Or the Girl Dies

by Rachel Rust

  Except I knew that’s not what I needed to do. And if Victor had been by my side, there was only one thing he would’ve told me to do.

  I turned and ran.

  Through the field, my feet pounded the hard ground as fast as I could will them to go, barely feeling each impact. In gym class, I always had a side ache after one lap on the track, but now there was nothing but the sheer will to move forward. Self-preservation served as a good anesthetic.

  The moon was high in the sky. The black outline of trees by the gravel road lay straight ahead.

  A gunshot rang out.

  I flew into the dirt.

  For several seconds, my body stayed motionless, chest-down, cheek pressed to the ground. When I finally moved, I rolled over and sat up, eyes peeking over the tops of the blades.

  Just outside the door of McNally’s stood Victor, Ramon, and Lip Licker. Ramon had a handgun pointed in the air. Lip Licker pointed a finger in Ramon’s face. They were arguing. Ramon stepped forward, placing the gun to Lip Licker’s forehead, who then knocked the gun away and tackled Ramon to the ground.

  “Hey!” someone else shouted, although from my vantage point, the voice was nearly inaudible.

  Another body joined the crowd. I was too far away to see the cross tattoo on his neck, but I knew the chubby frame with the black bandana was Leon from Little Bobby’s house. He kicked at Ramon and Lip Licker, who both quickly rose to their feet.

  Leon turned to Victor. They spoke for a while and then Lip Licker held a rifle up to Victor’s chest.

  My heart stopped. No!

  Leon motioned for Lip Licker to put the rifle down. He did and my muscles relaxed. Leon then grabbed the rifle, turned it around, and with the butt of the gun, whacked Victor on the side of the head.

  Victor crumpled to the ground.

  Chapter Fifteen

  My hands slapped over my mouth to keep my scream from echoing through the field. Victor lay slumped on the gravel next to Ramon’s feet. Ramon and Lip Licker each grabbed one of his arms and dragged him inside the building. Leon followed Victor’s unconscious body, and kicked the large rock by the door out of the way. The shop’s door slammed shut behind him.

  Everything went still and silent, apart from the wind rustling the grass around me.

  “Shit.” I grabbed fistfuls of grass and slammed my heels onto the ground over and over again. “No, no, no, no!”

  In a burst of panic, I jumped to my feet.

  McNally’s?

  Or the car?

  I glanced back and forth in each direction as though with one head turn, some brilliant plan would spring to mind and I’d know just what to do to save the day. Except being freaked out mitigated decision-making skills. I couldn’t think of a plan. I couldn’t think at all.

  I placed a hand over the bulge of keys in my pocket. Victor would’ve wanted me to leave. Save myself. Get help.

  I ran through a list of names in my head. My dad was out of town, and he’d freak the hell out if I called him about this. Josh would be pissed as hell that I snuck away and that could be more of a thorn in my side than any assistance he could offer.

  I could go to Victor’s aunt and explain the situation.

  Or not.

  Telling someone their child—and now their nephew—had been kidnapped wasn’t the kind of conversation I was up for in that moment.

  I grabbed at my hair, as though that would make me think harder. I was desperate to think of someone who would be knowledgeable enough about The Barber, but not the kind of person who would hit me upside the head with the butt of a gun. There was always Josh’s friends at school. Josh said someone else knew about McNally’s. Although I had no idea who. Maybe Kyle?

  And then another name popped into my head.

  Krissy.

  She had already helped Victor once that night, and there was nothing remotely off-putting about her. She hadn’t squeezed my knee or imagined me in leopard print pants. Hell, she had a spring wreath on her front door.

  I crossed the rest of the field toward the gravel road. Guilt ate at me with every step, leaving Victor behind. But I knew I wouldn’t be any good to him by myself. I needed reinforcements.

  Victor’s Trans Am was difficult to find in the low light, requiring me to walk up and down the lengths of the gravel road for a few minutes in each direction until I almost literally ran into it. I had to pull the driver’s seat forward to push the clutch all the way down. My knowledge of driving a manual transmission was more technical than real world. I put it into first gear and slowly let off the clutch. The car started to lurch and I gave it some gas. Up and out of the ditch it went.

  And then it died.

  All the way down the gravel road I drove a few feet, killed the car, restarted it. Eventually, I got the hang of it and managed to actually make it onto the highway and all the way back to Rapid City.

  The problem with going to Krissy’s house was that I couldn’t remember where she lived. Somewhere on the west side. There had been a dentist office on the main road just before Victor had turned off into the residential neighborhood. Or maybe it was two blocks after the dentist office where Victor had turned. But the neighborhoods around the familiar dentist office were flat and Krissy’s house had been on a hill.

  Driving in circles was getting me nowhere and I had wasted enough time. At the next red light, I turned to go south on Sheridan Lake Road. It would take me to my own neighborhood. Except I wasn’t headed to my own house.

  Kyle’s driveway was still full of cars when I pulled up alongside the curb. I half expected Josh to come barreling out of the front door at the sight of the Trans Am, ready to knock Victor out cold. Except someone had already beat him to it.

  I knocked on the front door. No one answered. I pounded.

  Kyle answered with Josh right behind him. “Holy shit,” Kyle said with a laugh. “What the hell happened to you?”

  Josh elbowed him out of the way. “Shut the hell up.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside. He looked me up and down. It wasn’t until that moment I realized I was covered in grass and dirt. I ran my fingers under my eyes. They came back smudged with cried-off mascara.

  “Are you okay?” Josh asked. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  I stared at him, speechless at first, surprised he wasn’t yelling. “I’m…” The word okay refused to come out. I turned to Kyle. “Where’s the closest bathroom?”

  He pointed to a white-paneled door off the foyer.

  After I peed, I stared at myself in the mirror. There was more black mascara on my cheeks than on my eye lashes. Using water and toilet paper, I cleaned up my face as best as possible. My messy bun was, well, it wasn’t really a bun so much as a few strands of hair in a hairband with the rest of my hair sticking out in all directions—also covered in dirt and grass.

  I exited the bathroom without fixing my hair and returned to the foyer where Josh and Kyle still lingered. “I need help,” I said to Josh.

  “What’s going on?” a familiar voice said behind me. Brody appeared, looking like he had been asleep. He scanned my earth-covered clothes, but made no jokes.

  “They hit Victor over the head with a gun and dragged him away,” I blurted out.

  All three guys stared wide-eyed at me.

  “We were at McNally’s,” I continued. “There were guys with guns, and Victor thought they were holding his cousin there so he wanted to check it out. And two guys, they came really close to finding me, but Victor stood up and got their attention so I could make a run for it and then…” The events played out in my mind. The gun striking Victor’s head had been silent for me because I was too far away. But there was most certainly a noise. Hard plastic hitting a human head. A solid thump. Followed by a second sound of a body going limp and crashing into the ground. All because he was trying to find his cousin and save me. Warm tears filled my eyes. “And then they knocked him out and took him.”

  “You need to call the cops,” Josh said, and Brody nodded in
agreement.

  With shaking hands, I took my phone from my back pocket. There were five unread text messages. All from Josh. The first three were him pissed off, wondering where the hell I had disappeared to. The fourth was him promising to kill Victor if he had taken me against my will. The fifth was a simple plea to let him know I was okay.

  New tears welled up because my jackass brother wasn’t a total jackass. Through cloudy vision, I attempted to dial 911.

  Brody gently took the phone from me. “I can dial for you.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Kyle snatched the phone from Brody. “No fucking way.” He handed me back the phone. “No one’s bringing cops here. Call from your own house.”

  “Come on, man,” Brody said. “Look at her, she needs to get help and—”

  “No way. The last thing I need is cops searching my damn house.” Kyle turned to me. “Go home.”

  “Be more of a dick, why don’t ya?” Brody said to Kyle, then looked back at me. “Call the cops.”

  Kyle knocked my phone out of my hand. It crashed onto the white-tiled floor.

  Josh shoved Kyle back. “Son of a bitch, what the hell’s wrong with you?”

  Kyle didn’t answer and dove onto the floor to get the phone. Brody pushed him away, then grabbed my phone and handed it back to me. The screen was cracked in the corner. My dad was going to be so pissed.

  “It still works,” I said, tabbing through a few screens.

  “Call the cops,” Josh said.

  Kyle’s dead eyes on me forced my feet back a step. He was right. The cops couldn’t come there. The whole place smelled like a dispensary. “Maybe I’ll just go to the police station and talk to someone there.”

  “All right, but I’m coming with you,” Josh said.

  “Me, too,” said Brody.

  I almost laughed. “You guys can’t walk into a police station with red eyes, reeking like pot.”

  Brody and Josh looked at one another, seemingly having no good comeback.

  “Besides, I’ll be at a police station,” I said. “That’s a pretty safe place to be.”

  Josh gave Kyle one last glare before turning to the front door. Both Josh and Brody walked outside with me. “Did you drive that here?” Josh asked, nodding to the Trans Am.

  “Yeah.”

  “A stick shift?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  He grinned slightly, but kept whatever sexist comment he had inside his head.

  “Wait a second,” Brody said as I approached the driver’s side. “If Victor’s got so many enemies, the last thing you should be doing is driving his car around.”

  “He’s right,” said Josh. “You can take my car.”

  I glanced at the purple monstrosity and laughed. “No way am I driving that stupid thing.”

  “What’s wrong with Tiffany?”

  “You named it Tiffany?” Before I could hit him with another snide remark, something shiny flew through the air in my direction. I caught the bundle of keys one-handed.

  “Take my car,” Brody said.

  “What?” The only other cars around were worth four times that of my Accord. I was a pretty good driver, had never gotten into an accident, but I didn’t trust my driving skills near enough to get behind the wheel of something that cost the same as a small house.

  “Take my car,” he repeated. “I’m spending the night here anyway.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “Which one is it?” He nodded to the black BMW sedan. I hit the unlock button on the key and the lights of the BMW came on. Brody motioned for me to follow him to the car. “You really don’t have to do this,” I said as he opened the driver’s door for me.

  He smiled. “After the night you’ve had, it’s about time someone did something nice for you.”

  I smiled back. “Thanks.” I moved to get into the driver’s seat and caught sight of my clothes once again. Brody, with his dark jeans and brown leather shoes that cost more than my entire outfit, watched as I brushed dirt and grass off myself. “I’ll get your car all dirty.”

  “Cars can be cleaned,” he said with another little grin. He plucked a few blades of grass from my hair.

  I yanked the hairband from my hair and used my fingers as a comb. Bits of grass floated down out of my hair and landed near our feet. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail.

  “Better?” I asked.

  “You never looked bad to begin with.”

  “Liar.”

  He chuckled. “You sure you’re okay? I can come with you if you want.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. But thanks.”

  He picked a piece of grass off my shoulder. “Drive safely.”

  “I will. I’ll bring your car back in one piece, I promise.”

  “I didn’t say that out of concern over my car.”

  The exterior light hanging on the sides of the garage made Brody’s sandy hair more honey-colored than it looked at school. He smelled good. His shoulders were broad and strong. I wanted to lean in, seeking protection from the world.

  And then he did lean in, and my heart went crazy. His lips neared mine. The lips I had stared at in silence for three and a half years. Right there in front of mine. Soon to be on mine. My eyes fluttered closed.

  Then they flew back open as Victor popped into my head—my lips on his. His body shielding mine in the field. Him telling me to run while he waited there to be found. Victor who took the butt of a gun to the head as I headed for safety.

  I turned my face away from Brody, gut reeling with guilt. “Sorry, it’s just been a really bad night.”

  “It’s okay.” His thumb swept under one of my eyes. “Sorry Kyle was such a jerk back there.”

  “Kyle’s the least of my problems tonight.” I sat down in the driver’s seat of the BMW. The inside smelled of expensive leather and the seat hugged my butt. The car started with a powerful yet soft roar. After showing me how to move the seat forward, Brody stepped back and shut the door. Behind him stood Josh with a smirk on his face as he looked back and forth between Brody and me, clearly having picked up on our flirtatious vibe. I flipped him off and then backed out of the driveway. Thankfully, Brody drove an automatic.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The police station was located near downtown. I parked the BMW in front of a sign that clearly, in bold letters, denoted visitor parking, yet in the back of my mind I worried that I was doing something wrong and would end up getting Brody’s car towed.

  The police station was connected directly to the jail—a mammoth of a building. Its sheer size did nothing to quell the nerves in my stomach as I walked inside. There was a small reception area with a counter straight ahead. Sort of like a sterile-looking bank lobby. Except bullet-proof glass surrounded the counter and the people seated on the other side had uniforms and guns.

  A young, black-haired cop watched me approach the counter. He was sorta hot and couldn’t have been more than early twenties at the most. Maybe newbies were given desk duty while the old grumpy cops were the ones riding around in the cars, because I had never seen a cute cop out and about in the city.

  “How can I help you?” he asked.

  “I, um, I need to talk to someone. A police officer.”

  He stared at me for a second. My hands went to my hair, faking to smooth it out, but really double checking I didn’t have grass sticking out of it.

  “What’s this about?” he asked. “Do you have a crime to report?”

  “Yes.”

  He fumbled with something under the desk and produced a clipboard with a single form. He nodded to the chairs behind me. “Go ahead and start filling this out and someone will be here shortly to take your report.”

  “Okay.” I grabbed the clipboard and a blue pen from the coffee mug outside the bullet-proof glass. The chairs were cheap plastic, similar to the ones we had in the lunch room at school. The reception area had no music. The clerical commotion behind the counter was muted by the glass. I
t was just me and silence in an uncomfortable chair with a clipboard. Quite the dichotomy from the rest of my tumultuous night.

  From a distance, the form looked like a job application. Blank spaces on top for names, addresses, and phone numbers. And at the bottom were a serious of yes or no questions followed by a bunch of lines for a written account of whatever crime had allegedly been committed.

  Even though the form stated that a name and contact information were optional, I put my name down, figuring at that point it didn’t matter. I was already a sitting duck. If The Barber or Little Bobby wanted me, they’d find me.

  I had just completed my address when a door opened on the far side of the room. An older cop stared at me. I stared back. He was short and of a slight build. His hair was mostly gray and he was either Hispanic or Native, but I couldn’t tell which and that made me feel ignorant.

  “Come with me,” he said brusquely with a quick nod of his head.

  He led me into a white-walled, sterile-looking hallway, which led to a white-walled, sterile-looking office. It didn’t appear to belong to anyone as there were no pictures, no stacks of papers being worked on. Just a desk and three chairs.

  The cop pointed at one of the smaller chairs. I sat. He sat at the large leather chair on the other side of the desk. He signaled for the clipboard. After I gave it to him, he glanced at it for a split second, then plopped it down on the desk.

  “Natalie…may I call you Natalie?”

  “Yes,” I said. What else would he call me? Delilah?

  “Natalie, I’m Sergeant Diaz.” He placed his hands palms up in the middle of the desk. “Would you like to tell me what’s going on? What brought you down?”

  My fingers twisted together. My legs crossed and uncrossed. I took a deep breath.

  Sergeant Diaz sat back in his chair. “It’s okay,” he said. “Sometimes it’s hard to know where to begin, isn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  “Know what I suggest?” he asked.