Текст книги "Inside"

Автор книги: Brenda Novak

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

12

The drive to town seemed interminable. There was so much Peyton wanted to say—and yet she couldn’t find the right words. She and Virgil both sat staring straight ahead, as if the attraction that had compelled them to be together now tore them apart with equal force.

Peyton hated the change. She didn’t want what had happened between them to end this way. But she couldn’t pretend she’d be willing to let the relationship progress, couldn’t hold on to him for fear of where it might lead. He was the first man in a very long time to capture her interest, but she knew he wouldn’t be flattered if she told him that. He’d expected her to balk at some point, to escape the risk associated with him, and now she’d done that. His anger made her feel rigid and judgmental and selfish—all the things she didn’t want to be.

But she had the right to look out for herself, didn’t she? She’d known from the beginning they couldn’t have anything beyond a professional relationship.

She glanced over at him, his face an implacable mask. His defenses had snapped into place the moment he asked if she regretted being with him and she hadn’t been able to answer. He’d withdrawn so completely she doubted she could reach him again even if she tried. That caused an odd sense of loss, which added confusion to the already jumbled emotions churning in her gut.

“I know you’re worried about Laurel, but you shouldn’t be.” She broke the silence with what she hoped would provide some reassurance. “Wallace isn’t my favorite person, but I believe he’ll try his best to keep her safe.”

“He’ll be sorry if he doesn’t.”

The steely determination behind those words frightened Peyton. She didn’t want him to do anything that might land him in worse trouble—which proved she was making the right choice by backing away. He couldn’t divorce himself from all the experiences that made him who he was or the responsibilities that forced his hand, and neither could she.

“You can’t think like that,” she said.

His eyes cut to her, and for the briefest moment she remembered the tenderness with which he’d touched her last night. Not that any of that tenderness showed now.

She adjusted the position of her hands on the wheel. “What?”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. That look was enough. He was telling her to mind her own business.

“Just because I’m not willing to ruin my life by getting any more…involved with you doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” she blurted out.

A muscle flexed in his cheek—evidence of some strong emotion. “I never asked you to care about me. Last night was nothing. We got off a few times. That was it.”

His response felt like a slap in the face. She’d honestly wanted to be with him, not anyone else. That made it more than a purely physical encounter. “So I was just a piece of ass? Your last hurrah before going back inside?”

“First and last.”

She shot him a dirty look. “Thanks for making me feel cheap.”

“You’re the one who did that.”

“You know what our situation is. I don’t have any choice.”

He took a deep breath before hitting her with a penetrating stare. “That’s true. So stay away from me in the future.”

“Your gratitude astounds me.”

“I didn’t ask you for any favors.”

“And I didn’t do you one. I was…sincere, Virgil. I—”

“Stop it. We were never meant to be friends.” He shifted his attention to the window until she pulled to the curb at the usual place. She thought he’d walk off without even a goodbye, but he turned back at the last second, removed the medallion that hung around his neck on a leather cord and handed it to her.

“What’s this?” she asked in surprise.

“The strap it hangs on is the only thing I’ve ever made.”

The pain in her chest grew more acute. After what he’d just said, after feeling his frustration and anger, she hadn’t expected this and didn’t know how to take it. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“Why not display a token of my admiration along with everyone else’s?” he said. Then he shut the door and walked off.

The medallion was a Spanish coin from 1739. She had no idea where he’d gotten such a rare object, but she guessed it would’ve been worth quite a bit—which, once again, showed that he didn’t think like most people, didn’t value the same things.

The coin’s monetary value meant nothing to her, either. What mattered was that it was still warm from the heat of his chest.

Because of that, she couldn’t help pressing it to her own.

Laurel paced the living room of the old, two-bedroom house where Rick Wallace had taken her, pausing every few minutes to part the drapes and peer out at the street. As it approached eight, traffic increased, even though it was Sunday. The long night was over, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

“Stop worrying,” Wallace said for the umpteenth time, but he was one to talk. He’d just about worn a hole in the linoleum of the kitchen.

“They could’ve followed us,” she responded. “We might not be any safer here than we were in Florence.” They’d driven three hours to reach this 1920s brick house in the small ranching community of Gunnison, but that didn’t feel far enough.

He scowled at her. “No one followed us because no one saw us leave. No one was around when I went to your door.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“You said yourself that you’d just called the police, that they checked the house, the yard and the street.”

“But it took a while to gather our belongings. I didn’t know you were coming, so I wasn’t prepared. The men in that Ford Fusion could’ve returned while we were packing. They could’ve been hidden by trees or some other parked vehicle and watched us load up, then followed us when we drove away.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, he cursed under his breath. “Quit spooking yourself.”

“If you’d been around when that man showed up with a gun…when he pointed it at Mia…” Fighting tears of exhaustion and disappointment, Laurel swallowed hard. “He got into my house without making a sound. And he wouldn’t have hesitated to pull that trigger if he’d thought we were worth more to him dead.”

“Then it’s a good thing I came when I did.” Wallace wasn’t any happier to be here than she was. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t used to such duties, had no patience with them. It hadn’t helped that her children had frayed his nerves by whining on the long drive. Amid all the chaos, Wallace had tried to explain who he was and why he was bringing her here. He’d said that a U.S. marshal would be taking over soon, but she wasn’t sure what it all meant. Wallace had told her she’d never be able to take her kids back home—was that true?

She couldn’t even conceive of it. What about her job as a janitor at the hospital? Her house? Her friends? She hadn’t been in Florence long enough to put down many roots. She’d moved there just eleven months ago, shortly after they transferred Virgil from USB Tucson to ADX Florence, but she had more there than anywhere else. She couldn’t imagine disappearing without saying a word to the people she’d met. Trinity Woods, the woman who babysat Mia and Jake while she worked had probably already arrived to find them gone. Although Laurel had wanted to call her, to tell her not to come, Trinity had shut off her cell phone service in order to save money.

“This can’t be happening,” she muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening, all right,” Wallace said. He claimed she was going into the Witness Protection Program, but until now WITSEC, as he called it, had had no relevance to her life beyond what she’d seen on TV. She’d never dreamed she’d be adopted into it herself. Her husband had been as physically abusive as the stepfather her mother had killed. She’d reported him and he’d spent a few months in jail, but the cops hadn’t been able to do much more to help her. Now, after she’d worked through that problem mostly on her own, they were whisking her away, promising a new identity?

Wallace slumped into a chair. “Where are the kids?”

“In bed.” He hadn’t noticed? They’d been asleep more than an hour, but it hadn’t been easy to get them settled down. They didn’t understand why they’d been carted off in the middle of the night. Mia had had an earache—hence, the whining. Her complaints had upset Jake and made him cranky, as well.

“Maybe after a few years I can go back,” she said.

“You’d be a fool to take that chance.”

But she’d already started over and she liked Colorado.

The fact that her mother wouldn’t be able to contact her was actually a relief. The same held true for her ex-husband, who’d threatened her numerous times even after his stint in jail and had only calmed down in the past few months, since he got a new girlfriend. But there were other people. People she’d miss. Melanie at work was one example. She’d been a good friend.

“Do you think they got to Virgil?” she asked. “Do you think he’s dead?”

Wallace stared up at her. “You know what I think.”

He’d explained Virgil’s gang ties. She hadn’t wanted to believe him, but she knew in her heart that what he said was true. Virgil had been so angry in the early years. He’d been determined to rail against the system any way he could.

None of that had helped his cause, of course. It’d only made things worse.

“He didn’t run off.” She’d said that before but Wallace didn’t believe her. “He’d never abandon me.”

“If he’s returned to The Crew and made nice, he’d have no reason to fear for your safety.”

“But he wouldn’t be free. Not really. He must want to get out, away from them, like he told you, or he wouldn’t be doing this.”

Skepticism etched a deep frown in his face. “He’s loyal, isn’t he?”

“To a fault,” she responded.

“Exactly my point. These guys, probably even the one with the firearm, are as much family to him as you are. Could be he’s decided he can’t live without them. It’s a cold world with no friends.”

She was lonely herself. They had only each other, which was why he had to be okay. “He’s got me,” she said, stubbornly refusing to doubt. “He’ll always have me. And he’s tired of fighting.”

“Why would he be tired of it? That’s all he’s ever known.”

“He never fought unless he was attacked.”

Wallace didn’t seem to care that he was upsetting her. He was just as worried, just as agitated. “When you’re the man everyone else wants to knock off the top of the heap, you become a target. But he did more than protect himself. He made all comers pay.”

She folded her arms to shield herself against his negativity as well as the cold. According to what Wallace had said on the way into town, Gunnison saw the sun almost every day of the year, yet it occasionally had some of the lowest temperatures in the nation. Today felt like one of those days. “Then that’s what he had to do. Anyway, if he made a deal with you, he’ll keep it.”

Wallace checked his cell phone for messages before setting it on the table beside him. “We’ll see, won’t we? He’s not in his motel room. There’s got to be a reason.”

Wringing her hands, she made another pass around the room. “The Crew must’ve found him.”

“They couldn’t find him, not unless he called them. It’s not as if they have high-tech equipment like the FBI, for God’s sake.”

She pivoted to face him. “And yet the FBI can’t stop The Crew.”

He opened his mouth, apparently prepared to continue arguing, when his phone rang. Grabbing it off the table, he jumped to his feet. “Hello?…There you are! Where the hell have you been?…In the middle of the night?…No, she’s fine. The Crew’s been watching her, following her, but I got her and the kids out without being seen…. I’m sure of it…. Because she’s been dying to talk to you…. Just a minute.” Looking relieved, he handed her the phone. “It’s your brother.”

Laurel’s heart raced as she pressed Wallace’s cell phone to her ear. She’d been so terrified that Virgil had been kidnapped or killed. A surge of gratitude swept through her; at the same time she tensed with the knowledge that the worst could still happen. “Virgil?”

“Laurel, you okay?”

The tears she’d been holding back streamed down her face. Reluctant to let Wallace see her fall apart, she took her usual place by the window and stared out at the street. “I’m alive. I guess that means I’m okay.” She made an effort to control the trembling in her voice. “What’s going on? I’ve been so worried about you!”

“I’m sorry.”

The regret in those words made it difficult for her to blame him. He’d been through so much.

“I knew this would be hard on you,” he went on. “But you have to trust me. There’s no other way.”

“When will I see you?”

“I don’t know. As soon as I can fulfill my assignment.” What, exactly, was his “assignment”? Wallace had been vague about that. He’d said Virgil was helping the government take down a dangerous gang, a different gang than the one to which he’d belonged. But Laurel couldn’t imagine one man being so instrumental in that kind of undertaking. Besides, the government couldn’t need him more than she did. She’d waited so long. “Are we talking days or…”

“Most likely months.”

“No, Virgil, please! Don’t do this.”

“Listen to me. There’s no better alternative. And that means you have to soldier on. I need to know you’re safe and well. Do you understand?”

She wiped her cheeks. “But…months?”

“Whatever it takes to set us free.”

He was determined. She heard it in his voice. “Fine. Then where are you? We’ll come there so we can at least visit you.”

“They’re putting me back in prison, Laurel, and you can’t come anywhere close.”

But that wasn’t fair! He’d just been released.

For a moment, she was tempted to strike out at Wallace. He seemed the perfect person to blame, but he was also the man who was trying to keep her safe. She didn’t know what to do. “The nightmare is supposed to be over,” she said. “When will it be over?”

“Someday, okay? Be strong. It’ll be easier on me if I know you’re bearing up under the weight of all this.”

Bearing up? She felt as if she was drowning in disappointment and fear and uncertainty. She’d been regularly beaten by the stepfather her uncle had shot. When her mother received the life insurance money and gave Gary almost half instead of hiring a better lawyer for Virgil, she’d run away. She’d been sixteen and survived on the streets for nearly two years, trying to scratch out a living. Then she’d married a man who’d turned out to be as abusive as her late stepfather. Through it all, she’d fought like crazy to save her brother, to hang on to her sanity and, later, to provide for the emotional and physical needs of her children. How could she continue to bear up when she was so tired?

And yet she couldn’t put her brother through any more than he’d already suffered….

Sliding down the wall to sit against it, she covered her face and struggled to rein in her emotions. “I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s it. I’m proud of you, Laurel.”

“This man I’m with…Rick Wallace. Can I trust him?” She felt Wallace’s eyes boring into the top of her bowed head, knew she wasn’t being polite by talking about him while he was in the room. But she didn’t care. She’d been pushed into survival mode, was well beyond observing common courtesies.

“He’ll take care of you as long as I’m giving him the incentive to do so. If that changes…if something happens to me…you might need to take Mia and Jake and strike out on your own. In that case, go several states away or to the East Coast. If I’m out of the picture, I doubt The Crew will bother with you. But I’ve managed to piss off some very determined people. Don’t take any chances.”

Resting her forehead on her arms, she shut her eyes. How could she start over again? Where would she find the money? She’d never had the opportunity to go to college. Since following Virgil to Colorado, she’d barely eked out a living working at the hospital. When Tom didn’t pay his child support, which seemed like every other month, she could hardly afford groceries. And now that he couldn’t know where they were, even his contribution would be gone.

There were other issues, too. What about ID? She’d need a new identity if she planned to escape The Crew. Was the government going to provide that? Otherwise an everyday P.I. would be able to find her.

Survival had been a part of her life for so long, she knew what it required. But she didn’t mention any of these details. Virgil had enough on his mind. “Wallace doesn’t trust you,” she said. “He believes you’ll double-cross him.”

“He was supposed to stay in his motel room. Anyone would’ve suspected him of taking off,” Wallace said, but she kept her head down and didn’t respond. Virgil was talking.

“If he didn’t have me by the balls, maybe I would.”

“So they’re forcing you to do this?”

“In a way. In another way it’s an opportunity. And it might be my last.”

Scrambling for a sliver of hope to cling to, she tried opportunity on for size. But she’d waited so long for the truth to win out, for her brother to be exonerated, that facing such a big setback made it feel as if their lives would never be their own. “A man showed up at the house,” she said. “With a gun.”

“Mia and Jake—”

“Are fine. He grabbed Mia for a few seconds, put a gun to her head, but…that was it.”

There was a silence, during which she felt his concern and his rage, before he asked, “What’d this man look like?”

“Short. Muscular. Lots of tattoos—maybe a full-body suit because even his face was tatted up. He’d shaved his head but had this little patch of hair growing from his chin—”

“Ink.”

She wiped away the last of her tears. What good did it do to cry? Crying changed nothing. Hadn’t she learned that by now? “That’s what he called himself, yes.”

“What’d he say?”

“He referred to you as Skin, wanted to know if you were getting the flag dirty.”

“Dropping the flag. He was asking if I was bailing out.”

“Of the gang?”

“That’s right. What else?”

Her nose was running, but she was too dejected to head to the bathroom. She sniffed loudly. “He demanded that I tell him where you are.”

“And you said…”

“What could I say? I didn’t know. He gave me a message that you have until noon tomorrow to call someone named Pretty Boy. But that deadline passed yesterday. It’s too late.”

“I wouldn’t have called him, anyway.”

Conscious of Wallace, who was still watching her, she got to her feet, turned her back to him and leaned into the window again. “What will they do?”

“If they find me, they’ll kill me. They’ll kill you, too, if they can. That’s why I need you to do exactly as Wallace says. This isn’t a game. It’s for real. He’ll put you in the Witness Protection Program, give you a fresh start. I know you don’t feel good about that, but it’s our only chance.”

“What about Tom?” she asked.

“Your ex? What about him?”

“The kids will never see their father.”

“He’s no father. He takes them maybe twice a year, sends them a few bucks for Christmas.”

“Still…”

“This is a matter of life and death, Laurel. That outweighs everything else. Everything.”

“But are we talking forever? I don’t want to tell them that.”

“Then don’t. Forever is a long time, baby sister. Let’s get through now. Then we’ll worry about later.”

“Why?” she whispered. “Why is this happening?”

“It’s my fault,” he admitted. “I never realized how my decisions would affect you, never dreamed I’d ever see the day I got out of prison.”

But the fact that he’d been put behind bars wasn’t his fault. They had Ellen and Gary to blame for that. Maybe their mother and uncle hadn’t murdered Martin with the intention of framing Virgil, but they didn’t do anything to stop him from going to prison. Ellen had even testified about the many times Virgil had stood up for Laurel against their stepfather, said Virgil had hated his stepfather and had threatened him on a number of occasions. “This all goes back to Mom and Gary, and what they did.”

A beep sounded, signifying another call. Afraid to let Wallace know someone else was trying to reach him for fear he’d rush her off the phone, she ignored it. “Will we get to talk, stay in touch?”

“Probably not. Don’t write to me, either. If they manage to track me down, I don’t want there to be any link between us.”

That meant she was losing even more than she’d lost before. “But how will we connect when this is all over?”

“Wallace will tell me where you are. I’ll find you. Don’t worry.”

A second beep sounded, and suddenly she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay on the phone any longer. If she broke down again, she’d only make him feel worse. And she was on the verge of more tears. “Another call’s coming in. I’d better go.”

“Laurel?”

“What?”

“I love you,” he said, but she was crying too hard to answer so she passed the phone to Wallace as if she hadn’t heard him.

Wallace told Virgil to hang on and switched to the incoming call. No doubt he was hoping it was the U.S. marshal who was supposed to relieve him so he could return to his family and continue living his safe and predictable life. Laurel envied him that. She also resented his impatience with her and her brother when he had no idea what it was like to walk in their shoes.

“Hello?…This is Rick Wallace…. Say that again?… Damn it! How’d that happen? We told you to go over there…. I know, but it’s so…unnecessary…. The bastards.” He dropped his head, massaging his temples with one hand. “We’re fine. Any witnesses?…What about other evidence?…Whoever it was must have some connection to The Crew…. Of course…. Thanks for letting me know.”

He stared at Laurel as he switched back to the other line. “Virgil? I’m afraid I’ve got bad news.”

Laurel’s first instinct was to check on Mia and Jake. But she could tell from Wallace’s manner that it wasn’t the children. “What is it?” she murmured.

Reaching out, he took her hand. “It’s Trinity Woods.”

“My babysitter?” She had no idea how Virgil was reacting. She couldn’t hear him. But she assumed the name didn’t mean much to him. She’d never mentioned Trinity. Or maybe she’d made some oblique reference in one of her letters.

Wallace shifted from one foot to the other. “Yes.”

And then she knew. The police hadn’t stopped Trinity from going to the house, didn’t get to her in time. Why not? Wallace had called them at least an hour before Trinity was due to arrive, had explained who he was and why it was important that someone intercept her. But maybe he hadn’t put enough urgency in the request. They hadn’t really believed she’d be hurt. No one had any reason to hurt her, not even The Crew. “Don’t tell me…”

“I’m afraid so.”

Laurel began to shake. “She’s been shot?”

He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Yes.”

“How badly is she hurt?”

His hand gripped hers tighter, as if he’d warm the blocks of ice that were her fingers, if he could. “She’s more than hurt, Laurel. She’s dead. Someone gunned her down while she was standing on your doorstep.”