by Louise, Tia
“How do I do that without being suspicious?” I hold my arm down as I inspect my sleeve for any signs of the bug. It’s invisible.
“Get a drink. Hold it in front of you, chest height.” He demonstrates with a bottle of water.
It sounds easy enough. I grab my bag, and we’re out the door headed to Montage. We walk quickly up the sidewalk holding hands. I’m comforted to have him with me, but my insides are shaky. I can’t stop second-guessing myself.
“Where’s Molly tonight?” He glances at me, and I assume it’s the reason he thinks I’m so antsy.
“I don’t know. I texted her a few times, but she hasn’t responded.” I think back to her moment after our meeting with Candi this afternoon. “I hope she’s in her room, but she doesn’t tell me much these days.”
The crowds grow thicker as we approach the line of bars around Pike and Pine Streets. Mark pulls me to him when we see the sign for our destination.
“You go in alone and see if you can find him. I’ll switch on the receiver and hang back out of sight. Don’t be afraid. I’ll never be too far to save you.”
He’s big enough to make good on that promise against anyone now. His reason for bulking up warms my insides. My hero…
Everything is different from the night so long ago when he tried to save me from the darkness. We were brutally separated that night, and the memory of how it went down makes me hesitant to leave him.
The biggest thug wins…
My eyes are huge, but I step away from him, into the unknown. A shudder passes through my stomach, and I count my steps as I approach the garishly decorated club.
A familiar voice makes me jump. “Lucy!” Looking up, I see Joshua trotting from the alley to me. He’s wearing a vintage sharkskin suit, and his hair is now silver.
He stops in front of me, looking around. “You alone tonight?”
“Uh, yeah,” I glance at the clump of kids hanging in the alley where he was just standing. “Is Molly with you?”
“Who?” His brow creases.
“I mean… Maggie.” I am seriously fucking up the aliases on this job.
His eyes narrow a bit, and I know he’s onto us. “Haven’t seen her since the Redwood. Is that why you’re here? Are you looking for her? I can keep an eye out—”
“No. I actually… I was going to go ahead and talk to Brisbee if he’s around.”
“Oh, yeah! He’s right inside.” Joshua’s eyes sparkle, and he starts for the door.
My stomach twists, and my feet seem to be rooted to the spot. I can’t seem to go forward, insecurity blanketing me in waves. I’m not sure if I can do this. I try making myself go, internally commanding my feet to move, when someone bumps into me from behind, and I stumble forward. I look back to see another skinny kid in jeans and a beanie smoking a cigarette.
“Sorry.” He staggers toward the alley, and I’m irritated at his clumsiness. But it worked. It got me moving.
Mark is with me…
He’s never too far to save me…
I can do this. I’m not alone. Who knows? I might even get him to say something on the record, and we can send him to jail.
If I’m brave enough to go through with something like that.
One time, a long time ago, Roland told me I was wicked brave. I’ve never felt brave a day in my life, but having Jilly compels me to do what I know is right. It keeps my feet moving forward, if only to try and rid the world of one more abusive scumbag.
Joshua holds the door, and I go inside. The club is noisy and packed, and a live band is getting ready to play.
“The Hep Cats,” Joshua shouts at me, and I frown.
“What?”
“The band. They’re called the Hep Cats. They’re pretty good.”
My eyebrows flicker up, and I nod, trying to seem like I care. The truth is my mind is focused on one thing, and it’s twisting my insides into painful knots.
“There he is!” Joshua holds out a hand, and I see Gavin through the crowd.
He’s dressed more casually than when he met with Molly, but it only makes him seem taller, more intimidating. I need a drink.
“Can I get a drink first?” I shout to Joshua.
“Sure!” He leads me to the bar, and we face each other. “I’ll get you a Capri Sun.”
“What’s that?”
“Cherry vodka, pomegranate liqueur, limoncello, and sprite.”
My nose wrinkles, but he waggles his eyebrows. “You’ll love it. It’s better than the Dreamcicle shit you were having last time.”
“I didn’t like that one either.”
We stand waiting for the drinks, and Joshua studies me. “I’m not sure what you’re up to, but I like you.”
Pressing my lips together, I nod. “Thanks. I like your hair.”
He grins sheepishly. “I did it for Molly… I mean, oops! Maggie.” Our eyes meet, and he starts to laugh. “It’s okay. A lot of kids around here change their names. Look at Candi. Her name was Gert. I’d have changed it, too. That sounds like a bodily function.”
“Why did you change your hair for Molly?” I ask, trying to stay focused.
He shrugs. “Candi was kind of hard on her.”
“She can take it.” I lift my drink and sip it. It’s not terrible, way less sweet than the neon blue disaster I had before.
“Think she likes me?”
My nose wrinkles, and I search for an answer that won’t make Joshua feel bad. “She doesn’t really talk to me about stuff like that.”
He nods, and his eyes return to the bar. I don’t know if he believes me, but I’ve taken another sip of adult Capri Sun, and I know I have to do this now. Straightening, I lift my drink and step away from the bar.
“I’d better get this over with.”
He waves to me. “I’ll be here.”
He enters a lively discussion with another couple at the bar, and I’m not sure if he knows them or if he’s doing with them what he did with Molly and me—making new friends. Just like that.
Either way, the drink has taken the edge off my nerves, and it enables me to hold my hand the way Mark said. I only feel a little squeamish as I cross the crowded space to where Gavin stands at a back wall, his eyes on the band tuning and tweaking their instruments.
I’m within two feet of him when his blue eyes flicker and land on mine. It’s like a lightning strike, and the rest of the bar disappears. I’m trapped in his sinister gaze, the once-placid expression transforming into a frown as he recognizes me.
My lips part, and I do my best to control my breathing.
Inhale…
Exhale…
Slowly in and out.
No hyperventilating.
“Lara,” he says. “What are you doing here?”
“Gavin.” I lift my chin slightly. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
“What about?”
I swallow my fear, still my hand trembles as I hold the neon orange drink at chest height between our bodies. Mark is here…
“Are you afraid?” I manage to sound coy.
“Afraid?” He laughs, pushing off the wall. “Of course not. Follow me. We can talk in my office.”
He walks through the crowd, and I do my best to keep up with his fast pace. We go straight up the staircase at the back wall to a room with a large, tinted window overlooking the dance floor and bar below.
“Shut the door behind you,” he says, circling a small desk and sitting in the leather chair behind it.
The closed door muffles the noise of the crowd. Do I still need to hold my hand at my chest? I decide not, and put the drink on the edge of the desk, sitting in the wooden chair across from him.
“It’s been a long time,” he says, his eyes not betraying any emotion. “How have you been?”
He studies me. He’s looking for answers, for the reason why I’ve appeared here out of nowhere. I wonder how much he’s even tried to keep up with us since we left with Freddie, since the old place burned to the ground.
“I’ve been better.” My voice is calm, even.
“You look well. I heard you had a baby.”
I blink rapidly, my heart hammering in my chest. “Who told you that?”
I was careful, using fake names and staying off the grid when Jillian was born. I didn’t want Mark tracking me down, so how did Gavin? A flash of betrayal echoes through me, closing my throat. Only one person could have told him. But has Roland been talking to Gavin behind my back? Why?
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he laughs. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Let’s cut the crap, Gavin. If you know about my daughter, I’m sure you know why I’m here.”
He leans back, crossing an ankle over his knee. “I only heard about your baby through the grapevine. I actually have no idea why you’re here. You’ll have to tell me.”
If he thinks I believe that…
“Okay.” I inhale a steadying breath. “I’m here for answers. I’m here for you to admit what you did and tell me why—”
“Admit what I did?” I’m still breathing rapidly, worked up from the start of my speech, but he leans forward in his chair. “Admit that I took you in, took care of you, gave you a home, food to eat, a chance to live out your dream as a singer?”
“You don’t know anything about my dreams.”
His eyes are cold, level. “And you know nothing about me.”
“I know a little bit. What are you doing here… in Seattle?”
“Running a club. A very successful one, at that. It’s so much easier without the constant drain of the theater and the productions and the insurance. God, the insurance.” He sits back again, as if he’s just a normal businessman talking shop.
I’m not fooled.
“But you’re still dipping into the sex trade. I thought Guy was behind it, but it was always you.”
His eyes narrow. “Guy was a madman. I had to keep him on a leash.”
“Is that why you had the sex club?”
“Is that what you call it?” He chuckles, and my stomach turns. “He had certain tastes, fetishes if you will. I did what I could to keep him appeased.”
“Fetishes,” I say the word as if it’s bitter.
“I’m sure you’re aware of them. Virgins?”
“Is that why you gave him Molly? Why you gave him me?” My voice rises on the last word, and I’m losing control of my emotions.
Gavin’s expression is closed. “I did everything in my power to keep you away from him. You made that deal yourself.”
“I did it to protect Molly.”
“Molly… Molly,” he mocks me. “Get out of here, Lara. I’ve had enough of your sentimental notions. Go home and leave me alone.”
He stands as if he’s through with this conversation, but I’m on my feet just as fast. “I’m not finished yet.”
“Yes. You are.” In three steps he’s right in front of me, bearing down with his intimidating gaze. “Don’t cross swords with me, girl. You have more to lose in this than I do.”
I take a staggering step back, but my leg bumps into the chair. “I-I don’t know what you mean… I don’t have anything to lose.”
His lips part with an evil grin, blue eyes glittering. “You have everything to lose. You don’t want what I know getting out. You don’t want the truth going public.”
“You’re wrong. I want the truth now.”
“What truth? About the body in the salon?”
“What bod—”
“The body I helped cover up. The one that was never completely destroyed?”
“No.” My vision clouds, and I fumble for the door.
I rip at my sleeve, scratching at the hem, trying to get the bug off of me, trying to keep Mark from hearing these words…
“You arranged your experience with Guy against my warnings and attempts to help you.” My hands slip along the wall, searching for the door to run, but he’s behind me, on top of me, pushing me down with his accusations. “I told you to stay away from him, but you ignored me. You lured him into your dressing room, then you brutally murdered him.”
“No!” I scream, my hands cupped over my ears.
“Yes, little Dark Angel. I have it all recorded. Every room in that theater was under surveillance, yours included, and Landry has the thumb drive. Come at me, and you will lose everything. Your daughter, your freedom, your life.”
I shudder violently, as if frigid cold water is being poured down my back. My fingers finally locate the doorknob, and I turn it, slamming the door wide open and racing down the stairs.
All the words he said are screaming in my mind. Cameras, surveillance, the secret I thought was hidden, burned up in the fire. Landry, the corrupt New Orleans cop… He dug it up, and now he’s just waiting to send my world crashing down around my head.
I’m out the door, running for the hotel, when Mark steps out of the alley, blocking my path.
“Oh!” I pull up short, holding up my arms as if to defend myself.
“Easy,” he says.
I’m breathing fast, and we’re far enough away from the bar that the noise is subtler, muted.
“Mark…” My voice trembles and breaks.
He watches me, blue eyes distant, withdrawn. He looks at me like I’m someone new, someone he doesn’t know. He’s a cop, a hero. Long ago he told me he wanted to be one of the good guys. Now he knows I’m just as bad as all the bad guys we’ve left littered across the continent. My sins are out, and I’m no different than the rest of the fallen angels in the hell we left behind.
“We need to get to the hotel.” He takes a step to the side and puts his hands in his pockets.
All the gestures of love, the embraces, the warmth, are gone. Now he addresses me as if I’m a person of interest, a suspect to question. I wonder if he’ll read me my rights.
He only tilts his head to the side. “We have to talk.”
9
The darkest place I’ve ever seen was inside me, and nothing scared me more.
Mark
Every room in the theater was under surveillance…
We’re walking fast to the hotel, and my insides are humming. I’m searching my memory for everything I can remember about my time working with Gavin, from my very first job to the night I was dragged out nearly dead, tied up, and thrown into a wooden crate.
Wooden crates I saw loaded onto a barge heading out of Algiers that cold fall morning. How many of those crates held bodies?
My very first job was cleaning up a crime scene. Gavin stood over me and told me I was in his world now, and Landry stood there with that smarmy look on his face, grinning in agreement.
My stomach tightens with disgust. Nothing is worse than a corrupt cop.
He had the crooked pharmacist; he had a money laundering business uptown… None of those help me, because I never kept records of any of it.
Years ago, when I first became a cop and started searching for Lara, I wanted to shut him down, bust him for all the rotten things he’d made me do, for what he’d done to her. But the theater was burned, and I thought everything was gone.
He just blew the lid off that theory. Surveillance cameras. Fucking Landry. If he has one crime on video, he has them all—whatever happened in that room is on camera. All the abuse, Molly’s rape, Lara’s rape, my beating… My fists clench with rage, and one thing is blindingly clear. I’ve got to get back to New Orleans.
Lara keeps pace beside me, her arms tight across her waist. Her dark hair fans around her shoulders, and she seems shell-shocked, spiraling. I want to put my arms around her. I want to tell her to breathe, stay calm, there’s no fucking way in hell I’ll let that asshole take anything from her. Only, I’m not sure she’s ready to hear me.
She looks like a wounded animal who’s cornered, as if she’s afraid I’m going to hurt her, too.
Like I would ever do anything like that.
I need to get her somewhere she feels safe, where she can breathe and tell me exactly what happened, exactl
y how she killed him.
She killed him…
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I scrub my forehead with my fingers. I’m having a hard time putting an image to those words in my mind. From the first day I met Lara, she’s always been committed to following the rules. Molly might be bent on revenge, but Lara is not a killer.
Only… if what Gavin said is true, it seems she is.
And once again, she’s kept a pretty fucking serious piece of information from me.
My jaw is clenched so tight, I might break a tooth, and looking up, I’m thankful we’re finally at the hotel. I need answers.
I step forward to hold the door, and she glances up at me as she passes. All these facts are still a storm in my mind, and when she sees the anger in my eyes, she quickly pulls away. Wait until we’re in the room…
The elevator hums as we ride higher. I watch the numbers; she stares at the shiny tiles lining the floor. The chime sounds, and we start down the hallway until she pulls up short.
“I want to get Jillian.” Her voice is soft, but I reach out to catch her arm.
“Just wait. We have to talk first.”
Another wide-eyed look of fear. It twists my guts, but I need to know what she’s thinking. I need to assess if she’s about to run again or if she’s going to let me help her. She has to let me help her, for Jillian’s sake.
For our sake.
Guiding her down the hall, I pull out the card and usher her inside. The heavy door slams shut, and she stops in the center of the room. Her arms are wrapped around her waist, but her back is to me. She’s still shaking, and I slip off my leather jacket, dropping it on the back of the chair.
I go to the mini fridge and take out a small bottle of Jack Daniels. It’s not my favorite, but I need a drink.
“Would you like something?” I ask, and she shakes her head, not meeting my eyes.
I toss back the shot and clear my throat as it burns on the way down. Again, I scrub my fingers against my forehead. I walk around so I’m in front of her, so I can see her expression as we speak.
“Tell me what happened.”
Her brow furrows, and she keeps her eyes fixed on the floor. “Why?”
