by Jody Klaire
Jessie dabbed the rag gently, careful of the swelling. “Yes, Miss Samson sent Nan to keep me company.”
A smile touched Miss Locks’s lips. “Tell her I said hi. She’s worth listening to.”
Jessie felt warmth and comfort spread up that Miss Locks knew who Nan was. “She said you need to drink.”
Miss Locks smiled. “Ask her to bring me something stronger.”
“You can have your liquor when you get your skinny butt outta trouble.”
Jessie chuckled at the tone in Nan’s voice. Miss Locks did too. “Feels good to actually hear you. Now I know they aren’t crazy.”
“Oh they’re plenty crazy but then it helps.”
Seeing how much Miss Locks relaxed at the teasing, Jessie found herself relaxing a bit too. Relaxed, calm, and composed. That’s what agents were. That’s what she’d be. Just like Miss Locks.
Chapter 27
LOUISVILLE.
My eyelids were real heavy and I had the shivers as I stared out the window. I couldn’t see all that much beyond it, everything was kinda blurry. Aunt Bess was knitting away in the backseat, her needles clicking. It reminded me of Nan, of home, of the waterwheel creaking and sloshing. Restless. Is that what Aunt Bess felt? Could she tell me what it was and how to calm it?
“Are you doing okay?” Renee asked and I glanced over my shoulder. Aunt Bess was snoring not knitting. Had she been knitting? Maybe I’d fallen asleep?
“I ain’t sure if I miss home or the idea of it.”
Renee raised her eyebrows at me.
“I guess, Aunt Bess said how she needed to travel all the time?” I pointed to the dash. My hand trembled. “Maybe home is an idea in my head. Oppidum is and it ain’t. It could be?”
She smiled at me. Much in the way she often did when I was being kinda dumb. “Home is where you make it sometimes.” She turned from me, a distant look in her eyes, like she wanted to say something, like she needed to, but couldn’t.
“Yeah, Aunt Bess made a lot of homes . . . I ain’t sure I got that kind of energy though.”
“North America alone is vast,” she said, focused on the road, her aura trying to rebuild its barriers. “Right now we’re on Eastern time. In Missouri we were on Central Standard Time, which is an hour behind.” She patted my knee. She didn’t know how to make me feel better about it. CIG isolated us. What could she say? We travelled: Time zones, towns, flitting in and out. Home was moving on, heading to the next place, the next people who needed our help.
“I’ll pick up some cans of pop and some chocolate. I won’t be long.” She glanced at Aunt Bess. “Do you think we should wake her?”
I shook my head. “Guess all the excitement got to her.”
Renee nodded. “It’s a Lorelei trait to snore in the passenger seat, huh?”
I screwed up my face. I got the flash of my mother doing the same. Guess we all liked to sleep travel. Renee got out and started filling up the tank as I stared down at my hands. Maybe I was coming down with something but I felt . . . rough.
A large fancy car screeched in as Renee headed into the convenient store and I stretched out my back. I picked up the keys off the dash and got out.
I needed air.
Standing just made me feel woozy. I leaned onto the car. My head felt like it would fall off.
Maybe I was tired. Maybe? The restless feeling crunched in my stomach and I shivered. Sugar. Yeah. Renee was right. I needed sugar.
I locked Aunt Bess in and found Renee next to the chocolate stash.
“If we’d headed west instead, Colorado would be on Mountain time which is two hours behind,” she said, holding up two bars. I grinned. I liked Colorado. I loved St. Jude’s and I loved that it was her home state.
“Keep on travelling and you hit the west coast with California. They’re on Pacific time which is three hours behind.” She picked up another bar of chocolate and held them side by side.
I picked up a bar. “So we’re a bar ahead of central chocolate time?”
She chuckled, bumping me with her hip. “Anything chocolate is good in my eyes.”
“Unless it’s white,” I said as we got to the till. The cashier chewed on his gum. “Worthington was the one who liked white chocolate.”
She smiled. “It isn’t bad . . . it’s just not milk chocolate. If you’re going to cram sugar in your mouth, make it count, right?” She handed the items to the cashier who started ringing them up.
“Hey, I was here first.” A ruddy-faced guy with receding white hair shoved in front of Renee. The cashier blew a bubble at him and carried on with our transaction.
Renee glared at him. “Some people have no patience,” she muttered to me, putting her money on the counter.
The guy snatched her money away as the cashier reached for it. “Hey you, you deaf?”
Renee scowled but I put my hand on her arm as the cashier fixed the guy with a bored stare. I knew that stare.
“Ex-con.” I looked at Renee.
Her eyes met mine and she stepped back. “Explains his lack of reaction.”
The cashier kept ringing up our items. Renee looked like she was buying pop for the whole county.
The guy slammed his money down. His suit screamed rich and his temper said he’d clawed his way to the top. “You want a short route back to where you belong?”
I clenched my teeth. Whoever the cashier was, he’d done his time.
Renee touched my hand. “Aeron, we don’t need to get involved.”
“I have to.” I sighed. She looked at me. “You really don’t wanna know what he was in for.”
Renee held my gaze then she nodded and turned back to the guy and the cashier.
The cashier looked like he couldn’t care and didn’t hear the ranting customer but I could feel the anger rippling from him. I could also see how hard he was trying to control it and I couldn’t let some dimwit rob him of his chance to start again.
I pushed off the counter to stand at my full height.
Both men stared up at me.
“It ain’t gonna hurt you to wait now is it?” I folded my arms, hoping that my size would breathe sense into the fool. “Patience is a virtue.”
The guy locked eyes with me. Oh, he was full of his own self-importance alright. “What would an oaf like you know about virtue?”
The cashier popped his gum again. It was a tell. The way his temper showed through.
“Amazing what a decade inside can teach you.” Not normally the way I’d introduce myself but I was more worried about the cashier than this idiot.
The cashier raised his eyebrows and his energy calmed.
“Unless you don’t want a short trip home, why don’t you do something useful . . . go fill up my car.” He flashed a nasty smile. “Would hate to see you back where you belong.”
My temper bubbled. I stepped forward. “Good luck tryin’ that.”
“Is there a problem?” Renee put her arm in front of me.
“She can fill the car.” He looked me up and down. “Don’t want a judge lodging a complaint now, do you?”
“About what?” I snapped.
“I’ll think of something.” His eyes glinted. “Who will the police believe?”
Renee looked from the cashier to me and shrugged. She walked out, over to the pump, and took off the nozzle.
The cashier slid up the window. “Miss, you don’t have to do that.”
Renee flashed him a pleasant smile. “Oh, don’t worry. My grandfather is grumpy now he’s so old. I always find it a bit sad when a man can’t get his hands dirty, don’t you?”
I tried to hide my smile but the cashier failed.
“Just fill it up,” the judge snapped.
Renee flashed him a brilliant smile. “Of course, you know, my grandfather has trouble with his hands too. I guess, at your age, things get a bit harder don’t they?”
The cashier and I smiled at that.
The judge didn’t. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I mean .
. . a lot of companies have great pension and medical plans, don’t they? I know it means you can’t afford . . .” She smiled. “Well . . . proper tailoring, but it would help with the pain.”
“This is a three thousand dollar suit.” The judge put his hands on his hips. “Or did you miss the Bentley?”
Renee waved a hand, dismissing his words. “Sure, of course it is, bet the guy at the garage saw you coming.” She wagged a finger at him with a chuckle. “That’s the problem when they see retired people, they think they can make a quick buck.”
“It’s a real Bentley.” The judge dropped the bills he’d snatched off Renee on the counter and went to the window.
Renee looked at him with such a patronizing smile. Man, there were times she filled me up inside. “Real Bentleys don’t have the trim on the bottom of the door; they don’t come in this color, and their paintwork has a special glaze to ward off corrosion.”
“She sure knows her cars,” the cashier mumbled. He sat on his stool, leaned on the counter, and took the money the judge had dropped. He sounded as impressed with her as I felt.
The judge’s aura fizzed with anger. He looked like he’d climb out the window any second.
“Besides,” Renee continued, drawing us back to watch her in action, “real Bentleys don’t run on plain old gasoline. They take diesel.”
The customer’s face drained of color. “You put gasoline in the tank?”
“There’s nothin’ like a fine woman.” The cashier bagged our goods. “She got some fire taking on a big judge like that.”
It took for him to speak for it to make sense in my head.
Judge?
Hammer . . .
Nan’s words hit me. “Watch out for the guy with the hammer.”
Uh oh.
“Renee!”
The cashier cocked his head at me.
I fumbled for my wallet. My dad had stuffed it with cash for me so I pulled out the first bills I could and shoved them his way.
The cashier shook his head as the judge pulled out his cell phone. “These are a hundred dollar bills. I can’t take them.”
“Sure you can.” I waved at Renee, hoping she’d quit playing with the guy. “Two hundred dollars to forget what we look like, lose the tape, and not see our plates.”
He grinned. “Then I’ll take it.”
I winked at him and hurried out of the store. “Renee!”
Renee strode to our car. Aunt Bess was out and snoring.
“Floor it,” I mumbled as I fumbled with the seat belt.
Renee didn’t argue. She roared the car into life. “What is it, did you get something?”
I held on. “Only that he’s a judge . . . A big judge . . . hammer?”
Renee smiled. “Good thing I put the right fuel in then.”
I chuckled. Served the guy right. Maybe next time he’d wait? “I can’t believe they sold him a fake Bentley.”
She eased her foot down further. “They didn’t. It’s top of the range but he didn’t know that, did he?”
My chuckle rumbled deeper, right from inside my belly . . . even if he had been calling the cops. “Think I agree with the cashier.”
Renee glanced at me as three cruisers headed in the opposite direction. Guess the judge had a lot of friends. “Agree?”
“You’re one fine woman.” I turned around to look out the back window. The cruisers were heading into the gas station.
“Just tell Urs that when she is kicking my ass for causing trouble.”
I grinned. “Frei loves you just the way you are.” I gripped on as Renee sped up to Frei-speed. “Gotta say, I’m with her all the way.”
Chapter 28
FREI FLUTTERED OPEN her eyes, feeling the icy cold touch of . . . someone. She had slumped against the door at some point. The indent of a rivet ridged her fingertips.
“Miss Locks?”
Frei groaned and turned herself around. The door gave the telltale movement that it was unlocked. At least she’d done something useful.
Jessie tucked the picks hanging out of the lock into Frei’s waistband and helped her move. She could only manage to get to the wall on the hinge side of the door.
“You need to rest,” Jessie mumbled. “I can’t help you if you keep crawling off.”
Frei chuckled in spite of the fact she wanted to pass out. Her tiredness gushed from her until the laughter grew silent. Jessie poked her in the thigh. “It’s not funny. I’m smaller than you.”
Frei pulled Jessie over to her with ease and wrapped her under her arm. “I was short at your age too.”
“Suz?” She knew her the moment she saw the limp. She’d heard . . . whispers from the others . . . how Suz had been shot sprinting from Jäger’s men.
“What are you doing here?” her sister asked Suz.
“We need to get you out. You’re going to stay with me.” Suz held out her hand. Burn marks covered it, shining in the moonlight. Jäger’s men had rammed them from the road. The tale was that the man with her had nearly been killed. It had to have been Fahrer. She couldn’t think about that now.
Suz smiled at her sister. “You’ll be safe with me.”
Her sister shook her head. “No, what about—?”
“I have to stay,” Frei whispered. There was no argument. Huber had risked a lot to tell her.
Her sister tried to pull away. She could never understand.
“Please, just go.”
Her sister shook her head. Stumbled backward. Her hand touched the fence.
Something triggered.
Red lights pulsed from the guard hut close by.
No.
“You have to go.” Frei pulled her into a brief hug. “Go.”
Suz didn’t give her time to think. She picked her sister up, threw her into the back of the car. They screeched off in a dust cloud.
Go. Go!
“Don’t move!”
Guards.
She needed to cover their tracks.
Roll, turn, sprint.
“We’ve got a runner!”
More lights. Lights in the building. Footfalls: Guard boots.
Run. Run.
Keep them distracted. Keep them away from Suz. She needed time to get away.
“It’s one of Huber’s,” one of the guards shouted. “I can see his tag.”
Through the doors, run, up, up the stairs. Run. Run.
Smack.
“Nice try.” Jäger. So tall, so terrifying. His face etched in shadow and moonlight.
“Musician is gone!” Harrison. She would check, such a hawk.
Jäger narrowed his eyes. “You think you can hide her?” His grasp painful, agony. His gaze flicked to the guard. “Find her.”
“She’s gone. There’s tracks next to the fence.” The guard panted, his face dripping with sweat. “We’ll never catch them now.”
She got away. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks.
“You lost me money, slave.”
Smack.
“A lot of money.”
Smack.
Cover up. Take it. Buy her time.
“Let’s see if I can get you talking.” Jäger gripped her hair. Her sneakers squealed against the floor.
Harrison shook her head. “Huber explicitly stated–”
“He won’t find out.” Jäger threw Frei forward. She smashed into her bedroom door. The impact stunned her. Speckles in her vision. Her cheek throbbed. She dropped back onto her knees. Her legs not able to take her weight. Blood poured from her lip. “Do something useful and search the area.”
“You’ve picked off every one of his slaves, you think he won’t notice?” Harrison’s tone showed her concern. She sounded uncertain. Was she?
“Who are you more scared of?” Jäger snapped. “A pauper like Huber or my brother?”
Frei tried to stand, her legs buckled, so she crawled. She crawled toward Harrison, hoping she’d help.
“It’s not me who needs to be scared. You took over the responsibi
lity of ‘getting the slaves in line,’ or so you put it.” Frei could only make out Harrison as a blurred shape. She kept crawling. “And I’m not the one who keeps losing them.”
“If that is the case . . . I’ll deal with it as I please.” Jäger gripped Frei by the collar. She kicked out. Caught his shin.
He laughed. Nasty, something rippled through it that gave her goosebumps.
“Mark my words, Jäger, if Huber finds out—”
“He won’t unless you tell him.” Jäger’s voice held a level of threat that crawled over Frei’s skin until fear pulsed through her heart. A rapid panic which drove her to reach out to Harrison for help.
“This pathetic slave is only as good as her looks.”
“Miss Locks,” Jessie whispered, clutching at her elbow. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”
Frei felt the shuddering breaths rattle from her. Jessie. She was with Jessie now. He wasn’t here. She pulled Jessie into a hug, held on, tears stinging, yet un-spilled.
“I’ve got you,” Jessie whispered, squeezing her. “I’m here.”
Frei leaned her chin on Jessie’s crown, soaking up her comfort. She hated that she had forced a child to offer her, an adult, support. That wasn’t how it was meant to be but she couldn’t let go. Instead, she closed her eyes, thankful of the closeness, of the warmth. A single tear fell silent down her cheek.
Chapter 29
WE DROVE TOWARD the city and I made Renee pull over. I could see the river snaking its way through the countryside. There was some kind of magnetic pull which had tugged at me until I begged Renee to follow.
It was strange because there was no industry here. There was nothing but the bank, some park, and the mighty flowing Ohio trundling on past.
We sat on the hood, soaking up the lunchtime sun. It was quiet, pleasant. Birds chatted away nearby.
“Any ideas?” Renee asked, munching on a sandwich that Aunt Bess had shoved her way. I was kinda glad to see her eating. Sometimes when she got tense, she forgot to. Nan had always believed in fueling up and I guess Aunt Bess was much the same.
I glanced back to see Aunt Bess stretching out, wandering about as if she was taking pictures with her hands.