“I’ll bet he’s trying. Thanks for telling me.”
“You can’t use that or share it.” A flash of regret in his eyes.
“I’ll keep it confidential.” Rox stepped toward him, hoping he would soften. “I have a new update for you. Blackstone’s father is in an expensive nursing home, and he’s hurting for money.”
“We’ll look at Blackstone as a suspect again. Maybe we can break his alibi.”
Marty spoke up. “I hope you’ll share Bethany’s financial info when you get it.”
Kyle spun toward him. “Don’t count on it.” He shifted his gaze to Rox. “I want you to let this case go. Just give your client the money back and let us handle it. If Blackstone is dirty, we’ll put him away, and all the members will be free to leave the property.”
Rox bristled. He had no right to suggest it, and she had no intention of going along. “I’ll think about it.”
“Not good enough.”
What the hell? Now she felt compelled to defend her position. “I want to shut down Blackstone too, but that could take months. Meanwhile, my client is worried about her child.” Rox stepped toward the front of the house. “Nothing I do will interfere with your investigation.” She opened the door. “I have to get back to work.”
“You’ve changed, and not for the better.” Kyle walked out without looking at her.
CHAPTER 21
Sunday, April 23, 10:30 a.m.
After breakfast cleanup, Emma went out to the barn. She hated the nasty poop and sweaty animal smells, but she needed to keep busy. Plus atone for yesterday. She’d been upset ever since she’d called her parents about the donation. Seeing her mother’s heartache had made it worse. She wouldn’t ever ask for money or agree to meet her again. She had enough guilt already. Deacon had promised to never pressure her for it again, and she prayed he would keep his word. He was a good man, and she trusted him, but the charity was still in trouble.
Emma grabbed a big shovel and started cleaning. After an hour, her hands were sore and blistered, but she continued until the pain made her cry. She sat on a bale of hay and tried to calm herself, but quickly got up. She had to get out of the barn. Outside, she breathed in fresh air, then headed into the dorm. As she hurried inside, she sensed that other members were in their own spaces, but with their curtains closed she was never sure. They were the quietest bunch of girls she’d ever been around.
Emma sat on her bed, wishing she liked to read like Skeeter did. The concrete walls and daily routines were getting on her nerves. Except for the stress of seeing her mother, going into town had been exhilarating! She wanted to work in the soup kitchen or go out and gather donations. Maybe Deacon would think she’d earned the privilege now that she’d brought in a lot of money for the charity. It wasn’t the same as true good works, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. Deacon had stressed the need for good mental health, and she was feeling restless.
She got up and headed to the wide entry, where she grabbed a pair of scrubs from the bin and headed for the shower to clean off the barn scent. If Deacon wanted to get close to her again, she needed to be fresh. She decided that if it would earn her off-campus privileges, she would have sex with him, like Bethany had. She wasn’t saving herself for marriage or even a special boy. Those options had all disappeared the day she killed Marlee.
Later, as she dressed, another member walked toward her from her dorm space. “Showering in the middle of the day? What’s that about?” Mona was twenty and went out at night with the donation crew. Her voice was low-pitched like an old smoker, and she had tattoo sleeves on both arms, but her face was striking.
Emma didn’t know Mona’s story and had been afraid to ask. “I’ve been cleaning the barn.”
“Where are you going now?” Mona squinted down at her.
“Why?”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Deacon lately. I’ll bet you’re headed there now.”
“So?” Emma stepped into her flip-flops, ready to walk away.
“Just remember, he likes it rough.” Mona gave her an odd smile.
“What—” Emma didn’t finish her question. She walked away rather than feel naive. Mona was talking about sex, of course. She was probably lying out of jealousy. Emma crossed the space between the buildings and entered the cafeteria. It was almost time to start cooking again, but this question couldn’t wait. She hurried down the hall to Deacon’s office and knocked. “It’s Emma.”
What if Mona was telling the truth? What did rough mean during sex? She had a vague idea from movies, but Deacon wasn’t that kind of person. None of the other members who spent time with him had ever complained.
He opened the door, pulled her inside, and kissed her. The suddenness of it caught her off guard, and she stepped back.
A flash of disappointment and something else on his face. “You liked it last time I kissed you. What happened?”
“Uh, nothing. I was just surprised. And I wanted to ask you something.”
He smiled, and the charm was back. “Okay then.” He gestured for her to sit.
Emma slipped down to the couch, near the middle. He sat beside her and put his hand on her leg. “What did you want to ask?”
Emma swallowed hard, feeling apprehensive. “I want to work in the soup kitchen or maybe collect donations. I think I’m ready.”
For a long moment, Deacon stared at her, then nodded. “I think you are too. You did great yesterday with your mother.”
Emma cringed but tried to hide it. “Can I start tomorrow?” The Portland crew had already left the complex that morning.
“Why not tonight?” Deacon smiled. “You’re too pretty for the soup kitchen, but you’ll do well with the motorists.”
Emma grinned. “Yay!” That meant she could change into real clothes that evening. “Do I need any kind of preparation?”
“Yes, but I’ll let Mona handle most of it.” He leaned in and kissed her again. Slowly this time. Emma’s body responded, and she pressed into him. God, this felt good. She’d been so lonely. But she didn’t deserve to feel good! Confused, Emma stopped kissing him but didn’t pull back.
“Consider this training,” Deacon said, still kissing her.
For what? Before she could ask, a knock interrupted them.
“God damn it!” Deacon stood and turned to the door. “Go away!”
“It’s Margo, and it’s important.”
Deacon swore softly and moved behind his desk. He gestured at Emma to leave. “Go see Mona and tell her you’re on the highway crew, but with a special mission. She’ll know what I mean.”
His impersonal tone stung. Was it because of Margo? Emma had thought the couple had an open relationship. As she stepped out, Margo gave her a quick nod and brushed past her. Was she jealous? Walking away, Emma had another realization. Deacon had been hiding his erection behind the desk. She giggled, covering her mouth to mute the sound. Boys were boys at any age.
A few minutes later, she was back in the dorm, standing outside Mona’s space. She called softly, “It’s Emma. Deacon wants you to train me.”
After a rustling sound and a drawer closing, Mona pulled back the curtain and grinned. “That was fast.” Her thin, angular body was well hidden by the too-big scrubs.
Emma flushed and shook her head. “Nothing happened. I asked to join your crew, and Deacon said yes.” She straightened her shoulders, unashamed. “I can start tonight.”
“So you’re ready to get out of here?” Mona cocked her head. “But you left with Deacon a few days ago. What was that about?”
“A donation.” Deacon had prepped her on what to say. So far, Mona was the only one who’d asked, although Emma had told Skeeter before she even left. It had been hard not to mention her mother.
“Hmm.” Mona looked doubtful but reached out and grabbed her arm. “Come in and we’ll get started.”
Mona’s space surprised her. She had a pretty blanket on her bed, a stuffed penguin near her pillow, and two bracelets on the
dresser. None of those were allowed. The older girl noticed her staring at the jewelry and laughed. “The night crew has a few perks. As the crew leader and driver, I’ve earned them.”
This layer of complexity confused her. “What about sacrifice and atonement?”
“My debt is paid.” Mona stepped toward her. “Can I trust you?”
“Of course.” How had she atoned? None of them deserved the good life.
The older girl leaned in and whispered, “I came here out of guilt, but I stay because this life makes more sense than the addiction and homelessness that waits for me out there.”
The hopelessness in Mona’s eyes crushed Emma’s heart. Poor girl. “Don’t you have a family?”
“They’re either dead or gave up on me.” Mona shrugged. “Let’s get started.” She hopped on the bed and sat cross-legged at the end near the wall. She gestured for Emma to join her.
Emma climbed on the bed, coveting the purple-and-black blanket. “What exactly do we do?”
“Simple. We ask strangers for money.” Mona smiled. “Because it’s for veterans, they usually give something.” She reached for a stack of postcards and handed one to Emma. “We give these to people as we rattle off our spiel. They give the charity credibility. A few people read them, but most don’t.”
Emma was eager to interact with people and wanted to be good at bringing in money for the vets. “What’s the spiel?”
“It’s short and easy. You can practice on the way out tonight. Sometimes we have a long drive.” Mona leaned back. “We’ll role-play it once. Just go along.”
“Okay.”
“Do you support the troops?”
“Of course.”
“What about when they return?”
“Yes.”
“Many of our young soldiers are homeless now. Will you donate to our soup kitchen where we feed them seven days a week?”
“Of course.” Emma smiled. “That’s easy. It hardly needs training.”
A distant look clouded Mona’s eyes.
Emma started to ask what was wrong, then remembered what Deacon had said to mention. “I’m supposed to have a special mission.”
Mona nodded. “Of course you are. You’re a doll, and the bad boys will like you.”
Bad boys? “What do you mean?”
“Oh fuck.” The other girl was suddenly disappointed. “You really don’t know?”
Emma felt naive again. “About what?”
Mona let out a long sigh. “Collecting a few dollars at a time won’t even pay the lease on the soup kitchen, let alone buy food. So we ask some men to make big donations. Often in exchange for some breast grabbing or even a blow job.”
Shocked, Emma recoiled. “That’s prostitution.”
The other girl shook her head. “They make a donation. You make them feel good.” Her shoulders lifted a little. “And there are ways to get the money without blowing them.”
Still reeling, Emma was afraid to ask. But it had to be better than giving blow jobs. “Like what?”
“You’re not ready yet. Let’s see how you do for a few nights.”
“Where are we going?”
“We hit truck stops and rest areas along I-5. Tonight we’re going south, almost to Salem.”
Fear landed in the pit of Emma’s stomach. “That seems dangerous.”
Mona laughed. “You mean because of the serial killer?”
“Yeah, that.”
The other girl gave her a sly smile. “I’m not his type, but you sure are.”
CHAPTER 22
Deacon looked at Margo, trying to keep his face impassive. “Interrupting my sessions with Emma is counterproductive. Her parents have essential funding we need.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She hurried into his office. “We have to talk about money.”
“Right now?” Was she wearing perfume?
“Yes. I just realized that with Bethany gone, we’ll be short her two grand this month. We need to pay the lease on the soup kitchen and skip the nursing home again.”
Rage rippled up his spine. “I know that!” He didn’t need her reminding him of their situation. “Your disregard for my father is so fucking cold.”
She softened her expression. “Honey, it’s not like that. I’m just trying to keep the charity going.” Margo moved in close, pressing her body into his. “You need to chill, and I know how to help you relax.”
She was wearing his favorite blouse, a tight red pullover with a deep V that showed off her cleavage. But he wasn’t interested at the moment. Margo wasn’t young and fresh, and he was highly agitated with her. Deacon stepped back. “You killed my mood. So unless we have further business to discuss, I’d like to get back to work.” He’d been watching a movie, but that was beside the point.
Hurt and disappointment twisted into a sneer on her face. “What work? I hope it’s finding a donation, because we’re in deep shit if you don’t.” She strode out and slammed the door.
Bitch.
Deacon sat down and restarted the movie but couldn’t focus on it. Too much shit was swirling in his head. Today had been weird. Margo had gotten a call from urgent care about her daughter being hurt, only to get another call twenty minutes later saying it had been a mistake. In between, a census taker had showed up at the complex. His gut told him it wasn’t a coincidence. But what the fuck was it about? Someone was casing the place, and he had to think it was Greg. The asshole had tried to get him off the property today too. Was Greg setting him up? His so-called friend claimed he wanted to work something out with him. Deacon had planned to go have a beer with Greg, then changed his mind. He couldn’t handle the pressure of any more demands for money.
God damn. He needed a big score, ASAP. Without it, he would have to abandon his dad and just say fuck it. Let the nursing home kick him out. What would they do? Roll the old man’s wheelchair into the parking lot and say adios? No, they would dump him at a hospital. The heartless assholes. He couldn’t do that. His dad didn’t have much time left, and the old man counted on him. Disappointing him again right before he died wasn’t in the cards. Deacon just needed enough money to keep the nursing home from shuffling the old man to a hospital, where he would die of neglect. Once he passed in the comfort of his own space, everything would settle back down.
Deacon got up to take a walk, but his phone rang. Greg again. Fuck! He decided to take the call, just to stall the blackmail bullshit until he got set up with a new phone number. If Greg couldn’t reach him, he might just back off. Deacon wanted to believe his former friend would never actually follow through on his threat of exposure. Dozens of military personnel had profited from selling what they called liquid gold. It hadn’t hurt the army, or anyone. And his combat pay had been laughable.
“Hello?” He wanted Greg to think he didn’t recognize his number or have him in his contacts—as though he wasn’t concerned.
“Deacon. What the fuck happened today?”
“My Bronco wasn’t running well, and I had to work on it.” He kept his tone casual.
“You could have called!” Greg’s voice got louder. “And you’ve ignored my calls. You can’t just avoid this. I want the god damn money!”
“I don’t have it. You’re wasting your time.” He remembered the strange incidents earlier. “Why are you casing my property?”
“What?”
A freaky thought hit him. “Is this about Margo? Did you fake that call to lure her out for revenge sex?”
“You’re a sick fuck.”
Deacon let it go. Maybe it had been nothing. No one knew the charity’s location. Not even the state office where they’d registered it for the tax-exempt status. They’d moved shortly after filing the paperwork and hadn’t notified anyone. They kept in touch with their regular donors by email, and the fools sent checks to a post office box. He just had to get Greg to back off. “I don’t have the cash you need and no way to get it, so just leave me the fuck alone.”
“You have wealthy donors! St
art making calls. I’ll gladly report your theft if you don’t come through.” Greg let loose with a nasty laugh. “Even if the army doesn’t strip you of your medals, your charity will go bankrupt from the bad publicity—and you’ll lose your access to all those young girls. You have until four on Friday.” He hung up.
Deacon stared at the phone. How did Greg know about the sisters?
CHAPTER 23
Sunday, April 23, 7:45 p.m.
Rox parked on the same dirt road as she had that morning and shut off her car. The setting sun flickered through the trees, at first beautiful but slowly turning creepy. Rox listened to music to keep herself occupied, while she occasionally trained her binoculars on the work camp. She couldn’t see much, but she was mostly hoping to notice headlights come on. She wanted the van to go out so she could track the girls and question one of the members. Casting some doubt about Blackstone among his followers could start a rumor that got back to Emma. Even a wedge of uncertainty might make it easier to gain the girl’s cooperation—if they got another shot at connecting with her.
Rox didn’t have to wait long. A group of girls came out the door and headed for the white van. A motion-sensor light came on, partially illuminating them. Rox recognized the tallest young woman from the truck stop the other night. Was that Emma walking next to her? Rox strained to tell. They were all slender, and several had long hair. In the distance and dim light, it was impossible to see. It also seemed unlikely, especially after the events of the day. Rox texted Marty anyway: Emma may be on the move. Be on standby.
In the distance, the van’s engine rumbled, and Rox started her vehicle, eager to get moving. Would the girls return to the same truck stop, or did they move around? They probably had a dozen or so places along the highway where they solicited. She hoped she didn’t lose them in the dark freeway traffic. A count of ten after the van passed, then Rox eased forward and onto the road. The lack of homes and cars out here might make it obvious to the driver that she was being followed. Rox had to be careful.
Guilt Game Page 16