She looked back at Javier, and then crossed the stage toward him. Slowly, he raised a bloodshot gaze to hers.
“There are stairs back there.” She pointed behind her. “I think they may lead us out of here.”
His gaze followed where she directed, but then he dropped his head. “They’re right,” he said. “I would never get anywhere. Thirty-three years old, and where was I? Working for the boss of the White Moose! Not on the way to success.”
“Did you hear me? There are stairs over there. We could get out of here.”
He didn’t answer. Loreena looked back. The aisle was still there. Twelve steps took her to the stairs, another five to the floor, and then she started up between the seats.
The people ignored her, their focus entirely on Javier. She tried not to look at their faces, for they were misshapen and hideous, like unfinished clay sculptures left too long in the sun. The aisle was steep. Within another ten steps she was winded, but she kept going. After twenty, her thighs burning, she stopped to look back.
The sight startled her. The place was empty.
No people, no red seats, no laughter, no stage. Only Javier sitting in the center of a spotlight, head hung low, knuckles resting on the red padded carpet, his body still flinching from the imagined hits of the silent taunts.
Loreena.
She jumped. The voice came from above her, like it always had when her uncle called. But this wasn’t her uncle.
Loreena, come on. Wake up.
Shawn?
The cool air around her began to warm. Maybe she shouldn’t leave. Here, Frank couldn’t get to her, couldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do.
Loreena! Can you hear me? Come back.
Her thoughts turned to her uncle and the church back in Stillwater. It would be painful, but she could leave these things behind if she had to.
Loreena, I know where Saul is. Come on.
He’d said he didn’t know, before. Had he just found out? Or was he lying? Loreena stared down at the stage. Saul could be long gone by now—“laying low,” as he’d said. They could all be lying to her, using the idea that her brother was caught up in Frank’s net to string her along. The lights flickered and dimmed, and then brightened again. She looked around at the empty seats, and then back the way she had been traveling.
She hadn’t seen the exit sign before. Now it hung, plain as day, over a door at the end of the aisle.
Casting a final glance down at Javier, she turned and walked out of the theater.
11
Loreena woke up in bed, the sheets drawn over her face. For a moment, she thought she was back home, and it was Saturday, the one day she could sleep in. Then she rubbed her eyes, and the stuffed animal fell onto the floor with a soft thud. Sitting up, she realized she was still in Mrs. Markos’s house. Her mind reeled, replaying the last thing she could remember, which was Javier’s afterlife. The spotlight. The stage. The laughing people in red. She had walked up the aisle to get away.
Her skin warmed, the blankets now too hot for her legs and feet. She had promised herself she wouldn’t let them, but they’d succeeded in using her just the way they’d intended. Raymond had forced her to touch Javier’s hand, and she’d been unable to do anything to stop him, and now Javier was dead. They had the proof they needed of what she could do. Surely now they would step up her assignments.
Raising her hands to her head, she found her hair a matted mess, her clothes rumpled, the polyester shirt bunched up under her arms, cotton pants twisted on her waist. A new pair of knitted gloves covered her hands. What had happened to her old ones? Someone must have brought her to this room after it was all over, but she didn’t remember who it was. At least they hadn’t undressed her. That was a small comfort.
Slipping out from under the sheets, she longed for a shower, but would have to wait for someone to let her out, and she couldn’t stand another minute in the same clothes. Mrs. Markos had set several outfits out on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Loreena took the one that had the cotton T-shirt on top. It was big, but comfortable, the pants another pair like those she had worn the night before, with the elastic waist that poofed about her middle whenever she bent over. There were flat canvas shoes, too, and though they were a little small, she chose those over her pumps, tired of the heels. Still, she longed for her own closet full of clothes. Each time she put these others on, she felt somehow the Grizzly Riders were claiming her as their own, as if she were stepping into the part with little more effort than it took to push her feet past the hemlines.
A plastic brush with nylon bristles rested on the shorter dresser. She used it to untangle her hair, all the while seeing Javier down and defeated on the stage, the people in red hurling endless insults he was probably listening to even now. Bending over so the hair fell in front of her body, she brushed and brushed, pulling against her scalp until the brush no longer met with any resistance. When she finished, her hands came away with loose hair entwined around her fingers. She shook them free, and then stood up and turned toward the door.
Strange, the woman hadn’t come yet. The dim glow of morning emanated from the window to the left of the bed. A night had passed since they’d gone to the bar. Grateful for the clean scent of laundered cotton, she flipped her hair behind her collar, wrapped it into a ponytail with one of the bands that Al stored in a ceramic bowl on the dresser, rubbed the blood into her cheeks, and stepped to the door to listen. Nothing.
Was there no one in the house?
Curious, she turned the knob. It yielded. Her eyebrows shot up. Had they forgotten? She stepped to the railing and listened again. From the kitchen below came the sounds of dishes clanking together. Mrs. Markos was likely putting the clean ones away. She cocked an ear toward the front door, wondering if the guards were still there. Placing her feet carefully to avoid alerting anyone to her presence, she descended the stairs. Silverware clinked together, but no one approached. At the front door, she could hear no voices. Could she really get this lucky? Holding her breath, she turned the knob slowly, carefully, and then half lifted and half pulled the door open. When it yielded, she stopped, waiting, but heard nothing, so she opened it the rest of the way, slipped out, and closed it behind her with a soft click.
The air felt warmer than the day before, but she still longed for her jacket. It wasn’t where she usually left it on the chair in Al’s room, so she figured Mrs. Markos had taken it to wash it, as it was probably rank with the scent of sweat and cigarette smoke and beer. Strange, that she could sense no one nearby. Had they assumed she would sleep longer? Standing outside, she ran scenarios in her mind. The house was several miles from town, but she thought she could remember which way to go to make it back. Besides, anything was better than staying here awaiting Frank, Ray, and more killing.
Chills ran up her back. The darkness of Javier’s stage seemed to cling to her skin like soap scum. She couldn’t have helped it, she told herself. They made her. But unlike Dominic’s kind soul, Javier’s ghost now hovered angrily behind her, along with Dirk’s, and they seemed so real that she had to turn around a few times, hands out, to reassure herself she was alone. Remembering the crows from that Sunday afternoon when she had first gone out with Dominic, she wondered if their calls had predicted all this would happen, and if maybe Dirk had something to do with it, bringing her back to his boss for revenge.
At the bottom of the porch steps, she felt gravel under her shoes. Still, no one had stopped her. She would hurry to the end of the driveway and then follow the road left. Wherever it led would be better than here. Walking carefully, lest she alert someone to her presence, she moved forward.
Something approached from the right with quick, quiet steps. Loreena froze, nerves tingling in anticipation of a blow to her head, but all she felt was a wet nose against the back of her hand. “Brute.” Pressing her fingers into the hair on his shoulders, she knelt down to the dog’s level. “Quiet now.”
Brute wagged his tail and licked her arm
, his tongue warm and sticky.
“Go on,” she whispered, pushing him away. “I have to go.”
Five steps. Brute followed her.
“Go on!” she hissed. “Go home.”
The dog hesitated. Loreena took a few more steps.
“Not a good idea.”
She stopped, one foot cocked up behind her. “Who’s there?”
“Shawn.”
Shit! Turning slightly toward the voice on her left, she hesitated. She could run. Surely, she could go faster than he could. He had to be at least fifteen years older than she was.
“I was afraid you were done for,” he said. “Glad to see you up and around.”
A light breeze teased a few strands of hair across her ear. He had to be seated nearby, on a bench, maybe.
“We’re thirty minutes from town, by car.” He hadn’t come any closer. “Over twenty miles. You going to walk that far?”
She didn’t answer.
“What about Saul?” he said.
“What about him?” Her voice exploded from her throat. “Everyone keeps talking about Saul, but I haven’t seen him. How do I know he’s even alive? Maybe he just left on his own and he’s hundreds of miles away by now. You’re using Saul to keep me here, killing for you. You’re turning me into a murderer.” The word tasted sour on her tongue.
“I left the door open so you could get some fresh air. Why don’t you come sit down?”
She’d gotten out of the house. She’d never have this kind of chance again. Bursting into a run, she tucked her chin into her chest and focused her energy on her legs.
“Aw, come on. It won’t work, Loreena!”
Five steps, then gravel. Left. She ran as fast as she could, legs and arms pumping in blissful freedom. Run!
“They’ll come after you,” Shawn called. “Yvonne will call Frank. They’ll bring you back.” He panted between sentences. “They’ll lock you up!”
Her shoes slapped the packed dirt in rhythm, sweat prickling under her shirt. Already she was growing tired, and she hadn’t gone far yet. How weak had she become?
“Frank owns the town.” Shawn was gaining on her. “You can’t trust anyone.”
Her throat burned and her shoes hit softer dirt. She veered right until she felt the packed surface under her soles again, and then pushed ahead.
“You stupid girl!” Shawn closed in behind her. How was he so fast? “Things can get worse!”
Her spine stiffened, throat burning with breath. She wasn’t going to make it. He was overtaking her, his footsteps loud behind her. On the next step her ankle twisted and she went down hard, her shoulder slamming into the ground. Small stones tore scrapes into her skin.
He caught up to her in seconds and dropped down beside her. “Are you all right?”
Rolling away, she struggled to get back up.
“Come on, Loreena. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Pebbles stuck to her arms. On her feet again, she started walking. Her right hip seized up, forcing her to limp.
“I need to talk to you.” When she didn’t respond, he started after her. “Loreena, please.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her one chance at escape and she’d failed. What she wouldn’t give to take back that moment with Dominic, the one where she’d agreed to go to Kelley. If only she could go back in time and say No, I just want to go home.
“Wait!” Shawn reached forward and clamped one hand around her arm. “Just wait for one damn minute.”
Her back to him, she stopped.
He took a few moments to catch his breath. “Will you listen now?” He let go and bent over his knees. “Could have just talked on the bench, but no. More comfortable to stand in the middle of the road.”
“Yeah, it’s my fault,” she snapped.
“Oh, so you are alive in there.”
Hands trembling, all she could think about was whether she could be fast enough to get his palm against hers—but her gloves were still on and she couldn’t take another killing.
“Here’s the thing, all right? I don’t really work for Frank. I work for the FBI.”
She stopped breathing.
“I’d show you my credentials, but it’s not exactly wise to carry them around in this crowd. Besides, you know, it’s not like you could see them.”
The FBI! She turned to face him. “You can get me out of here?”
“No. At least, not yet.”
It was another game, another way to string her along. “You’re lying.”
“I’m undercover. I’m taking a huge risk telling you this.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
He took a few steps away from her. “I’ve been working undercover for two years. These guys do all sorts of business that’s illegal, but no one’s been able to pin them down. I’ve been gathering evidence. It won’t be long now before I’ll have enough.”
“Enough for what?”
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “To put Frank away, and a few of his buddies with him.”
Loreena waved her hand in front of her face, dispelling the smoke. “If you’re really from the FBI, you already have enough to put him away. He had me kill that man. That’s murder.”
Shawn exhaled a puff of smoke and shook his head. “Remember who did the actual killing.”
“He made me!”
“Are you going to testify to that? What are you going to say? ‘Yes, Your Honor, I killed him, but Frank told me to?’” And then, when they ask you exactly how you killed him, as apparently you leave behind no evidence whatsoever, how are you going to answer? That you shook his hand? Damn, Loreena, I didn’t believe it myself. Even after the second time. But there’s no doubt Javier is dead. What the hell is it, anyway? This thing?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t owe him any explanation.
He took a long drag. “You start down that road and you end up in jail or in some loony bin, while Frank gets escorted out with the court’s apologies.”
Loreena crossed her arms and sighed. He was right. The police had questioned her about Dirk’s death, but they’d never been able to find anything to connect to her. She’d always thought that was a good thing, but now she realized there was no way to prove it, no way for the cops to see what Frank had made her do.
“Look, you just gotta hang in there. Give me some more time.” He exhaled, the scent of tobacco surrounding them. “You can’t go running off. I know that’s what your instincts are telling you, but I’ve been in this a long time. It’s the wrong move. It won’t work.”
A bird. Finally, she heard a bird. Loreena turned her head toward the sound. A robin. So there were other creatures living in this place. The sun came out from behind a cloud and warmed her cheeks and the top of her head.
“You said you knew where Saul is.”
He shifted, his shoes scuffing the stones. “On assignment, about thirty-five miles from here.”
“You know he’s alive?”
“Yes.”
His voice was steady. He didn’t seem to be lying. Thirty-five miles. Only about forty-five minutes by car, but she had no way to travel it, so it might as well have been a thousand. Too spent to continue standing, she dropped down on her haunches. “What is he doing?”
“A deal. For Frank.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“In White Moose territory.”
The other club. “So these are like gangs, these clubs.”
“Yeah.”
“And they deal in drugs.”
The robin flew away. Loreena stood back up, still unsure whether she should believe what he was telling her. He hadn’t hurt her since she’d arrived, and he could have, especially after she stabbed him with the pen, but he’d also prevented her escape more times than one, and forced her into killing even after he knew what she could do. “Can’t you take me to town so I can call my uncle? You could tell them I ran away.”
He dropped the cigarette. Stepped on it. “Two years of my life I’ve
spent with these men. Frank trusts me. I’m practically his right-hand man. I make a mistake now, things go badly.”
“So you’re not going to do anything to help me.” Judging by the light and the heat on her head, she gauged the angle of the sun and started walking again in what she thought was the direction of town.
He grabbed her arm. “Frank would kill me if I let you go.” He moved in close to her face, his breath thick with tobacco smoke. “This man has terrorized hundreds of people. He’s ruined this entire town, and now he’s trying to extend his reach. You take off now, I lose everything.”
She tried to pull away from him. “It’s better to have me keep killing for him?”
“It’s either that or lose the two years I’ve spent here, which would mean losing the entire case against him. If that happens, none of the people he’s hurt get justice.” He squeezed her arm. “Including your friend.”
Loreena stopped struggling. Justice for Dominic’s murder. She hadn’t thought of that. Was it possible?
“Listen. I can get him. You help me, and we do it a lot sooner.”
Loreena felt a surge in her chest, a flicker of fury that warmed her blood. Revenge for Dominic. But when Shawn released her arm, the urge to run welled up in her. He was bigger, stronger, faster. She’d have to stop him first.
As if reading her mind, he jerked off her gloves and let them fall to the ground. “Your choice. Help me, or make your escape now.” He opened his palm and extended it to her. “This time, no one will force you.”
Her hand twitched, muscles anticipating the feel of skin on skin. If she took it now, went with him wherever he might go, then she could return and make her escape. Couldn’t she? Stay out of sight. Follow the road. Go home, see her uncle, sit at the piano, feel the sunlight through the stained-glass windows.
And live with the knowledge she had killed an FBI agent, if that’s really what he was.
Clearly she wouldn’t make it without killing him. She’d get a short ways down the road before he’d get Frank and his men to track her down. Even if she did kill him, she probably wouldn’t get far before they found her, or before someone in Frank’s town gave her up. Closing her eyes, she tried to determine whether to trust this man. He could be telling her all this about the FBI to get her to cooperate, to make it easier to accomplish Frank’s goals, but they didn’t really need her cooperation. They’d proven that much.
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