A moment later, he dropped his hand. Neither moved. The land around them rested quietly, as if it was a lazy Sunday morning. In all this time not one car had passed, and only the robin had graced the air with its song. Loreena thought of her own afterlife. Might it be something like this, this endless silence to go with the endless darkness she stared into every day? It sounded more like Hell than Heaven, but wouldn’t that be what awaited her anyway?
“You’re not a murderer, Loreena.”
She turned away from him.
“Frank is using you just like he would use a knife or a gun, as a tool.” He stooped and picked up the gloves. “You’ve got to remember that. You go drowning in self-recrimination on this and you won’t be able to stand it.”
She didn’t tell him she was already there. Still, his words were comforting, and the thought she might have someone on her side, however tenuously, gave her new hope.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” she said.
“Frank’s going to make a stupid move. When he does, we’re going to nail him.”
Walking helped, so she moved again, still headed away from the house. Shawn fell into step beside her. “Would Frank really do something to Saul,” she asked, “if I don’t, you know, if I don’t—”
“Yes. And he’d likely do it in front of you. It’s the way he does things.”
Loreena sighed.
“I’ll do everything I can. But if it helps, remember: these guys aren’t saints, any of them. That Javier worked for one of the biggest murderers in this part of the country. Bill McCracken is every bit as bad as Frank, and he surrounds himself with the same type of folks.”
“It’s still not right to make me kill them.”
“It would be a lot worse if something happened to you. You’ve got to survive, Loreena. Wherever you were before this, you’re in a different world now. Did you leave someone behind—this uncle you wanted to call?”
She nodded.
“Think about him, about what it would do to him if something happened to you. Then you do what you need to do to survive.”
Loreena said nothing. She wasn’t sure what her uncle would think, especially now that she had killed three men who weren’t ready to die. Especially now that even Dominic was dead, which would make four, if she counted him, but she couldn’t. He wasn’t the same, would never be the same.
A few more steps and she heard something. “Car.”
“It’s Frank.”
Loreena stopped.
“It’s all right.” Shawn touched the middle of her back and turned her around, pointing her in the opposite direction, toward the house. “Put these back on.” He handed her the gloves. “We were just out for a walk. It’s all perfectly natural.”
At first she couldn’t move, not that direction, back to Mrs. Markos and the prison of her home, but when he pushed her a little more insistently, she slipped her hands into the gloves and walked forward again, more fearful of Frank than anything else.
“I can’t do it again,” she said, tasting bile in her throat. “Not this soon. I can’t.”
“He’s not here for that, trust me. Probably wants to talk to me.” He moved her off to the side of the road. “Just relax.”
Her shoes swished through grasses as the vehicle pulled up next to them.
“Well, what do we have here?” Frank called through the open window.
“Nice morning,” Shawn said. “Catching some fresh air.”
The vehicle purred alongside them, classical music playing low. Loreena could feel the heat emanating off the metal and wondered at Frank’s taste in music. Did he fancy himself some kind of intellectual, a cultured entrepreneur?
“News is calling it a heart attack,” Frank said. “They can’t lay a finger on us. I’m telling you, this is it. Can you believe it?” He chuckled. “We’re getting Bill for good this time.”
Javier’s skinny face came up in Loreena’s mind. Heart attack. He’d probably beg for a heart attack right now.
“Hear that, Loreena?” Frank said. “Keep it up and you’ll land yourself a promotion.”
Loreena swallowed a retort and clenched her hands into fists. This man she would touch. This man she would have no problem sending on his way to whatever Hell awaited him.
The vehicle sprang forward and then pulled over ahead of them. A cloud of dust surrounded them, flooding Loreena’s sinuses. The passenger door opened and shut. “I could use some exercise myself!”
Shawn paused as Frank walked toward them. The vehicle moved on toward the house, the smell of exhaust drifting their way. Loreena angled deeper onto the side of the road until she felt Shawn’s hand grabbing the back of her shirt.
“Yvonne should have brunch cooking,” Frank said.
Shawn took Loreena’s elbow, steering her back to walk beside him on the pavement. “That’s good. I’m getting hungry.”
Loreena wriggled away with a subtle twist of her arm. Frank’s appearance made everything real again—the reason she was here, and what he would expect her to do next. Whatever Shawn said, he was part of all this, part of the reason Dominic was dead, and she would not have him touching her.
“You probably want to know, young lady,” Frank said, oblivious to the exchange. “Your brother has come through, on the first step, anyway.”
She cocked an ear toward him.
“He got an appointment with Charlie Barken, Bill’s next in charge. They call him ‘The Dog’ Barken.”
The Dog? “An appointment? For what?” Loreena’s voice came out squeaky. She cleared her throat, hating that she felt so terrified around him.
“Charlie thinks your brother is ready to pay a ridiculously high price for a mother lode of goods. We’re going to let him think that for now. The important thing is that Saul gets him to a location of our choosing—where you will have a chance to do what you do best.”
Loreena stopped. “Saul’s going to be there?”
“Don’t get all excited,” Frank said. “Your job is to take care of Charlie. Do that, and we’ll see about letting you talk to your brother. Of course, this all depends on him getting Charlie to show up in the first place. But so far, it’s looking promising.”
“What are we talking about?” Shawn asked. “Where and when?”
The men were still walking. She trotted to catch up.
“End of the week, on Saturday,” Frank said. “That’s what I wanted to ask you. We don’t have a location yet. We need something central, out of the way, low profile. Ideas?”
The men fell into step with one another, like business partners, and Loreena wondered at Shawn’s words, that he’d been here two years. It was unimaginable to her, that he could be working side by side with someone like Frank and belong to the FBI. Such a job would twist up a person’s insides, she imagined, and felt a moment’s pity for Shawn. She quickly shoved it down, knowing he could still be lying to her, but her intuition told her he was on her side, and that knowledge gave her the strength to keep moving back toward Mrs. Markos’s house.
“Lake City Bar,” Shawn suggested. “Nobody for miles around.”
“That’s clear up in the hills. Take us over an hour to get there.”
“Exactly. Bill won’t be able to truck all his troops up there without creating a big fuss. He tries something, we’ll know it. We post a few men on watch, out of sight. Take her in after he’s already there. He’ll never know you’re involved.”
“He’ll suspect.”
“Sure.”
“He’ll have scouts, too.”
“Let him. They won’t see anything until it’s too late to warn the boss.”
Frank hesitated, his steps slowing, and then chuckled and patted Shawn on the back. “See, now this is why I come to you. You think like a wolf, my friend. Sly and shrewd. We’ll set it up. Lake City Bar, Saturday evening.”
Frank ambled along, his pace slow and leisurely. Loreena dreaded saying anything, but she wanted to know. Maybe somehow she could pr
epare herself.
“You want me to kill him, then?” She forced the words from her throat.
“Just shake hands, darling, like you did before.”
Darling? She licked her dry lips. “Won’t that ruin it for you? I mean, for getting Bill. Won’t it make him more cautious?”
“He’s already cautious. You killed his messenger, remember?”
Guilt hollowed her heart with a putrid black breath. She inhaled to steady herself. “Why would Charlie come to this meeting?”
“Saul’s acting as an independent, someone who’s not involved with us. He’s got money that could turn the tides for the White Moose. Tantalizing situation for Bill.” He talked to her like a teacher to a student. “Lots of dough to be made, free and clear, off a rookie in the business. And more cash means more power for him and his group. He won’t be able to resist.”
“What if he suspects?” Loreena asked.
“He’ll kill your brother. But he won’t be able to trace it back to us.”
As if that was all that mattered. Loreena wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “If I kill this man, what then?”
“A promotion for you! One more of Bill’s team down. We’ll be closing in like a pack, right, Shawn?” He laughed. “Shawn’s a loyal member of the Grizzlies, but have no doubt, Loreena, he’s a wolf through and through. He’ll sneak up behind you in the night, and you’ll never see him coming.”
Laugh now, Loreena thought, but it’s not me he’s sneaking up on.
“Ah, we’re almost there,” Frank said. “I’m starving. You like pancakes, Loreena?”
She pushed the hair back from her face. “Mrs. Markos has a magic touch in the kitchen,” she managed.
“You’re getting to know us,” Frank said. “Maybe we’re not so bad after all, huh?” He stepped out ahead of them and turned, walking backward. “There’s a life for you with the Grizzlies, my girl, and you’re just starting to get a glimpse of it. Hang on, because you’re in for a hell of a ride.”
Loreena forced her lips into a half smile. She tried to picture what he looked like, but all she could see was thick black hair and a blue suit, trousers hanging neatly over shiny black shoes. The face was only a laughing mouth with hollow black eyes.
One day, she promised herself, her smile growing wider. One day you will pay for what you’ve done.
12
Loreena didn’t see any of the men for two days. Aside from dreams of Dominic, she passed the time peacefully enough, helping Mrs. Markos go through the rest of the clothes in the boxes, choosing those that would fit her and discarding the rest. It reminded her of the many times she’d done the same when going through the donations at the church, separating the women’s clothes from the men’s, the girls’ from the boys’, Mrs. Enger giving directions as to where each was to be piled in the reception room. It surprised her uncle that she could do it with such accuracy. She took his praise with a quiet smile and didn’t bother telling him it was easy enough to feel the addition of a little lace or velvet, a certain cut in the waist, or whether the buttons were placed on the left side or the right. Pushing the memory away, she went through the motions with Mrs. Markos half-heartedly, her mind on Saturday, when she would see Saul and they would make their escape.
Friday it rained all day, so Loreena allowed Mrs. Markos to show her a bit of crocheting just so she wouldn’t be bored out of her mind. She missed her books, but of course there was no Braille in her captor’s house. So she fingered the yarn as best she could with her gloves on—a requirement, Mrs. Markos had said, if she were to leave the cuffs off—and looped it over the hook and ate freshly made popcorn. By the end of the day, she had created a square. It was uneven, the right side shaped like half an anvil, but still it was hers, and she kept it on the nightstand by the bed to serve as a coaster for her water glass.
Saturday dawned fresh and dry, warm enough that Mrs. Markos served breakfast out on the back porch. She positioned a portable heater near the table to make it comfortable. Loreena sat in the wicker chair and enjoyed the feel of the morning sun on her skin, and prayed it would give her strength for what lay ahead. A few minutes after she finished her eggs, she heard the van come up the driveway.
The empty beer bottles still littered the floor and the seats still reeked of cigarette smoke, but once they got underway she relaxed as best she could, leaning her head against the window. They had her hands cuffed again; apparently the men were more frightened of her than the old woman was. Lacing her fingers together, she rehearsed potential scenarios. In the end, she determined leaving as quickly as possible was best. Everything depended, then, on when she would see Saul.
The drive was long, but the air still smelled of rain, and it came in fresh through the front vents. It was a blessing, considering Bert’s body odor and the ever-prevalent smell of beer. The man behind her started clipping his fingernails, and Loreena grimaced and moved closer to the frame of the vehicle. Up front, Bert peeled some sort of wrapper, breathing noisily and talking to Cab with his mouth full.
Shawn was right about the distance. It took over an hour to make the trip. After the first thirty minutes, Loreena couldn’t relax, her nerves on end and her stomach churning. Most of the drive was on pavement, but for the last twenty minutes or so Cab turned onto a dirt road, the tires kicking up stones that pinged off the bottom of the van. Loreena covered her face with her hand, trying to filter out the dust in the air.
“Think they’d re-gravel this road,” Bert said. “People do drive on it.”
The skinny man exhaled through his moustache and cleared his throat.
“Yeah yeah, Digger, I know—then there’d be more people up here.”
So his name was Digger. Feeling his gaze on her, she turned back toward the window.
Eventually the van slowed. Other vehicles started to pass them. They must have reached town.
“Population three hundred sixty,” Bert said. “That’s gone up by, what, at least three people?”
Digger laughed, a huffing, breathy sound as if he were chuckling in a library. They crawled along about twenty-five miles per hour. Cab honked once, grumbling under his breath about how he should run the jaywalkers over, and then stepped on the gas, inching the vehicle back up to about forty.
They had left after a late breakfast, but now the sun was nearly overhead as it neared midday. Most likely, all this would be over shortly after lunchtime, and she and Saul would be gone, or…what? What would happen if they didn’t make it? She tried not to think about what Frank would do to her for attempting an escape. Her thoughts strayed to her real home. Saturday. What was her uncle doing? Probably getting ready to make his rounds to the hospital, the senior living center, and the group home. If she were there, she would have just finished a leisurely breakfast and would be slipping on her shoes for a late-morning walk.
Cab slowed and turned right. This dirt road was worse than before, potholes and dips jouncing the van up and down, tossing the passengers the way her mother used to flip breaded zucchini in a fry pan. Loreena sighed in relief when it finally stopped.
“We’re here,” Bert announced.
No one moved.
“We go in on Frank’s signal.”
The dust settled around the van, the men shifting in their seats. The place was surprisingly quiet. “Are we the only ones?” Loreena asked.
“Two cars and a bike,” Bert said. “One’s Frank’s, so the other must be Charlie’s. Your brother ride a bike?”
“He did.” Loreena thought back. Crystal had ridden Saul’s bike to Kelley. Had someone gotten him another one? “Are the owners here?”
“They’re closed on Saturday.”
Another reason Shawn had chosen it. No one would be around to witness the killing. They could simply disappear before anyone suspected. Because of her, they didn’t even have to worry about the sound of a gunshot. No wonder Frank was treating her well. She was making everything easier for him. No sound. No struggle. No evidence left behind f
or the cops.
The perfect killing machine.
“There we go!” Bert opened the door. “Time to move.”
As he had before, Digger exited out the back. Loreena slid across the seat and stepped down.
“This way,” Bert said.
The assigned escort, she thought, always the one leading her to the killing grounds.
He set out at a firm pace, heavy legs powering forward. “We got a while here, about twenty steps till we get to the side door. Few bushes by the building.”
The ground was soft, her flat shoes sinking into the dirt with each step. They weren’t going in the front door this time. Made sense, since the place was closed. Had they broken in, or did someone have a key?
Digger followed them, his steps light as twigs brushing the ground. He couldn’t weigh more than one hundred and fifty pounds. Loreena thought of him as a tumbleweed, shedding broken stems as the wind blew him along. As usual, Cab stayed with the van.
“Few more steps and you’re going to have to duck,” Bert said. “About five, four, three, two, okay, now duck.”
Loreena ducked low and walked, crouching, for four steps.
“Perfect.”
Frank’s voice. Loreena looked up.
“One step up to the door here,” he said, keeping his voice low.
She walked inside. The sunlight stayed behind her. Digger and Bert slid in afterward. Frank shut the door. “Dusty trip, ain’t it, boys?” He spoke in a near whisper, as if afraid of being overheard. “Wish they’d pave that road. Maybe once this deal goes down we’ll have them do that, eh?”
Both men joined him in muffled laughter, their shoes scuffing on a linoleum floor. The building felt cool and smelled stale.
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