Trapped

by Sally Mason

  Squatting next to the bed, he grabs a handful of gummy bears, tossing a few into his mouth.

  “We made a suspect list.”

  He munches on the gummy bears. “Let’s hear it.”

  Hallie reads out the names.

  With a vacant expression, he stares into blue light of dusk before stuffing more gummy bears into his mouth. “What about Luke?”

  I gasp. “He’s my brother. What are you implying?”

  He chews with a sullen look. “He’s your stepbrother, and statistics show that if a girl is abducted by someone they know, it’s often a person close to them.”

  The thought sends a shudder down my spine. “He killed Jed.”

  “And effectively eliminated the only one who could have pointed the finger at him.” He throws a gummy bear in the air and catches it with his mouth. “Sorry, Kelsey, but you have to think like a criminal here. In my books, he’s on top of the list.”

  I glance at Hallie, who grimaces. “I hate to agree, but Marcel is right.”

  With a sigh, I allow the air to dramatically escape through my lips. “Okay, okay, I see your point. Put him on.” My arms fold in front of my chest when I squint at Marcel. “Does your sudden interest mean that you’ll help us after all?”

  His lips twist to an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, I can’t. Tyrone is pissed at me as it is since he feels I don’t have my loyalties straight. I can’t get into anymore hot water or there’ll be repercussions.”

  I try to hide my disappointment. “I understand,” I claim with slumped shoulders. It would have been so much easier to convince someone to drop their pants with him around.

  He chews in silence until he all of a sudden stops and stupidly grins at Hallie. “Say, does your sister have a boyfriend?”

  Hallie’s smile is smug. “No. Why are you asking?”

  “No reason.” He shoves the last gummy bears into his mouth. “We should go. We have to make one more stop before I take you home.”

  I shoot him a quizzical look. “Where?”

  “Finn’s house.” The jest is wiped off his face. “He’ll either be cleared today or going to jail.”

  My heartbeat accelerates when I realize the full impact of his words—this has been standing between Finn and me ever since the night Jed was killed. He deserves to know why I’ve been avoiding him, yet the thought of confronting him twists my guts into tight knots. If he truly is Napoleon, I don’t think I will be able to trust anyone ever again.

  CHAPTER 26

  My mind works in overdrive the whole way back to Stonehenge, imagining the terrible scenarios which could be lying ahead. Finn could be Napoleon, but even if not, he might hate me for accusing him in the first place and refuse to speak to me ever again. Best-case scenario, he will still be pissed. After all the things he did for me, it’s a horrible way to repay him.

  He is just leaving the house when we arrive, a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. I frown, wondering what he is up to. Marcel must feel equally puzzled, his hand wandering under his jacket as he approaches his friend.

  “Hey, Finn, you and I need to talk.”

  Finn’s eyes dart from Marcel to me. The light from the street lamp illuminates his face and I notice that his cheeks are red and puffy like he has been crying.

  With a sigh, he tosses the duffle in the back of his truck. “Now is not a good time, guys.”

  Marcel squints at him, his shoulders shifting. “Where’re you going?” Both his voice and eyes emit the same type of coldness as they did the day he confronted Justin in the coffee shop.

  Finn throws up his hands. “Look, bro, if you want to shoot me, shoot me. Everything else will have to wait until I come back.”

  Before Marcel can pull the gun, I step between them. “Now, let’s just all take a deep breath, alright?” I grab Finn’s arm. “What’s the matter? I can tell you’ve been crying.”

  He pulls from my grip. “It’s my brother. I have to go and get him.”

  There’s a desperation in his eyes that I have never seen before. Whatever happened to his brother must be really serious—he is worried sick about him.

  “What happened?”

  His shoulders slump, wetness making his orbs shimmer in the darkness. “Cameron called and said that he couldn’t take it anymore. He threatened to kill himself if I don’t come and get him.”

  The tremble in his voice summons a deep wrinkle on Marcel’s forehead. “Sorry to hear that, bro. You got a piece?”

  I blink at him. Sometimes, this gang slang is too cryptic for me.

  Finn, on the other hand, doesn’t seem troubled. “No way. If the cops stop me, I’ll already be in big trouble for leaving the state while on probation. No need to add a firearm violation to that.”

  Marcel kicks the tire of Finn’s truck. “You’ll never make it to New Haven in that. I’ll drive you.”

  Finn is hesitant. “You sure? What ’bout Tyrone?”

  “He’ll get over it.”

  Both men turn toward Marcel’s car, leaving me standing in the middle of the sidewalk without a further glance.

  “Hey, what about me?” My sudden panic at being left behind in the dark is camouflaged by an evil glare.

  “Get in the back,” Marcel says. “We’ll drop you home on the way.”

  I shake my head. “If you go on a road trip, I want to come.” There is at least an equal chance that Finn is not Napoleon and the thought of my tormentor still being out there while they are both out of town scares me to bits.

  The two exchange a glance.

  “Your mama would kill me,” Marcel declares and I secretly have to agree, but she won’t be able to stop me.

  “Leave her to me.” Hands on my hips, I force my chin into the air. “I really want to come.”

  Marcel and Finn debate under their breath while I stare at them, my foot tapping. My mind is scrambling to come up with more arguments that could convince them to bring me along if they don’t buckle. For a second, I even consider threatening that I will call the cops and squeal on Finn for leaving Maine, but I discard the idea. Stabbing him in the back like that is unforgivable.

  “Well, alright then,” Finn finally mutters.

  I squeal, relief washing over me. Only Marcel’s frown stops me from hugging them both. Not once do I consider what I’ve just signed up for.

  ~~~~

  It is already almost 11:00 p.m. when Finn wakes me from a deep slumber. After a brief but loud fight with my mom, which ended with Marcel calming her down, I fell asleep right around the time we crossed into New Hampshire. I’ve always had trouble keeping my eyes open on long car rides, the monotone hum from the engine and soft bouncing of the SUV working better than any sleeping pill.

  We end up somewhere on the southern side of New Haven in an area that is even more rundown than Tyrone’s. Some houses are so rotten that they look like they will fall apart at any second, the sidewalks dimly lit by flickering streetlamps. A few vicious dogs bark furiously as we drive by, reminding me of Roxy before she attacked Jed. Those hounds might not guard treasures, but I sure wouldn’t try to convince them of that. Poor Maisie would probably be torn apart in a heartbeat—yet she eagerly yaps back with a wagging tail, oblivious to the danger. The bliss of the innocent.

  Finn guides Marcel through the night, his voice laced with hoarse anxiousness. We finally arrive in front of a small two-story house in a quiet street off the main road, a rusty old car parked out front. The trashcans are overflowing—mostly with pizza boxes and beer cans—and the fence has several holes in different places. It looks like someone has repeatedly kicked it.

  Marcel’s eyes scan the area with a frown and stop on the house across the street where several guys lean out a window, smoking a cigarette. From the way they eye the car, they are just itching to give us a hassle.

  “Are they who I think they are?” Marcel asks Finn.

  Finn lets out a sigh. “Looks that way. They must have moved in since I left. A mom with six kids used to live t
here.”

  That mother probably figured out what kind of predator resided in the neighborhood and ran for the hills before her kids met a fate similar to Finn’s and his brother’s. I still can’t believe that Finn’s mom is so ignorant and allows that type of abuse to go on under her roof. I would have kicked out that boyfriend a long time ago.

  Marcel and Finn don’t get out of the car, but glare at the men hanging out the window. They have been joined by a few others who stare back at the car.

  “Who are these guys?”

  “Blood Dragons. They’re Tyrone’s competitors.”

  I read that gang rivalries could get messy.

  “Are they going to attack us?” My question sounds silly, and the glare I get from Marcel is a clear indication that now would be a good time for me to shut up.

  “What are we gonna do?” asks Finn.

  Marcel rubs his bald head. “Get the gun out of the glove compartment and leave the talkin’ to me.” He turns around. “Whatever you do, don’t say a word or we’ll all be dead.”

  I swallow hard and cower low into my seat when Finn and Marcel slide out of the car. At the same time, three guys approach from the house across the street. Their leader walks a few steps in front but is closely flanked by his two cronies. I feel like I’m part of the movie set for Boyz ’n The Hood. My teeth frantically work the tip of my fingernail at the same time my heart pounds harshly against my ribcage—the tension in the air seeping into the car is almost killing me.

  The leader smirks. “What’s up?” His eyes stay on Marcel, who casually hooks his thumb into the front pocket of his jeans.

  “Yo, we ain’t looking for trouble.” Marcel’s chin points to Finn’s house. “We’re just here to pick someone up and be gone in a few minutes.”

  “Cameron? He sometimes runs errands for me.” The man’s eyes dart to Finn. “You his brother?”

  Finn nods but keeps his mouth shut.

  “You look just like him,” the man remarks. “Where’re you taking him?”

  Marcel shifts his weight as his fingers move closer to the hem of his pants. “You ask a lot of questions.” His voice is icy and gives me the chills.

  I crawl further into my seat, ready to drop to the footwell of the car if Marcel decides to pull the gun. Why of all days did I have to put on my big-girl panties tonight instead of staying home?

  “Like I said, he runs errands for me,” the guy tells Marcel, his tone just as cold. “He’s like family.”

  A smile spreads on Marcel’s lips. “Well, he ain’t your little bitch, so don’t fuck with me. He’s coming with us.”

  For a moment, they glare at each other. I bite my thumb so hard I taste blood. Maisie is whimpering in the back. Even she can sense that the air is explosive. If someone lit a match under those guys’ noses, the whole street would blow into pieces.

  I will probably never understand the rules of the street—not that I truly want to—but Marcel must have said or done something that told the others he is higher up in the food chain. The three guys back up—slowly—without taking their eyes off him or Finn. As soon as they disappear in the house, his head snaps around.

  “Let’s go, Kelsey.”

  My eyes travel from his face to Maisie and back to him. “Can’t I wait in the car?”

  “Nope.” He opens the trunk and shoos the dog away before lifting up the carpet to take out a rifle. “They’ll come back for you if we leave you out here alone.”

  I gaze at my puppy, who watches me with big brown eyes. “What about Maisie?”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  Doubt claws at me, but he gives me a reassuring smile. Finn bobs his head up and down in agreement and I grudgingly concede defeat. Maisie might actually be safer in the car than with me. After all, who knows what types of danger await us in Finn’s house. Judging from his tense face and Marcel’s tight grip on the rifle, they must be expecting trouble.

  The front gate opens with a low squeak. Finn signals us to follow him around to the back of the house. We pass by a lit window and the muffled sounds of a television drift through the decayed wooden frames. A strong smell of urine irritates my nostrils as we approach the backdoor, which mixes with the leftover stench of alcohol the closer we get to a mountain of booze bottles piled up next to the steps.

  Finn peeks through the small window in the door. “Damn, my mom’s in the kitchen.” He squints to get a better look. “But she’s passed out.” His fingers turn the doorknob at the same time his shoulder presses gently against the door. It pops open and he squeezes inside.

  The odor of garbage and burned candle wax lingers in the air as soon as I step into the kitchen. My eyes dart around, absorbing the dirty dishes in the sink together with the food leftovers on the counter that are already partially molded. Finally, they land on a woman who is curled up on the floor, a glass pipe and a spoon next to an unlit candle by her side. Her face is partially hidden by stringy raven hair. In her youth, she was probably very pretty.

  “Bro, I didn’t know your mama was a crackhead,” Marcel mutters under his breath.

  Finn wrinkles his nose. “Her boyfriend deals on the side and hooked her to shut her up.”

  I can’t hold his gaze when I notice the pain in his eyes. What a terrible life he must have had under her roof, which makes Cameron’s situation even more horrifying. How can a mother do that to her kids?

  I tiptoe around her, but she is out cold and doesn’t even flinch, drool running out of the corners of her mouth. There is a stupid grin on her face that, together with her raspy breath, creeps me out. I notice several scabs and bruises all over her arms. Blisters swell her lips in some spots and cracks are visible in others—she’s an absolute mess.

  Finn ushers Marcel and me down the hallway and we quickly make our way to the other side of the house. The ceiling light is broken, but the gleam from the kitchen prevents me from tripping. A dim glow shines through the gap between the door and the floor when we get to the stairs. Like silent ghosts, we scamper upstairs.

  I find myself holding my breath when Finn pushes a door open, halfway expecting to find the boyfriend with Cameron in the bed together. Marcel must have had a similar idea. The gun rests firmly in his hand when he steps around me.

  The boy is alone, stretched out on the bed with headphones stuffed into his ears, his head bouncing slightly. When he notices us, his eyes widen. Finn places his finger over his lips with a slight hiss. He only speaks after I close the door behind me.

  “Get your stuff, Cameron. Take only what’s absolutely necessary.”

  The boy hesitates. “What about mom?”

  A shadow crosses Finn’s face. “What about her?”

  “I can’t just leave her here.” The words are laced with a stubbornness that reminds me of Finn when he is hardheaded.

  Finn sighs. “Look, Mom’s a grown woman and can take care of herself. Besides, she never cared about what Oshin did to us and only worries about getting high and drunk. She’ll never leave him. Think of yourself for once and let’s go.”

  The struggle is all too visible on Cameron’s face, but the need to remove himself from the situation prevails in the end. He jumps from the bed and gets a backpack, stuffing random clothes inside.

  “Shit.” Marcel, who has been keeping an eye on things outside, stiffens. His initial concern is followed by a whole shower of colorful curses, some of them pretty creative.

  I’m just about to ask him what got him so wound up when a voice breaks through the night.

  “Attention, this is the New Haven Police Department. Anybody who is inside 2395 Crane Street, come out with your hands up! I repeat—this is New Haven PD. Anybody inside 2395 Crane Street, come on out with your hands up.”

  CHAPTER 27

  In the deadly silence that follows the police announcement, my eyes dart from Finn to Marcel. “What are we gonna do?”

  Finn looks terrified, probably imagining being beaten up in jail again, while Marcel is surprisingly calm. �
��We need to make sure that Finn gets out without being arrested, or his probation will definitely be revoked. The cops have surrounded the house, so we need to create a diversion.”

  I bite my lip, my skin prickling with excitement. “What type of diversion?”

  Marcel rubs his chin. “Good question.” His gaze falls onto the bed. “Get the pillowcase and wipe down the guns. We’ll plant them here and distract the cops at the back door. That way, Finn can slip out.”

  I frown. It doesn’t just sound dangerous but illegal, too. What the hell have I gotten myself into? Nevertheless, I strip the pillow of its cover and run it over the offered rifle.

  Loud banging echoes through the house. “Police. Open up.”

  The demand is answered with some loud cussing from downstairs, followed by the flushing of the toilet.

  “Your mom’s boyfriend is getting rid of his stash. We need to hurry. They’ll bust down the door any minute.”

  I frantically wipe down the gun. “Why haven’t they come in yet?”

  “They likely have no warrant.” Marcel grabs the pillowcase and cleans off his gun before tossing it on the bed. “Take those to your parent’s bedroom, Cameron.”

  The boy is frozen, his lips twisted into a pout. “I want to go with Finn. I’m not staying here.” For the first time, I realize how immature he still is. He has no clue about the seriousness of the situation.

  Marcel shakes his head. “That could compromise his escape. You’ll have to surrender when I tell you to.”

  Cameron looks like he is about to cry. “They’ll put me into foster care.” His gaze moves to Finn. “Don’t let them do this, Finn. Please.”

  Finn grabs his brother by his shoulders. “It’s the end of the line, bro. If they catch me, I’ll go to prison for at least ten years.” His voice is insistent. “The best you can do is to come clean. Tell them the truth about Oshin, that way, at least he can’t do that stuff to you anymore. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”

  “But, Finn—” he pleads.

  “No, Cameron.” Finn’s voice is firm. “Do what Marcel says.” When his brother still hesitates, he hisses, “NOW.”