Broken (23 page)

“Well, I spent that next summer thinking and dreaming about her and wishing I had made some sort of effort. Then senior year
came and I vowed to myself I would make an effort. That I would try. And guess what happened?”

“Did she die?”

Kyle looks at her with an incredulous glance and a shake of his head. “No. Geez that’s morbid.”

“Step into my life for a moment.”

“See, I knew this would sound corny.”

“Keep going,” she says. “What happened?”

“First thing I find out about her when I see her was that she was dating another guy. Had been most of the summer. And they
were serious. And near the end of the year I would finally have my talk with her. A deep one at that. She told me she had
always found me cute, just wondered why I never made an effort. So you know—ever since that day, I told myself I would never
let somebody go. That I would never not give an effort.”

“This is quite the effort,” Laila says. “What was this girl’s name?”

“Tabitha. Or Tabi.”

“Did they marry?”

“I don’t know. I just know they drove off into the sunset after high school graduation.”

“So this is fulfilling some high school fantasy of yours?”

“I hope you’re kidding.”

“Mostly.” Laila smiles and moves to sit in the chair by his. “Sorry I can’t be more accommodating.”

“I’m sorry that things have led up to this.”

They hear laughter in the distance.

“Want to hear my silly high school story?”

“Sure,” Kyle says.

“I ran away with a guy to New Orleans once. I was seventeen.”

“What for?”

“Same reason a guy like you follows someone like me down here. It has nothing to do with sense. It has more to do with what
you’re feeling. And at the time, I was crazy in love with this guy. All I wanted to do was escape my life and my world and
love him. So that’s what I did for a whole week.”

“What happened?”

“Life. That’s what happened.”

Kyle stares at her. She smiles and stretches and looks at the open door.

A gust of air blows in and it soothes her.

“I found out I was pregnant a couple months later. How ignorant is that, huh? I skipped my period and didn’t even realize
it was because of that. That’s how stupid I was and how much in love and in denial I was. I was something back then.”

He doesn’t move. His expression doesn’t waver. Kyle waits for her to speak.

“I told him and that was it. Just like turning off a light. It was over. And I couldn’t believe—I just couldn’t believe he
would do that. Even when I did everything he wanted me to do—and you know, that’s the easy way out, to blame him, because
I did everything I wanted to do too—but even after it was all over and taken care of, he still was gone. That had scared him
and woken him up and made him get out. Just like that. As if he thought someone like me couldn’t get pregnant.”

Kyle’s mouth is closed and tightened, and his eyes don’t blink. She looks at him feeling calm and normal. No tears and no
emotion and no fears.

“I was twelve weeks when I ended it. When I terminated the pregnancy. Twelve weeks. And I didn’t think twice about it. All
I was
thinking about was him. Yet—I didn’t even realize it at the time, but something changed that day. Two things died that day.
And one of them was my heart.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by when I haven’t thought about it. When I haven’t regretted it. When I haven’t known
that what I did was wrong.”

He lets her pause, perhaps waiting for her to cry, but she’s not going to. Just because she remembers it and thinks about
it and regrets it doesn’t mean she’s going to become a mess right here. That’s past. That died along with so many other things.

“How’s that for a high school love story?”

“It breaks my heart for you,” Kyle says.

“I was seventeen and didn’t tell anybody else except Erik. Well—I take that back. I did tell Lex. He was the one who took
me to get it done. But the rest of my family never knew, nobody. Ten years later I’ve still never told another soul. And I
don’t know why in the world I’m telling you. Maybe because I feel I need to get it off my chest, though I know telling you
isn’t going to get me any favors.”

“Telling me won’t. But you can tell them to God.”

“If He’s there He already knows about them.”

“But you can put them before Him and ask for forgiveness.”

“What’s that going to get me? A golden ticket to the heavenly spa up there? A get-out-of-jail card where I won’t have to worry
about it anymore?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Kyle says.

“So how does it work?”

“I don’t know, but I know what I believe. I know that I believe in God and I believe in His son, and I know this is going
to sound like preaching 101 but I believe there is a way Jesus takes my mistakes. I have to believe this because if I don’t
I’m hopeless.”

“What mistakes have you made? You’re a good guy.”

“We all make mistakes. All of us.”

“Yeah, but, that’s so simple and so—it’s just not real. It’s cheesy. It’s like a bad Sunday school movie.”

“Maybe the way I just said it is, but the truth isn’t, Laila. I swear it’s not. I’m not saying that suddenly all the pain
and the guilt and the grief you have will go away. But what I am saying is that they’ll be taken away. The Bible says that
God takes our sins and throws them into the depths of the ocean. It says you won’t be held responsible anymore.”

She shakes her head. “So did you come down here to save my soul?”

“I thought I was saving myself. Now—well, I’m beginning to know why I needed to come down.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, standing, going to the balcony.

He lets her stand there for a while.

“I’m sorry for laying this in your lap,” she says.

“You didn’t lay anything in my lap. I appreciate you feeling like you could tell me this.”

“It’s just not that simple.”

“It’s more complex than any scientist could make it out to be, and it’s also utterly simple. It’s about believing. And about
taking those mistakes and asking for forgiveness.”

Laila looks at him, shaking her head, feeling anger starting to bubble over inside her. “I have tried to live out penance
for however long, and yet I still don’t come close to ever feeling whole again. Like this part of me that was taken out was
taken out for good and that I’ll have this huge awful hole inside that will just continue to get larger and larger until I
take my final breath.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that, Laila.”

She laughs, stifling a thought in her head. She can’t repeat it, especially not to Kyle.

Instead she says, “It will always be this way. Always.”

He stands up and comes over and hugs her. It’s a safe hug, a warm hug, the kind a family member or a friend might give. She
feels secure
in it, not afraid of where the hands might go or afraid of what it will lead to. She exhales and leans against Kyle’s shoulder
and stays there for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her.

“I am too. Yet I—I’ll never be able to say I’m sorry. I took that chance away. That and a billion other chances.”

Kyle whispers something in her ear, something powerful and profound, so much so that she can’t say anything back. There isn’t
anything to say.

•   •   •

The problem with most people is they don’t have persistence. Amos knows this as he enters the nineteenth hotel he’s stepped
inside today.

He goes to the front desk and smiles as the elderly lady greets him with the familiar drawl.

“How are you doing tonight?” he asks, knowing there’s no need for him to be rude or cold.

She talks for a few minutes and he obliges. Then produces the photo.

“I’m looking for this young woman. Her name is Laila Torres. She’s from Texas, and her family wanted me to contact her because
of a family emergency. The problem is they know she is in New Orleans but they don’t know which hotel she’s staying at.”

“My, is something wrong?”

“Yes. It’s her father. He passed away.”

“Oh dear.” The woman holds the photo up with long, bony fingers. “Yes, she’s staying here. I believe her name is Laila. Pretty
little thing, isn’t she?”

“Yes. She is.”

“Would you like me to call up to her room?”

“No, no no. I’d rather tell her family that she’s here. That way
they’ll have time to call here themselves. Obviously this should come from the family.”

“Of course.”

“Where can they call?”

“Oh, just have them call our number. And let them know she’s in room 307 in case they don’t get a hold of me.”

“Certainly.” He takes the sheet of paper she just wrote on. “You’ve been so kind.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about that.”

“Yeah, it’s just a damned shame. Bad things happen every day, and we can’t do a thing about them, can we?”

“That’s why I pray every morning and every night.”

Amos nods at her and gives her a wink. “You keep doing that. I’m sure it will get you far.”

“You too young man.”

He steps away and heads back outside, back to his parked car.

Persistence is the key, and most people give up because they’re too lazy and too stupid. But those are two things he is not
and never will be.

He opens the trunk. The darkness of the street keeps him in the shadows as he takes out a couple of the guns and then heads
around to the back of the hotel.

•   •   •

“You know we’re being followed?”

“You just realize that now?” James asks between two drags of his cigarette.

“Yeah, why? You seen him?”

“For the last ten minutes. Not very bright, is he?”

“You sure it’s him? The same guy who tackled me in the lobby?” Connor asks.

James nods slowly.

They’re walking down a street in the French Quarter passing
various bars and clubs. It would be easy to blend in but the man behind them a few stores back isn’t doing a good job at
being inconspicuous.

“What do you want to do?”

“Just—hey—just keep looking ahead. Don’t make eye contact. Let’s go into one of these bars and disappear. And when he thinks
he’s lost us, let’s grab him.”

“And do what?”

“First off, show him how stupid he is for trying to follow us.”

“Think he knows where Laila is?”

“If he does, he’s even more stupid than he looks,” James says.

“We don’t need the chick if we get the brother, right?”

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

“No, we need Laila.”

“Says who? A wealthy father will do anything for any of his children.”

“Not necessarily.” James scans down the street for a moment, then speeds up.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying this chick’s been gone for like ten years and it’s become something almost mythical. The missing daughter who
lost her soul in the big city, blah blah blah. That’s when I knew the old man would pay an arm and a leg for her.”

“But not his son?”

“Listen to me. Maybe the brother will make things even easier. I just—we need to find Laila. And look—I mean it—I don’t want
anybody dying. I just don’t.”

“You said if we have to—”

“And yeah, I mean that. Just—just let me make the decisions.”

“How’s that for a place to go?” Connor asks.

It’s a loud joint with the doors open and the lights inside red and moody. James nods and follows Connor into the jazz bar.
He tells Connor where to go as they walk inside but don’t sit down.

•   •   •

Lex remembers when Kyle approached his window at the gas station and told him he wasn’t very good at tailing. He thinks of
this as he walks through the bar again realizing that he lost them. He’s not good at this sort of thing and never thought
that he was. Somehow the two men came in here and disappeared. He checked the back and didn’t find a way out. He knows they
came in and never came out, yet he can’t see them anywhere.

It’s nearing nine thirty, which is when he’s supposed to call Kyle.

Perhaps it’s best that he lost the men. Yet he wonders what happened to them and where they disappeared to.

“This is the last night,” he tells himself.

He needs to leave. He needs to leave this place and leave it quickly.

Lex keeps thinking there are reasons for him to be here. That he needs to help Laila. Perhaps Laila and Kyle. Perhaps somebody
else.

He looks at the bar and sees the bright colors and the entrancing shapes of the bottles. There was a time in his life when
he used to pray that Armageddon would come and he would have to be holed up in a bar like this where all they had to live
off was booze. He would take his time dying slowly with a bottle in each hand. Vodka in one and rum in another.

Lex sees his reflection and can almost see the disappointment on his face. He walks away and heads toward the entrance.

He might live to be a hundred, but those desires will still be there and always will. So he’s been told. So he believes. So
he knows.

Lex steps out and looks down the street and wonders what to do next.

He knows he needs to call.

As he reaches for his phone, he feels something against his neck. Something round and solid and pressing.

“Start walking and don’t look back,” a voice tells him.

It’s the voice of one of the men, the one he never met, the one who looks pale as a ghost.

He glances at his side and sees the revolver jamming into his neck.

“Keep going now.”

He does what he’s told to do.

That’s all he can do now.

That and pray.

•   •   •

It takes two good, hard kicks for the lock on the door to shred through the old wood. Remodeled or not, everything in this
city reeks of age and mold, and this locked door proves it. Amos towers in the doorway with the Smith and Wesson 500 in one
hand and the Kimber 1911 .45 in the other. He only needs one, but he feels better with both hands occupied. He knows the rupture
of the door and the image of him storming in will prevent even the brave from doing something stupid.