“I’ve always loved gardening,” Greer said, and gently introduced a topic that she knew could be a red flag to Sterling, but she had to get it in sometime. “I’ve spent some time studying the traditional magical properties of plants and herbs, and I always try to incorporate that into my gardens.”
Instead of regarding her warily, Sterling perked up, his interest piqued. “Really? What a great idea. I mean, why not? I’ve already incorporated the aspects of feng shui that make sense to me. I absolutely believe in the energies of different plants. I see the effect that environments have on the people who live in them, so if nothing else they have that power.” He was nodding and looking energized. “Yes, this is excellent. Can you recommend some good source-books?”
Greer was delighted, and she said so. “I’d love to. I have several you could borrow.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a voice from the booth behind them. Vince called out loudly from his table, “Hello? Does anyone work here? Anyone?” The girl looked mortified. She touched his arm and murmured something.
Sterling turned and looked at Vince, annoyed, but he said nothing. The bartender stopped his washing, and without looking up he came around from the bar and went to their table. Sterling muttered, “Git.”
“Do you know him?” Greer asked.
“I’ve seen him around. It always amazes me that someone can think so much of themselves and be so oblivious to the fact that no one else shares their opinion.”
“Remember the pretty brunette you met the other day at the coffee shop” Greer asked him, then realized that that description could fit any of the three women who were with her. “The one dressed like a banker; she used to be married to him.”
“Well, the operative words there are used to be. She’s got to be glad to be away from him.”
Greer looked across to Vince. Though he maintained a calm facade, it was fairly obvious that he was bullying his date. Apparently he didn’t like the fact that she had tried to restrain him. “I just hope she is,” Greer said to Sterling, and then in answer to his questioning look she added, “He’s still her boss; he’s the manager at the bank where she works.”
Vince’s restrained yet angry voice wafted up to them again, but only the words don’t you ever cut through clearly. Sterling sighed. “I couldn’t work for him. I’d have to kill the bastard.” His dead-serious tone gave Greer a sense of what Sterling must have been like in a bar fight; there was a more brutal side to this man, one that had survived a world that had very different rules. He looked straight ahead, and for just a moment the red neon sign behind the bar reflected in his irises like flickering flames, as though his eyes were on fire.
“I’ll get us a table so we don’t have to listen to his ‘courting.’ ” Sterling got up and went to the hostess, giving Greer a chance to study Vince and his date for a moment. He was leaning toward her, too close, and talking fast. His hand was holding her wrist, and she looked as though she’d much rather not be there. The bartender was studiously not noticing. Wondering if anyone else was witnessing this, Greer looked around. The only other person in the bar was at the far booth, seated alone with a beer in front of him. It was dim, but on his arms Greer could make out the crude tattoos that identified him as Paul’s brother, Army. He was looking deliberately away, as though he was choosing to block out not only Vince but the rest of the human race as well. She thought about saying hello, but decided to respect his solitude.
“Okay, all set. Let me just pay for these.” Sterling returned and had surprisingly little trouble getting the bartender’s attention to take the money.
They had started to their table and were passing Vince’s booth when the young woman with Vince stood up suddenly but was pulled back by Vince gripping her forearm.
“We’re not going anywhere. Sit down,” Vince told her curtly, leaning toward her and keeping his voice low and controlled, but threatening. She glanced around self-consciously, said something to him in a placating voice, and then tried to pull away. He stood and blocked the way out of the restaurant without releasing her arm. “Sit down!” he hissed at her.
It happened in a couple of seconds. Sterling had already turned to intervene when another voice beat him to it—a deadly serious voice, calm and low, but very audible in the sudden silence that had fallen over the bar.
“Let go of her arm.” Army stood just beside Vince. He was shorter by a good five inches, but he was wider and obviously tougher, and there was something in his eyes that was bigger than the altercation in front of him.
Vince turned and looked mockingly down at Army. In a very quiet tone, he said, “Walk away, asshole; this has nothing to do with you.” He twisted the girl’s arm and thrust her slightly back toward her seat. She made a small crying sound and sat, staring down at the table. Her face was red with embarrassment and fear.
“She’s leaving,” Army said to Vince. “And you and I are taking this outside.”
Vince looked at Army as though both slightly out of his league and half-amused. “I know you,” he said, softening his face and voice. He narrowed his eyes at Army and scoffed in a voice that only Army, Sterling, and Greer could hear, “You’ve got that little piece-of-shit, broken-down bike. You’re nothing but crap on my boots. Fuck off.”
Sterling had positioned himself just behind Army, placing one hand on the younger man’s arm that was tense, ready to launch forward, and ended in a tight fist. He began speaking very quietly into Army’s ear. Army seemed almost unconscious of his presence.
“Let’s take it outside. You don’t treat a lady like that,” Army said steadily to Vince.
Vince laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. You are going to tell me how to treat a woman, faggot? You couldn’t get a piece of ass if they sold it at the grocery store.”
Sterling kept up a steady stream of talk in Army’s ear. The girl watched nervously. Vince continued to mouth off insults at Army in a quiet taunting voice that couldn’t be overheard by any of the patrons in the restaurant nearby.
Finally Army looked down at the girl. “Do you want to stay?” he asked her flatly.
“It’s okay,” she said with a tremulous fake smile. “We just had a little argument.”
Army turned back to Vince, who was smirking. “You’re not worth it,” he said to Vince, and started past him.
“Fucking faggot,” Vince mocked him, his voice edgy and ragged but still low. “If I ever see you again I’ll kick your bitch ass.”
Sterling was unable to keep Army from stopping and turning back. “I hope you do see me again. I look forward to it.” There was a flatlined deadness in his voice that finally shut Vince up.
The tension, though contained, was beginning to draw attention from the restaurant area, and the manager had hurried over from the front. She had stood meekly a couple yards away during the altercation, but now she stepped forward and said carefully to Army, Vince, and his date, “I think maybe you should go. I’ll be glad to buy your drinks, but in the interest of our other customers, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She looked terrified.
Vince switched on his rehearsed personality in the time it took him to turn his head toward her. He flashed a smile like headlights at the woman and said, “We were just leaving. My date had a sudden craving for Mexican food. Let’s go, Terry.” He put a firm arm around the girl’s back.
Now Greer spoke up. “You don’t have to go with him, Terry,” she said to the girl, her voice clear and calm. “If you want I’ll give you a ride home, or wherever else you want to go.”
Terry looked at Greer with surprise. Greer did not look at Vince, but she could feel his hateful gaze on her.
“No, it’s okay.” Terry’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Thanks. C’mon, honey; let’s go.”
With a reptilian smile Vince turned his back on the lot of them and stalked to the door, holding firmly to Terry’s arm.
Army watched them go, and then, without comment, he threw down some money for his beer and went out the b
ack way.
At their table, Greer found she was too keyed up to feel very hungry. But Sterling seemed to be completely unfazed.
She regarded him shyly. “That was impressive,” she said. “What did you say to him?”
“Oh, it’s an old trick for stopping a fight I perfected on Tooting High Street. Pick the one who’s not the aggressor and then you keep talking in their ear. They’re so hopped up they don’t even know you’re there, but it usually gets through, because they weren’t looking for a fight to start out with.”
“But what did you say?”
“ ‘Jail.’ I just kept saying, ‘Think about jail. He’s not worth it. Bars. Think about bars.’ ” Sterling smiled grimly at her. “From the look of that guy, he’s had a little firsthand knowledge of the big house.”
Greer didn’t comment on Army’s story. Instead she sat thoughtfully for a moment. Finally she said, “I wonder why she went with him.”
Sterling exhaled hard and shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
Greer started to laugh. “Tooting High Street? That sounds more like something out of Peter Pan than a tough neighborhood.”
“Trust me,” Sterling said, leaning back as his steak was placed on the table in front of him, “the Fox and Forrester’s was no never-never land. And I’m no Tinkerbell.” He fixed her with a look that told her she wasn’t the only one at the table who was afraid that something about them might scare the other person away.
Greer didn’t know whether to be thrilled or afraid.
Chapter 26
Tuesday
The air in the windowless two-car garage was brutal: It was infused with a burning, lethal smell, a chemical-soup combination of pure ammonia with acetone stirred in.
The two men who worked there both wear cheap paper masks, the kind housepainters wear when they are spraying a ceiling. Their eyes were red, bloodshot, raw.
The boss finished weighing out the night’s product and handed out cash to the men, who took it hungrily and counted it in front of him. He didn’t mind their distrust. He didn’t employ them because they were honest. He didn’t even know their names, and they sure as shit didn’t know his. They were both illegal aliens who lived in daily fear of being picked up and sent back to the stench of the poverty across the border. This man gave them plenty of money to send back to their families, and they asked no questions.
Wiping some of the white dust off of his jeans, the boss picked up his keys by the key chain, swinging them in a small circle, enjoying the weight and feel of the heavy, dangling charm in his hand before fastening them onto his belt loop. Then he cracked the door and looked out on the shabby neighborhood. It was just before dawn; the birds were on high alert, twittering and chattering frenetically, and somewhere on the next street over a dog barked.
Careful not be seen as he exited the garage, he walked down the dirty street to where he had parked. He was tired but energized. He would go home and get a couple of hours’ sleep before his day job. As tempting as it was, he knew he couldn’t blow it off because he needed the cover, if not the money. Besides, it afforded him both connections to maintain his more profitable business, and respect in the community.
He laughed quietly and deeply at the irony of that under his breath; the sentiment left wispy traces of moisture in the cold air that quickly dissipated. Yeah, he was making a real social contribution. He stopped for a moment and looked around at the sleeping, dilapidated houses around him and up at the looming hills behind them, and felt swelled with the license to do as he pleased. It was really so easy, once you realized there were no real rules.
The power of having a secret life, undetected and untraceable, was exhilarating. He felt intoxicated with his ability to create his own law, his own world. This fucking place belongs to me, he thought. I can do anything I want and nobody can stop me.
He thought again about the girl he’d had and how much he’d enjoyed it, but nothing further about her. Any thought of what had become of her, whether she had lived or died, did not enter his mind. She had been his property to do with as he chose. He had stolen her, used her, marked her, and disposed of her. In his mind he was finished; she was gone.
Now he was hungry for more. He had one in mind, one he could easily draw invisibly away, and once he had her hidden . . .
Yes, this time he would savor it, make it last.
And no one would ever suspect him, and no one could stop him.
He laughed again, louder, adding a kind of whoop on the end that set off a cacophony of barking junk-yard dogs.
Chapter 27
Joshua was about to turn onto the highway when he spotted Joy walking despondently toward the school bus stop. He pulled over and cut the whining engine.
“Morning. I’d offer you a ride, but I’m not supposed to have any passengers, and I’ve only got one helmet anyway.” He shrugged apologetically.
She looked cold in her light jacket, but she smiled slightly anyway. “What makes you think I’m going to school?”
Joshua was surprised. “Aren’t you?”
She looked disdainful and disgusted, with a rebellious glint in her eye, and then she snorted a little and laughed resignedly. “Of course I’m going. I’ve got a year and a half left on my mandatory high school sentence, and my dad won’t let me drop out.”
“Oh, well, I guess I’ll see you in the cell block, then.”
“Right. Let me know when you get your grown-up bike,” she said sourly, but she couldn’t hide her smile. Slightly encouraged, Joshua started the bike up again and pulled out, watching her as long as possible in the little round mirror on his right handlebar. She turned quickly away and walked back from the road toward the bus stop bench, and then he rounded the first curve and couldn’t see her anymore.
At lunch Joshua went out to the chilly yard to see if he could spot Joy, but he didn’t see her there. He saw Elvis/Joey and waved. The boy nodded sullenly and went on talking to another kid with a rainbow mohawk hairstyle. Both of them looked as though they hadn’t slept the night before.
Joshua wanted to ask if they’d seen Joy, and was almost to them when he overheard Elvis say, “Man, I wish the mail would come.”
“No shit, you got any money?” his friend asked, and then they noticed Joshua and both of their faces turned blankly to him as though he were something to be observed rather than related to.
“Hi, I, uh, was just wondering if you guys have seen Joy?” Joshua said, trying to find the balance between friendliness and disinterested teenage cool.
The faces remained impassive for a moment, and then Elvis said, “Why? Is it my day to watch her?” They both stared at Joshua.
“Oh, okay. Well, thanks.”
Joshua sat down and opened his lunch. It was cold, and after another glance around the dismal playing field, he threw his sandwich back into the bag, muttering, “Screw it,” and headed for the cafeteria.
There were a few open chairs at the end of one table, and with a nod that was not returned from the three Hispanic guys at the other end, he sat down and got his lunch out again.
“I told you, you can sit with us.” Joshua knew from the chirpy voice that it was Natalie before he looked up.
“Uh, thanks,” Joshua said, and fumbled for his book bag, “but I’ve got some studying to do for a test.”
Natalie sat without waiting for an invitation. “Oh, take a few minutes off. Did you hear about Zoe Caldwell?”
“No.” Joshua steeled himself to look interested that someone he didn’t know had been nominated for homecoming queen or some such news.
Natalie’s eyes glistened with excitement and genuine concern. “They found her! In a hospital over in Chatsworth.” She looked as though she might cry. Joshua felt completely at a loss. What was she talking about? “She’d been beaten so badly that she might die. Isn’t that just awful?”
Joshua felt the time had come to straighten the subject out. “I’m sorry, Natalie, but I’m new and I don’t know, uh, Zoe? Can you tel
l me what happened?”
Natalie’s face softened and she apologized quickly. “Oh, I’m sorry; of course you didn’t know her. She’s a senior here. I mean, I didn’t really know her—she was one of the ones who, you know, hang out on their own—but I’m sure she’s very nice. Anyway, she disappeared after last Friday and they’ve been looking for her.” Natalie glanced around and then leaned forward and whispered, “Most people here thought she ran away. She was kind of, you know, trouble.” She sat up again and resumed her normal tone. “I don’t mean to be judgmental or mean, and I’ve been praying for her since I heard.”
“Jesus,” Joshua muttered, almost to himself. “How awful.” His thoughts had gone immediately to Joy and his feelings of unease. She’d been labeled trouble as well. “Do they know who did it?”
Natalie shook her head, her glossy ponytail flipping from side to side as though she were whisking away flies. “No, but this is the scary part—they think it might be somebody she knew.” Natalie’s eyes widened. “That means it’s probably somebody from around here.”
Joshua’s mind was whirling. He was thinking of the image of the girl he had seen over Joy’s right shoulder. He needed to get away from the noise and think.
The bell rang, and Natalie stood up quickly. “Listen,” she said as Joshua stowed his things, “the spring dance is coming up in about three weeks, and if you’d like, we could go together. It doesn’t have to be a date.” The look on her face said otherwise.
Joshua was incapable of processing the switch from missing girl to Spring Fling, and he answered lamely, “Yeah, sure, that’d be great, thanks,” before walking away.
As he went down the hall to his next class, his eyes raked the teenagers, searching for Joy’s dark, tinted hair. As usual he didn’t spot her. He didn’t know if he should be worried again. Even if she had cut classes, it didn’t mean she was in any danger. He found himself shaking his head at her stupid behavior. He hadn’t met her mom, so maybe she had a reason to be unhappy that he didn’t understand, but how hard was it to go to school and come home at night?
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