Unbelievable (27 page)

“You’re not going over there,” Seth stated. He tossed the pan of eggs into the sink, uneaten.

Booker laughed. “Yeah, when pigs fly you’re going over there.” He calmly walked over to the table and sat down.

“You’re not my father, so butt out,” she ordered Booker before turning to Seth. “And I’m your wife, not your property, so I’ll do what I want.” She folded her arms defiantly.

“You can yell at me all you want, Magpie, but you’re not going over there. I’ll handcuff you to the table if I have to.” Booker smiled at her.

“Butt out!” yelled both Seth and Maggie.

“Maggie, please,” Seth begged. “If anything happens to you, I’ll…” He slammed his eyes shut, his shoulders slumped.

She walked over and wrapped her arms around him. “Seth, nothing’s going to happen to me. I don’t believe she’s here to hurt us.” At his stubborn headshake she rubbed his arms. “How about I meet her in a public place; will that make you feel better? I believe her, but I’m not going to be foolish about this either, just in case. There’ll be lots of people around. Besides, you and I both know Booker’s going to have Lilah tailed until her father’s caught.”

“You’ve got that straight,” murmured Booker.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore tonight.” Seth placed both hands on the sink with a weighted sigh.

“I’m heading back. I can’t believe I’m hearing any of this.” Booker stood and left after setting Seth’s security system.

“Cole, you can stay here in the spare room tonight,” Seth said as Maggie took his hand, leading him to the stairs.

I nodded. As soon as their bedroom door shut, I left and went over to the hospital. I needed to think. I needed to clear my head. Seth cooked to clear his head, and Booker built things. I worked in the ER.

Chapter 23

Lilah

“Follow me, Delilah,” Booker ordered. It was five in the morning. He and his cohorts had drilled me all night long. Exhausted, I just wanted to go home.

“I go by Lilah,” I said as he led me into his office and shut the door.

He shrugged a shoulder. “‘A rose by any other name.’” A shocked expression must have crossed my face because he asked, “You surprised a guy like me reads Shakespeare?”

“I’m surprised you read.” Probably not the smartest thing to say to a guy who hated my guts, but it sure made
me
feel better.

The office couldn’t have measured more than ten foot squared. It held a metal desk, two chairs
, and a gray filing cabinet on which sat a collection of photos of Seth, Maggie, Booker and Cole from what looked to be a fishing trip. Cole sported an angry red scratch across his cheek in one. Next to the photos sat a glass mason jar with the words “Curse Jar” taped to it.

“You plan on hiring a witch to put a curse on me?” I said, pointing to the jar.

“Wrong kind of curse, though I do like your thinking,” he said dryly. “Maggie gave me that. She knows I’ve been trying not to cuss so much, so she made up the jar. Every time I swear I have to add a quarter to it.”

“It’s full of quarters,” I pointed out.

“It’s been a long day.” Before I could retort, he continued. “Here’s your cell phone.” He dropped the small device into my hands, being careful not to touch me, as if doing so would cause him to burst into flames.
I wish.
“Thanks for letting us put a tracer on your phone. Saves me the trouble of having to get a judge’s order.”

“If I’d known it would make life easier for you, I wouldn’t have agreed so easily.” I slipped the phone into my pocket.

“Your apartment and car came up clean. No guns?” he pressed.

“I hate guns. Remember?”

“So you prefer carving people up with knives like your brother did?”

Instinct took over. I slapped him across the face. His head twisted sideways with the force. “I am nothing like Alan,” I said, teeth clenched.

His eyes raked over my face, but he said nothing about me striking an officer. “The email address you gave us was a dead end. There is no such account.” He glared at me, and continued. “We planted a bug in the apartment and on your landline, just like we talked about.”

“Oh goodie. Now I’ll have no privacy.”

“I’m warning you,” he said, glaring directly into my eyes, “I know your type. I’ve worked with big time drug dealers since I was eighteen. Never has one gone straight. Never has one turned his life around and given up the business. Never.”

“Guilty by association, eh, Gatto? I was never in the business, for your information,” I pointed out fruitlessly.

“So you say, yet the information you so willingly gave us is of little use, including the grainy cell phone pictures. The clinic your dad’s supposedly seeking treatment at doesn’t exist. And the clinic in New Mexico you claim has been treating your father for his emphysema said they’ve never heard of your family. In fact, they have no record of a Dreser ever being seen there. That’s three strikes, Delilah. If I’m not mistaken, that means you’re out.”

I ignored him, too tired to play any more of his games. “Are you going to arrest me? Because if you’re not, I’d like to leave.” I turned for the door.

Booker’s large hand slapped against it and he leaned in close. “You hurt my friends in any way, if you so much as rip one of Cole’s bandages off and cause him to bleed, I’ll be on you like a fly on . . .
honey
. Maggie’s too nice to tell you what your brother did to her, and she’d kill me if I did, so let’s just say she almost died at his hands.”

“I’m not my brother,” I protested weakly. “I’d never hurt h—”

He cut me off. “Everywhere you go, everything you do, I’ll know about it. I’ll know when you breathe in and when you breathe out. I have people watching your every move. Remember that, Delilah.
Your. Every. Move.”

My hands shook so badly, I slipped them into my pockets, not wanting Booker to see how much he got to me. He opened the door and ordered
a uniformed cop to take me home. We rode in silence to my apartment. The only sound was my cell phone vibrating in my pocket. I didn’t answer it. I knew who it was. Who else would be calling at five a.m.?

I thanked the cop for dropping me off. He ignored me.

Hurrying inside, I collapsed onto my bed in tears. My life had become a pathetic mess, and I could blame no one but myself.

I rolled over, feeling the lump from my cell phone digging into my hip as I did. I pulled it out of my pocket and checked the missed calls.
Restricted
. “Daddy.” I reached over to set the phone on my bedside table, but decided to check the voice mail knowing Booker had already heard it.

I pressed the phone to my ear as Daddy’s voice began. “Princess, calling to see how our little plan’s going. I hope you’re not going to fail me again. You’re a Dreser, young lady. Get those codes or we won’t have our revenge like we’ve planned.” The message ended. I tossed the phone on the table and twisted on my side as a new wave of sorrow consumed me. Thankfully, exhaustion overtook everything else and I fell asleep.

Then the nightmare started.

“Please, don’t hurt my mommy,” I pleaded through my eight year-old tears. “Please don’t, Alan. Please.”

“Beg me again, princess. Beg me again.”

But I couldn’t. Fear closed my throat. All I could do was stand there, shaking, in complete and utter fear. He was going to kill my mommy, I just knew it. And he was going to kill me. Vomit raced up my throat, but I swallowed it. If I threw up on him, he’d for sure kill me. He still held the knife in his hand as he touched me. Eventually he hurled it into the wood floor. The blade imbedded itself a good inch and wobbled back and forth from the blunt force he’d used.

“Okay, princess, time for some fun.” Now his touch turned painful. The pain infused a new energy inside me. The words my mother told me, about my body being my body and no one had the right to touch me, screamed out in my mind.

I fought back. I bit him. I slapped him. I kicked him. Only Alan didn’t stop, instead he laughed. He liked it when I fought him. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself. But he also couldn’t hurt me since his hands were busy blocking my blows. I kept swinging, deciding to add voice to my attack. Maybe, just maybe, someone would hear and come save me.

Alan laughed louder. The rotten egg smell of his breath smothered my face. This time I retched, splattering it everywhere. “Wow, princess must be pretty scared.” He grabbed my shredded dress to wipe off the vomit that landed on his pants. He tossed the dress over the remaining puddle on the floor.

“Now where were we? Oh yeah, I remember.”

“Someone help me, please!” I
screamed at the top of my voice. I slapped at his hands with more vigor.

The locked bedroom door flew open, kicked in by my father, the frame shattering into pieces. Daddy took one look at my violently shaking, naked body before rushing at Alan, fists flying. I crouched on the floor, my hands over my ears as Daddy beat my brother. I couldn’t understand what he screamed to Alan through my muffled ears, but I could hear the anger in his voice. My mother rushed in the room and scooped me up in the folds of her arms, carrying me out.

“It’s all right sweetheart, Mami’s here now.”

My tears flowed hard, causing me to shake even more violently now that I was safe.

“It’s okay,
mi niña valiente
,” she assured, carrying me into her bedroom. She scooped her bathrobe off a hook from the back of her door and wrapped it around me as we settled into a rocking chair in the corner. She held me, rocking me and caressing my hair. “
Mi niña valiente
,” she said. “My brave little girl,” she reiterated in English. “He will never hurt you again.”

Alan’s screams cut through the room and I jerked. My mom turned on the radio, classical music instead of her usual Latin fare, drowning out his voice. She sang soft and low, words of comfort in her native tongue.

I woke up with an ache in my heart for her. It was noon. I’d given up on sleep, not wanting to endure the nightmares anymore. Passing on food, I showered, dressed, and drove directly to the library.
No more hiding my head in the sand. I needed to know what happened here three years ago.

Thankfully, my old friend Bambi sat eagerly behind the desk reading a book when I arrived. She wore a black velvet
, Renaissance-Goth-style dress that fell to the floor in back, hitting just above her knees in front. Velvet in this heat? I had to admire the dedication to her style.

“Hi, Bambi.”

“Hi. How goes the hospital job? Did you finish decorating the doctor’s office?”

“Yes,” I said casually, not wanting to think about Cole.

“Alex and I were in the ER last night. Alex got a serious burn on his leg from the exhaust pipe of his Harley. Poor guy. Now he can’t, like, take part in the Ride Across New York event his gang’s hosting.”

“He’s in a biker gang?”

“Well, he calls it a gang, but it’s more like a club. He’s the vice president,” she said proudly. A twinkle of light caught my eye and I noticed she had a diamond embedded in her tooth. Like I said, you have to admire the girl’s dedication to her style.

“I’m trying to find some information, probably from old newspapers, about what happened here three years ago. You know what I’m talking about?” For the life of me I couldn’t say my family name.

“You mean about those crazy loons who were selling heroin and killing all the girls?”

Yeah, okay. Guess I should have just said my last name. “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. Do you have newspapers that go back that far?”

“Sort of. We don’t have the actual newspapers. We only keep those for two weeks, but we have it on microfiche.”

“Microfiche? I didn’t think anyone used that anymore.”

“I know, right?” She took me to a small room with a large metal machine that looked somewhat like an old TV set. She flipped a small switch on the front and pulled out the chair, signaling me to sit down. “It takes a minute for the machine to warm up. I’ll go and, like, get the films for you.”

I sat back and took several deep breaths. I didn’t want to see this. I knew it would sicken me, but before I could chicken out, Bambi strutted back in, the silver buckles from her black ankle boots clinking as she did.