Reunion in Death

by J. D. Robb

  "We'll see it through then."

  He wove through traffic, turning onto roads that weren't so wide now, weren't so clean. The storefronts here, when they weren't boarded up, were dull with grime.

  Then everything began to spruce up again, slowly, as if some industrious domestic droid had begun work at one end and was polishing its way down to the other.

  Small, trendy shops and eateries, freshly rehabbed apartments and town homes. It spoke, clearly, of the gradual takeover of the disenfranchised area by the upwardly mobile young urbanite with money, energy, and time.

  "This is wrong. It's not like this." Staring out the window, she saw the shamble of public housing, the broken glass, the screaming lights of yesterday's slum quarter superimposed over today's brisk renewal.

  Roarke pulled into a parking garage, found a slot, cut the engine. "It might be better if we walked a bit."

  Her legs were weak, but she got out of the car. "I walked then. I don't know how long. It was hot then, too. Hot like this."

  "You'll walk with me now." He took her hand.

  "It wasn't clean like this." She clung to his hand as they walked out of the garage, onto the sidewalk. "It was getting dark. People were shouting. There was music." She looked around, staring through the present into the past. "A strip club. I didn't know what it was, exactly, but there was music pouring out whenever someone opened the door. I looked inside, and I thought maybe I could go in because I could smell food. I was so hungry. But I could smell something else. Sex and booze. He'd smelled like that. So I ran away as fast as I could. Someone yelled after me."

  Her head felt light, her stomach clutched with a sharp, drilling hunger that came from memory.

  "Little girl. Hey, little girl. He called me that. I ran across the street, through the cars. People shouted, beeped horns. I think... I think I fell, but I got up again."

  Roarke kept her hand in his as they crossed.

  "I couldn't run very far because my arm hurt so much, and I was dizzy. Sick."

  She was sick now. Oily waves pitched in her belly and rose into her throat. "Nobody paid attention to me. Two men." She stopped. "Two men here. Must've been an illegals deal gone bad. They started to fight. One fell and knocked me over. I think I passed out for a minute. I must have because when I woke up, one of them was lying on the sidewalk beside me. Bleeding, groaning. And I crawled away. Into here. In here."

  She stood at the mouth of an alley, tidy as a church pew now with a sparkling recycler.

  "I can't do this."

  He wanted to scoop her up, carry her away. Anywhere but here. But she'd asked, and he'd promised to see her through it. "Yes, you can."

  "I can't go in there."

  "I'm going with you." He brought her icy hand to his lips. "I'm with you, Eve. I won't leave you."

  "It got dark, and I was cold." She made herself take the first step into the alley, then the second. "Everything hurt again, and I just wanted to sleep. But the smell. Horrible smell from the garbage. The recycler was broken, and there was garbage all over the alley. Someone came in, so I had to hide. If he comes after me, if he finds me, he'll take me back to the room and do awful things to me. I hide in the dark, but it isn't him. It's somebody else, and they're pissing against the wall, then they go away."

  She swayed a little, didn't feel Roarke's hand steady her. "I'm so tired. I'm so tired, I'm so hungry. I want to get up, to find another hiding place. One that doesn't smell so bad, that isn't so dark. It's awfully dark here. I don't know what's in the dark."

  "Eve." It worried him that she was speaking as if it were all happening now, that her voice was going thin and shaky as if she were in pain. "You're not hurt now, or alone, or a child." He took her shoulders, squeezed them firmly. "You can remember without going back."

  "Yeah, okay." But she was afraid. Her belly was slick with fear. She concentrated on his face, on the clean, clear blue of his eyes until she felt steady again. "I was afraid to be in the dark, afraid to be out of it. But..." She looked back to where she'd huddled. "I couldn't get up anyway because I was sick again. Then I don't remember anything until it was light."

  She lifted one shaking hand to point. "Here. I was here. I remember. There were people standing over me when I woke up. Blue uniforms. Police. If you talk to the cops they'll put you in a hole with the snakes and the bugs that like to eat you. Roarke."

  "Steady. I'm right here. Hold on to me."

  She turned to him. Turned into him. "I couldn't get away from them. I couldn't even move. I didn't remember where I was, or who. They kept asking questions, but I didn't know the answers. They took me away, to the hospital. There was a different smell there, just as scary. And I couldn't get away. They wouldn't let me go. But they didn't put me in a hole with the snakes. That was a lie. Even when I couldn't tell them who I was they didn't try to hurt me."

  "No." He stroked her hair as he thought how she'd found the courage to grab on to a badge and make it her own. "They wanted to help you."

  She let out a shaky breath, rested her head on his shoulder. "I couldn't tell them what I didn't know. I wouldn't have told them if I'd known. They would have taken me back to that room, and that would've been worse than any pit. I did something terrible in that room. I couldn't remember, but it was bad, and I couldn't go back. I can't breathe in here anymore."

  He slid an arm around her waist, led her out of the alley where she bent from the waist, braced her hands on her thighs and drew greedy breaths.

  "Better now?"

  She nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay. Just need a minute. Sorry—"

  "Don't apologize to me for this." His voice snapped out, whipped by fury before he could bank it. "Don't. Just take your time.

  "The room was in a hotel," she said. "Old. Riot bars on the lower windows, middle of the street. Across from it was a sex club. Live Sex. Red light." Her stomach clutched, threatened to pitch, but she bore down. "The room was high up. He always got a high room so I couldn't get out the window. Ninth floor. I counted the windows across the street. There was a lighted sign out front, with the letters running down. Something foreign, because I couldn't read it. I could read some, but I didn't know what it said. C, A ... C, A, S, A. Casa, Casa Diablo."

  She let out a short laugh, straightened. Her face was clammy, white as ivory, but set. "Devil House. That's what that means, isn't it? Isn't that fucking perfect? Can you find it?"

  "If that's what you want, yes. I'll find it."

  "Now. Before I lose my nerve."

  He went back to the car first. He wanted to get her away from the alley, to give her time to gather her resources. While she sat, head back, eyes closed, he took out his PPC and began the search.

  "You've put a lot into one day already, Eve."

  "I want to finish it."

  The year before he'd finally gone back to the alley where his father had met someone meaner, someone quick enough to jam a knife in his throat. And he remembered the fury, the pain, and the ultimate release he'd experienced standing there as a man, looking down, and knowing it was finished.

  "It's still there." He told her and saw her flinch. "The name's changed, but it's still a hotel. It's called The Traveler's Inn now, and rates three stars. It's fucking three miles from here."

  When she opened her eyes, looked at him, he shook his head. "I'm with you, but by Christ, Eve, it's punishing to know you walked all that way, hurt and hungry and lost."

  "Is that why you went alone when you went back to where you'd lived in Dublin? Because you didn't want to share that punishment with me?"

  He shoved the PPC back in his pocket. "Give me a bit of room, would you, for wanting to tuck you up safe when I can manage it."

  "You're churned up." She swiped the back of her hand over her damp face, didn't know if it was wet from sweat or tears. "The Irish gets thicker when you're churned up."

  "Bugger it."

  "I feel better because you're churned up. Go figure." She leaned over to touch her lips to his cheek. "Thanks
."

  "Happy to help. You're ready then?"

  "Yeah."

  * * *

  Nothing looked particularly familiar. She thought they'd come in at night. Maybe at night. On a bus. Maybe on a bus.

  What the hell did it matter?

  The city itself wasn't a huge revelation to her. There was no sudden epiphany with all questions answered. She didn't know if she wanted all questions answered, only that she needed to do this one thing.

  Wanted to do this one thing, she corrected. But despite the climate control that kept the interior of the car comfortably cool, a line of sweat dribbled down her back.

  Roarke swung to the curb, held up a hand to hold off the uniformed doorman who hustled over. "Take your time," he told Eve. "Take whatever time you need."

  The building was a simple block with a rippled tile roof. But it was painted a pleasant stucco pink now, and rather than the lurid sign, there was a shady portico and a couple of big concrete tubs filled with a rainbow of flowers.

  "Are you sure this is right?" She felt his hand close gently over hers. "Yeah, of course you're sure. It didn't look like this."

  "It was rehabbed in the late forties. From the looks of it, I'd say most of this area got the same treatment."

  "It won't be the same inside either. This is probably a waste of time, and I should be talking to the locals about Dunne."

  He said nothing, just waited her out.

  "I'm so scared. I'm so fucking scared. I can't even work up any spit in my mouth. If this was the job, I'd just do it. You just go through the door."

  "I'm going through the door with you." He kissed her hand again, because he needed it. "We've been through others. We can go through this one."

  "Okay." She sucked in a breath. "Okay." And got out of the car.

  She didn't know what Roarke said to the doorman, or how much money changed hands, but the car remained parked where it was.

  There was a roaring in her head she knew was fear, adrenaline, and dread. It remained there, dimming her hearing so that it was like walking through water as they entered the lobby.

  The floors were a sea of blues, and added to the sensation of passing through some thin liquid. There were pleasant seating areas arranged, and a bank of elevators with silver doors to one side, a long check-in counter on the other where two bright-faced young clerks worked.

  There were white carnations in the buttonholes of their snappy red jackets, and a generous bowl of hard candy on the counter.

  "He had funny eyes." She stared at the tidy check-in area and remembered the grubby rat hole where a single droid had worked. "One wandered everywhere and the other stared right at you. He smelled, like burning. Fucking droid's blown some circuits. That's what he said. You just stay there, little girl. Stay there with the bags and keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you. And he went up to the counter and got a room."

  "What room?"

  "Nine-one-one. Emergency. Better not call 911 or he'll beat the shit out of you. Oh God."

  "Look at me. Eve, look at me."

  She did, and saw so much in his face. Concern, fury, and hints of grief. "I can do it. I can do this." She took a step toward check-in, then his hand took hers again.

  "Good afternoon." The female clerk spilled welcome all over them. "Will you be checking in today?"

  "We need room 911," Roarke told her.

  "And do you have a reservation?"

  "Nine-one-one," Roarke repeated.

  Her smile faltered a little, but she began to work with her screen. "That room is blocked for a guest arriving this evening. If you'd like another room with a kitchenette, perhaps—"

  He felt Eve reach down, knew she was going for her badge. He gave her hand a warning squeeze. "It's 911 we need." He'd already measured her. Some you bribed, some you intimidated, some you flattered. And others you simply rolled over. "The name's Roarke, and my wife and I will be needing that particular room for a bit. If there's a problem with that, you should speak to your supervisor."

  "Just one moment, sir." Her face wasn't so friendly now, and her voice had cooled to that "You're a troublemaker" tone. She slipped through a door behind the counter. It took only twenty seconds or so before a man came rushing out ahead of her.

  "I apologize for the wait, Mr. Roarke. I'm afraid my clerk didn't understand. We weren't expecting—"

  "We need the room. Room 911. I take it you understand?"

  "Of course, of course." He tapped nervous fingers over the screen. "Whatever we can do for you. Welcome to The Traveler's Inn. Angelina, get Mr. Roarke's keycode and guest packet. We have two restaurants," he continued. "Marc's for fine dining, and The Corral for casual. May I make any reservations for you?"

  "That won't be necessary."

  "The Sunset Lounge is open from eleven a.m. to two a.m., and our gift shop carries souvenirs, apparel, snacks, and various sundries" The words tumbled out of his lips and he looked slightly terrified. "May I ask how long you and your wife plan to stay with us?"

  "Not long." Roarke handed over a debit card.

  "Ah, yes, thank you. I'll just scan this. We'll be happy to assist you with any of your plans or needs while you're in Dallas. Transportation, sightseeing, theater."

  "Just the room, please."

  "Of course. Yes, indeed." He handed back the debit card, then offered the keycode and the guest packet. "Will you need assistance with your luggage?"

  "No. See that we're not disturbed, won't you?"

  "Of course. Yes. If you need anything, anything at all..." he called after them as they walked to the elevators.

  "He's wondering if we're going up there for some quick sex," Eve said. "You don't own this place, do you?"

  "I don't, no, but he's certainly wondering if I'm going to."

  The elevator opened and yawned, Eve thought, like a big, greedy mouth. She stepped into it. "I could've used my badge, kept your name out of it."

  "This was simple enough."

  "I guess. Anyway, it took my mind off things, watching you work him. Another ten seconds of you, and he'd've babbled."

  The elevator doors opened again. She stood where she was, staring out at the quiet hallway.

  "It was dark," she managed. "I think it was dark, and he was pissed off. But there were so many places, I'm not sure if I'm mixing it up with somewhere else. I was only outside the room twice, once when we went in. Once when I went out. I'm sure of that. It was almost always that way."

  "He can't lock you in anymore."

  "No." She stiffened her spine and walked out into the hall. "It smelled like wet socks. That's what I thought. Like wet, dirty socks, and I was tired. Hungry. I hoped he'd go out, get us something to eat. But more, I hoped he'd just go out. It's that way." She gestured toward the left.

  It was to the left, and five rooms down.

  "I'm scared stupid. Don't let me run."

  "You won't run. Eve." He turned her face to his, touched his mouth to hers. "You were always stronger than him. Always."

  "Let's see if you're right. Open it."

  You just go through the door, she told herself. That's what you do.

  How many times had she done just that, knowing death waited on the other side hoping to take her? There was no one on the other side of this door but ghosts.

  The roar in her head was nearly a scream when she stepped in.

  It was tidy, clean, pleasantly appointed. Viewing discs were fanned out artistically on a low table beside an arrangement of fake flowers. The floor was carpeted in a pale beige.

  Was there blood on the floor under it? she wondered. Was his blood still there?

  The bed was covered in a spread exploding with what she thought might have been poppies. A work area had been built into a corner and held a small, practical communication center. The kitchenette was separated from the sleeping area by an eating counter. There was a bowl on it holding a display of nubby fruit.

  Through the window she could see another building, but there wa
s no sign, no flashing light, no wash of dirty red.

  "Looks like they redecorated." The feeble attempt at humor echoed back at her. "We never stayed in places like this—as nice as this—that I remember. Nothing this clean and, well, tended, I guess, as this is now. Sometimes there were two rooms, so I had my own bed. But sometimes I slept on the floor. I slept on the floor."

  Her gaze was pulled down, over. She could see herself there, if she let it happen, see herself huddled on the floor under a thin blanket.

  "It's cold. Climate control's broken. It's so cold it hurts my bones. There's no hot water and I hate washing in the cold. But I have to get his smell off me. It's worse than being cold to smell him on me after he's ..."

  She hugged her arms now, and shuddered.

  He watched it come into her, and it tore him to pieces. Lanced through his heart till he could all but feel the blood pouring out of it for her.

  Her eyes widened and blurred, and her face went more than pale. It went transparent.

  "I slept there. Tried to sleep there. There's a light through the window, flashing off and on. Red then black, red then black, but the red stays like a mist. He goes out a lot. Places to go, people to see. Keep quiet as a mouse, little girl, or the snakes'll get you. Sometimes they swallow you whole, the snakes do, and you're still alive inside them. Screaming."

  "Good Christ." He barely breathed the oath, had to jam his fists into his pockets for there was nothing and no one to fight, to punish for terrorizing the child that was now his wife.

  "If someone's coming here, I have to stay in the bathroom. Children aren't to be seen or heard. When he brings women up, he does to them what he does to me. It's safe when he does it to them, and they don't cry or beg him to stop unless he starts hitting them. But I don't like to hear it."

  She covered her ears with her hands. "He doesn't bring them back very much. Then it's not safe. Sometimes he's drunk, drunk enough. But not always. When he's not, he hurts me. He hurts me."

  Unconsciously she pressed a hand between her legs and rocked. "If I can't hold it back, if I cry, if I scream, if I beg, he hurts me more. This is what you're supposed to do. You better learn, little girl. Pretty soon you're gonna earn your goddamn keep. You remember what I told you."