Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 03 - Insatiable (27 page)

I lowered the mirror and stood to my full height. The beam didn’t move till I’d grabbed hold of the window frame and raised myself to my waist. As I put my foot on the ledge, the light flicked to my face. I squinted against it but continued to climb into the room.

“You should drop that light unless you want the neighbors to see,” I said. Ana Maria lowered the beam and I leaned against the window sill, my feet out in front of me. Relaxed. I couldn’t see her, but her light told me where she was. “How you doing?”

I heard the cocking of a gun. “I’m fine, and you?”

“I’m not here to kill you,” I said.

A hushed laugh crossed the room. “You couldn’t kill me.”

I smiled into the darkness. “Sure. Want a drink?” I started toward the bar. Her light caught me.

“Stop.”

I paused. “What?” I asked, squinting against the brightness.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” I shrugged as if that was obvious. “I knew you’d come.” Her light stayed steady on me and she didn’t respond. “We are so alike you and me. I knew you couldn’t stay trapped in that hotel with all those people around you all the time.”

“We are not alike.”

“No?”

“You’re naive and easily tricked.”

“We are different in that respect,” I said. “But we are both unafraid. You’re the most fearless creature I’ve ever met. I admire that.”

“No, you’re here for some other reason. Take off your shirt, do you have a weapon, what are you hiding under that sweatshirt?”

I smiled. “OK, then will you have a drink with me?”

“Take it off.”

I unzipped my sweatshirt and let it fall to the ground. Underneath I wore a T-shirt which I pulled up so she could see I was bare underneath.

“Turn around.”

“So you can shoot me in the back?”

“I could shoot you right now.” She took a step toward me and I heard an edge in her voice. “Turn around now.”

“OK, OK, keep your pants on.” I spun slowly letting her see that there was nothing on my body.

“Fine.”

I picked up my sweatshirt and shrugged back into it. “You must need someone to talk to, Ana.”

“What do you know about me?” she said.

“I think I know you pretty well. I knew you’d be here, didn’t I?”

The flashlight roamed to the bar. “Close those,” she said, gesturing to the curtain behind me. I closed them, blocking out the street and crossed to the bar. A small lamp sat next to the bottles. I clicked the switch and the room glowed. Ana Maria turned off her flashlight and crossed the room to close more curtains. “You better not get caught here,” she said. “They’re ready to kill you.”

I poured us each a glass of her father’s finest tequila. “I know. Don’t worry, Ana, they won’t ever catch me.”

She came up right next to me and took the glass out of my hand. Ana Maria looked up at me for a moment and then immediately away. She left my side, a cool breeze took her place. I concentrated for a moment on the memory of her father’s dead eyes. Then turned to her.

I sipped the tequila, felt it burn down my throat and warm my belly. “How’s Blane?” I asked.

She laughed, the gun held loosely in her hand. “He’s driving me crazy.” Ana Maria clicked her flashlight back on. She was looking down at the place her parents gurgled their last breath. “I tried to have it cleaned up- hire someone- but the police said no.” She turned to me. “How long did you have to wait before they let you clean up your brother’s blood?”

“I never went back there,” I said, maintaining eye contact. I took a sip of the tequila trying to warm myself against the coldness in her eyes.

She returned her gaze to the stains. “History is a funny thing,” she said.

“Depends on which part.”

She turned to me and a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth but did not spread to her eyes. “I mean the way events are remembered, recorded. Who’s to say that we won’t be seen as the same type of woman? Me and Joy.”

“And what kind of woman is that?”

“Strong,” she raised her chin, “fearless.” She licked her lips. “Avengers.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, that’s possible. Remind me again, who were you avenging when you killed your parents?” I leaned against the bar. “And what about all that stuff with Alejandro, making the world a better place?”

She laughed and approached the bar to refill her glass. “He was so sweet, wasn’t he?”

“I think he was.” The image of Alejandro slumped and moaning on his sailboat came to mind. “Did it hurt to watch him die?”

She poured more tequila into her glass and then looked over at me. “Surprisingly little. It’s as if I feel less and less every time. And it’s the only way I feel anymore. Are you the same?”

I took the last sip of my tequila and put the empty glass down on the bar. I knew what she meant about the feeling, the rush, the justification that comes to you when taking a life. Ana Maria walked slowly back over to the stain on the floor.

“History is a funny thing,” she said again. “The world will never know I killed my parents or my cousin.” She raised her gun at me again. “All the world will ever know is that I killed you, revenging my parent’s death and bringing to justice the famous Joy Humbolt.”

“You gonna kill me?” I asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s not that you wouldn’t, it’s that you can’t.” Picking up my glass I threw it at her and ducked. She fired blindly and I heard a bottle on the bar explode. I pulled the light cord out of the socket and dashed for the open window. I dove through the curtains, rolling as I hit the wet grass. I landed with my feet under me in a low crouch. Standing up I sprinted away from the house, away from Ana Maria.

At the end of the block Izel and Malina sat in the car. They saw me coming and I heard the engine rumble to life. I got in the backseat, laid down and covered myself with a blanket and a bunch of clothing. Izel pulled away from the curb. She turned the radio on, pumped the volume and drove. A police car raced by us a block away and we just kept going. Soon we were on the highway, speeding toward victory.

I sat up and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Did you get it?” Malina asked.

“I got it.”

Izel slammed a hand onto the steering wheel and Malina let out a whoop. The music filled me and I wanted to sing and dance. We pulled off the highway and wound through deserted streets past poorly made, decrepit buildings until we got to where our RV was parked. Dan and Mulberry tripped over each other coming out the door to greet us.

“You did it!” Mulberry yelled. Blue’s tail wagged and his tongue lolled out of his head as he joined in our excitement. “I can’t wait to see her face.”

“I want to see it,” Izel said.

“Yes, yes,” Malina said.

We all went inside, a group far too large for the small living quarters. We crowded around Dan’s computer. Mulberry passed out beers. Dan hit play and I watched Ana Maria tell the camera that the world would never know she killed her parents. Mulberry clicked his bottle against mine. “You fucking did it.”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning against him. “I got her.”

Dan looked over at me and smiled. “Congratulations,” he said. I raised my bottle in a toast to him.

NO THOUGHTS

I woke up the next morning just hung over enough to know I drank the night before. I was the first awake and turning to look down at my motley crew, I couldn’t help but smile. Mulberry was squeezed into the dining area bed this time. Dan on the couch. The two ladies shared the room in the back.

Blue poked his head out of the driver’s seat sensing me. I lowered myself down as quietly as possible. Slipping into a pair of sneakers and jogging shorts, I opened the door and stepped out into the cool morning.

Blue and I headed down the block. It’d been too long and my legs felt tired. My lungs struggled to keep up with my ambitions. I started slow letting my body remember what it felt like to run, not in the heat of a moment but as an exercise in endurance.

We were the only ones out at that hour. As my muscles warmed, my head emptied. All my little plottings, all my worries about the next couple of days, the nausea of my hangover, I left it behind as my legs stretched into longer and longer strides.

I’d lost my headphones so the only soundtrack to my run was the pounding of my feet and the in and out of my breath. I started sprinting and felt exhilarated. There was nothing in my head except the thought that I was flying. I was flying.

I came back to the RV with sweat coating my body and a clear head. Dan stepped out and I felt my heart thump again. As long as there were other people around I felt safe, but being alone with him…

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked.

“Sure,” I smiled. “What’s on your mind?”

“You,” he said, maintaining eye contact. Dan was several feet away and it felt like there was suddenly a wall of fire between us. He raised his left hand and rubbed at the back of his neck, smiling. “I get the feeling you’re avoiding me.”

“I can’t, Dan,” I said.

“Can’t what?”

“I don’t know, I just-” Struggling to put into words how now what I needed was space and room to think, I stood in front of Dan with my mouth open but nothing coming out.

“Is it because of Mulberry?” Dan gestured with his head at the RV.

“No,” I shook my head. “But with all these people around, I just need to concentrate.”

He stepped toward me and I didn’t back away. “But you could in St. Thomas.”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe it has to be a balcony.” He smiled and looked down at the ground. “I-”

I rushed at him and placed my hand over his mouth. “Don’t, Dan. Don’t say anything. Can’t we just finish this?” He looked at me and I felt desperate for him to agree. For him to just be there for me until this was over. I couldn’t bear to be responsible for this gentle, sweet man’s feelings. He needed to be OK without me and I needed to be OK without him.

Dan nodded and I lifted my hand from his mouth. “Yes, Captain,” he said.

I felt my body against his and stepped back. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry-”

He reached out and touched my hand lightly. “You don’t ever have to be sorry with me, Sydney,” he said, looking down at our hands. “I’m stronger than you think.” He smiled up at me then and I felt an easing in my chest.

Mulberry stuck his head out the door and called to us. “You better come in and hear this.”

When I opened the door of the RV, Malina, Izel, and Mulberry all turned and looked at us but no one said anything. The radio was on. “What’s going on?” I asked

Izel answered, “They are saying that Ana Maria was attacked again by her kidnapper and that fingerprint evidence now confirms that it was Joy Humbolt, the fugitive.”

“But it is strange,” Malina interjected, “she says that you still have long blonde hair and they do not mention your scars.”

Then I heard her voice. Ana Maria was speaking in Spanish and Izel translated for me: “Although this is hard, I will still be at the Juarez benefit on Friday. My tragedy is just one of many in this country. I, unlike the women of Juarez, had a chance to fight back; I want to give them the same.”

“She’s good,” Mulberry said.

“Yeah, Jesus. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was amazing,” Dan said.

“In her own way she is,” I said. They all turned to look at me. “I mean it’s amazing how full of shit she is.” Everyone nodded. “It’s amazing how well she is manipulating this whole thing. She doesn’t really want me caught or else she’d give them a real description. She knows that the whole thing could fall apart if they get me.”

No one said anything and the news changed over to the weather. Mulberry leaned forward and turned it off. “But for how much they love her now,” I said. “They will hate her more when they find out they’ve been lied to. They will want their revenge.”

I looked up and noticed that everyone was staring at me. Dan cleared his throat. “Well, I better get to work then.” He reached into his bag and pulled out his laptop.

“I’ll make some breakfast,” Izel said. Malina stood up to help her. Mulberry climbed into the driver’s seat and got ready for what looked like a nap.

It was three days until the benefit and while Dan was busy the rest of us didn’t have much to do. Dan sat at the table in front of his computer. The rest of us just tried to stay out of his way. I worked out a lot, but it wasn’t enough to exhaust me. I think we all had an incurable nervous energy. None of us would be able to sleep until it was over: when Ana Maria was up on that stage and behind her played the tape of her standing over her parent’s death site, saying that the world would never know it was her.

History is a funny thing, I thought, as I laid awake in my bunk staring at the ceiling only inches away. I’d never really thought about my place in it before. But now my mind, with nothing else to do, kept wandering there. The idea that I would even have a place in something as big as history never crossed my thoughts before, but now I realized that, of course, I would be in text books. And not just criminology but high school. Any history of New York class, any history of politics, assassinations, millions upon millions of people would learn about me. But what would they learn? What would they know?