The doorbell rings.
Neither of us moves. We stare each other down. Before I have a chance to flinch, Cullen walks into the room wearing mesh shorts and a waffle-knit shirt. His hair is wet and combed to the side. His eyes are bloodshot. Cullen looks between us before settling on me with disregard. “Why is she still here?”
Richard holds his ground, blocking my path to the door and whoever’s on the other side of it.
Heart pounding, I grab my purse and coat from the couch, hoping Cullen has created an opportunity. “I’m leaving.” I have no idea whether Cullen has any allegiance to Richard.
Richard glares at me. “Not until I make the proper arrangements.”
Even if I somehow escape this room, he’ll have me killed. Stabbed. Dumped in the river. One way or another, my death is inevitable.
The doorbell rings again.
“You going to take care of that?” Cullen pours himself a drink at the wet bar from the same decanter.
Richard grabs the remote, switching the station to the grainy gray footage of a camera crew standing on the other side of the mayor’s door.
It looks like Emi, dressed for the gala. She bangs on the door, demanding someone open it.
Richard stares me down like a snake about to strike. “Cullen,” he says over his shoulder, “get rid of them. Tell them your dad will be releasing his statement within the hour.”
Cullen throws back the brown liquid in his glass and coughs. “What if they’re here for me? I was there tonight.”
Richard raises his nasal voice. “Then decline to comment.”
Cullen wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and heads for the door. Cullen mumbles something derogatory under his breath that I don’t catch, and I don’t care to either.
This is my chance. The second Cullen answers the door, I need to run toward it. Make my escape. Richard knows this too. It’s why he’s lined himself up to cut me off. Just in case I try.
Cullen opens the door, and light floods the house. Emi throws her shoulder into the heavy wood and shoves a microphone into Cullen’s face. “Cullen Henking, how hard was it for you to witness tonight’s attack?” Cullen tries pushing her out, closing the door, but Emi wedges herself against it, blocking it.
Emi surveys the house. She grabs her cameraman, who turns the camera on me. “We’re live here inside Mayor Henking’s home, where we’ve just learned Cullen Henking and Lia Finch were witnesses to tonight’s fatal attack.”
Cullen strains to drive them out, but he can’t close the door. Richard turns to intercept.
In a few moments, the door will be shut. Emi and the cameraman gone. I’ll never make it out the front. They’ll block me before I get there. Instead, I step backward, searching for an exit.
Cullen and Richard are distracted by Emi.
I step back again, testing their response. When neither of them glances my way, I spin and run. My feet smack the hardwood floors. I don’t look back. I race. Faster. Past the windows, I turn left into a breakfast room. There are double doors along the far wall. I skirt the table and lunge for them. Jerk the handle. It doesn’t open.
I fumble with the lock as footsteps thump behind me. Closing in.
The lock clicks. I wrench open the door and take off into the night.
Waves hiss and crash onto the shore. The noise is overwhelming. I jump off the mayor’s porch, landing on my hip with a thud. Sprawled on their lawn, I gather myself, scramble to my feet, and take off. The cold assaults my lungs. Wind whips the panels of my dress around my legs as I sprint through wet grass.
Behind me, steps pound against the porch. Richard’s or Cullen’s, I can’t tell. But he’s after me. Not far.
I veer right. Around the house. Toward Emi. “Here,” I scream, hoping I’m louder than the wind, the waves, the traffic on Lake Shore Drive.
Clearing the corner, my face smacks a tree branch. I slip and fall backward.
Scurrying, I flip to my hands and knees. As I do, someone grabs my ankle, yanking me back.
I scream, clawing at the grass and dirt. Richard’s hands grab my leg like a rope, and he drags me away from Emi and any chance at rescue.
Twisting my body, I swing my other leg around, kicking Richard in the face with my heel. He jerks back, releasing me.
I struggle to my feet and start running again, but his recovery is quick. Richard lunges for me, tearing a panel of my dress as he misses.
I take another step. My heel sticks in the grass. The tiny hitch of movement is all he needs. Richard grabs my wrist. He pulls me, wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting me, hauling me back behind the house, to kill me—beat me, stab me, shoot me.
A light bounces through the dark. Emi and the cameraman charge us. “There’s Lia Finch. Richard Stewart, is she being held here against her will?”
Richard spins toward the spotlight accosting us both. He drops me. Richard straightens his posture, tugs at his lapels.
At the top of the camera, a tiny red light indicates they’re recording.
“Ms. Finch needs to be questioned for her role in tonight’s attack.” Richard’s voice is high. Nervous.
I rush toward Emi, ducking behind her.
“Under whose jurisdiction?” Emi cocks her head. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I have footage of Ms. Finch trying to break up the riot before the attack and sources that confirm she’s been working with authorities to uncover the people behind the Death Mob.”
Emi makes a point to look from Richard to me. “Why is your lip bleeding? Did we just catch you assaulting her?”
I slide behind the cameraman, as if he can shield me.
Richard inhales through his nose, trying to remain composed. “She’s linked to three Death Mob murders, and you’re interfering with a national investigation. I will press charges and have you jailed.”
Emi taps her cameraman, who kills the feed. She glares at Richard. “I bet you’re linked to more than that.” Emi flares her nostrils. For several seconds, there seems to be a silent standoff between them before Emi speaks. “My station has this feed. Wrestling with a teenage girl on the lawn of the mayor’s house. Your bloody lip. Her torn dress, messy hair. Doesn’t look good. Especially if something were to happen to her.”
Richard’s expression darkens. “You’ll pay for this. I’ll see to it.” He leans toward her. “You’re disposable too, you know that?” Richard combs back his hair as if taming the strays will preserve his dignity. “Your kind always is.”
My hatred toward Richard surges inside me but Emi doesn’t flinch. If anything, she seems ignited. A ruthless smile spreads across her face. “Oh, retribution will be paid. Don’t you worry about that.” Her voice is smooth, silky. Emi steps toward Richard as if to continue, but the cameraman grabs her bicep. He guides her back, leading us both across the mayor’s manicured lawn.
I stumble over my own feet as I turn to see Richard disappear into the night. Once he does, we break into a run toward the news van parked out front. The van door slides open. Emi jumps in behind me. The cameraman hops into the driver’s seat. The van revs to life, and we take off down the mayor’s driveway back toward the city.
CHAPTER 30
I double over in the back of Emi’s van, in a folding chair not even bolted to the floor. Emi’s cameraman weaves in and out of traffic while I try not to collide with the panel of illuminated screens and switches covering the entire left side of the van.
I wrap my arms around my waist. How did this all go so horribly wrong? Ryan’s dead. Richard’s still out there, likely arranging my murder before I get back to my house. I need to preserve everything he confessed. Telling Emi’s not good enough. He’ll kill her too.
I need to call Detective Irving.
Tears stream down my face as I fumble for my bag. “Richard uses the Death Mob to force people into supporting the Lakefront Project. He admitted to it.” My hands don’t work, like they’re swollen. My bag drops. Both phones skid across the van’s metal floor. I’m
lunging for them when Emi puts her hand on my knee. She sits in a folding chair behind the passenger’s seat.
“We got it,” she says, her voice low and even. “All of it.”
I lift my head. I’ve misunderstood her. “What are you talking about?”
She picks up the burner phone. “It has a spyware program on it. As long as your phone is on, I hear everything. We recorded what Richard said. All of it.”
I stare at her. My lips suspended. “You recorded it?”
“Every word.” City light pours in through the windshield. Having come from the gala, Emi’s hair is curled and pinned in place so it won’t move. Her lips are dark pink. I notice her black-and-white gown for the first time. It looks more subtle than what I imagined she might wear.
I try recounting what Richard disclosed. I can’t remember his exact wording. “Then we can prosecute. This is what we needed. There has to be someone who will reopen my dad’s case.”
Did he mention the mayor’s role in it? Richard made it sound like he controlled everything, but the mayor must be involved. My excitement builds, but Emi’s eyes go flat.
“What am I missing?” And then it hits me. She wants it for her article. Her own fame. “If you write about this, we’ll all be dead by the time it comes out.”
“Which is why I have to go live. In one hour, I’ll broadcast Richard’s admission to the entire world. We’re editing clips of your conversation now. I called a friend of mine at the FBI, who’s waiting for us to air. Before my interview is over, Richard will be arrested.”
“What about the mayor?” I protest. What if he heads it like Adam thought? My dad set out to take down the entire organization, not just its right-hand man. Everyone involved has to rot in prison for the rest of their lives so the Death Mob is over forever. My dad’s death, Adam’s death, Ryan’s death, all our sacrifices—they have to mean something.
“We don’t have anything on the mayor.” The van lurches to the right. Emi’s hand flies out against the side of the van, bracing her, while my shoulder crashes into it. I reposition my folding chair and rub the bruise already forming.
Emi continues. “Richard admitted to organizing the Death Mob and targeting victims. He didn’t reveal anything about the mayor being connected.”
“You can’t.” There must be a way to get them both. If someone brings Richard in for questioning, they could get it out of him. Good cop, bad cop, whatever. If someone reliable investigated this, they could bring everyone down. The mayor. Lip Spikes. All the Initiators directly responsible for fifteen deaths.
Emi doesn’t break eye contact. “Time is already against us. This guy has a reach into all levels of law enforcement. He’s been running this thing for over eight years and controls half the city. We need to force the hands of those who would protect him. It’s the smart thing to do, Lia.”
“The mayor’s involved. I know he is.”
“Probably. But right now, we can get Richard.” Her expression is serious. “You’re right. He will try to kill you. We need to cut him off before he does.”
The world spins, dizzying my thoughts, but Emi remains composed. Articulate. “There will be a case against Richard. And you’re going to need to testify. We need to protect you too.”
I wish I had someone to talk to, to help me figure out whether this is the best way like she says. Instead, I picture the Swarm closing in on Ryan. I hear the gunshot, and a piercing pain fills every inch of my body. I double over again. The second I do, I feel Emi kneel beside me.
“I want these guys too.”
I lean back against the chair, too drained to fight her. “You’ve been listening in on me for weeks, haven’t you?” I think of the night I kissed Ryan. I had the phone with me then. I wonder how much she heard. It should have been private, a special moment between Ryan and me, and she ruined it, listening in like some voyeuristic peeping Tom.
She doesn’t deny it. She looks at me, letting me connect the dots.
“You gave me the phone to spy on me.”
Emi doesn’t flinch. “That’s not entirely true.”
At least she doesn’t lie.
“I also wanted to make sure you were safe and give you a way to get ahold of me if you needed it.”
“You saw me make a Twitter account. Pretend to be part of the Swarm.”
She stares at me in a way that looks apologetic. I never considered she’d have access to my Internet history when I looked up each of the men from the Lakefront Project and their kids, all of whom were in the Swarm. “Did you figure out how the kids are connected?” I think of Ryan. If he were alive, she could’ve incriminated him and every other kid forced to participate. Like Amy London.
Emi nods.
I couldn’t handle Ryan being the center of a media frenzy, getting dissected. “If you expose them, I’ll find a way to discredit you.”
“I have no interest in revealing them.”
Streetlights along Lake Shore Drive blur by. My head buzzes like the leftover high of sucking too much helium. My eyes burn. It’s only a matter of time before my lungs start tightening and the rest of my body shuts down. Like it always does.
I sink farther into the chair. “Where are we going?”
Emi switches from serious mode to game plan mode. She grabs her purse from the front seat and takes her black diamond earrings off. “You and your mom will be staying at the Peninsula tonight.”
“I want to go home—”
Emi interrupts. “It’ll be safer until Richard is in custody, which should be after we go live.” She drops her earrings into her purse. “You have a suite.” She puts a pearl earring into each ear. “The suite will be blocked off from the rest of the hotel. You and your mom have a separate entrance with tight security.”
Of course Emi would arrange for a separate entrance leading up to a prestigious hotel room. Everything she does is over the top.
“I have a friend there,” she says, like she knows what I’m thinking.
“Must be some friend.”
“You’re about to be the girl who saved the city from the Death Mob’s tyranny. There will be plenty of people willing to help you out.”
“Is that why you want to be the reporter who breaks the story?”
She stops moving. “You have no idea what’s happening right now, do you?”
I look away feeling tired, spent.
“Your video went viral. By now, the whole world has seen your footage from inside the Swarm. It’s global news. Three of the five Initiators have already been identified.”
Something flutters inside me. “The one with the spikes in his lip?”
Emi nods. “Dante Ipstein. Arrests will be made before the night is over.” The van comes to a rolling stop beneath the Peninsula’s brightly lit curbside drop-off. “You’ve done it, Lia. The Swarm is unraveling.”
“Now you get to expose Richard and revel in your success.”
Emi’s face hardens. “I’ll let that slide because you had a rough night.” She pulls lipstick out of her purse. Puts it on. “I gave you a phone, Lia. You pieced this thing together. You got Richard Stewart to confess. You took down the Death Mob. The success is yours. I’m just the one reporting it.”
My eyes well. I want to be happy. Maybe even appreciative. It’s what I’ve spent the last two years trying to achieve. But I’m drained, and the victory’s come at the expense of too many people I loved.
“Stay here,” Emi says. She maneuvers into the passenger’s seat, where a hotel doorman opens her door. She rushes toward the lobby, leaving me with her cameraman driving the car.
Every inch of my body feels dirty. I want to get out of this dress, scrub the makeup off my face, including the mascara smeared on my cheeks that makes me look like some psycho clown. I need it gone. All of it.
I hear the gunshot that killed Ryan, and I shudder. I picture the Swarm closing in on him until I couldn’t see him anymore. They seemed to swallow him whole.
When I glance up, the cam
eraman’s watching me through the rearview mirror. He looks away when we make eye contact, but not before I notice how bloodshot and glassy his eyes look. One hand rests on the steering wheel. I spot the tattoo on his forearm peeking out beneath the rolled ends of his jacket. Inside what looks to be a thick black circle are angular bars and swirls patterned like a kid’s maze. Only the top is visible, but I immediately recognize it as the same tattoo the paramedic had on his forearm the night of Adam’s attack. He catches me staring.
“What does it mean?” I ask, my throat dry and swollen.
“Strength and resilience.” The cameraman watches me as if studying my reaction. Once again, I’m caught by how red and glassy his eyes look.
“I’ve seen one like it before.” I look toward the Peninsula’s front doors, trying to end the awkward small talk.
He twists his body around so he’s facing me. The confrontation catches me by surprise. “You don’t know what it is?” His voice is hoarse. A thin layer of blond scruff covers his cheeks, chin, and neck. He appears to be in his early twenties, a lot younger than I initially thought.
“I was forced into the Swarm for two years,” he says.
I stop breathing. Silence fills the car.
“I haven’t slept more than two hours at a time since.” His bloodshot eyes stare into mine. Neither of us moves. I feel like I should say something. It’s my turn to talk. But instead I picture Ryan’s eyes, the torment they reflected.
“I’d do just about anything to prevent anyone else from living through that.” His agony is palpable.
I nod because I understand and because I can’t find words to convey it.
He turns around in the driver’s seat, returning both hands to the wheel like there’s nothing left to say.
Emi opens the door, startling me. “Your room’s ready. Your mom’s already here.” She climbs in and slams the door behind her. She looks from her cameraman to me as if picking up on what just happened.
“This is going to be a big night for a lot of people in this city.” She readjusts the skirt of her dress and faces forward. “Let’s go.”
I reach for the van’s side door, but Emi cuts me off. “We’re going in the back way. More discreet.” Emi hits her cameraman’s arm, signaling him to drive. “National feed starts in thirty.”
Every Stolen Breath Page 26