by Mary Malcolm
“John,” I said, hoping he understood that what I was about to say wasn’t to hurt his feelings. “We can’t depend on the couple of games you won keeping you in there long enough to hear something.”
Sitting up, he said, “I’m not bad, and I’m offering up my own money. Really, it’s all my risk, so what’s the problem?”
How do you soothe the feathers of a man who is trying to help but about to walk into a situation that could get him killed? I decided I had no way to soothe, so instead I’d talk logic. “I can do it,” I said.
He shook his head and opened his mouth to argue, but I held up my hand, asking him to let me continue. “Listen. I know how to play poker, but more importantly I count cards. I can also fake not counting them. I used to play with Aunt Dolores and her old biddy friends. I know I can win just enough to stay in the game but not enough to make them suspicious.”
“It’s not possible,” John argued, cheeks turning blotchy red. “I’m sure you can count cards, but you can also get yourself killed. I couldn’t live with myself. Besides, if these are the same people who killed Winters, and are now trying to kill you, they know who you are.”
Ignoring the last part, I took his hand and looked him in the eyes. “I know what I can do. I don’t get to use my ability for good that often. Please let me do this, let me see what I can find out.” They might know who I am, but I can’t go on living like this, terrified about when I might be shot at again. Or, worse, what if they went after Aunt Dolores or Ana or John next time?
His lips puckered, but he didn’t argue further. He closed his eyes and gritted his jaw as he thought about it. Waves of emotion washed across his face in the moments that followed. I felt a no coming and braced myself for the argument.
“You can help,” I offered, hoping it would make him agree.
His eyes didn’t open. “How is that, Lucy?” He sounded tired now, like all the fun of this had drained and left behind nothing but the sick fear. I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t slept soundly since this started. Wouldn’t sleep soundly until it ended. Which is why I had to know the right person—a.k.a. not Natalie—would be locked away.
“You’re all high tech and wired. You can monitor what is going on, record it. Make sure we get the evidence we need.”
He opened his eyes and, while they didn’t appear as tired, the worry hadn’t left their edges, either. “We still don’t know why Mr. Winters was killed.”
“No, but maybe someone will let something slip. Maybe we can figure out who owns the car.”
“Maybe you’ll get yourself killed.”
My shoulders drooped.
“Or maybe you’ll break the whole thing wide open and save the day.”
I looked for the lie on his face and didn’t see it. His micro-expression didn’t change; he didn’t shift his eyes to the left, or cover his mouth or touch his nose. These are all things I see on people who lie. He meant it, truly, and his vote of confidence gave me hope I hadn’t known in a long while. Wow, things might actually start to work out. “If anything happens, you have to get Eli,” I said. “I know you two don’t get along, but you have to get him.”
The frown came back. “He’s not even returning your calls. How do you expect him to show up if you need him there?”
“He will,” I said with certainty.
****
We decided on Friday night for the great poker heist, as we referred to it between us. Eli finally called me on Wednesday while I dressed for bed. “Where have you been?” I asked without so much as a Hey, what’s up.
“A good day to you too,” he drawled, using the Texas charm I’d only ever heard him use when flirting with the barista or trying to win over my aunt. Then his voice changed to a more serious, less charming tone. “Lucy, I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s a great idea for us to talk anymore. I’m in big trouble for having you at my house. I acted inappropriately and dangerously, and I’ve been reprimanded.”
“You also stopped a killer from killing me. Did anyone say anything about that?”
“I could have gotten us both killed.”
I tapped my foot. I didn’t know what to think. He’d become such a big part of my life over the past few weeks, I couldn’t imagine not having him around anymore. Especially because he tried to help me. “I don’t think it’s right,” I said, finally, an acute ache squeezing my chest. “But I guess I understand.” Only I didn’t. Just saying it brought up a lump in my throat.
This was a man who quite literally took a bullet for me.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, and I could tell something else was on his mind. “Spill it,” I said. “What else aren’t you saying?”
His silence burned a hole in the distance between us. “Lucy, Natalie’s charges changed last night. There is strong evidence implicating her in Simon Winters’s death, and there is nothing I can do to protect her.”
I dropped the phone. Fumbling, I caught it and laid in. “She didn’t do it,” I wailed, imagining my sweet friend facing such horrible accusations. “You know she didn’t.”
“I don’t, Lucy. All I know is that everything points to her, and if a horse has stripes, it’s probably a zebra.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It doesn’t matter how much I don’t want her to be guilty. Everything points to her, which means she probably is. Sometimes there’s no protecting someone from themselves, no matter how much you want to try.”
The last part was directed toward me, and I took it as such. “Thank you for that, Detective Reyes. I appreciate the heads-up. And thank you for believing in me so much when I’m telling you what I know.”
Anger crept into his voice through the cracks that had formed in our relationship. “Truth is, Lucy, you’re playing cop when really you’re only an office worker. You never were an official consultant on this case, and I was wrong for leading you along. I thought I could get something from you and boost my career, but what I got was demoted and a whole lot of headaches. So clearly you don’t know nearly as much as you think you know, and you should stay out of things that are outside your area of expertise.”
I tried to keep my own anger contained, but his words broke the fragile hope I’d had of continuing a relationship. How had I let myself believe someone as close-minded and driven as Eli could ever understand what I do? I’m not better than anyone else—God, I know that much—but I sure as hell hoped if it came down to my career or letting an innocent person rot in a jail cell, I’d pick the person. “Again, thank you for your words of wisdom, Detective Reyes. I believe we are done here. I hope you and your career have a long life together.”
The phone went dead before I could say anything further. Quelling the desire to throw my phone across the room, I slammed it onto my nightstand and ferociously brushed the freeze gel from my hair. His gall. His audacity! I didn’t know what I’d ever seen in Eli.
I mean, to imagine someone talking to me like that, someone who treated me so tenderly only a few days ago. What kind of person does that? “A crazy person, that’s who,” I said.
Ana rolled over and squinted an eye at me. She usually slept through everything, so I must have been loud to have wakened her. “It’s late, Lucy. Why are you still up?”
“You’re a model, don’t act like you need all that much beauty sleep,” I shot back. I flicked at a lint ball on my quilt and turned to face her. “Okay, so here’s the deal,” I said, then told her everything.
A few minutes later, when I finished laying out my plan, Ana sat at the edge of her bed, fully awake. “Lucy, no offense, but you’re an idiot.”
I pouted. That hurt. It’s one thing to have friends who can say anything to you at any time, it’s another entirely when they actually say those things. I didn’t appreciate it at all. “Offense taken. What’s wrong with my plan?”
She stood and paced across the room. “You’re sneaking into a poker game—that is possibly hosted by the guy trying to kill you—to find out who is trying t
o kill you.”
“And?”
“You’re going to be your own bait. It’s like a mouse made of cheese setting a trap for itself, which is consequently also made of cheese.”
“You aren’t making sense,” I said, feeling defensive of our plan. It worked in theory only hours ago. I didn’t appreciate all the hole-poking going on now. “Look. If he’s in there, he’ll recognize me, and I’ll know who he is.”
“Because he’ll kill you!” She picked up a stress ball from my desk and tossed it at my head.
I batted it away. “Not in a room full of people.”
“No, afterward, in a dark alley, or a warehouse somewhere where you’re forced into boots made of cement right before they introduce you to their favorite family fishing hole. You’re trying to make the same dumb move they do in all those movies. The move that everyone hates because no sane or real person would do something so idiotic. C’mon, think about this, Lucy.”
She had a point. I did hate that in movies. When the killer explains everything because he’s about to kill you anyway? Yeah. Like that ever happens.
“So what would you suggest?”
“Beer. Maybe wings. It’s only ten o’clock, and you’re right. I am way too pretty to be in bed this early. Let’s go out.”
****
It had been a long time since we’d gone out for drinks, and after everything that had happened, it was way overdue. Not counting the East Texas-sized shit-storm that had befallen Natalie, I had my own crap to deal with and, quite frankly, when I thought about it, mine was a whole lot more fucked-up.
“So Roger was some random dude who showed up at your parents’ place?” Ana asked as we shelled peanuts, tossing the shells on the floor, and swallowed our beers. They’d been sent over by a guy at the bar.
I picked at one of the shells, pulling the strings back and watching the salty dust fall to the table. “I still can’t believe he found me. I don’t know what he wants, and I haven’t heard from him since, so I’m hoping whatever it was he’s done and gone. Still, I can’t help wondering, you know?”
“Cree-per,” Ana said in a singsong voice, tossing some shells at the feet of a passing woman. She slipped slightly and looked around before walking on. Ana smirked, and I laughed out loud at my dumb friend.
In the corner, some girls played pool. People stood all around the table, laughing, drinking. I hated people like that. No, envied them. Life came so easy, talking to their friends, flirting. I watched two of the girls as they joined in loudly with the song on the jukebox, arm in arm, wiggling suggestively to the hoots and hollers of their male companions. I had Ana, but my social circle was fairly limited. The girls started dancing, and not for the first time in my life I wished for normalcy.
“I’m thinking he has something to do with Voeller and Elmer,” she said, interrupting my pity party. “Think about it. We know you were kidnapped from there, and these guys wanted to take you back. It was like a school, right?”
“Right. But not back to Voeller. They talked about bringing me somewhere else similar. Not any less horrifying, trading one girl’s prison for another, but that’s what they’d offered.”
“So they knew about your parents and still didn’t tell Voeller where to find you. Maybe he’s a good guy?”
“If he was, then why would he have wanted to hide me away?”
She chewed on her lip and, as if on cue, the waitress brought us two more beers, these from a guy playing pool. He tipped his hat, and Ana wiggled her fingers back at him. The bar was packed for a Thursday night with a rowdy crowd watching the World Series around a large TV. “Time for wings?” I asked.
“Hell yes. And maybe some veggie sticks.”
We ordered and drank, still thinking about how Roger fit into everything. Why had he wanted to take me away? I know my ability makes me stand out, but what made me, or my sisters, even, so special that people wanted to study us? Keep us imprisoned as lab rats and lock away the key until one day we snap and burn the place down? That’s what happened with Julie, I decided. She must have woken up one day and realized life existed outside the four walls of Voeller, and if they wouldn’t let her out, she’d burn her way out.
It didn’t make what she did better, but it did make it understandable.
In the weeks after the two men came to our place, my parents stayed on edge. There were a lot of late nights where I should have been sleeping but instead stayed up listening to them talk. “He’s going to come looking for her eventually,” my dad whispered one of those nights.
That’s when I’d realized the men who came to our house were the least of my problems; I should be afraid of the bigger he. I spent a lot of nightmare-filled nights after trying to convince myself I’d misheard, or misunderstood.
“If he does, you know what we have to do,” my mother said, her voice sounding sad. “We don’t have a choice. We have to protect her.”
My dad shifted on their bed. He outweighed my mom by at least eighty pounds and when he rolled the bed made unmistakable Dad sounds. I’d listened outside their door enough nights that I could tell almost every movement my parents made. “Someday we’ll have to tell her the truth,” he said, clicking off the bedside lamp. “She needs to know.”
The bed groaned as my mom rolled over. “She’s still a baby.”
“But special.”
“Very.”
“And if we don’t tell her, she could end up in a lot of trouble she won’t even expect.”
My mother sighed. “Can’t we wait a few years? Let her be a child for a little longer?”
They kissed. “She never really was, was she?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“But I agree. We’ll wait to tell her. It’s too much of a burden right now.”
The heel of my hand ached from my biting it to stifle my tears. There were so many secrets already, and they all seemed to revolve around me. Just tell me what you’re talking about! I wanted to scream.
Or maybe I could disappear into the woods. Run away from my parents, their secrets, the men who wanted me for who knows what. No one would find me there.
I had no idea at the time my parents would do exactly that in only a few years.
****
The wings came, and the game ended. The bar remained packed, but a few people filtered out. “Ana, do you think there is something wrong with me?” I asked, knowing full well she would say no.
“Yes.”
I choked, hot sauce slipping down the wrong pipe. “That’s not what you were supposed to say!”
She laughed. “Look, Lucy. I don’t know which context you’re talking about, but there is something wrong with all of us. We’re so screwed up from the day we are born that for anyone to make it through this life is a living miracle. So yes. There are lots of things wrong with you. Anything specific you care to talk about?”
“You know, I mean I’m not normal. I’m not like―”
A guy across the bar caught my attention. Balding, flashy shirt, not attractive but oozing confidence. “Ana, that’s the guy!”
Her head whipped around so fast I thought she might develop whiplash and hire a lawyer to sue me. “Roger?”
“No. The guy from The Slotted Spoon. That’s the guy I saw going back to join the poker game.”
He looked in our direction and smiled, raising his glass. Ana spun around, and I looked down, trying to pretend I hadn’t been staring.
She stabbed her carrot into the ranch and then took a bite. “Look, I think I know how we can figure out who is after you without putting your life in danger.”
“How?”
“I’ll get into the game.”
I rolled my eyes annoyed she thought somehow her getting into the game would be any smarter than me doing so. “Ana, you are absolutely the worst poker player in the world. You couldn’t bluff your way out of a wall-less room, you forget which cards make up which hands, you always bet wrong. There is no way they’d believe you were meant to be in a gam
e like that.”
“No,” she said, pushing up her breasts and readjusting her bra. “I didn’t say I’d be in the game. I said I’d get into the game.” She popped the top button of her blouse and took a compact out of her purse.
“How?”
She swiped gloss across her lips and fluffed her hair. “How do I look?”
“Like you’re getting ready for a date.”
Smiling big, she flashed her signature dimple and tilted her head. “Exactly. I’m going to talk Mr. Big Spender over there into taking me with him into the game.”
“Ana, that’s brilliant!” I said, suddenly feeling foolish and judgmental. Ana was my best friend, and I spent a lot of time thinking of her as pretty and not much else, but truth is she was also one of the most brilliant people I knew. I needed to do a better job of respecting that. “Except how will you know who is trying to kill me? How are you going to get the information about Mr. Winters? And more importantly how do we know the killer didn’t see you when he peeked into the window of the house, if it was the killer who peeked in?”
“We don’t,” she said, logically. Spock to the core. “But this is our best shot. Besides, I won’t be the only one listening. You are going to wait outside with a cell phone, and I’ll place one in my pocket. You’ll hear everything I hear.”
I shook my head, sending the last beer sloshing around my brain a little too fast. I definitely needed to refuse the beers and drink nothing but soda for the rest of the night. “It’s too dangerous, Ana. I can’t let you take a risk like this.”
“It would be even more so if you took the risk.” She leaned forward and held my hands. “You are exceptional, Lucy. The world needs your gifts. You putting yourself into intentional danger, even to protect someone else, isn’t worth it.”
“The world needs you too,” I insisted, wishing even more I hadn’t been so judgmental earlier. “And I think you’re a little drunk.” I knew I was.
“Good, because he’s totally not my type. Maybe I’ll pull this off a bit better.”
I shook my head again, though this time in admiration. “All right, Tiger, go get your kill.”