be your family. If you follow the path and truly repent. You want to repent, don’t you, Morgan? You want to shed your sinful ways and be ReNewed?”

  Morgan nodded, an eager sheep. “Yes, yes, of course.”

  “Good. That’s all I want for you—for everyone here. That’s all the good Reverend Doctor wants as well.”

  “But Nelson, what he said—”

  “He was wrong. The good Reverend Doctor isn’t interested in carnal knowledge. All he’s interested in is saving souls. Cleansing us all from evil.” Deidre’s shoulders sagged as if she carried a heavy burden. Her palms went to her belly. “It’s my job to carry your sins, to cleanse them.”

  Morgan nodded even though she had no idea what the hell Deidre was talking about. The silence lengthened, Deidre’s attention wandering back to the piano.

  “Do you play?” Morgan asked.

  Deidre shook her head. “Not me. There was a girl, Bree. She made such sweet music—it was the sound of angels come to dance among us. She understood.”

  More silence. Deidre didn’t seem to mind it, so Morgan pressed her. “Understood what?”

  “Bree understood me. My job. How important it is that someone lead. The price to be paid. She was willing to take up my burden, to help me escape. All we needed was a little more time—”

  Again her hands
moved to her belly. Morgan doubted she was even aware that she did it. Deidre reminded her of Bree’s mother, Caren. Emotions zigzagging in every direction from the raging lunatic fanatic attacking Morgan earlier to healing lover comforting Nelson and now to quiet, reflective true believer. Which was the real Deidre?

  The girl had been here seven years, she reminded herself. Maybe they were all part of her—maybe she had no idea who she was or what was real anymore, a shattered mirror, each piece reflecting a sliver of the truth but never the whole.

  “She left without you?” Morgan risked asking. “This Bree? She left you behind?”

  Deidre jerked her head up. “No. You don’t understand.” Her tone sharpened, slicing through the air between them. “I was the one who was meant to go. Bree was meant to stay, take my place. It was my time to be free.”

  Morgan stood silent, letting the emotions settle around them both. Did Deidre really think that? That Bree would stay and take her place here rather than return home, to the freedom of the outside world? It sounded like the delusions of a desperate woman. And if there was one thing Morgan’s father had taught her to know and use, it was desperation.

  “What did you mean? When you said you knew who I was, that I didn’t fool you?” It was a risk, challenging Deidre’s delusions, but Morgan’s curiosity got the better of her.

  Deidre whirled on her, her glare piercing. “I know you. I see the truth. You are a sinner, just like me. You know sin, you know blood, you revel in it. You understand salvation only comes through pain.”

  She stepped toward Morgan, her face flushing with excitement. “I was wrong about Bree. She wasn’t who I’ve been waiting for. It’s you. You’re the one. The sacrificial lamb. You’ll carry the sins, the blood for all of them. Just like I’ve done.”

  Sacrificial lamb? Morgan? Deidre was mad, utterly mad. Morgan stared, half-tempted to slap the other girl back to reality. Her hand rose, but then she dropped it. Challenging Deidre wasn’t going to get her any answers about Bree.

  None of these kids could help her. Best thing she could do was find those records and get the hell out of here.

  Deidre paced a circle around Morgan, scrutinizing her. “You’ll do. You’re strong enough. You’ll carry the blood.”

  Suddenly she stopped and clapped her hands like a child getting ready to blow out her birthday candles. “Nelson! Take her away.”

  Nelson popped inside the door so fast Morgan knew he must have been listening.

  “Take her to Iso. Her and Micah Chase. No one is to speak to her. No one except me.” She grabbed both of Morgan’s hands, just as she had earlier. Morgan resisted the urge to jerk away. Deidre’s eyes shone, as she squeezed tight. “Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you. The good Reverend Doctor will be so very pleased with your offering. I just know it.”

  Then she let go, spun on her heel, and danced away, leaning over the piano and randomly hitting notes with gleeful abandon. Nelson took Morgan by the arm and ushered her out of the room.

  “You tell anyone what you saw, what she said, any of that crazy shit, and I’ll kill you,” he told her. “No. Better. I saw you with Micah. You step out of line, do anything to hurt Deidre, and I’ll kill him.” He shook her so hard she almost lost her balance. “Do you understand?”

  Morgan looked down before he could see the fury in her eyes and nodded sheepishly. She followed meekly, memorizing their path. What did she care about his threats or Deidre’s madness? She was getting out of here. Tonight.

  CHAPTER 39

  Andre listened to the two transmitters Morgan had placed, while Jenna drove them back to the city and not so silently fumed at the sudden upheaval of their plans.

  “This is exactly what I predicted,” Jenna finally said. “Morgan rushing off, doing things on her own, screwing us.”

  “Doesn’t sound like Greene gave her much choice.” He surprised himself, defending Morgan.

  “No way in hell Greene forced Morgan to do anything she didn’t want to do. A phone call? Would that be too much to ask? Save us from being embarrassed by our own client.”

  “She got the job done, planted the bugs.” Andre played Morgan’s initial conversations from her intake at ReNew for her.

  Jenna ID’d the voices. “That first one is Chapman, the director. The other is Benjamin.”

  “The guy Greene thinks killed BreeAnna.” What a mess. Yet, Jenna didn’t seem at all worried.

  “Yeah, but I met Benjamin. I don’t think he’d kill anyone. More likely he’d convince someone else to do his dirty work for him.” She inhaled, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Let’s go through this once more. Maybe we missed something.”

  “It all started with that party.”

  “Right. BreeAnna started acting out after that. We already knew that.”

  “Not so much acting out. Most of that Caren made up. More likely a reactive depressive episode, according to Nick. He said it would be common after a trauma like what happened to her at the party, especially if she didn’t get any counseling afterward.”

  “Plus going to school and seeing the people who’d abused her every day, knowing they’d never be brought to justice.”

  From her tone, it sounded like she might have some personal experience there. Andre filed that away for future exploration—times like this, he realized just how little he knew about Jenna or her life before they met. She never spoke of her family or growing up or really much of anything that happened in her past, other than cases she’d worked.

  “Yeah, I’m sure that didn’t help. Then she found the pregnancy test and realized her mom was having an affair—”

  “It was Caren who had the pregnancy scare, not BreeAnna?”

  “Right. Caren lied about that as well. Anyway, that’s why she shipped BreeAnna off to ReNew. To give her time to calm down before she did something they’d both regret and ruined Caren’s marriage.”

  “Prenup.”

  “Yep. Caren said it was her idea to bring Bree home early—that she missed her, especially since she’d ended the affair.”

  “Funny. I got the feeling it was Greene’s idea.”

  “Think that’s important?”

  “Not sure. I guess not—not if someone outside the family is responsible for BreeAnna’s death.”

  “Our mysterious midnight visitor.”

  “Which brings us right back where we started.” She thought for a moment and jerked her chin up as a thought occurred to her. “How sure is Nick that BreeAnna didn’t actually kill herself? I mean, she’d been locked up for two months with unstable kids, that alone might have been enough to push her over the edge after being raped and having to keep silent about it.”

  “Plus keeping her mother’s secret—she didn’t know that Greene knew about her mother’s affair,” he reminded her.

  “So she’s fresh out of ReNew, all screwed up by these secrets she’s got locked away, her folks leave her alone, and someone comes and they make things worse—” She broke off, leaned forward over the steering wheel. “What if whoever rang the doorbell was one of the people from the party? Maybe one of the guys heard she was home, figured she was easy prey—you know how word gets around at a school like hers. They would know all about ReNew. Kids like that, entitled, privileged, they’d see her as the perfect victim. Defenseless.”

  Actually, Andre had no clue how rich kids going to an exclusive prep school acted, but it was clear Jenna did.

  “I’d buy that, except how did they know she was home alone?” he argued. “No one except Caren knew she was picking Bree up that day, and they came straight home after getting Robert at the airport. There’s no record of Bree calling anyone. And it’s not like Caren and Robert advertised that Robert dragged her out for the night so he could beat the shit out of her lover.”

  “Yeah, okay. But damn, that would be a good reason to keep suicide in the m
ix.” She thought for a moment. “How did whoever came know she was home alone? Or home at all? And why would BreeAnna open the door to them?”

  “They must have been watching the house. Which meant they knew Bree was home from ReNew.”

  “Who would BreeAnna let inside at ten o’clock at night?”

  “Had to be someone she knew. Someone she trusted.” He rolled his window down, sucked in the cold night air hoping to clear the clutter from his brain.

  “Or someone she was used to obeying.”

  “Which brings us back to ReNew.”

  They hit the Fort Pitt Tunnel, the yellow glow of lights hitting the tile walls reflecting against the windshield like incandescent ghosts. As they sped out the other side of the mountain and over the bridge, Andre didn’t even notice his favorite nighttime view of the city’s skyline. “Jenna, we need to get Morgan out of there. Now.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” she asked, sounding truly puzzled. “You can’t still be worried about those kids? If Morgan didn’t fight the goons who grabbed her”—and from the recording it was clear she hadn’t—“then she’ll be fine.”

  Andre turned to glare at her. Why was he the only person who saw the danger? “We’ve just discovered that BreeAnna was killed. Most likely by someone at ReNew.”

  “Exactly. And Morgan is right there where we need her.”

  “Locked up. With a killer.”

  She glanced at him. “Can’t have it both ways, Andre. Either you trust her or you don’t. Personally, if our guy is the kind of coward who waits for a girl to be alone and wheedles his way inside her house, kills her, makes it look like suicide, then my money’s on Morgan.”

  “What about the other kids?” He wished he had the words that would make her see reason. He couldn’t even explain it himself, this itch jangling his nerves. Exactly what it felt like to have a sniper’s sights land on his back.