Unconventional Scars (22 page)

“Smartass. You sound more like your brother every day.”

“Now that was uncalled for.” He kissed her on the cheek. “How much do you love me?”

“Why? What do you want?”

“Would you make me a sandwich while I take a quick shower? Please?”

She sighed. “Since you said please. Are you going to see Anna tonight?”

“Yep. Gotta go get ready.” He headed for the bedroom before his mother could question him further. So far, she’d been cool with this whole relationship thing, unlike Creed. He didn’t want her to start in on him, too.

Pulling two peaches out of the bag,
Charlotte
brought them to the sink to rinse off. She then located a paring knife and began to peel them. Some people ate the skin, but she couldn’t get past that gross fuzzy texture. It made her skin crawl.

S
he was rinsing off the knife when she happened to glance out the kitchen window and see Anna next door, talking with a man she didn’t recognize. Then, oddly enough, the girl followed him to his car and got in, and they drove away together.
Now that’s strange.

She had finished her snack and had Alex’s ham sandwich made by the time he reappeared, freshly showered and neatly dressed in his standard garb, cargo pants and a
collared
shirt. He grabbed the sandwich with a grin, plopping down at the kitchen table to inhale it
.

“I thought you were going next door,”
Charlotte
said.

Through a mouthful of sandwich, he replied, “I am.”

“When?”

“Now. As soon as I’m done eating. Why?”

“Anna’s not
even
home.”

He swallowed. “
She’s not? How do you know
?”

“I just saw her leave. Maybe she was coming right back, though.”

“
Was she driving the Suburban?
”

“No. She left with some man in his car.”

Alex dropped the rest of his sandwich onto the plate. “Man? What man?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. Nobody I know.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t
Mr. Moore
?”

“No, it
definitely
was
n’t him.”

“Well . . . what was he driving? Did you see?”

“Oh, you know I’m not good with models. It was a black car, is all I know.”

“Shit. Are you
absolutely
sure?” His mouth suddenly felt very dry. Something wasn’t right. Anna wouldn’t have just taken off without calling him first. Not when she knew he was coming over. And the memory of that FBI agent’s visit was bugging him.

“I’m sure. Is something wrong? Alex, what is it?”

“I don’t know yet.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Anna’s number. When she didn’t answer, he left a message on her voice
mail. “Hey, it’s me. Where are you? Call me back.” He
dropped
the phone on the table and stared at it, thinking. Who would she have left with? The agent that had been questioning her? But why hadn’t she called to let him know? The black sedan pushed its way back into his uneasy conscience. Something wasn’t right.

“Mom, do you have
Mr. Moore's
cell phone number?”

****

Anna cowered in the passenger seat next to the so-called special agent, trembling. She’d never been so afraid in her life. This man was obviously
off his rocker
, and
assuredly
didn’t work for the FBI either. She had no idea who he was or what he could possibly want. Not that she could think clearly anyway – her
mind was
numb with fear.
All she wanted was to be out of this horrid man’s car and back in her own house, safe and secure.

He didn’t speak until they were stopped at a traffic light on the main road in town.
It was then that
he
turned his
callous eyes
toward
her and said coldly, “So Mommy’s dead, is she?”

She couldn’t answer. Her throat wouldn’t work.

“I happen to know you’re full of shit.
You know,
I gave you the benefit of the doubt and checked out your story. Did you think I wouldn’t?” The light changed, and he accelerated. “I’m not in the mood to play games with you, little girl. I want my goddamn money, do you hear me? So you better start talking, and I mean
now
. Starting with, where the
fuck
is that fucking bitch Bianca?”

Oh, God. Of course! The
lawyer
her mother had screwed over.
He hadn’t been arrested after all
!
How could she have been so naïve? Swallowing, she
attempted to speak. Her voice came out in a broken squeak. “
But she
is
dead.
I swear
.”

“Is that so?
Hell
, I can’t believe you’re still covering for her. She never gave a rat’s ass about
you
, did she?”
He laughed cruelly.

Covering for her? What is he talking about? Why won’t he believe she’s dead? Is he crazy or something? Of course he is - sane people don’t act like this. What am I going to do? I just want to go home!

His fingers cl
utched
the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white. “
Okay then.
We’ll play your little game. You say you were there when she was buried. So y
ou won’t mind if we pay that slutbag a little visit, will you?
Where
is she buried?”

Anna became slightly more alert. If they drove out to the cemetery, perhaps she could manage to get away. Or better yet, maybe there would be other people there. Then again, maybe not. What kind of person would visit a cemetery at night? Oh, if only she had her mace with her!
Why hadn’t she listened to Uncle Phil?

“F-follow this road through the next t-two lights, then t-turn right.”

W
ith lightning reflexes, the man reached over and grabbed a handful of her hair, jerking her head painfully. “Do you have any idea what I’m gonna do to you if that bitch isn’t rotting in the ground?
Do you?
”

Anna burst into
uncontrollable
tears. “
Please . . .
”

He released his grip on her, but not without a brutal shove to her head first. “I’m gonna put you in the ground instead.”

****

Philip didn’t waste any time getting home.
Something in Alex’s tone
alarmed
him. He didn’t want to overreact - after all, Anna
might
simply
have
left with a friend - but a
n uneasy disquiet was creeping up on him, insisting
otherwise.
He told himself the boy was making too much out of nothing. That he was being dramatic. Everything was fine.

But when he arrived home to find the front door unlocked and Anna’s cell phone and keys on her bedside table, the disquiet grew into apprehension. His intuition told him something was
off
, somehow.

Alex’s
account of the
strange FBI surveillance of his house
did little to reassure him. Why was Anna being questioned without his knowledge? What was the point of staking out his house?
The police must have
neglected to
give him the whole story.
Obviously there was more going on than he’d been aware of.

“Let’s rationalize this,” he told Alex, his voice sounding calmer than he felt. “We don’t know for sure who she left with. Couldn’t it have been one of your friends? Maybe your mother was mistaken.”

“She was certain. I
know
it had to have been him. That FBI guy. Something weird is going on, I’m telling you. How could he have not known her mom passed away?”

Phil was taken aback. “He didn’t know Bianca had died?”

“No! He was clueless!”

“You’re right, that doesn’t make any sense. Did she happen to say what the agent’s name was?”

“Um . . . crap, let me think.” Alex searched his memory. “Maxwell. Luke Maxwell.”

“I still have the number they gave me when I picked Anna up in
Florida
.
I’ll call and
find out what’s going on
.” Phil pulled out his wallet and started digging through it.
“I can’t imagine that they would have taken her off for questioning without my consent.
Where
is
that damn card?
I don’t think I threw it away.”

“Did Anna’s mom
take
the stolen money with her
when she left
Mexico
?”
Alex
suddenly
wanted to know.

“No.
I don’t think so.
Why?”

“That agent said she did.”

“Bianca was living in a slum. She
didn’t
have
any
money.”

“She could have gambled it away or something. Couldn’t she? Or lost it. She was high a lot, wasn’t she? Anything could have happened.”

“So you’re
saying
she ripped off her partner?”
A horrible idea was forming in Phil’s mind. One he didn’t want to accept.
The names were so eerily similar . . .
“Luke Maxwell.
Max Lockwood.
”

“Who is Max Lockwood?”

“That corrupt lawyer. The one Bianca ran off with.”

“But he’s behind bars, isn’t he? Anna said he’d been arrested.”

“
What?
Where would she get an idea like . . .
son of a bitch!
”

“You’re telling me he was never arrested?”

“
No!
”

“We have to call the police.” Alex looked sick.

“I’m on it.”

****

Look at her over there, cowering like a dog, shedding those crocodile tears. Does she think I haven’t been around long enough to know all those female tricks by now? Stupid kid! All she has to do is answer one simple fucking question! Why is she making this so difficult?

Of course there was never any funeral! Bianca is far too ornery to die. Women like that are invincible. They go on and on, taking what they want and giving nothing in return. Using everyone around them, draining them dry like a starving vampire. They don’t care who they destroy.

Until they piss off the wrong person.

****

The 911 operator answered promptly, t
aking
Phil’s information and assur
ing
him that a patrol car was on its way.
This knowledge did little to suppress his rising panic.
He
paced the length of the living room, desperate to
do
something. A small bottle of silver nail polish on the coffee table caught his attention, and for some reason he couldn’t take his eyes off of it
- a
simple, subtle reminder of the girl who’d appeared one day to fill his home with
sunshine
.

Where is she
now
? Where is my little girl?
He turned to
Alex,
who appeared to be deep in thought.
“Where the hell would he have taken her?”

“I don’t know
!
I mean, w
hat would he even want with her?
Does he think she has the money or something?
”

“Hell, that’s all I can come up with.
I can’t imagine what would make him think that, though. Unless
he thinks Bianca left it with her before she died or something.”

“Anna mentioned that the agent didn’t seem to
believe
her when she told him her mo
m
was dead.”

Phil frowned. “But surely he would have looked into it and found she was telling the truth. Although . . .” He paused. “There wasn’t an obituary in the newspaper. I was trying to keep things low-key.”

“But there would have been a death certificate.
Right?
”

“True. Then again, it was so recent, it’s possible there’s no public record of it yet.”

“So if he
believes
she’s still alive, he must
think
Anna can take him to her.”

“But
she
can’t
!
Bianca’s dead!”