The Redemption Lie

by Amanda J. Clay

  She sank to the bar floor and fell against the cabinet. This was all supposed to be behind her. She’d been so young then. So vulnerable when Luther had found her at a Sacramento State party, just waiting patiently for his kind of trouble to come along. But she’d been just a kid. Stupid. How long was she supposed to pay for her imprudent youthful mistakes?

  She had to stop and remind herself that some people paid a lot more than she had. Her atonement wasn't going to be so simple.

  New evidence.

  Luther’s organization.

  Valuable resource.

  Rogue fear crawled around in her gut. It was like hearing Satan was still walking the Earth—no qualms about dismembering his enemies right before he burned them alive.

  She shook her head. No, Luther was dead, and everyone involved in that drug ring was in jail. The organization was dead. Whoever Beck Graham thought had taken up Luther’s reigns had nothing to do with her. They probably didn’t even know she existed. Nina had nothing to worry about.

  Nina breathed slowly, trying to re-balance herself against the chaos.

  Most people have no reason to know how memory can turn rogue and feral, becoming a force of its own and one to be reckoned with.

  She could still see Luther’s eyes the night he approached her at that house party as she stood clutching a cup of vodka and trying to stay steady in platform stilettos. That was the thing she remembered most about that night—Luther’s eyes. Strange pale turquoise, like a Caribbean ocean. No one should have eyes like that. Pale glass that beckoned you through, showed you things you should not see. They were painful to look at but impossible to turn away from.

  He smiled at her, devastatingly charming. And suddenly all the questions Nina hadn't even known she’d been asking were answered in that smile.

  It took her only a moment to fall under Luther's spell. Suddenly the music of the party, the drunken laughter, the high-pitched squeal of sorority girls taking body shots, had all faded into the background. The mundane life that she had been told she had to live was suddenly gone—a wisp of an opaque dream. Luther was the X factor she had been looking for her entire life.

  Luther had known exactly what he was doing. He found someone vulnerable, but not pathetic. He wanted someone smart and strong-willed, but with something to prove. And, God, didn't Nina have something to prove? In the blink of a butterfly’s wing, Nina was a hardened criminal.

  She still heard her mother's voice: if only she'd gone to a proper college like her older sister Cammy, maybe none of this would've happened.

  Her mother, forever the oblivious elitist.

  But maybe Allison Sullivan had been right. Maybe if Nina had been just a little less self-centered, applied herself a little bit more, she never would have met Luther Kavka.

  Nina still blamed herself for so much—blamed herself for the people she'd hurt, both those she knew personally and those she knew her actions affected way down the chain. That was the thing about drugs. It wasn't just the war between suppliers and dealers that caused the hailstorm. It was when you dug down to the people that those dealers sold to, the poor kids hustling in ghost towns because they didn't have any other options. The South American villages torn apart as their inhabitants were slaughtered for greed. The young girls that got hooked too young, before they realized that it wasn't their only option. The next thing they knew they were turning tricks at cheap casinos for just one more night of survival.

  These were the things that haunted Nina at night. Because she hadn't thought about those people, the silent victims. For three long insane years, she only thought about herself. The exotic destinations, the parties, the power. She paid for those years with another three behind bars. Three years wasn’t a life sentence by most respects, but it was long enough to sit in that cage and think about what she’d done. To really think about the person that she wanted to be when she got out.

  Sometimes, in moments of weakness, she still thought about him with fondness. She knew what an atrocious waste of life Luther had been. She really did know that. But it still didn't erase some of the good memories. She still remembered how he made her feel like she was something more than her boring middle-class upbringing. Something more than Cammy’s shadow. What an idiot she'd been. But she’d felt so alive, like she was part of something so much bigger. And there had been good times, laughter and fun and exhilaration. He'd given her everything that she'd wanted, everything she’d needed to feel superior; a fancy car, clothes, trips to Paris. In a matter of a few short months, she'd gone from boring, forgotten, never going to amount to anything, middle-class Nina to international woman of mystery.

  “Don't be a fucking idiot,” Nina told herself out loud. You forget all the horrific things that he did to you. You forget all the horrific things he did to other people. You forget all the death and destruction he rained down on this community. There was nothing redeemable about Luther Kavka. That was the thing about men like that though, wasn't it? Sociopaths knew what they were doing. They were master manipulators, always leaving just a seed of doubt about their merit buried deep within you, so that occasionally it sprouted up like a spring tulip, fragrant and beautiful and reminding you of better times.

  Nina stood and angrily thrust the bar towel into the sanitary bucket. The bleeding had subsided but she wrapped a gauze around it. She wasn't thinking any more on this tonight. She poured another cold draft and sat on the bar top. No, she'd rebuilt her life, a really fucking good life. She would never get to go back and change her mistakes. She wouldn't get to take back all the things that had led her down the dark path. She wouldn't be able to take back the harsh words she said to her family in fits of anger and rebellion. She’d never be able to take back the lives she'd ruined through her part. But she’d do her part now. She could be there for the girls at the restaurant, help them avoid one more mistake that might be fatal. She had 25 employees relying on her and she wasn't going to mess that up.

  In time, she hoped she could make it up to her sister, her parents. Get the chance to be a part of their lives again. She knew she didn't deserve it just yet. She was headed down a long path of redemption, and she knew that it was a marathon, not a sprint. She had a long way to go, but she was determined to get there in one piece.

  She didn't care what Beck Graham and the DEA dangled in front of her. She would never get to where she needed to be by helping them. They could take their evidence and shove it up their well sculpted asses.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw another text from Johnny.

  Come on girl give a guy a chance. I know you're busy, but I’m so charming. Bowling tonight?

  ;-).

  Nina rolled her eyes but couldn't help but laugh out loud. She did have to give the guy credit for persistence. And she had to admit it fanned her self-esteem a little.

  She pictured Johnny, bright eyes, sweet dimples. One half boy next door, one half frat boy. Perfectly fine. Perfectly safe. Johnny was the kind of clueless harmless dope Cammy would've taken home. Cammy who had married a grown-up version of Johnny who worked in accounting and drove an Audi and liked Sunday football and golfing. Likely the kind of guy who liked lights-off missionary followed by sports news.

  She rubbed her phone with her thumb and considered it. Maybe one more date couldn’t hurt. If anything, it would take her mind off this new bombshell that just went off in her front yard.

  She slipped her phone back in her pocket. No, the last thing she needed right then was another distraction.

  Chapter 4

  Nina was always relieved to come home to the quiet serenity of her mountain home. There nestled among the ancient redwoods and the crafty woodland creatures, surrounded by the smell of pine and old wood, she could relax into her own thoughts.

  When Nina got home that night, she couldn't ignore the persistent fear rooted in the deep of her gut. Stress beat against her temples, sending throbbing pain down her neck and shoulders. So much for a relaxing evening. She'd spent
the last three years trying so hard to forget everything that had happened, just wanting to move on. The last thing she needed was some overly eager trigger-happy agent dragging her back into that hell. She knew she would never fully move past that time of her life, it would forever be scars on her skin. But like the victim of a bad accident she had learned to live with them, embrace them.

  The small cabin home was dark and quiet when she stepped in. Moonlight danced through the curtains, playing peek a boo with the inky shadows. She thought of the dark layers of menace underfoot; of the wolf outside her window, masked in the sheep’s disguise of a serene mountain town.

  She flipped on a light switch and set her things down.

  “Here kitty, kitty,” she called into the darkness. She waited a beat and then heard the faint patter of tiny kitty feet. She felt something furry brush against her leg, offering a small affectionate purr and a mew.

  Nina reached down and picked up her cat, scratching his head as he dug his claws into her arm affectionately.

  “Well hello, Monsieur Toulouse. Did you miss me all day?”

  Toulouse flexed his claws against her shoulder, sending a small comforting sting into her flesh.

  She set Toulouse down and move through the room to the kitchen. The old wooden house was a far cry from the dilapidated shed she’d picked up on the cheap when she first got back to town. She invested quite a bit of time, sweat, and money into restoring it into the turn-of-the-century rustic hideaway it deserved to be. But, it was still old, and prone to must, mold and the grouchy creaks and ticks of an old house settling for the night. The last bit of summer rain had caused some unexpected leaks and the faint smell of pine seeped through. On her next day off she’d have to get around to patching it up.

  She did a sweep through the house, checking the window latches and ensuring the back door was locked. She checked her gun in the bedside table and the long hunting knife under her pillow. With everything in order, she went to the kitchen and opened a can of fancy tuna for Toulouse and poured herself a glass of Sangiovese. She was utterly exhausted from all the transpiring events. Her encounter with Beck Graham and forced sojourn to the past had drained her.

  She flicked on the little gas fireplace and picked up her latest book. She settled into the couch, wrapping herself up in a faux fur blanket, planning to lose herself in a good story of perseverance. Something she often needed to remind herself it was still possible.

  Toulouse jumped up, settling into her lap, licking the remaining tuna from his paws. Even in the summer the mountains turned brisk and chilly in the evening, and she loved the feel of the cool fresh air blowing in as she sat engulfed in warmth.

  She read a few pages, but she couldn’t focus. Her mind kept drifting to what Beck had said. She wanted to do the right thing, she really did. In her heart she wanted nothing more than to see every last one of them put away, but was it worth risking her own life? For years she had feared the retaliation for what she’d done. She’d seen the organization inflict punishments far worse than death to those that had crossed them. The screams of men eaten alive by rats and limbs shattered by mallets still haunted her.

  The snap of a tree branch snapped her to attention, her alertness at the ready. She didn’t dare breath as she listened intently. Footsteps.

  Toulouse whined and jumped off her lap at her sudden movement. He sat in front of the couch, ears back. Slowly, she closed her book and glanced around. The firelight cast a honey glow across the room. She heard it again—a sound as faint as the flick of a fingernail against the wind. Nina swallowed and counted to ten. Was this real? Was this part of the never-ending dream?

  Toulouse growled, low and feral.

  Real.

  There was a knock at the door. Nina yelped before she could stop herself. Toulouse hissed. A thousand nerves came to attention at the base of her spine.

  “Dammit, woman, control yourself,” Nina said in a low growl. She reached down and tried to pick up Toulouse but he scrambled out of her arms, scratching her in the process. He scampered off down the hall.

  “Really defining the term scardy cat, aren’t you?” Nina said under breath.

  The hair at the base of her spine stood, nonetheless. She gingerly reached into her handbag and pulled out her .38.

  She faced the door, counting to ten. She cocked the gun, then thought better. Likely it was a neighbor or a lost stranger passing through. This was a remote area and any number of emergencies could come up. She didn’t want to freak whoever it was out. She slipped it into the back of her jeans and pulled her tee shirt over it.

  She slowly opened the door to find a man standing there. His beard hung almost to his clavicle—rugged but not entirely unkempt. His small, dark eyes pierced through the darkness with an ebony glint. Nina swallowed.

  “Hello,” she said, her voice coming out broken and meek.

  The man spread his mouth into a wide grin, flashing yellowed teeth. A sense of familiarity came over her, as though she knew him. But she couldn’t place it. The sensation was fleeting like the tail edge of a dream, the full picture of it just beyond her grasp.

  “Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but my truck broke down. Think I could use your phone?” the man said, his voice tinged with the ghost of a country lilt.

  Nina’s spine tingled. Her senses went into overdrive. She closed the door slightly and studied her visitor. His long hair was tied back, his beard was slightly scraggly, his face was young, but the subtle lines encasing his sharp eyes landed him a certain mystery. No, she didn’t trust him. Something in his smile was wrong, offset. Something in the air had a vile energy. Nina had learned long ago to trust her instincts. If something felt off, it usually was. If more women trusted their instincts, instead of ignoring what the world liked to make fun of, more of them would still be alive.

  Every instinct in Nina's body came alive with alert. She wanted to whip out her gun. She wanted to slam the door shut, run to her bed and climb under the covers.

  “Sorry to hear that. But I guess that’s what cell phones are for,” she said.

  The man smiled regretfully. “I would, but I don’t get any service up here. Not exactly a hub of towers I guess. Thought maybe I could use your house phone to call a tow.”

  Nina stepped back slightly but forced her spine straight.

  “Sorry, don’t have one. But you’re only about a mile from the Village. Plenty of places there with phones. Best of luck.”

  She started to close the door but his hand flung out to stop her. Her veins iced over, her lungs clenched. She met his hard dark stare and glimpsed the Apocalypse within them.

  The Devil ain’t in the Darkness, he’s a rattlin’ ‘round outside…

  “What is it you want?” Nina said. Her hands dug into the wood of the door, every muscle trying to pull it closed but her body not moving.

  He smiled again, a smile that could peel flesh from bones. “Just need to use your phone, ma’am. Don’t want to walk all the way to town in this darkness. God knows what lurks out here in these woods. I’m sure you’re more neighborly than to let a stranger wander around in the dark?”

  “I don't think you're my neighbor.”

  “You really know all your neighbors? I might be.”

  “Yes, I do in fact. It's a small town. And you're not one of them,” Nina said.

  The man shrugged. “You got me there. Or as the Lord says, we are all thy neighbors.”

  “Look, if you want to just wait right here, I’ll call you a tow truck.”

  “Well then, I'd appreciate any help you can offer,” the man said.

  Quickly Nina shut the door and locked the deadbolt. Think, Nina, think.

  Maybe she was overreacting. He could just be a lost stranger. The woods did attract some strange characters. But every instinct told her otherwise. She ran for her cell and started to dial the police. There was another loud pounding at the door. She screamed, dropping her phone.

  She knelt, finding her breath and equilibrium.
She reached into her jeans and pulled out her gun.

  She checked the chamber and stood. Quickly she dialed 9-1-1.

  The pounding continued.

  “Ma’am, why don’t you just let me in? It’s right cold out here.”

  Nina ignored him. Ignored the pounding. Something in his voice—haunting and familiar. A voice that had spoken to her as she slept. A voice that had taunted her. She couldn’t place it. Her head spun.

  “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

  “Um, hello? Yes, there’s an intruder at my house. 1650 Pine Tree Ln.”

  “Yes, ma’am, please stay on the line. We’ll send a car out immediately.”

  Nina leaned back against the wall and breathed. Immediately in Tahoe Village could be 20 minutes.

  By the time the police car arrived, the pounding had stopped. When the doorbell rang, Nina found only a uniform standing there.

  “Everything ok, ma’am? You called about an intruder?”

  Chapter 5

  Nina’s lungs worked as she ran along the lakeside path, breathing in the fresh air, testing their elasticity. Her feet hit the pavement in gentle cadence, her hips swaying to the steady beat of Social Distortion. It was a rare day off, Reina was acting manager today. And Nina was determined to allow herself some rejuvenation time.

  She’d get in ten miles or so then treat herself to a nice brunch at Robin’s Nest, complete with a carafe of mimosas. Maybe she’d even get a massage. Her aching lower back could certainly use it.

  She’d barely slept last night after the man at her door had vanished into the night. She knew she was over thinking it—just letting paranoia run wild—but it was a persistent buzz in the back of her mind. It was just too strangely timed with the arrival of Beck Graham into her life.

  The summer day bustled with warmth and tourism. Lake Tahoe was not a place of subtlety. It was bold, the colors bursting alive against the canvas background of the mountains, rich blues, bold greens. Every day was like a painting, a swell of emotions splashed across the mountain sky. It was for this reason that despite high unemployment and fickle tourism, people stayed. You could lose yourself forever in these mountains. It was mostly why Nina come back despite the memories.