We have to hurry across the yard, up to the administration building. From there we creep down the silent paths to our dorm. I keep waiting for Sister Mary Francis to grab me and Tonya to be there to gloat, but we’re able to make it without any trouble. I kick off my shoes and then crash onto my bed.
“Rose? Rose?”
“Huh?”
“Thank you. I really mean it.”
“It’s no problem. You’re my friend.”
“I know. You’re my friend too.”
“Glad we settled that. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” I’m sure Melanie will stay up for a while to replay everything in her head over and over, but at the moment I’m too tired to worry about it. I roll over and before long I’m asleep.
***
A bit of luck is that I get to have my braces taken off before the prom. No more having to worry about lisping when I’m dancing with Colin. The bad part of this is that I have to sit in the chair and try not to flinch too much as Dr. Maxwell’s meaty hands take the braces off.
I’m not sure how long goes by before he’s finally done. I snap my jaws a couple of times for him to demonstrate my bite. He nods with approval. “Very good. Now you need to make sure to take good care of those straight white teeth of yours. Brush twice a day and make sure to floss.”
“I will.” And more importantly, don’t let anyone break my jaw again.
I go out to the waiting room, where a nun and two other girls are waiting. “Can I go outside for a minute?” I ask. “I really need some fresh air.”
“Very well. But stay where I can see you,” the nun says.
“Yes, Sister.”
I trudge outside to stand in front of the doors. It’s another cool spring day in New Hampshire that makes me wish I had my nice warm leather jacket. And that I could wear jeans instead of this skirt. Still, it’s better to be out here than in the dentist’s office, flipping through old magazines while the nun and receptionist both watch me like hawks.
I’m standing by the front doors still when a black SUV pulls up across the street. My blood runs cold when I see the two beefy guys who get out. The overcoats they’re wearing fit in perfectly on the streets of Redoubt City, but not Evettsville. I’ve seen guys like these before at the hospital and on the docks: they’re Madame Crimson’s goons. At last they’ve found me.
I back against the doors, but I can’t bring myself to go inside. If they think they can take me without a fight, they’re wrong. I’ll give them a little taste of what happened to their friends on the docks.
The goons don’t cross the street for me. They walk down to a bar and then duck inside. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding in. Then I turn to open the door and slip back inside. I scrunch down on a seat away from the windows.
They didn’t see me. That or they didn’t recognize me. That’s the second time I’ve been lucky today. Now I have to hope they don’t see me when we leave here. I start to tap my foot, wishing whoever is back there would hurry up. If we can get out of here before they come back, then maybe they won’t realize they just missed their target.
A half-hour drags on. I take a few peeks out the window to make sure they haven’t gone back to the SUV yet. The last time I peek out the window, the nun grabs the hem of my jacket. “Stop that fidgeting,” she says. “Act your age.”
“Sorry, Sister,” I mumble. It’s a new kind of torture to sit perfectly still on the chair while we continue to wait. Another fifteen minutes go by before the last girl in our group comes out. Then we have to wait for the nun to discuss the bill with the receptionist.
“Come along, children,” the nun finally says. I make sure to get in the middle of our group as we file out to the station wagon. I wish Sister Matilda were here instead of this old lady. She could handle herself in a fight.
The station wagon is pulling away from the curb when the two goons emerge from the bar. I duck down on my seat so they won’t be able to see me. “Sit up, young lady,” the nun chides me. “I’m in no mood for any childish games.”
“Sorry, Sister.” I sit up and then let out a sigh of relief. We made it.
That’s what I think until we’re on the road back to the school and I see the black SUV behind us. There’s no doubt it’s the same one; it has out-of-state plates and what are the odds two black SUVs from out of state would be in Evettsville without there being a visit by a presidential candidate?
If Sister Matilda were behind the wheel I could tell her what’s going on. Instead I have to hold my tongue. I wait for the SUV to try to pass us, maybe cut us off. It just keeps lurking behind us all the way to the front gate of the school. Then it pulls off the road. They’re watching us, probably so they can figure out how to get in.
They won’t come after me now, in broad daylight. They’ll wait until tonight. Melanie and I already know how good the security on campus is; it’ll be a piece of cake for them to get over the wall and then to come look for me.
But I’m going to be ready for them.
***
I don’t say anything to Melanie, not wanting to worry her. She senses I’m agitated about something, but chalks it up to the prom. “Relax,” she says. “Everything’s going to go fine.”
“I know.”
“I wish Taylor could come. Or that I could go to Boston for his prom. I bet it’d be way better in the city.”
“I’m sure it would.”
“It’s too bad we can’t have dances here. I know the nuns have sworn off men, but we haven’t, you know?”
“I know.”
I’m glad she finally tires herself out so I can creep out of bed. I dress up in my superhero outfit, without the spike-heeled boots or the flimsy mask. My normal shoes and the wig should be good enough.
I creep downstairs and then peek outside. I don’t see any sign of them. I’m sure they’re somewhere on campus by now. They probably sized up how to get inside after they parked the SUV. Maybe they got lost trying to figure out which dorm I’m in.
I stay close to the dorm as I slide towards the next building. I should probably wait for them to come for me instead of going to look for them. If I had been smart I would have figured out where I could stage an ambush for them. I really need to talk with Sister Matilda about strategy; she should know something from her Marine days.
I hear a door click shut and then a muffled voice. There’s a second muffled voice to answer it. They’re close. By all rights my stomach should be queasy and my knees shaking, but I don’t feel anything. I’m calmer and more relaxed than I was shooting that fake fight in the cow pasture.
I duck behind a bush as I see the two guys starting down the path. I can hear what they’re saying, but it’s in another language. I know it’s Russian when one guy answers, “Nyet.” That’s about the only Russian word I do know. Is Madame Crimson hiring Russians now? Then I remember what Jessica said back in Boston about a mob war between Madame Crimson and some Russians. Why would they want me? Maybe just to stick it to Madame Crimson. Or they might want to trade me for something. No matter what, I’m not going to let it happen.
I let the goons walk right past me. Behind the bush, dressed in black and with the black wig on, they can’t see me. They’re a little too casual in the way they saunter along the path. They must figure it’ll be easy enough to kidnap a teenage girl from a Catholic boarding school. Maybe they even have a picture of me as I look now with my geeky glasses and mousy hair; it certainly wouldn’t make anyone think I’m a badass.
Once the goons have gone by, I hop over the bush, making as little noise as I can. They don’t notice me, not in the time it takes for me to rush forward and kick the first one in the back of the knee. He cries out with pain and then sinks to one knee. I punch him in the throat hard enough that he starts to gasp.
The other goon is turning to face me, reaching into his jacket for his gun. I knock the gun out of his hand and then punch him in the stomach. When he doubles over I knee him in the face. As he tu
mbles backwards I snatch the gun from off of the sidewalk. I take off the safety and then aim it at the goon’s head.
“From this distance even I couldn’t miss,” I say. “Now, what are you doing here?”
The goon growls something in Russian and then spits a wad of blood at my feet. “You don’t think I’ll do it? You’re probably right. I won’t shoot you in the head. But I might shoot you somewhere else.” I lower the pistol to aim between his legs. His eyes go wide as the realization hits. “Now, what are you doing here?”
“We come for girl,” he says.
“What girl?”
He says something in Russian and then bites down on something. He drops onto the sidewalk. Foam gushes from his mouth. I can only stare at him in disbelief. A cyanide capsule, like in the movies. This guy was really serious about not getting caught.
I turn to the other Russian just in time to find him thrashing around on the sidewalk, foam spewing from his mouth too. I shake my head and then squat down next to one body to search it for anything useful. The first guy doesn’t have anything, not even a wallet.
The other I hit the jackpot. He’s not carrying a wallet or anything either, but in the inside pocket of his overcoat is a snapshot. It slips from my hand as my fingers go numb. The picture lands face-up so I can still see Tonya in her cheerleading uniform. I recognize the scenery behind her from the cross-country meet in Freeland. How long have they been stalking her without anyone noticing?
I hear voices and then remember I don’t want to get caught standing over two dead guys with a gun in my hand. I wipe the gun off on the first goon’s jacket and then toss it on top of him. I take off running to the back door of my dorm.
I’ve got the wig and jacket off when I get back to my room. “Where’d you go?” Melanie asks, her voice thick with sleep.
“Just the bathroom,” I assure her. I toss the wig, jacket, and skirt back in the closet. I drop onto my bed, but I don’t sleep. I just stare at the bunk above me and see those goons’s faces over and over again.
Chapter 25
I keep pretending to sleep even as Melanie shakes my shoulder. “Rose, come on! You’ve got to see it.”
“What?” I say, as if I don’t already know.
She drags me out of bed and then leads me over to the window. There are a bunch of sheriff’s deputies down there in their brown jackets and Stetsons. It’s probably the entire police force for the county down there. Two of them guide a hearse across the lawn to park near where I confronted the Russians.
“What do you think happened?” Melanie asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe one of the nuns died.”
“Maybe.”
“What do we do?”
“Stay here. The nuns will tell us later, right?” Mostly I don’t want to go down there so no one sees me near the bodies and connects the dots. I doubt anyone saw the fight last night, but there’s no sense taking a chance.
“That makes sense,” Melanie says.
A moment later there’s a knock on the door. My body tenses, though I know it’s not going to be any gangsters to finish the job. Not yet. It’s just one of our neighbors, who chatters excitedly with Melanie about the commotion outside.
“Back to your rooms, children!” our floor supervisor commands. “Everyone is to stay in their rooms until the police are finished.”
“Why are the police here?” Melanie asks.
“That’s none of your concern, young lady.”
“Are we in danger?” another girl asks.
“No. No one is in danger, especially not in your rooms. Go on.”
“What about breakfast?”
“Jesus fasted forty days in the desert. You can miss one meal.”
“Yes, Sister.” The other girls trudge back to their rooms. Melanie shuts the door behind her. She drops onto her desk chair with a sigh.
“Why won’t they tell us anything? It’s not like we’re little kids.”
“They’ll tell us later. Once they know more.”
She stares at me for an uncomfortably long time. “You seem pretty cool about this.”
“My dad was a cop. I’ve seen crime scenes before.”
“Uh-huh. Does this have anything to do with your bathroom trip last night?”
“No. I had to go to the bathroom. Big deal.”
“You’d better not be holding out on me.”
“I’m not.”
“Well then, Miss CSI Expert, what’s going on down there?”
“I don’t know. Obviously someone died or they wouldn’t have sent a hearse. Beyond that, who knows?”
Melanie sighs again. “I wish I could be down there. Then I could use some of this for the comic, you know?”
I shake my head. “If you get a chance, you can talk to my aunt Carol. She has lots of war stories she could tell you.”
“Awesome.” Melanie looks through her backpack, finally taking out a pack of gum. “You want a stick?”
“Sure.” It’s as close to breakfast as we’re going to get.
***
It isn’t until noon that they have everything cleaned up enough that we can gather in the chapel. There’s a quick prayer from Father Barclay, who looks relieved to let Sister Mary Francis take over. She clears her throat and then says, “Last night there was a terrible incident. Two unknown men snuck in here. The police aren’t sure what happened or what they wanted, but it appears they died of cyanide poisoning.”
There are gasps through the chapel; I join in so I don’t appear out of place. “There’s no need to worry, children. This is an isolated incident. I’ve spoken with the bishop about adding some extra security and the sheriff will have deputies posted here for a few days.”
I know it’s selfish, but I can’t help thinking how much more difficult that will make it for me to go to the prom in Evettsville. Before I just had to get over the wall without ruining my dress. Now I’ll have to sneak past deputies and who knows how many rent-a-cops.
“There will be no classes today, but tomorrow everything will be back to normal. I want all of you to spend the rest of this day contemplating your sins and how you can atone. Father Barclay will be here for those who wish to confess anything.”
This seems weird to me, like Sister Mary Francis is saying we might be the next ones to die. I know the only one who has to worry is Tonya. I see her a few pews ahead of us, snickering under her breath about something. I have to try to warn her that the Russians are after her.
Since we’re sent straight back to our rooms, I don’t get a chance to see Tonya again until dinner. She marches up to our table and sneers. “I guess you won’t be going to the prom after all, Cinderella.”
“Probably not.”
“Too bad, because I’m going.”
“You are?”
“That’s right. We’re all going.” She glares at me for a moment. “What, you didn’t think we could get dates or something?”
“No. I just thought this was beneath you. A little country school and all.”
“It is, but it’s better than sitting around here playing Candy Land like you bitches.”
“We don’t play Candy Land,” Melanie says.
“Oh, right, you work on that stupid comic book. The Outhouse or whatever.”
“The Outcast.”
“Whatever. Later, bitches.”
“Tonya, wait,” I call out.
“What do you want now?”
“I want to go with you. To the prom. I have my dress and everything. Please?”
“Meh. Ask me the way Baby Rothe would and maybe I’ll reconsider.”
My first thought is to tell her where she can shove that, but if Tonya is going to the prom then I can keep an eye on her and still get to dance with Colin. That’s win-win to me. I sigh and then say, “Pweathe can I go to the pwom with you?”
Tonya giggles at me. I fully expect her to say no. Instead she pats me on the head and then says, “Sure you can, Rothe. My mom is sendi
ng a limo at seven.”
“A limo? How did Sister Mary Francis agree to that?”
“Because not all of us are white trash crack babies,” Tonya says. The real answer is that Madame Crimson made Sister Mary Francis an offer she couldn’t refuse.
“I’ll be there.”
“Whatever.” Tonya sticks her nose in the air as she struts away, hair and hips swaying in time with each other. She has probably spent hours practicing that.
“She’s such a bitch,” Melanie grumbles.
“Totally.”
***
I have to charge the Hello Kitty phone for a couple of hours before I can take it into the bathroom and then call Carol with it. She picks up on the second ring. “Robin? Oh, thank God. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I guess you heard what happened, huh?”
“Some of it. The sheriff hasn’t been all that helpful on details. They don’t like a ‘big city cop’ sticking her nose in their business.” In a lower voice, Carol says, “Did you kill those men, Robin?”
“No. They killed themselves. It was like a spy movie. I knocked them down and then they started foaming at the mouth and thrashing around. They really didn’t want to get caught.”
“Any idea who they are?”
“Russians. Probably from that Plushkin guy you mentioned.”
“Plushkov.” Carol sighs and then says, “Robin, you need to be very careful. Plushkov is bad news. So bad even Putin couldn’t stand him anymore. That’s how he ended up here.”
“And now he wants Madame Crimson’s rackets, right?”
“Right. I’m not sure why he’d send someone to get you, though.”
“He didn’t. They were here to kidnap her daughter.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“The one had a picture of her in his jacket.”
There’s silence on Carol’s end that’s long enough to make me think the connection dropped or my crappy phone ran out of charge. I flinch when she says, “All right, I’ll try talking with the sheriff to see if they can keep an eye on her. As for you, I think you’ve done enough on this. Just lie low until it’s over.”
“But—”
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