by Jay Allisan
“Something’s happening, Mordecai. Something big. I trust you’re aware of Scarlett’s situation?”
I make a face. “Yeah. How is he?”
“He’s a damn fool, but he’s eager to atone. And he won’t be the only cop shaken out of the tree when all this comes to light. James has a long reach.” Dixon gives me a smile. “I’m glad he didn’t get you.”
Dixon leaves the room, drawing the door closed behind him. I lay back down and let my eyes fall shut. A million thoughts swarm in my mind, pieces coming together like the cells of a honeycomb. I think about Catalina, native of Colombia. I think about cocaine and human trafficking.
I think about Robin’s father.
47
I’M DOZING when I hear my door creak. I crack open one eye, expecting the nurse.
It’s Paddy. He sets up a recorder beside my bed and goes back to the door.
“I’m gonna bring him in,” he says. “I’m gonna stay and watch. I’ll warn you same as I will him. He makes one wrong move and I’ll break his fucking arm.”
Paddy disappears and I sit up. It’s easier now. I’m still mummified from my chest to my hips, but the pain doesn’t feel so raw. Tomorrow I might even get out of bed.
I watch the door, my heart rate climbing. He lied to me. He betrayed me.
He’s my friend, and he needs my help.
Footsteps sound in the hall, accompanied by the jingle of handcuffs. The door opens and Paddy comes in. Presley follows.
He’s so thin. He’s got the shadow of a beard and deep hollows beneath his eyes, and he’s shaking so bad a stiff breeze could knock him down. His neck is bruised where Layla suffocated him. More bruises mark his face, maybe from Layla, maybe from Paddy.
He’s looking at me like he can’t look away.
I reach out my good arm. “Presley.”
He shakes his head, his eyes drowning.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Come here.”
He runs to me.
He buries his face in my shoulder, heaving with sobs. I get my arm around him but it isn’t enough. I grit my teeth and put my right arm around him too.
“You were dead,” he chokes. “They said you were dead…”
“So were you, kid. No big deal.”
“It’s my fault, I tricked you, I used you—”
“I know. It’s okay. We’ll work things out.”
“How can you say that to me?” he cries, pulling away. “I sacrificed you and you saved me, you saved me…”
I grab him by the hand before he gets out of reach. “I knew it was a trap, Presley. That didn’t matter. You were in trouble, so of course I saved you. I’d do it again, no questions asked.”
He shuts his eyes, collapsing in on himself like a dying star. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know you are. Come sit, okay? We can talk about it.”
“I fucked up. I’m fucked up. I hurt you, and I lost Robin—”
“Robin’s fine,” I say, and Presley’s eyes flash open. I tug him closer, ignoring the glare Paddy shoots me from across the room. “The police are keeping him safe. You saved him, Presley. You haven’t lost him.”
Presley’s face lights with hope. “He’s safe? He’s still here?”
“He’s here. And he’s counting on you to help him. Let’s talk.”
I slide over on the mattress and Presley sits on the very edge. He holds himself uncertainly and he blinks back tears, but when he looks at me I know he wants to confess.
“Let’s start with the cocaine,” I suggest. “How long?”
Presley drops his gaze. “Years,” he says, his voice barely audible. “I started after my mom died. I started hooking then too, and I just got sucked in. Sex, drugs, and a lot of money. It was better than being alone.”
“How did you meet James?”
“I caught his attention. He’s the sex trade kingpin and he wanted me to work directly for him. He tried to sell me on the lifestyle, a high-class escort type thing. I wasn’t interested. I pictured a bunch of stuffy old men. He said I’d make more money. I didn’t care. I was making plenty. Then he said he’d get me better cocaine. And I said yes.
“We worked out a deal. I could do my own thing, but when he had someone who needed seducing I got a call. I also got a lot of really good coke. It was my job to get the client high, relaxed, and talking, and when I reported in to James afterward I’d get paid again. I wasn’t the only one, of course. He had girls and a couple other boys. But I got a lot of calls.” He glances up at me. “I’m good at reading people.”
This is the part I don’t want to think about. Presley looks down, his shoulders caving inward, and I know he’s sorry. He’s so ashamed. But if we’re going to get past it, we need to get it out.
“So what about me?” I ask softly. “What were your instructions?”
Presley sighs, long and low.
“You knew who I was, that night in front of the motel. Were you…”
“I wasn’t waiting for you,” he says. “I didn’t know you would be there. But James always wants to know about cops…” He swallows. “And I saw an opportunity.”
“What did you plan to do?” Despite my efforts to be steady I feel hollow, like when they took my guts out during surgery they actually took my guts, and now all that’s left is an echo. I can hear it in my voice.
Presley shrugs. It’s more of a slump. “Whatever would have drawn you to me. If you’d wanted sex I would have slept with you. If you’d wanted drugs I could have provided them. Instead you wanted a friend.” He smiles weakly. “Turns out I wanted one too.”
I fidget with Max’s wedding ring, twisting it around my finger. “Everything you’ve ever said to me, about Max, about my anxiety, about the trial… all those times you’ve been there for me… was any of it real?” My voice quivers and I bite my lip. “Because it felt real.”
“It was real,” Presley says. “All of it.”
“How can I believe you?”
“Because I’ve never lied to you. A good liar doesn’t need to lie. He just omits the truth.”
“You omitted a lot, Presley.”
“I did it to protect myself. And I did it to protect you.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” I snap. “How is selling me out some noble gesture on your part?”
“It isn’t,” he says quietly. “It was a calculated decision, and in the beginning it was all calculated. I still meant it all, Mordecai. I hope you understand that. I never wanted to hurt you. But I didn’t expect to care about you so much, or for you to care for me too.”
He’s holding his hands in his lap, clasped so tight the knuckles are blanched. His voice is barely above a whisper.
“By the time I realized that, it was too late. I had to continue or else risk raising suspicions. I was looking for a way out, but in the meantime I was trying to protect you.”
I close my eyes, letting my head sink back into the pillows. “You were trying to protect me. By reporting on me. To James.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been reporting to him ever since you met me.”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Your routines. What you told me about work, or about your friends. How you were coping with the delays in Carl’s trial. If you were happy or not.”
“Why would James give a shit if I was happy?”
“Because he preys on vulnerability.”
“And in exchange for snitching you got cocaine.”
“Yes.”
“Are you dealing?”
“No. I just use.”
My eyes snap open and I seize his hand, squeezing it so hard his knuckles pop. “There’s nothing ‘just’ about using. Do you realize what you’re doing to yourself? How you’re fucking yourself over? You’re throwing away your life for a stupid high! Am I less important to you than cocaine? Is Robin?”
There’s pain on his face, and because I’m hurting too it m
akes me glad. I yank on his arm, almost toppling him. “You’re addicted. I get it. But you’re better than this, and it’s about fucking time you get out from under all these influences and do something with your life, not because someone’s bribing you or because it feels good, but because it’s the right fucking thing to do. For you.”
I drop his hand and glare at him. “If you weren’t already in custody I’d lock you up myself. Goddammit, Presley.”
He stares at me, dumbstruck. I slap him.
“Are you listening to me? You’re going to get clean, and get a real job, or so help me… what the hell are you laughing at?”
“Yes, mom,” Presley says with a sardonic grin, and I smack him again and drag him close enough to hug. He embraces me tightly.
“If you were my kid you’d be grounded until you’re fifty,” I whisper.
“And if you were my mother I would count myself lucky.” He eases back, far enough that I can read the truth in his eyes. “I’m trying, Mordecai. Honest. Being held at a police station certainly hinders the coke use, but even before I was trying to quit. I cut back, a lot, once I…”
He hesitates. I say, “Once you met Robin?”
He nods. There’s guilt there, but also earnestness. He wants to explain, wants me to understand. I give him a smile. “Tell me how you met him.”
“I’ll tell you the romantic version,” he says. “The truth is James was behind it, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought Robin was the one thing in my life that wasn’t tied to James.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Whatever James did, you can’t force someone to fall in love.” I nudge him lightly. “And you’re a goner, kid.”
He smiles. “I know. In some ways I ought to thank James. He’s the reason I met Robin, and the reason I met you.”
“Forget about James. I want to hear about Robin.”
Presley glances across the room at Paddy, who’s as unreadable as granite. He swings his legs up onto the bed and settles in beside me, leaning against the pillows.
“It was September,” he says. “Early September. I was on the corner, one of my usual spots, and he was just walking past. The girls were on him right away, catcalling him, blocking his path. You could tell he was really uncomfortable but he didn’t know what to do. He just kept saying no thank you, no thank you, but they wouldn’t let him be. So I went over, put my arm around him, and told them he was one of mine. Then I walked him home.”
“Knight in shining armor,” I say.
Presley makes a face. “It’s embarrassing to say it out loud. But I felt bad for him, and—”
“And you thought he was cute.”
Presley grins. “And I thought he was cute.”
“So you walked him home and swept him off his feet.”
“No, I walked him home and he slammed the door in my face. He was terrified of me.”
“Are you sure this is the romantic version?”
“Do you want to hear the story or not?”
“Apologies. Go on.”
“After he very romantically slammed the door in my face, I left. But the next night I kept an eye out for him, and a little after midnight, there he was. So I walked him home again.”
“And that’s when he fell for your charms.”
“Not exactly. For two weeks he never said a word to me. I waited for him every night and talked the whole way to his apartment, but he wouldn’t even look at me.”
“But he let you walk him home.”
“Yeah.” Presley smiles. “And then one night he said thank you. And the night after that he told me his name. And the night after that he smiled at me.”
Presley’s expression has gone soft, his voice low and warm. He’s so in love. The look in his eyes puts a happy feeling in me, too.
“What next?” I ask.
“He started telling me about himself, mostly about his job. He was so excited to be working. I could tell he hadn’t been in Briar Rose for long and I asked him where he was from. That scared him. He insisted he was from California but couldn’t tell me where, so I guessed he had come into the country illegally. I told him it was fine, that I wouldn’t tell anyone, but he freaked out and wouldn’t talk to me the rest of the night. He thought I was going to turn him in.”
Presley smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I tried to make him feel better by telling him my work wasn’t really legal either, but that only made things worse. I didn’t see him for over a week after that.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
Presley shrugs. “He was scared and he didn’t understand. He didn’t know.”
“It still must have hurt.”
“Yeah.” He releases a long breath. “Anyway, I kept watching for him, and the next time I saw him walking home I went with him. It was like the beginning again, me talking and him not saying anything. I apologized a lot. I told him I would never hurt him. And I guess eventually he believed me.
“One night I asked if I could meet him at his work and take him out for supper. He said yes, but he didn’t know it was a date. He didn’t know I was interested in him like that. I found out later he’d grown up in a Catholic orphanage, and he was taught it was a sin, two men or two women being together, so that scared him too. I told him I’d wait until he was ready, if he wanted to try. If not we could still be friends.”
“You’re very thoughtful, Presley,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I’m sure Robin appreciated the consideration. And it looks like your patience paid off.”
“We’re still a work in progress. We’re taking it slow.”
“He loves you. I can see it.”
“Thanks,” Presley whispers. “Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s hard to show him I love him without turning things physical. I don’t want to push him, but it’s difficult.”
“If it’s what he needs then it’s worth it.”
“I know.”
I shift against the pillows. My ribs are starting to burn. Presley slides off the bed, his expression anxious. “Are you in pain? Is there a doctor, or—”
“There’s a morphine drip,” I say. “Can you press that button a couple times?”
He does, hovering uncertainly. “Do you want to lie down? Do you need help?”
“I’m okay.” I wriggle until I’m lying flat and breathe a sigh of relief.
“Are you going to be all right?” Presley asks quietly. He hugs his arms to his stomach. “I heard… there were gunshots…”
“She got me a couple times, but I’ll recover.”
“They said you took a bullet for me, that it was my fault you were—”
“I’m not dead, kid. And it’s not your fault.”
“You wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”
“It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you.” I reach out my hand and he takes it, holds it so tight. I smile, sadly, because I understand. “You can’t hold onto the guilt, Presley. It’ll kill you. It’s like you’re feeding a monster, and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger until it swallows you up. I don’t want that for you. You have so much life to live.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“I forgive you. Always.” I prop a pillow beneath my head and Presley sits on the edge of the bed again. I eye the recorder.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s talk about James. How did you know he sent Robin?”
“I wasn’t sure at first. I didn’t know for certain until we were working at the Speakeasy. But he always walked the same route home, even though he could have gone another way or taken the bus. And he couldn’t explain how he’d gotten the job at the Orchard. When I entertained for James it was always at the Orchard. He’s a silent partner.”
“When did you know for sure?”
“I told you about our deal,” Presley says quietly. “About how I’d work at the Speakeasy for free as long as Robin only danced. I was desperate. I thought James had found Robin through me. But I agreed to work the back room, and in t
he back room I met a girl.”
“Hispanic, late teens to early twenties?”
Presley nods. “Her name was Sofia. Her English wasn’t very good but my Spanish is all right, and she was really eager to talk to me. She was from Guatemala, and her parents were very poor. A man came to her village promising a better life in America, so Sofia and her sister Luisa left home.
“They made it as far as Mexico before they found out what the man wanted from them. They picked up some more immigrants a couple days from the border, and right before they crossed the man had them swallow little pouches. They were supposed to give the pouches back on the other side of the border. Sofia said they knew the pouches were drugs, but they were too close to America and too far from home to disobey. Once they were in California they rode a bus up the coast and were brought to the Speakeasy.
“Sofia told me about the people she crossed the border with, and how one of the boys was separated from the group and sent somewhere else. I knew that was Robin. He didn’t like to talk about how he got into the country and I didn’t press him, but Sofia described him and I knew. I realized James had brought him to Briar Rose and that something was happening. And the next day Sofia was gone.”
“Sonny killed her,” I say. I glance at Paddy. “She’s the girl found in the pipe.”
Paddy stares at me impassively.
“A few days later Sonny was dead too,” Presley says. “Robin and I were both working that night. I was in the back, and he… that’s the night he was…”
“Drugged,” I say. “But he wasn’t going to be sent home with anyone, Presley. James was just baiting us. You and me both.”
Presley lowers his eyes. “I went back to the club the next night, even though I said I wouldn’t.”
“Giving your report?”
“Yes. But James had something for me, too. He showed me photos. Sofia dead. Sonny dead. And he had photos of you and Robin, from that morning, asleep in the living room at the cathedral. He said he hoped I could still keep a secret. He said as long as I cooperated there was nothing to worry about. I was really scared, Mordecai. I told him I’d do whatever he wanted. But all he wanted was for me to act like everything was normal. The next day I brought Robin to work, and I went with you to the trial. I told myself we were safe because you’d protect us, but then you got arrested and I was the only one who could protect Robin.”