Текст книги "Blood Drive"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Fourteen

It takes a few minutes but when I can speak without screaming, I hold out a hand to Trish. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Your mother made you-” I gesture toward the ruined computer. “Do that?”

She nods, her face flushing to deep crimson. “I didn’t want to.”

She speaks softly, yet her humiliation and resentment ring through. “She said I wouldn’t be hurt. Not really. And we could make a lot of money. Since my dad left, we’ve had a lot of bills and not much money to pay them. She said I’d only have to do it once.”

In the sadness of her tone, I recognize the depth of her anguish at the betrayal. It’s no surprise when she whispers, “It wasn’t only once, though.”

Ryan has recovered enough to step between Trish and me, and he’s glaring again. “You see why she can’t go back there? Those men, the ones who make Trish do things, they know all their records are on that computer. They want it back. They went after Barbara because she knew-”

I hold up a hand. “Wait a minute. How was Barbara involved? Did she-?”

“No.” Trish’s voice cuts in like a whip. “She didn’t do anything . She came to my house one day after school. After the men left. She saw me crying. I know I shouldn’t have told her, but I had to tell someone. I wanted to kill myself. She told me to go to Mr. Frey. To tell him what was happening. That he could help.”

Again, the realization that everything Carolyn told us was a lie flashes like a white-hot bolt through me. “Did you go to Mr. Frey?”

She blanches and shakes her head. “No. I couldn’t. So Barbara said she’d tell him.” Her voice breaks. “I guess she never got the chance.”

Through the rage boiling inside me, I fight to keep calm. “Do you know who might have told the men what Barbara was planning to do?”

Again, the shake of the head. But she doesn’t look at me and her fragile body seems to shrink in on itself. It’s more of an affirmation than mere words. I know what she suspects. Somehow Carolyn found out. It was her mother.

I don’t know what to say. I know I must stay calm, think rationally. For the kids. The reality, though, is that I want to find Carolyn and rip her lying head off her shoulders.

Trish is weeping again, making no sound. The sight pulls me back. I have to get her to safety.

“Ryan, does anyone know that you’ve been coming here to see Trish?”

“No.” He’s got his arms around Trish’s shoulders. “I’ve been careful. My folks think I’m just taking Cujo for a walk. We don’t live too far from here. It’s been easy to sneak away.”

“But what about the men after the computer? Do either of you know who they are?”

He and Trish both shake their heads. Trish speaks first. “There were always two of them. One took the pictures, the other-” Her voice drops off. “Anyway, they never spoke to each other when I was in the room. The one with the camera would tell me what to do. When it was over, they’d take the video, load it into the computer and leave.”

“How did you manage to get the computer?”

Trish shrugs. “They’d leave it with the camera.”

Ryan jumps in. “Trish was smart. She snuck the computer out when she ran away. Her mom was at the hospital. She wouldn’t have noticed it was gone. They kept the thing hidden in a box in the back of a closet. She didn’t realize Trish knew where it was.” He says the last with a kind of adolescent pride in the bravery and ingenuity of his friend.

The plan in my head forms in slow motion. My options are limited. I can’t leave Trish here and I certainly can’t take her to my house or my folk’s. My mother would be obligated to inform the authorities. That leaves only one option.

I place a gentle hand on Trish’s shoulders. “Do you trust Mr. Frey?”

She looks up at me, eyes red-rimmed and world-weary. “I don’t know him. Not really. But he was always nice to me. I think he suspected something was wrong. He tried to get me to talk to him about it. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t.”

“I’m going to suggest something to you. If you don’t want to do it, I won’t make you. But I think, at least for now, it would be for the best. You can’t stay here. Your mother knows about this place. It won’t be long before she thinks to come check it out. I’d like to take you to Mr. Frey’s. I think he can help us.”

Trish’s eyes widen. “Won’t he get in trouble?”

Probably, I think. But frankly, better him than my mother. And when I recall the claws on that paw, I know he can protect Trish better than any human. All this runs through my head in the instant it takes me to say, “He can handle it. Don’t worry about Mr. Frey.”

I turn to Ryan. “Ryan, I want you to go home. You’ve been a good friend to Trish, but I don’t want to put you in any more danger. Give me your telephone number and I’ll call you as soon as Trish is safe.”

“No.” He says it with firm resolve. “I won’t leave Trish.”

I don’t have time to argue. “I can’t take you with us, Ryan, so here’s what we’ll do. I’ll tell Mr. Frey that you’re going to call him. You whisper a code word to Trish now. When you call, if she’s safe, she’ll give you the code word. If she doesn’t, you know something is wrong and you can call the police. Here.” I tear two scraps from the paper bag and look around for something to write with.

Ryan produces a pencil from the pocket of his jacket and hands it over. I start to write.

“This is Mr. Frey’s address and my cell phone number. Call it in about twenty minutes and I’ll have Frey’s number for you.” I hand it to him with the other piece. “You write your number for me.”

“I’ll want to talk to Trish when you call,” he says flatly. He finishes writing and holds the second piece out to me. “Deal?”

“Deal.” I pocket the scrap. “Now I’m going to get my purse from inside and lock up. You give Trish the code while I’m gone.”

The kids don’t make a move until I’m out of the garage. I glance back and see them standing close together, Ryan’s mouth at Trish’s ear. I only hope they’re not plotting a getaway.

I make a beeline for the house, on the alert for anyone or anything that might be watching. I neither see nor feel another presence. I almost wish I did. A good, physical confrontation would go a long way toward alleviating the blistering fury building with the intensity of a firestorm deep in my gut.

My purse is on the kitchen counter, just where I left it. As I reach down, my cell phone bleeps in monotonous rhythm. The message light flashes. On the move again, I check the text message. It’s from David. “Max and I are back at the office. Should we come out to the house?”

I glance at my watch. The message came in about fifteen minutes ago. I’d better call and let them know I’m all right and to stay put. I lock the front door with one hand, and hit speed dial with the other. David picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, Anna. Are you at the cottage? Is everything all right?”

No. It certainly isn’t. But what to tell David? There’s laughter in the background. Max’s voice and someone else’s. I recognize the voice immediately. “Gloria’s there?”

“She just got here. Listen, we were thinking of heading to Sammy’s for dinner. I take it nothing’s wrong at the beach house or you would have called, so how soon can you get here?”

To have dinner with Gloria? How about never? I suck in a breath, blow it out. “You guys go ahead. I may be awhile.”

David’s voice turns serious. “What’s the holdup? Everything is all right, isn’t it?”

“No, David. Everything isn’t all right. Did you forget about Trish?”

There’s a moment of awkward silence. “Sorry, Anna. Did you find out anything from that teacher?”

“Yes. And I’m on my way back there now. So go on to dinner. Tell Max I’m sorry. I’ll try to connect with him tomorrow.”

He starts to say something else, but I’ve already snapped the cell phone closed. Aggravation like acid mixes with the seething rage twisting my gut. Gloria’s here. David’s bitchy model girlfriend. Just what I need.

The kids are standing in front of the garage door, now closed, when I get back. Trish is holding her clothes in both hands and Ryan has the blanket wrapped around what could be nothing else but the computer in his.

I hold out my own hand to him. “You need to let me take that, Ryan.”

He shakes his head and steps back. “No. It’s the only evidence we have. You might have thought you ruined it, but I’ll be able to retrieve stuff from it.”

I let my hand fall to my side. I don’t have time to argue about this. The longer we stay here the greater the risk that someone might see Trish. I want these kids to trust me, but I don’t want to put Ryan in any more danger.

When I can’t come up with any clever reason why he should give me the computer, I tell him the truth. “I’m afraid for you, Ryan. If you keep that computer, the men may come after you or your family. Do you want to take that chance?”

He gives me a slow, sweet smile and gestures to Cujo, sitting with a stupid dog grin at his side. “I have two other dogs at home,” he says. “Cujo is the smallest. I think we’ll be safe.”

I get a flash of Cujo flying at me, teeth snapping, and admit he’s a pretty good deterrent. “Keep Cujo with you-even in your bedroom tonight, understand?”

“I always do.”

“Do you want me to take you home before we go to Mr. Frey’s?”

He shakes his head. “No. If you do, my folk’s might wonder who you are. I’ll be fine.”

He and Trish exchange a look I can’t begin to understand. Some kind of teenage telepathy. I feel a flush of warmth for this scrawny kid who is willing to risk so much to protect his friend. But it’s time for us to go. Without another word, Ryan and Cujo walk down the alley and disappear around the corner toward the Boardwalk. Trish and I head in the opposite direction, toward

Mission Boulevard

and my car.

Chapter Fifteen

The tension in the car is a potent combination of Trish’s distress and confusion and my nearly uncontrollable rage. It makes for an uncomfortable, silent ride. I have more questions for Trish, but one look at her anxious, drawn face and I don’t have the heart to ask them. So instead, I concentrate on the drive, and when we pull into Frey’s condo, I stop just outside the gate and turn to face her.

“Are you all right with this?”

She looks at me and her eyes reflect a sorrow borne of betrayal. “I have to be,” she says. “I can’t stay at your place anymore. And Barbara trusted Mr. Frey. I guess I will, too.”

Her hands are clasped around the bundle of clothes in her lap, pressed so tightly together, her knuckles are white. I touch them briefly with my fingertips. Her skin is nearly as cold as mine.

Frey answers when I punch his unit number on the keypad. When he hears my voice, the gate goes up immediately. He’s waiting for us at the door.

It doesn’t take more than an instant for him to pluck the story out of my head. His eyes reflect concern when he turns to Trish. He takes the clothes from her hands and says gently, “I’m sorry about Barbara. And I’m sorry for what you’ve been through.”

She gasps, her expression turning from guarded wariness to virulent distrust. “How do you know-” Then her face crumbles. “Barbara. She did tell you, didn’t she? Then you know it’s all my fault. She’s dead, and it’s all my fault.”

Trish’s sobs wrack her body, and once unleashed, she’s swept away by the sorrow. She buries her face in her hands and gives way to the anguish.

I don’t know what to do. I touch her shoulder, but this time, she doesn’t come into my arms. She pulls back and I let my hand drop. Frey and I know Barbara never got the chance to come to him. If she had, she’d be alive. But how to tell Trish that without explaining how Frey knows so much?

Frey’s eyes shift from Trish to me. I’m sorry. I should have thought before I spoke.His eyes narrow. You want her to stay here.

Yes. You can protect her.

So can you.

He’s read my intentions and his disapproval comes through. You're going after her mother.

Yes.

Do you really think that’s wise?

Just as wise as entrusting Trish to you.I can trust her with you, can’t I?

But before he can respond, Trish gulps in a shaky breath of air. She wipes at her face with her shirtsleeve. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Frey’s smile is gentle and reassuring. “Would you like to wash your face?”

She nods. “Yes, please.”

Frey gestures with his right hand. “The bathroom is right down the hall. Do you want me to show you?”

She shakes her head. “No. I can find it.” But before she does, she turns to me. “We’d better call Ryan. He’ll be worried.”

Ryan?Freyasks.

Curiously, he hadn’t picked the entire story out of my head. Maybe he reads only what triggers the most violent emotional reactions.

Something to remember.

A friend of hers,Iexplain, digging my cell phone out of my purse. Out loud, I add, “Give Trish your telephone number here, so her friend will know she’s safe.”

Frey recites the number. Trish takes the phone and turns away from us, retreating to the privacy of the bathroom to make her call. In a second, we hear water running. Trish is taking no chance that we might overhear her conversation with Ryan.

Frey turns reproachful eyes on me. “You should report this to the police.”

“Believe me, I will. But I have to have a little talk with Carolyn first. I need to know if Trish really is my brother’s daughter.”

“Because Trish mentioned a dad?”

I nod and gesture toward the bathroom. “Can she stay here? It won’t be for long.”

He nods. “Of course.”

“Frey, keep her safe. I’m depending on you.”

The corners of his mouth turn up in a small, tight smile. Andif I don’t, you’ll make me sorry.

This time, I’m glad my intention rings through.

Trish is back then, handing me the cell phone. She’s washed her face and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’d like to take a shower, if it’s all right,” she says to Frey.

He nods, and she gathers up her small bundle of clothes.

I put an arm over her shoulders. “I have to go now. I’ll be back in the morning. Mr. Frey has my telephone number.” I glance up at him and he nods that he got it. I knew he would. I flash on her room, the paltry array of clothes assembled there and the care she took of them. “Anyway, I think we should go shopping. You can use a few things. Then you and I will go to lunch and maybe a movie. You’ve been cooped up for two days. It will do you good to get out.”

The cloud descends. “Will it be safe?”

“Oh yeah,” I assure her. “I promise it will be safe.”

I wait until she heads back to the bathroom for her shower to take my leave. I feel Frey watching as I head for the door. His thoughts reach out to me. What do you plan to do?

I stop, hand on the door. I’m not sure yet.

Frey’s expression is thoughtful . I don’t need to tell you to be careful.

No. You don’t.

But in the car, when I’m alone, the shaking starts. It’s swift and relentless. The enormity of what I’m feeling about Trish and what has been done to her demands release.

Laying my head against the steering wheel, I let the tears come. I don’t try to temper it or hold back. I don’t try to reason or understand. I just let the sobs overtake me. Emotional eruptions this strong were a rare occurrence for me when I was human. Frankly, it catches me by surprise now. And it doesn’t last long. When I can’t cry anymore, I sit up. I’m glad I carry a box of tissues in the car to wipe up the tears and snot. I happen to like the sweater I’m wearing.

Then, the emotional storm spent, I lean back in the seat to contemplate my next move. It’s been hours since I talked to my mother. It’s past six o’clock, so I put in a call to her at home. Voice mail picks up. I hang up without leaving a message. I don’t know what to say. Then it occurs to me that she may have left a message for me on my home phone. When I dial in, I find that she has. She and my father have gone to meet Carolyn for dinner. She tells me where, but I have no intention of joining them. I couldn’t be in the same room with Carolyn and not betray my feelings. And it’s not as if my parents are in any danger from her. She likes to bully children, after all. I’m sure Carolyn asked them out because she is trying to win their favor.

She doesn’t realize how futile it is, of course. But she will soon. The next time we speak.

I decide to go home. A hot bath and a good night’s rest are what I need. Vampires, like humans, have their emotional limits and I’ve reached mine.

I don’t realize how weary I am until I trudge out of the elevator and get right up to my door before something stops me-light shining around the edges of the door. And I hear music.

I know I didn’t leave a light or the radio on when I left this morning.

The exhaustion vanishes. I sling my purse across my chest bandoleer style and lean closer, listening for any other sounds from within. All I hear is the beating of my heart as it pumps adrenaline. I know if I use my key to unlock the door, I’ll alert who ever is inside. I’d rather catch them by surprise than the other way around.

I gather strength and lunge at the door, hitting it hard. Wood splinters with a deafening crack and the doorknob knocks a chunk out of the plaster wall behind it.

I leap inside, a snarl escaping my lips.

And there, standing at the door to the bedroom, is… Max.

He blinks at me. He’s got a drink in one hand and a towel in the other. He shakes his head as if to clear it and blinks again.

I blink too. He’s naked. His skin glistens, and his hair is slicked back. He must have just stepped out of the shower.

We stare at each other for a minute, and then he smiles.

“Wow, Anna,” he says. “That was quite an entrance.”

Chapter Sixteen

Naturally, my first reaction is to rail at Max. Ask him what the hell he’s doing here and why he didn’t leave me a message letting me know?

But he’s naked. And a naked Max is a joy to behold.

“I thought you were going to dinner with David and what’s her name,” I say, my throat suddenly dry.

He lets the towel drop and takes a step toward me. “Are you sorry I didn’t?” His voice is husky, too.

Suddenly that craving I had a while ago for a little physical activity comes screaming back. I don’t say anything at all. I kick the door shut behind me, prop a chair against it to hold it closed, and I’m on him.

Max responds just the way I hope he will. He doesn’t waste time with words either. He tears at my clothes, pulling off my sweater, fumbling too long with the zipper on my jeans. I lose patience, push his hands away, and peel them off myself.

His words are breathless in my ear. “You’re so cold.”

“Then warm me.”

He does, with his hands and mouth. Vampire physiology is a funny thing. Sexual arousal sends heat to the skin, and in a heartbeat, I’m burning. We’re on the floor, legs intertwined, my breasts crushed against his chest. My senses spin, come alive, with the scent of his freshly showered skin. I can’t wait. I writhe against him, mouth seeking his, hands guiding him inside. He’s ready too. He mounts me and I welcome him in, reveling in the pleasure that I feel in every cell of my head, heart and body. Since becoming vampire, I’ve dreaded having sex with Max. Afraid the exquisite combination of blood and sex I had with Avery would make human sexual experience pale in comparison. Avery told me that it would.

Max and I find the tempo that binds our bodies together and sends us soaring higher and higher. When Max comes, and I feel his love flow into me like warm honey, the release shatters the night around us into a million glowing stars.

And I know.

Avery was a liar.

Chapter Seventeen

Max rolls off me and collapses with a groan onto the carpet. I lay quietly beside him, listening to his breathing, listening to the pounding of his blood, listening to the beating of his heart. Suddenly he sits up and his face hovers over mine, an expression of concern twisting his features.

“My God, Anna. I didn’t use a condom.”

I actually laugh out loud. “It’s okay, Max. It’s safe.”

“How can you know that?”

Because I’m no longer human and bearing children or contracting STD’s is not something a vampire has to worry about. Of course, what I say to Max is, “Because I know. It’s not the right time of the month. Trust me.”

“You’re sure?”

There’s disappointment in his voice. He lays a hand on my abdomen. “Making a baby with you wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.”

An alarm shrieks in my head. I sit up now, too, and point to Max’s glass on the floor beside him. “Fix me one of those, will you? I’m going to take a shower.”

Before he can respond or ask if he can join me, I’m out of the room. The turn this conversation has taken is too bizarre and fraught with consequences Max can’t begin to comprehend. When did he get so serious ? The only future I have ever envisioned with him is based on what we have now-great sex, strictly recreational. It never occurred to me that he might see it differently.

When I get out of the shower, I slip into the best buzz kill I can think of-a pair of man-tailored flannel pajamas and a bathrobe, belted tight. No exposed skin.

Max eyes me when I rejoin him, holding out the drink and raising an eyebrow. “Nice outfit. Very sexy in a L.L. Bean kind of way.”

I take a sip of the drink, scotch, straight up, and perch myself on the couch, tucking my robe around my legs. Max has slipped on jeans, but he’s shirtless and I avert my eyes because those pecs and biceps have a predictable effect on me. Already, my skin is heating up.

He sits beside me and casually slips a hand between the folds of my robe. His hand feels warm through the fabric. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.

“Scare me?” I act like I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about.

“The baby thing.” He pauses. “Ever thought about it?”

I pretend the drink is in the way and move just out of reach. Max snuggles closer on the couch and the hand is back. This time his fingers play with the waistband on my pj’s, wiggle their way inside and inch downward.

I squirm away. “Max, you can’t be serious. You have a job that keeps you gone for weeks. I have a missing niece. No, I haven’t thought about it.”

My tone has the desired affect. He pulls away and reaches for his drink. I can tell he’s embarrassed. I clear my throat.

“So, Max. Let’s talk. How did you and David make out today?”

He eyes me. I’ve gone for the let’s get past this silliness and on to something else tone. It seems to work because he takes a drink and says, “Piece of cake. It was fun. David’s not such a bad guy after all.” He takes another sip of the scotch and adds, “We discovered we have something in common.”

I snicker. “You and David? Let’s see, it can’t be that you’re both jocks and adrenaline junkies. That would be too obvious. So it must be that you’re both in love with Gloria.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Close,” he responds. “We both love you.”

I almost choke on a mouthful of scotch.

Max laughs. “I don’t mean we both love you that way. I mean David thinks of you as a sister. He wants to protect you. He’s having a hard time getting over what happened a few months ago. He says he’ll never forgive himself for that.”

Another topic I’m not about to get into. Neither David nor Max knows the true story of what happened that night and they never will. Just as David will never know that I saved him from certain death at Avery’s hands-or teeth.

But what does Max mean about loving me that way. What’s going on with him?

I give myself a mental shake. Later. Right now, there are more important subjects we need to discuss.

I temper the panic out of my voice. “I need to talk to you about something important.”

He leans back on the couch cushion and waves a hand in a “go ahead” motion.

“What do you know about kiddie porn?”

An eyebrow shoots up. “Kiddie porn?” Then there’s a reflective pause. “Does this have anything to do with that girl that was killed?”

“I’m not sure. Not yet. I just need to know what can be done about catching somebody involved in selling their own kid to men for money.”

The revulsion in my voice is intemperate. I couldn’t control it if I wanted to. I keep seeing Trish’s shattered face.

Max sits up a little straighter. “Do you think that’s what happened to Barbara Franco?”

I hold up a hand. “No. I don’t believe Barbara was involved in kiddie porn directly, but she may have been killed because she knew someone who was.”

Max gets that stern cop look in his eye. “And you’re afraid Trish might be next? You need to go to the authorities with this,” he says. “I’m not kidding, Anna. This is serious business. And it involves the worst kind of scumbag-”

He’s gearing up for a lecture. One I’m not the least bit interested in hearing. “Listen, Max. I promise you. I will go to the authorities the minute I have something concrete. What I want you to tell me is what kind of evidence you’d need to put these people away.”

He’s frowning and glaring in that male authoritarian way that makes me want to smack the look right off his face. But that wouldn’t get me the answer now, would it? I smile and purse my lips and nod encouragingly at him.

His expression softens. “Computers,” he says. “These guys do big business on the web. They can try to delete their files, but there’s an evidence trail that can be recovered from the hard drive. That’s usually what puts them away.”

The good news and the bad news. I have a mental picture of that laptop flying from Ryan’s hand and bouncing off the wall of the garage to land in a crashing heap on the concrete floor. My bad. On the other hand, Ryan didn’t seem that disturbed by what I’d done. In fact, he said he’d be able to retrieve data from it. Is that possible?

“What happens if the computer is-say-dropped?” I ask.

Once again, Max is staring at me with cop eyes. “What computer are we talking about, Anna?”

“I’m just talking theoretically here. If a computer is broken, can you retrieve data from it?”

He nods slowly but with reservation, as if he’s afraid answering my question could be construed as encouraging behavior he doesn’t condone. “It’s possible. Depends on how badly it’s damaged and how good the guy is working on it.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Want to tell me why we’re having this conversation?”

But he’s given me what I need. Now it’s time to change the subject. “We don’t have to be making a baby to have fun with the process, do we?” I place my drink on the coffee table and slip the robe off my shoulders.

Evidently not. Max uncrosses his arms and watches. By the time I’ve lost the pajamas, the only hard drive he seems interested in is the one between his legs.

This time we go slowly. Long, lingering kisses. Fingers that coax and tease. When the tension gets too much, when we’re both more than ready, Max slides his hands under my bottom and I arch up to meet him.

I let Max do the work, move to his rhythm. I listen to his heart, see the pulse drumming at the base of his jaw. I lick at it, taste the salt of his sweat as it pools there. My mouth forms around the spot, sucking gently. Max groans and moves closer.

Suddenly Avery is there again. This time, his words send a shiver through me. Think of how good you can make it, Anna. It will be the most wonderful sex Max has ever had.

I touch the pulse point with burning fingers. Max’s blood rushes right there, beneath that fragile sheath of skin-a sheath I can easily pierce. My hands pull his head closer. He doesn’t resist. He’s hurtling past the point of return.

But I can’t do it. I can’t bring myself to drink from Max. If I do, I risk whatever tremulous hold I have left on what’s human inside me. And in the instant I realize that, I’ve lost him. I’m like a surfer who waits a second too long to make the cut. Max is swept away from me on the wave of his passion, and I’m left behind, alone, to watch.