Flee (12 page)

“I… I'm not sure where to begin. My parents, they were… well, we were really close.” I stopped and cleared my throat before continuing, my hands shaking in Mateo's firm grip. “I had a brother once.” I was speaking in disjointed thoughts. It was the best I could do. I hoped they could keep up.

“Brody was born when I was nine. My parents had tried so hard to have another baby, and then he came. He had Down syndrome, but we thought he was beautiful and perfect. We loved him so much. He had a heart defect also, and when he was three, his heart simply stopped beating.”

A strangled sob escaped my throat. Mateo was stroking my arm. I could feel his eyes on my face but I did not turn to look at him. I concentrated on the pattern of the area rug, trying to make myself numb so I could continue.

“We were even closer after that. It was a hard time, but Mom and Dad were such fun, loving people, full of joy. They were so determined to have a happy home. For each other and for me. And we did.”

I closed my eyes for a minute, remembering the love and laughter of my home. It hurt to remember. It emphasized the loss. How could such good people meet such a horrible end? The whole world was tainted because of it.

“The night they… well, I mean earlier on the day they died, we'd all played hooky. Dad had skipped work, I had skipped school, and Mom had cleared her calendar, and we had spent the day doing our favorite things together. They were just like that. At the end of that day they gave me my Mini. It was still a couple of weeks until my birthday, but Dad said he couldn't wait. It was such a good day. I had gone to bed listening to them talking and laughing in the living room. The next thing I knew, the house alarm was blaring, and I could hear screaming. I remember running down the hall, expecting to meet my dad and for him to tell me everything was okay. I wanted that so badly.”

My voice trailed off to a whisper. I squeezed my eyes shut, my whole body tense, goose bumps rising on my arms. I could see that whole scene of the living room as if it were right in front of me. My parents' bodies on the floor. The open back door. And something else. There was something else there, but I couldn't remember. I had tried for months, haunted by the knowledge that there was a missing piece of evidence, a memory I had so repressed I couldn't recall it. This thought tortured me. If I could remember, maybe the killer could be caught.

“The rest of my memories of that night are kind of a blur. It's like I'm seeing so many scenes at once. I can't remember all of it, and when I try it's like there's something significant evading me, but I can't get a clear picture of it. I remember the stereo was playing. I remember the back door was open, letting in cold air. I remember my parents' bodies, lying beside each other on the ground.” My voice had dropped to a whisper.

That image was so painful. I had danced around it for months, embracing the pain of it and then retreating when I couldn't look any more. There was absolute silence in the room while they waited for me to continue.

“Their arms were, well it was like they'd been positioned. There was blood, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from. I tried to find a pulse on them. I remember feeling very afraid. And then I go blank. The next thing I know, Coach Joe is at my house, kneeling by my side, trying to coax me up.”

When I closed my eyes, I could still see the whole scene…

There were police everywhere. I was lying on the floor in between my parents' bodies and holding their hands. There was blood on me, and the paramedics were trying to get close enough to see if I was injured. The police were yelling at them to not disturb the scene of the crime. Then there was this horrifying screeching sound. One of the paramedics actually held his ears. The other put his hand gently over my mouth, and the sound muffled, and I realize it was me.

“Then I go blank again. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up in Joe and Mary's guest room, my room now, in clean pajamas. An orphan.” The last word I say so quietly that only Mateo hears it. He squeezed me yet tighter, and I turned to look at him. There were tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he kissed the top of my head. Meg sat slumped in her chair, crying softly. Hector looked like he was concentrating hard on something, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes narrowed.

“Who did it, Blake? Were they caught?” Hector's words came out quickly, surprisingly harsh.

“No, it's still being investigated, but the leads are cold. After three years of playing pro football, my father had become an attorney. A prosecutor. He probably had some enemies, but everything he was involved in has been gone over, and nothing has turned up. The police think it was an attempted burglary, gone awry when the alarm went off. But nothing was taken. And why were they killed and I wasn't?”

I shuddered, remembering how I used to wish I had died along with them. I didn't wish that now, but the pain of their deaths was so intense I could barely breathe. I was glad Mateo's arm was wound tightly around me. It reminded me of why I wanted to try.

“The only real clue they thought they had to go on was the weird positioning of my parents' bodies, but they never uncovered any leads on that.”

Hector was staring at me, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Mateo jerked up, his eyes wild. It sent a chill down my spine. Hector's next words were spoken quietly, his accent barely noticeable as he carefully enunciated. “How were the bodies found?”

Meg, startled by the question, glanced from Hector to Mateo and back again. The color drained from her face.

“They were lying side by side,” I whispered. “Their right arms were straight up, and their left arms were straight out to the side.” I had messed that up when I had crawled over them, sobbing and trying to find a pulse. But I had remembered it and described it to the homicide detectives. “It was almost as if they were forming…”

“Two Ls. Holy crap,” Mateo said, cutting me off. Meg sucked in air and put her hands on her cheeks, her eyes open wide. I turned to look at Mateo, startled, and his face scared me. Fury raged on it. He looked scary, capable of dark, frightening things. His eyes met Hector's and communicated something. Hector nodded once and then came to kneel beside me. He placed one hand on my shoulder.

“I'm very sorry for your loss. We'll find out who is responsible and why, and they will pay. I promise you.” He rose and quickly left the room, rapidly dialing his cell phone.

“I'm confused,” I whispered. Why were they reacting this way? What did they know?

“I'm sorry, Blake. We don't mean to confuse you.” Mateo's expression softened as he looked at me, but his eyes remained intense. He looked at his mom and then up at the ceiling, before finally looking back at me.

“Remember when I told you there was much you needed to know about me?”

I nodded. I'd never seen him look so serious, so aggressive. I sensed my presence was all that was keeping him on the couch. He was tensed for a fight.

“We do need to have that conversation, but not tonight. You look completely drained.” His hand brushed across my face, wiping tears and pushing my bangs out of my eyes. His touch was surprisingly gentle, considering the look on his face. “Let's just let it suffice for now that we might have some information for the police. But we need to do a little investigative work of our own first. Can you trust us with that? I promise I'll explain more when I can, and when you're in a better state of mind to listen and process.”

I nodded again. Of course I could trust him. He was my lifeline. I would do anything he asked of me right now. And he was right. I was spent. Lack of sleep, reliving emotional trauma, sugar crash… they all seemed to be combining to wash over me like a powerful sedative. I doubted I could stand up if I tried.

“Mom, would you bring Blake a pillow and a blanket?”

“Of course.” Meg rose and left the room, returning a minute later with the requested items.

Mateo placed the pillow in his lap and then softly forced my head onto it. I pulled my legs up onto the couch and lay down on my side. Meg tucked the blanket around me before leaning over and kissing me softly on the cheek. A sense of déjà vu washed over me as I was tucked in like a small child. This was nice. I missed this. Mateo still tightly held my hand in one of his. His other hand stroked my head. The last thing I remembered before sinking into oblivion were his eyes staring into mine, an unspoken promise in them.

Mateo

“What are you thinking?”

Mom's voice, anxious and concerned, cut through my racing thoughts, but I couldn't respond.
What am I thinking
? I didn't know yet. Confusion. Horror. Rage. And above all, an overwhelming, almost primal need to protect this beautiful girl who lay asleep across my lap. Why had Las Lunas killed her parents? It made no sense. What was the connection? Had it not been them? Was it a coincidence their arms were positioned into their signature “L”? It couldn't be.

And why had Blake been spared? The Lunas were known for their brutality. They showed no mercy, ever. Had they not known she was there? Did they know of her existence now? They had to. Surely there had been media coverage of the homicides. Were they planning on coming back for her? Fury consumed me at the thought. I stroked Blake's soft hair, trying to force myself to calm down.

“Mateo?” Mom's quiet voice finally broke through my raging thoughts.

“I don't know, Mom. There are so many questions. I'm hoping we can get to the bottom of it. I just know I have to keep her safe.”

“We can't ever get away from it, can we? Not really away. It seems to be stalking us, mocking our attempt to be normal.”

Mom spoke quietly, her face pursed together with worry. I gently disentangled myself from Blake and rose from the couch, taking care not to awaken her. She was calm and relaxed in her sleep, peaceful even. She looked almost like a little girl. I knew I would have no problem killing anyone who tried to hurt her. The thought was sobering. Was I really that much like Dad and Juan Carlos?

Squashing that thought, I walked over to Mom and hugged her. “We can live a normal life, it's just going to take some time to develop that. I'll get us there, I promise. And I don't understand this weird connection either. Maybe providence brought us here to Blake so we could help her. I don't know, but I will help her.” I took a deep breath and then blurted, “I love her. I guess you're not surprised.”

Mom smiled back at me, unshed tears in her eyes, but said nothing.

“I'm in way deep, for keeps.”

In a weird, sick way it was almost a relief to know she was somehow connected to Las Lunas. I didn't have to try to distance myself to keep her safe. She was already not safe. In a weird twist of fate, I was now the only one who knew enough to keep her out of danger. “The tables have really turned, haven't they?”

“Yes, in a bizarre and completely unexpected way.” Mom stepped out of my embrace and glanced at the clock. “It's 11:40. Didn't you tell Coach you would have her home by midnight?”

Uh-uh. No way. The thought of Blake leaving sent me into a panic. Who knew what could be waiting for her out there? “She stays here.” I said firmly, my eyes not leaving her sleeping form.

“Mateo, it's been six months since her parents were murdered, and she's still here, safe and sound. Las Lunas don't want her. If they did, she wouldn't be here. She's perfectly safe.” Mom was pleading, trying to make me see reason.

“She stays here,” I yelled, instantly regretting the tone of my voice. I was losing it. Crap. One turn of events and I was acting like my father. I couldn't let myself become like that.

“I'm sorry, Mom. I'm a little freaked out right now. But I can't let her leave, not until I know more and can get security in place around her house.”

Mom sighed. “I understand. And she does seem to be in a deep sleep, doesn't she? I gather she needs that. I'll call Coach Joe and explain that she fell asleep on the couch and that, due to her issues of getting adequate rest, we don't want to disturb her. I can give him the security system's website and our private code, and he can log in and check on her at any time. That will hopefully set his mind at ease.”

“Thanks, Mom. You're a saint.”

She smiled at me as she left the room to make the call, but there was no humor in it. I could tell she was as scared and confused as me. Going back to the couch, I settled in beside Blake, close enough to hold her hand but careful not to disturb her.

I turned over all the information I knew about her and her family again and again. It wasn't much, and it certainly didn't give me any clues. The only thing I had to go on was that her father was a prosecutor. Had he uncovered something? Was he investigating a member of Las Lunas? But wouldn't that have turned up in the police investigation? If it had, they would have linked the positioning of the bodies to the Lunas.

Of course, there was always the possibility the Lunas had paid someone in the police department to look the other way. That happened often in Mexico and it probably happened here too.

I groaned in frustration, impatient to learn more. Maybe Hector was having some luck with his investigation. At least Blake was safe for now. Could I ever let her out of my sight? I was overreacting and being irrational, but I didn't care. Laying my head back on the couch, I managed to fall asleep, still gripping tightly to Blake's hand.

****

The whirring noise of the exercise room's treadmill was beginning to sound familiar. It would be nice to be outside, where I could really open up and run off some of the pent-up rage I was feeling, but I was reluctant to leave the house. It was 8:30, and Blake still slept soundly on the couch. Joe and Mary had agreed to let her stay and sleep. I had talked with Joe before coming in here to run, and he'd been amazed she was still out. He'd been positive it was the most sleep she'd gotten in six months.

“That's quite some fancy security system you have, Reyna. I've logged on a few times, and if I hadn't seen Blake move in her sleep, I would have sworn I was watching a still picture. Anyway, tell your Mom I'm grateful to you two for allowing me access. It gave Mary and I peace of mind and you guys were right to let her sleep. Have her call me when she wakes up.”

Hector had uncovered nothing so far, despite staying up most of the night making calls and doing research. He even risked a call to Juan Carlos but hadn't gotten through. How would JC take that message? If he was pretending I was dead, he certainly wouldn't care about some girl I had fallen in love with. I was holding no hope that he would prove helpful.

My emotional reaction to the situation had me running at almost a frenzied pace. I'd always felt the need to protect my mother, but whenever she was in danger I'd been able to react calmly and rationally, to put a plan in place and execute it without panicking. So why was I so close to panic now? What was it about Blake that turned me almost feral when I thought of her being attacked? I would have to be very careful to not do something stupid in my desire to keep her safe. Banning her from ever leaving my house probably wouldn't go over very well.

Finishing my run, I checked Blake's still-sleeping form before heading for the shower. Mom sat on the chair across from the couch, a cup of coffee and a newspaper in her hands. She seemed as protective over Blake as I was. She had positioned herself there as soon as I had risen this morning. At least Mom looked better than she had last night. She seemed calmer and less afraid. Oh, that I could say the same for myself.

The hot shower did much to clear my head. I stood under the pulsating stream of water and tried to figure out why I was overreacting. Mom was right. If Las Lunas had wanted Blake dead, she would be by now. While I wouldn't give them any opportunity to get close to her if they changed their minds, she probably wasn't in any immediate danger. The key to knowing if she was ever a threat to them was in knowing what her parents' connections had been and why they'd been murdered. That would take time, and Hector and I were already on it, using trustworthy contacts to try to uncover information. Hector was good at this sort of thing. I had often teased him that he would have made a good librarian if not for his intimidating looks.

Until we had more information, I would put full-time security around Blake. The trick was in knowing how much to reveal to her about what was going on. Her
I'm-retreating-from-the-world
look was almost completely gone. I still read grief in her face, but it was not accompanied by fear as it had been when we had met. I didn't want that look to return, but I also didn't want to keep secrets from her.

Wondering where the balance was, I closed my eyes. Monica's face appeared before me as my mind wandered back in time, and everything clicked.
That's why I'm so panicked
.
I
cannot
let
what happened to Monica happen to Blake
. Even the most minute possibility of that was enough to make me lose it, as I nearly had last night. Her death had been the turning point of my whole world. Everything had changed that night, and life had become a struggle with new realities that had ultimately led us here. Had led me to Blake
. I guess I owe you one, Monica
. I just wished things had happened differently.

Old memories washed over me along with the hot water. Monica had been the love of Juan Carlos' life. I could barely remember a time when she wasn't around our house. They had been together since they were both fourteen, their relationship greatly encouraged by my parents. Monica had brought a softness and joy to JC that had not been part of his natural personality.

I'd known my parents worried that Juan Carlos was too much like my father's brother, Eduardo. My uncle had been a harsh, scary man. I had dreaded his visits as a child and tended to hide under tables when he'd been around. For some reason, JC had adored Eduardo, and Eduardo had treated JC like the son he'd never had.

When Juan Carlos and Monica had announced their engagement two years ago, Eduardo had offered to host a huge party for them. The night of the party Monica had been late, and JC had been scared, pacing back and forth across the festive courtyard of my uncle's house restlessly. I had at first thought he was just anxious for her to arrive, but my uncle's furious reaction discounted that. He had begun barking orders at darkly dressed men who'd seemed to appear out of thin air. I had enough military training from my unorthodox education to know they'd been setting up a perimeter, but from what? Where was the danger?

A box had arrived at the party when Monica was one hour past due, light and white, wrapped with a big pink ribbon and emblazoned with the words
From Monica
. Juan Carlos and the crowd had relaxed. It was just like Monica to make a dramatic entry. But then JC had opened the box and discovered a picture of Monica's decapitated body, and chaos had broken loose.

I could still hear his primal roar of rage and grief. It was probably the last real emotion I had witnessed him experiencing. The cold, calculating Juan Carlos he was today had taken over, and now I shuddered around him as I had once shuddered around Eduardo.

Turning off the water, I shook my head, forcing it to clear.
Dwell on good things.
Life had pain and tragedy and darkness, but it also had love and joy and light. That is where I wanted to live. I pictured Mom, her love and compassion and devotion to her family. And Thomas, a brother and a best friend. Blake, her smile, her heart, her beauty that flowed from the inside out. Life was full of good gifts. Gifts I knew I must protect at all costs.