by Sharon Potts
Something was burning her eyes. Tears. They were running down her cheeks. Oh God. What to do?
“Let’s go outside,” he said.
His arm was around her and he was leading her through the crowd. Past the bar area, the dance floor, and tables and couches. They were almost by the stairs. Just a little farther, then up the stairs and through the lobby and she’d be free. Or would she?
“It’s okay,” he said in her ear, like he knew she was frightened. “We’ll figure it out.”
Hurry, she wanted to scream. We have to hurry.
And then something bumped into her, hard.
“Going somewhere?” Tyra blocked them.
“What are you doing here with this girl?” Puck said. “Who are you?”
“What do you mean?” Tyra asked. “Angel’s my friend.”
“I doubt that.”
Tyra dug her nails into Angel’s arm. “What’s wrong, baby? Did this man make you cry?”
Puck touched his head. He was blinking his eyes. “Shit. What did you put in my drink?”
“In your drink?” Tyra asked. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m calling the cops.”
“You don’t want to do that, honey. Not after you made this poor sweet child cry. You brought her here and made her cry. And I’ll bet she isn’t more than fifteen or sixteen years old.”
“Hooow daaaare yoooo.”
Tyra slipped her arm through Puck’s. He tried to push her away.
“Why don’t we all go outside to talk?” she said, clinging to him. “I’m sure we can work it out.”
The big black bouncer with dreadlocks came over. “Problem?”
“Sheeeee—” Puck couldn’t get the words out. His head and arms swayed like one of those inflatable figures at a car wash.
“He’s drunk,” Tyra said. “Can you help him outside? We’ll get him home.”
“Sure thing.” The bouncer held Puck around the waist as easily as a mom with a toddler, and dragged him toward the stairs.
Tyra followed with Angel, pinching her arm as they went. “You little whore,” Tyra said under her breath. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Nothing,” Angel said.
The room was on fire—red, orange, yellow. Burn, baby burn.
“Well you better be sweet with him when we get back to the apartment. You got that?”
Angel didn’t answer. She was never getting out of hell.
Chapter 24
Angel drifted in and out of darkness. Sleep. She just wanted to sleep. Her head ached and she smelled cigarette smoke on the cushion. Bad taste in her mouth. She sank deeper against the sofa. Too tired to go to her room. Something warm and soft pressed against her back. She tensed. Someone beside her.
She tried to remember. The man from BURN. Swinging his arms in rage as they pushed him into the car, then collapsing. Back at the apartment. Tyra stripping the man, holding him up. Making Angel get naked. But the man was out, not cooperating.
Tyra yelling, “Fuck. It’s no good.”
Luis talking to Tyra. Telling her not to worry. Then quiet.
Sleep. Angel just wanted to sleep.
A weak light came in through the sliding doors. Almost morning. Angel shifted on the sofa, careful not to disturb the man. Why was he still here? Luis always got the men out when they were finished.
The man’s arm slid around her waist, his breath was in her hair.
He was still drugged. He couldn’t know what he was doing.
His hand cupped her breast. She felt him harden against her butt.
No, she thought. Please, no. She dared not move. She’d just lie here and let him finish. She’d squeeze her eyes shut and think about something else. Not the pain, the roughness, the dirtiness. Sex was awful. Who ever said it would be great?
Something else. Think about something else.
Holding her parents’ hands. She was little; they were big. One, two, three, up, they all sang. One, two, three, up. And Kate would throw her head back and laugh as they swung her through the air.
The man’s hand slid up and down her leg. Different from the others. Gentle, like silk and satin. His breath warm. He stroked the inside of her thigh. Higher, higher, his fingers danced. She relaxed against him.
He turned her toward him and nuzzled against her neck. His light beard tickled her. He held her face between his hands and kissed her. His lips firm. She opened her mouth. His tongue tasted sweet. Nice.
One, two, three, up. They swung her through the air.
He slipped inside her, easy. So easy. She held him there, tight. Don’t let go.
Don’t let go.
One, two, three, up.
Tighter, tighter. Good, so good. One, two, three, up.
One, two, three, up.
One, two, three, up, up, up.
She melted into him. She saw his face. The man from BURN. The nice man who wanted to help her.
Puck.
His eyes were closed, his breathing even.
She kissed his eyelids.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Thank you, Angel,” said a sandpapery voice just beside her.
Luis blocked Puck’s mouth with a chloroformed rag, then carried him over his shoulder like a dead man.
Chapter 25
“Ten more,” Jeremy said, as he hovered near the weight bench.
His client groaned. She was a gorgeous woman who looked about thirty-five, but had to be close to sixty based on the age of her oldest child. Her white ribbed tank top was soaked in sweat, but she balanced forward for ten more reverse triceps curls with a fifteen-pound weight in each hand. Her large breasts barely moved.
Ba-boom, ba-boom. The bass track of the music was as constant as a heartthrob.
The gym resembled an upscale club more than a place for working out. It wasn’t really Jeremy’s thing. He preferred Gold’s where the harsh light bounced off dull linoleum tiles, well-used equipment, small, threadbare towels. Here at David Barton’s, the towels were lush and large and so were the hourly fees for his personal training services.
“Eight, nine,” Jeremy counted. “Five more.”
“Nooo, you piece of shit.”
“Come on. Do you want the skin on your arms to hang like a turkey’s wattle?”
“Very graphic,” she said, but kept going, even after the extra five curls.
“Okay. Good job. Let’s stretch.”
She checked her watch. “Don’t have time. Nail appointment.”
“You’ve got to stretch or you’ll undo all of your hard work.”
“Bullshit,” she said, kissing his cheek and pressing a wad of bills into his hand. “See you tomorrow at eleven.”
“I’ll be here.”
He put the money in his pocket. Sixty bucks an hour. Not bad. And it sure beat being an accountant.
The woman disappeared through the dark corridor into the locker room. It was around eleven and Jeremy’s next client wasn’t until one. Plenty of time to get in his own workout. He headed toward the more serious section of the gym. Mondays in the middle of the day were pretty quiet. A few people came in during their lunch hour. And then there were the bodybuilder freaks who seemed to be here 24/7. Jeremy recognized a couple of them. Bouncers at BURN. He wondered if they knew he’d mentioned them to the detective yesterday. Probably not. Lieber wouldn’t have given out his name.
He went to the machines to warm up. The throbbing ba-boom numbed his brain and he went through his routine hardly thinking about what he was doing.
How weird it was talking to Lieber yesterday afternoon. His pulse had gone berserk when he noticed her coming into the gym. Not that he didn’t like her. He had always liked Lieber. But the sight of her triggered memories, one worse than the next. So many deaths, so much pain. And the first thought that came to mind was of his sister.
“Is Elise okay?” he’d asked.
And Lieber’s face had fallen. “Geez. I’m sure she’s fine. I’m sorry
, Jeremy. I should have called. I didn’t realize you’d associate me with—”
And he’d interrupted her and made like it was no big deal. That it was good to see her. And they’d gone out for a cup of coffee, where she told him about the congressman who tried to fly like Superman, but couldn’t.
He’d given her the names of everyone he could remember who had been at BURN on Friday night. She glanced up when he mentioned Robbie, but she hadn’t commented. Just took down everything he told her.
And when she left, he had felt like going after her. Begging her to stay for a while longer. Because as much as he hated the bad memories, there was something about Lieber that brought his parents back to him.
He lay down on the bench and lifted the barbell slowly over his chest. A hundred and sixty pounds. All the way up, then slowly down.
When he was alone, with time to think, the memories would come at him in a rush. His mother making breakfast, sipping coffee. His father bent over his computer in his office, Mozart playing in the background. Robbie sticking her tongue out at him. But wait, that came later. He always thought of Robbie with his parents. It was as though she was a bridge to them. An easy, accessible bridge. And without her, the connection to them was so much more painful.
Sweat soaked through his T-shirt. He lifted the barbell all the way up, then slowly down.
He wished he had the balls to call her. Seeing Robbie at BURN the other night was like being offered a candy bar, then having it pulled right out of your mouth. But he wasn’t going to call her. Let Robbie make the move when she was ready. If she was ever ready.
He raised the barbell straight up, then lowered it. Slowly up, then slowly down. His arms trembled under the strain. Slowly up, then slowly down.
There was a change in the air behind him. Someone standing nearby. Jeremy could feel eyes on him. A tense energy.
The barbell shook. Jeremy almost lost his grip. He brought it down cautiously, sat up, and turned. Brett was just behind the bench.
“Brett,” Jeremy said. “What’s up, man?”
“I want to know who the hell you think you are.”
Jeremy remembered Friday night at BURN. How pissed Brett had been that Jeremy and Robbie were talking.
Jeremy stood. Brett’s hands were in fists. He was a couple of inches taller than Jeremy, but Jeremy felt he had the advantage in muscle bulk.
The other guys who were working out slowed their movements and watched them.
Even in the darkened room, Jeremy could tell Brett’s face was red. A vein was throbbing in his forehead in time to the music.
Ba-boom. Ba-boom.
Brett spoke first. “Why are you talking to fucking detectives?”
So that’s what this was about. Jeremy felt a moment’s annoyance. Had Lieber mentioned Jeremy’s name or had Brett figured out that Jeremy had told her? “Chill, man,” Jeremy said. “She just asked who was at BURN Friday night. Everyone saw you there. It’s not like I was giving away any big secrets.”
“I don’t like my name thrown around.”
Jeremy started to reach for his barbell, but Brett grabbed Jeremy’s arm, his fingers digging in. “I said I don’t like my name thrown around.”
Jeremy pulled out of his grip. “Get your damn hands off me.”
“I want to know that you’ll keep out of my business.”
“Are you serious? What’s your problem?”
“Say it, Stroeb. ‘I promise to keep out of Brett Chandler’s business.’ ”
“You’re an asshole, Brett. I can’t believe Robbie’s wasting her time with you.”
Jeremy saw the punch coming and blocked it before Brett’s fist connected with his face. “Hey, man. This isn’t the place.”
“It’s your fucking fault,” Brett said. “What did you tell her about me?”
“I didn’t tell Lieber shit.”
“Not the detective. Robbie. What did you tell Robbie? She talks to you and the next thing I know she’s done with me.”
Robbie dumped Brett? Jeremy felt a warm sensation ooze through his veins. “Robbie’s a smart girl,” Jeremy said. “She can figure things out herself.”
Brett pounced on Jeremy, catching him in the chest and knocking the breath out of him.
Jeremy recovered and lunged toward Brett, but a couple of the bodybuilders grabbed his arms. Two others were holding Brett back.
“That’s enough, dudes,” someone said. “Go somewhere else if you want to beat each other’s brains out.”
Brett shrugged off the guys hanging onto his arms. He ran his fingers angrily through his spiked blond hair. “This isn’t the end, Stroeb. You’re getting in my face and I don’t like it.”
The two guys who were holding Jeremy released him. Jeremy picked up the barbell and walked away, the cool darkness all around him.
Robbie had broken up with the asshole.
Ba-boom, ba-boom.
Ba-boom.
Chapter 26
At a little after eleven on Monday morning, feeling as though she had nothing else to lose, Robbie got on her bicycle and pedaded. East. Toward the gym. To Jeremy.
Was she crazy? Or was this the sanest thing she’d done in months?
Yesterday, after Lieber left Robbie’s apartment, Robbie had studied the street map she’d marked up with South Beach clubs. But doubts about her plan to spend Sunday night looking for Kate at any of them grew. Was that really the most likely place to find her sister? The bottled water receipt Lieber had found in Joanne’s car had been from a Circle K in Key Largo.
Not South Beach.
Robbie wasn’t sure why, but she had this nagging feeling that’s where her sister was.
She biked down a side street, swerving to avoid a construction truck that was backing up. What if Jeremy wasn’t at work? Or what if he was and didn’t want to help her?
She turned onto Collins Avenue and slowed. Jeremy’s gym was up a couple of blocks, but the entire street was obstructed by equipment and men in hardhats who were digging up the road and sidewalk.
Robbie got off her bike and walked it. A temporary chain-link fence cut off all traffic.
She had to get to Jeremy.
She told herself it was because she needed his help. But was that the real reason? So much had happened over the last few days that she felt tangibly altered. As though she wasn’t the same person who had tried to distance herself from Jeremy these past months.
She maneuvered her bike around the fence, ignoring the shouts from the construction workers. The sound of a jackhammer started up and white dust rose all around her, settling on her hair, arms, T-shirt, and jeans. She kept walking, pushing her bike along.
But what about Jeremy? How would he feel about her showing up, especially after the scene with Brett on Friday night?
She stopped, only barely aware of the hammering. The ground vibrated beneath her, making her feel woozy.
Maybe she should have called him. But this wasn’t something she wanted to do over the phone. She wanted Jeremy to see her. So he would understand how much—
“Robbie.” The shout came from just ahead, beyond the construction. Through the cloud of dust. Jeremy’s voice.
She went quickly toward it, pushing her bike forward over broken cement.
And then she felt someone take hold of the bike and drag it beyond the torn-up street. The hammering stopped. The dust cleared.
“Jesus,” Jeremy said, still holding the handlebars. “Are you crazy? You’re in the middle of a construction site. You could get hit by flying debris or something.”
“I needed to see you.”
He was scowling, but at her words the frown lifted. “That’s interesting. Because I was on my way to see you.”
“You were?”
His lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. He reached over and removed a small piece of chalky debris from her hair.
“Why?” she asked.
The hammering started up again. Jeremy signaled for her to follow him. He lo
cked her bike against a post, then took her hand and led her down a side street toward the ocean. They reached the oceanfront path where Robbie liked to run. The wide buildings screened the construction sounds; they were surrounded by the rush of the waves breaking, the screeching of birds.
“So you were saying something about needing to see me?” Jeremy asked, ignoring her question. His black T-shirt was soaked through as though he’d just finished a workout.
Now wasn’t the time for an emotional watershed. She was here because of her sister. Whatever else was going on inside her had to wait. “I need to go to Key Largo.”
He tilted his head, waiting for her to continue.
A group of joggers ran by on the path, forcing Jeremy and Robbie to move aside. Robbie glanced over the barrier of sea oats at the wide expanse of beach. She turned back to Jeremy. “I think my sister may be there.”
“Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Lieber told me there was a receipt for two bottles of water in Joanne’s car. It was from a Circle K in Key Largo, and it was dated the Friday the girls disappeared.”
“But Joanne’s body was found here in Indian Creek.”
“I know. But I need to figure out what the girls were doing in Key Largo.”
“So you came to say goodbye?”
“Actually.” Robbie pushed her hair behind her ear. “I was wondering if you’d mind driving me. Sixty miles is a bit far to go by bike.”
He glanced up the street to where they’d left her bicycle just beyond the construction. “Yeah, I can definitely see where that would be a problem.”
Chapter 27
Robbie watched Jeremy. He was holding the steering wheel, his toolong brown hair blowing helter-skelter by the breeze through the windows of his father’s old red Corvair.
Jeremy had showered, changed into faded jeans and a white T-shirt, and cancelled his appointments before picking her up from her apartment. Robbie had also cleared her schedule with Leonard and asked for the next couple of days off.
As they drove, Robbie told Jeremy about her reconciliation with her father and what she had been doing to find her sister. They were soon out of Miami, heading south on the turnpike, windows open to compensate for the broken A/C. The conversation dwindled. Robbie looked out at tract-housing communities and car dealerships, then at groves of palm trees—unnatural, perfect rows of cabbage palms, royals, and silvery Bismarck palms.
