Dangerous Lies (24 page)

“I’m sorry, Stella.” Carmina laid her hand on my arm, and met my eyes with sadness, but not pity. It mattered a great deal to me that she respected me enough to not treat me like a charity case.

I didn’t want to choke up in front of Carmina. Not because I didn’t trust her to be sensitive, but because I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t want to be that poor little girl who was always hurting again. Carmina wasn’t the only one who could make me into a charity case—I could do that myself if I wasn’t careful.

“I’ll go shower and get ready for dinner,” I said.

Her hand still rested on my arm. I thought I’d feel more myself when I separated from her, but a strange hollowness filled me when her hand dropped away.

I walked back to the house feeling lonely and cold, despite the sweltering afternoon sun.

*  *  *

I wore a yellow sundress and my new boots to dinner. We went to Dirk’s Burgers, which was fancy for Thunder Basin. You could order just about anything on your veggie burger: tomato, lettuce, and onions for the traditionalists; avocado, alfalfa sprouts, and mushrooms for the vegetarians; fried salami and ricotta cheese for those who wanted an Italian-inspired twist. They even had a burger that was 50 percent ground beef, 50 percent ground bacon.

In Philly, I definitely would have gone vegetarian. No offense to Thunder Basin, but they didn’t do vegetarian well. Beef, on the other hand, they had perfected. We were in cattle country, after all. On this line of thinking, I ordered the 50/50 burger.

“Let’s walk by the river,” Carmina said, after we finished our meal. “It’ll be shady this time of day, and peaceful.”

A few blocks later, we strolled under the canopy of cottonwood trees clustered in dense groups along the water’s edge. The shade was blissful, a breeze rushing with the current. Carmina’s face grew serious as she tucked her hands awkwardly in her pockets. Matter-of-factly, she said, “Deputy Marshal Price called today.”

With those five words, my heart seemed to still. I found myself clutching the eyelet ribbon on my sundress. Or rather trying to. My fingers had begun to tingle. Despite the heat, I felt clammy. My mind instantly shot in several directions, none of them good.

“I’m no good at softening the blow of bad news, so I’m just going to give this to you straight. Reed Winslow is missing.”

“He—?” I shook my head. The river trail seemed to contract, expand. I looked at Carmina, her face going in and out of focus. I kneaded my forehead with the heel of my hand, trying to make the world stop spinning. I felt chilled, but I was sweating heavily.

“Stella.” I felt Carmina’s hand grasp mine; it was cool and steady. I clung to it almost involuntarily. She was the only thing that felt real at that moment.

“Missing?”

“Two days ago. U.S. marshals are working with local police to find him.”

“Danny Balando—?”

Carmina exhaled and gave a sharp nod. “Right now, that’s what they’re forced to believe. Reed broke the rules, Stella. They found e-mails on his computer that were sent to Philadelphia. He’d installed software to reroute his IP address, but it wasn’t foolproof. He knew the rules and he knew the risks. A neighbor noticed he’d left his outside water running, and called it in. Until we have more information, we have to assume Danny’s men took him.”

“E-mails to Philly?” I murmured, dazed. All this time he had a computer and he hadn’t contacted me?

“They’re analyzing them now.”

I started crying softly. “They’ll torture him. They won’t kill him right away. They’ll drag it out. They want him to suffer.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Stella.”

She didn’t try to disagree. Then it was true. They’d break Reed in every imaginable way. I cried harder.

“They’ve got a task force looking for Reed. If he’s out there, they’ll find him. These men and women are the best in the business.”

If he was out there. If he wasn’t dead.

Carmina said, “The U.S. marshals have no reason to believe you’re in danger. You or your mother.”

“Of course they’d say that!” I lashed out. “They don’t want me to run away and hide—they can’t afford to lose another witness. I wish I’d never agreed to testify. I tried to do the right thing, and look what happened,” I sobbed bitterly, burying my face in my hands. “I didn’t make things better—I made them worse.”

I hated them. All of them. Danny Balando. My mom for introducing him into our lives. The U.S. marshals for not watching Reed closely enough. Reed for sending stupid, careless e-mails to Philly but ignoring me.

Chet was right—it was impossible not to play what if. I was playing it now, wishing my life had taken a different path. Wishing I’d had some say in my future, instead of being at the whim of people I despised.

“It’s okay to cry,” Carmina said. She gathered me into her arms. She rubbed soothing circles over my back and stroked my hair. I didn’t try to pull away. I leaned into her, needing to be comforted. I knew it made me weak, but I was hurting. For one moment, I wanted to pretend I knew what it felt like to have someone really care about me.

“Will Price tell you when they find Reed’s . . . when they find his . . . his . . . ?” My voice shook as I broke down in earnest. Hot, wet tears tumbled down my face.
When they find his body.
These were the words I meant to say, but I couldn’t bear to say them aloud.

“He will. I’m sure he will.”

Reed’s body would turn up soon. Danny Balando’s gang wouldn’t want to hide what they’d done. They’d leave the body where it would be found. They were making an example of him . . . and sending a very real threat to me.

I was next.

WHEN I PULLED CARMINA’S TRUCK
into the parking lot behind the Sundown, and Eduardo eased his motorcycle into the next stall over, I figured fate was giving me a nudge. I muttered a quick self–pep talk, then hurried to catch him before he went inside.

“Eduardo! Wait up.”

“Hey, Stells Bells,” he said, turning back. His deep-set, melted-chocolate eyes gave me a quick study. “Nasty shiner’s almost gone. Soon you’ll be good as new.”

“Actually, I want to talk to you about that. The night I was attacked, you asked me to go down to the storeroom. I hope I’m wrong, but I can’t help but wonder if you set me up.”

I sucked in some air.
This one’s for you, Inny,
I thought. Couldn’t get more direct than that.

Eduardo’s face froze. He opened his mouth, but if he was hunting for a lie, one never came. And I knew. He was as guilty as if he’d had blood on his hands.

“Why?” I asked, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. I’d trusted Eduardo. We were friends. How could he do this to me—and still look me in the eye?

He wagged his head from side to side. He swallowed, still searching for words. His face paled, and he licked his lips. The toughness went out of him, and what I saw in his eyes was genuine fear.

“I never knew,” he said in a papery voice. “You gotta believe me. I had no idea you’d get hurt. If I had, I wouldn’t have helped him.”

“How did Trigger get you to do it?”

“Trigger? Is that who you think did this?”

That took me aback. “It wasn’t Trigger?”

“I don’t know.” Eduardo shook his head again. “See, it went down like this.”

He proceeded to tell me how he’d found an envelope with one hundred dollars cash on his motorcycle seat as he left for work that evening. A note with the cash gave one simple instruction: At ten forty p.m., send Stella to the storeroom. Alone.

“I didn’t know he was gonna beat you up, I swear,” Eduardo insisted. “I thought it was a prank, something like that. Maybe he was gonna surprise you with flowers. I didn’t really think about it. I pocketed the money and did what the note said. If I’d known— You gotta believe me, Stella. I’d never hurt you. You know that. I was sick when I saw what happened. I haven’t been able to live with myself since.”

“And yet you never came forward.”

“I thought I’d get arrested! I could be an accomplice. Jeez, Stells. Don’t ruin my life over this. I’m begging you. I’ll make it up to you, just swear you won’t turn me in.”

“You lied to Officer Oshiro.”

“Just about the note and money. Everything else was true. I didn’t see anyone come out of the storeroom. Maybe I didn’t want to see.” He wiped his hands down his face, the whites of his eyes becoming more pronounced. “Maybe I got a bad feeling and ignored it. I don’t know. I talked myself into believing . . . I don’t know what I believed. Not that this would happen.”

“A hundred dollars didn’t seem like a lot for a simple favor? It never crossed your mind that it might be hush money?”

“I don’t know. Jeez. I don’t know.”

“You have to tell Officer Oshiro. Do you still have the note? It might help implicate Trigger. Right now, they’re saying it’s my word against his. He claims he was at home when I was assaulted.”

“I tossed the note. Spent the money. Wish I hadn’t. You aren’t gonna tell Dixie Jo, are you? She’ll fire my butt.”

“Your butt deserves to be fired.”

“Jeez, Stells. I gotta make a living. If I lose this job, it could take weeks to find a new one. I never meant no harm. I got a girl at home and a kid. Don’t throw me under the bus.”

Like you threw me,
I thought.

“Tell Officer Oshiro the truth. Then we’re even.”

“No other way?” He was sweating, and it was starting to run down into his wide, petrified eyes.

“No.”

He smeared his sleeve across his brow, wiping the sweat. “Think they’ll bust me?”

“I think they’ll be glad you came forward. They’ll work something out. They’re after Trigger, not you. Just make sure you talk to Officer Oshiro.” She hadn’t been reassigned to the case, but maybe this information would be enough to do just that. “And this time, tell her the truth—all of it.”

“Yeah. Got it. Yeah.”

“I’m not going to tell Dixie Jo.”

Eduardo let go of some air. “Thanks. I mean it—
thanks
.” He walked to the door and held it open. “Can’t say enough how sorry I am. Really sorry, Stelly Belly.”

I wanted to forgive him, but it wasn’t that easy. He’d helped Trigger humiliate and batter me. I hated thinking what Trigger had done to me. I hated feeling weak and conquered. Without Eduardo’s help, Trigger never would have beaten me.

So I said, “I hope you are.”

*  *  *

Since the attack, Carmina had made it a habit to stay up until I got home from work. Tonight was no exception. I came through the front door to find her playing solitaire on the coffee table. Lately when I got off work, we chatted for a few minutes, or I watched a M*A*S*H rerun with her before I headed upstairs to bed.

I liked that she waited up. I liked relating anecdotes from the Sundown to her. It helped me unwind before bed, and I could tell Carmina, who knew a good portion of the Sundown’s customers, enjoyed hearing the town news long before it became morning gossip. We didn’t feel like roommates, sharing space and nothing else, the way my mom and I had. We had something more.

But as Carmina rose upon my entrance, her face sober, I knew we would be doing neither of those tonight. Something was wrong.

“What is it?” I asked. But I knew. They’d found Reed’s body. The torture had been worse than any of us could have guessed. His funeral would be closed casket. It wasn’t safe for me to attend.

“Your mother called.”

It took a moment for her words to hit. I shut my eyes and exhaled. It wasn’t the news I’d expected. I couldn’t decide if it was better or worse. I wanted them to find Reed’s body so I could put his suffering out of my mind. I felt responsible for his death. If he hadn’t met me, he wouldn’t have met my mom. He’d be in Philly. He’d be alive.

“I told her you’d be home shortly after eleven, but she isn’t allowed to make personal calls past nine. Clinic’s rules, she said.”

“If she calls back, I don’t want to talk.”

“She’s lonely. She misses you. She misses home.”

My eyes flashed. “I do too. Did you tell her that? Did you remind her that she’s in detox and I’m in Thunder Basin because of the stupid, thoughtless choices she made?”

“She’s going to call tomorrow. I told her you have the night off.”

“You shouldn’t have done that. Anyway, I have plans tomorrow.”

“Five minutes. Can you give her five minutes?”

“I don’t know,” I said angrily. “Can she give me my life back? My boyfriend? My friends? That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

“Has she really dug a hole so deep that there’s no hope of ever climbing out?”

“She stopped being my mom a long time ago—her choice. She chose drugs over me. I would have taken her back so many times. I wanted her back. I needed a mom. And then I got over myself and accepted that I can’t compete with her pills. It’s too late. I don’t want anything to do with her. She’s been to rehab before, did she tell you that? Failed every time. It’s exhausting, sending her off, bringing her home. Rinse and repeat. She acts like I’m her rock, but how is a fifteen, sixteen, seventeen-year-old girl supposed to keep her mother clean? I was the little girl.” I could hear my voice rising, but I couldn’t control it. “She was supposed to take care of me!”