Last Breath (11 page)

But of course, I had no crystal ball. And so, burning with the need to know, after my sixteenth birthday I did exactly what Gary warned me never to do. Armed with my new license, behind the wheel of my Nissan, I drove to his house one Saturday while he was at work.

22

I
only meant to drive
by
Gary's house. Just to get a feel for things.

He'd said the neighborhood wasn't “safe.” At first it didn't seem that way to me as I cruised the nearby streets. The houses were small and wooden, probably with two to three bedrooms. Older. Lawns weren't full of weeds, but neither were they perfectly groomed. I saw plenty of trees and bushes. Lots of cars parked in driveways and at the curb.

It didn't hit me until I was on Gary's street: this should be an area full of children. But I didn't see one toy in a front yard, or bikes lying on the sidewalks.

Gary's address was number 423. On my right the houses at 413, 415, 417 drifted by. Three doors up I spotted his house, painted off-white with teal trim. A compact front porch with three steps. It looked well-kept and was the only house around with flowers in the yard.

On her knees, weeding in those flower beds, was Gary's grandmother.

I recognized her immediately—the curly gray hair and round, pleasant face. She worked slowly but with deliberate movements, as if the task was a challenge she enjoyed. I knew she'd been weak a lot lately from her heart. It was surprising she was outside at all.

Automatically I slowed, drinking in the sight of her through my open passenger window. In person she looked even more friendly and kind than in her pictures. I wanted to know her. I wanted her to know me.

She looked up as I rolled by—and our eyes met.

Surprise flicked across her brow. One hand, holding a trowel, rose. “Rayne?”

My foot poised above the brake.

For a split second I stared at her, heart pounding. She must have seen pictures of me. Now what? I couldn't just drive on and ignore her. But if she told Gary I'd been here …

I pulled over to the curb and put the car in park. The next thing I knew I was on the pavement, walking toward her with a smile plastered on my face. Did
she
know I wasn't supposed to be here?

“My goodness, Rayne.” Grandma Donovon dropped her gardening tool and struggled to her feet. “What a nice surprise.” She started toward me on gimpy legs. “Oh, my.” She shook her head. “I've been kneeling too long.”

“Hi.” I reached a hand out to her, my smile stretching to genuine. “It's so good to finally meet you.” She couldn't have been over five feet tall. I could feel the warmth emanating from her tiny frame.

Grandma Donovon batted away my hand and reached for a hug instead. “And it's wonderful to meet
you
.” She gripped me hard, then stepped back, looking me over with her chocolate-brown eyes. “You're even prettier in person. Didn't think that could be possible. Although Gary's told me it's true.”

I laughed, feeling self-conscious. And guilty. Gary had been bragging about me—and here I was, showing up on his doorstep behind his back.

For an awkward moment Grandma Donovon and I stared at each other, as if she read my mind.

Her gaze flicked next door, then across the street. I followed her glances but saw no one. She smiled again and wiped her brow. “What brings you here? Gary's at work, you know.”

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. “Oh. Yeah. I thought so, but … I drove by just in case I'd see his truck …”

My words ran out. Grandma Donovon nodded, but her eyes clouded. She knew I was lying. Unspoken emotions vibrated between us. From me, curiosity—what had Gary been hiding? From her—fear.

Why would she be afraid?

At the next house over a screen door squeaked. Grandma Donovon's eyes snapped toward it. A guy maybe twenty-five years old slouched through the door and down two steps to the scruffy yard. His cold stare fixed on Grandma Donovon. He wore baggy jeans with holes in the knees and a faded blue T-shirt. His blond hair scraggled to his shoulders in wild dreadlocks. Behind him trailed two more guys about the same age, one with short dark hair and another with a totally shaved head. Everything about the three of them, from their hard faces to the cocky way they moved, reeked of hate and evil.

They lined up on their sidewalk, legs apart, arms folded—and stared at us.

I gawked back at them, feeling hairs rise on the back of my neck. I wanted to run to the car but couldn't begin to move.

“Rayne.” Grandma Donovon's voice dropped to a forced calm. “I think you'd better—”

“Well, now.” Dreadlocks let out a low whistle aimed at me. “Who do we have here?”

My breath shallowed. I glanced nervously at Grandma Donovon, seeking a cue. I couldn't just walk away from this. Somehow I sensed she'd pay.

“Just a friend, Bart.” Grandma Donovon tried to sound nonchalant but failed. “She was just leaving.” Her eyes cut to me, two high spots of color on her cheeks.
Go
, her expression warned.

“No she ain't.” Bart started a slow saunter toward us, hands sliding into his pockets. As if he had all the time in the world to get to us, knowing we wouldn't dare move. “I got to see this
vision
of
beauty
up close.” The two other guys trailed behind him.

My veins chilled. I pulled both arms across my chest, watching them draw near me like I was some trapped animal. By the time Bart stood on Grandma Donovon's sidewalk, mere feet away, my insides shook.

Bart's mouth twisted into a smile. “I like this.” His eyes dropped down the length of me, then slowly rose back to my face. He nodded. “Yeah. I like this very much.”

His friends grunted and grinned, enjoying my fear.

Bart rocked back on his heels. “You a friend of Gary's?”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Grandma Donovon stepped in front of me. “Leave her alone, Bart.”

He snorted. “Oh, what, Granny, you gonna make me stop?”

Her mouth pressed tight. “You've got no business with her, she was just driving by.” She turned to me firmly. “Good-
bye
.”

“No, no.” Bart swiped out his hand and caught my arm. His palm felt hot.

I yanked away. Who did these guys think they were? “Let go of me!”

Bart's expression blackened. One side of his mouth curled up, his eyes slitting. “Don't you know I own this neighborhood?” He jerked his head toward Baldy. “Go get her license plate.”

Air hissed between Grandma Donovon's teeth. Baldy strode toward my car, pulled a small notebook and pen from his deep front pocket, and jotted down the plate. He sauntered back and handed the paper to Bart.

“There ya go.” Bart read it over then stuck it in his pocket. He aimed a slow smile at Grandma Donovon and me. “You can go now, Blondie. We got your plate. Soon we'll know—”

An engine gunned on the street. We all turned toward it to see Gary in his truck, hunched over the wheel and teeth clenched. My heart sank to my toes. What was he doing home so early?

Gary surged into the driveway and screeched to a stop. He got out of his truck and slammed the door. He walked toward us stiffly, fear and determination and protectiveness tightening his face.

Bart sniggered. He no longer had to question how I knew Gary.

“What's going on?” Gary drew up, lasering me with an accusing look—
now you've done it
. He turned suspicious eyes on Bart.

“Nothin', man.” Bart shrugged. “Just getting to know your girlfriend. Oh.” He pulled the piece of paper from his pocket. “And writing this down.” He flashed the license plate number at Gary. “In case you give us any trouble.”

Gary's jaw worked back and forth. His fingers curled toward his palms. For a minute nobody moved.

Across the street a door banged. Four guys, a little older than the three around us, filed out, brewing with menace. “You got trouble over there?” one of them called.

“Nah.” Bart gave me a smile that turned my stomach. “We're just gettin' acquainted with Gary's girlfriend.”

“Oh. Didn't know he had one.” The guy laughed, and Bart chuckled with him.

Goosebumps skittered down my arms. What had I done by coming here?

The four across the street milled in their yard, watching us. Lewd comments drifted across the pavement.

Gary glared at me. “Go home.” His voice could have cut steel.

My lips parted, but no words came. If I left—then what? The guys all looked like they were aching to jump Gary and beat him up. Seven to one. Strong as he was, he couldn't possibly stand up to that.

Gary ground his teeth. “
Go
.” He dug fingers into my elbow and pushed me toward my car.

Heart in my throat, I swiveled and scurried down the sidewalk. The guys across from us whistled and catcalled. For a terrifying minute I thought they would come over and surround me. I yanked open my car door, slipped inside, and slammed down the locks.

My hands shook as I turned the key in the ignition.

As I drove away I peered into the rearview mirror and saw Bart all up in Gary's face, shaking a finger at him and ranting. The two guys near him—and the four across the street—watched, sneering. Gary just stood there, taking it, one hand clutching his grandmother's shoulder.

Panic washed over me. How could I leave him? What if they did beat him up?

My foot lifted from the accelerator, reaching for the brake.

Gary's head turned toward my car. The sheer pleading in his expression shocked me.
Leave, Rayne,
it cried.
Please leave!

I knew then that if I went back, it would only get worse. Whoever these people were, whatever evil power they had over Gary—I'd just given them more fuel for their fire.

Worst of all was the shame I saw on Gary's face. I'd seen him in his weakest moment, unable to stand up to these bullies. To him, that was more punishment than a physical beating.

As I turned the corner and he faded from sight, I wondered if he would ever forgive me.

Part 7

Monday 2009

23

A
nurse appeared in the hospital room doorway, carrying a lunch tray. Mom's story abruptly stopped.

Through sheer willpower I pulled myself back to the present, Mom's last words swirling in my head. What had
happened
to my father after she drove away?

Biting back impatience, I took the tray and set it on the rolling table by Mom's bed. I uncovered the food and unwrapped the silverware. She had baked chicken and vegetables. A salad. Didn't look a bit appetizing to me, but my stomach growled anyway.

What I wanted was pizza.

Mom stared at her food dully.

“You want to sit up more?” I reached for the button on the bed.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She winced as we got her sitting up straighter. Lines zigzagged across her forehead. She needed sleep. Remorse panged through me. All that pain—and here I was, pushing her to tell me about my father.

I filled her water glass. Mom ate in silence.

“Is it any good?” I made a face at the food.

“It's all right.”

I focused on my cell phone, lying on my bed. “Wanna order out? We can get pizza delivered.”

Mom set down her fork. “Yeah. That sounds great.” She pushed the rolling table back. “Get this thing away from me.”

“You bet.”

I set the tray out in the hall. Wendell just shook his head at me.

Back in the room I dialed information and found a nearby takeout for pizza. We ordered an extra large pepperoni and mushroom, with Coke and paper plates. I put the cost and a tip on my credit card, then told Wendell a delivery would be coming.

I tossed my cell phone back on my bed. Ran both hands through my hair. “You want to take a nap before it comes, Mom?”

“No. Afterward. Then I won't have anything to wake me up.”

I snorted. “Except doctors and nurses and who knows what.”

She smiled weakly.

My arms folded as I gazed at her, unwilling to push for more of the story.

She flicked a look at the ceiling. “Okay, Shaley. Come on back and sit down. I know what you're thinking.”

“You sure it's okay?”

“What else am I going to do, turn somersaults?”

My cell phone rang. I picked it off my bed and checked the ID. The number and name had been blocked. I stared at the cell, deciding whether to answer. Something made me push the
talk
button.

“Hello?”

“Shaley.” A man's voice. Hard.

“Yeah?”

“This is Len Torret.”

Cat!

“Got news for you,” he said. “I got a picture of you and your bodyguard lover outside your mom's hospital room door. You two were looking pretty cozy.”

What
? It took a minute to realize what he was talking about. My jaw sagged open, but no words came. I sank down on my bed.

“
Cashing In
's gonna pay me fifty thousand for it. I'm offering it to you first for seventy-five.”

My back stiffened. “How
dare
you try to blackmail me! You don't have any picture of me anyway.”

“Who is it?” Mom demanded.

“Oh yeah?” Cat sneered. “Then how do I know you and that bodyguard were hugging? I looked around a corner on your floor—and there you were.”

“If you looked around the corner, you saw me fighting him first. I was trying to come after
you
and he wouldn't let me.”

“Nice story. Tell it to the public when the photo's published.”

Rage catapulted up my spine. I shoved to my feet. Cat would've had to zoom in for a close-up from that far away. And he'd obviously waited for the perfect shot to spread his lies.

“You want the photo or not, Shaley? You pay for it, it doesn't get published.”

“I'm not paying you a dime!”