The Wild Road (23 page)

“Talk to me,” Lannes said roughly. “Lethe.”

The leather seat smelled like blood. “You knew that other name, didn’t you? The one the officer called me?”

“Ali-”

“Don’t say it,” she interrupted fiercely.

Lannes hesitated. “Koni and Rictor told me.”

“Who was she?”

He took a moment to respond, and she realized it was her wording that had stopped him cold. Who was she?

And not, Who am I?

His voice was hoarse when he spoke, almost broken. “I don’t really know who she was. She was hurt by some members of her family. Kidnapped. I guess…Koni met her, after she had been…rescued from them.”

Lethe rolled those words around, finding herself too numb to appreciate them. “That wouldn’t be enough to commit the suicide of your memory. Unless there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

There was. She felt it in that instant. There was a secret. It was burning him up. She remembered the hotel, and his eyes when she had walked into that room. His grief, his desperation.

Because of her. Something they had told him about her.

“Say it,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to.”

“I hurt you, is that it? Something I did-”

“No,” he rasped, as the Impala swerved. “It was your family. Your great-aunt. It was her. She captured us. My brothers. Me. She was the one who tortured us.”

Of all the things he could have said, that was the least expected. And the most horrific. It was so awful that all she could do was stare at him, numb, blood roaring in her ears.

“No,” she said. “That’s impossible. They’re wrong. They must be wrong.”

“I don’t think they are.”

“Did they give you proof?” Her voice broke. “Pictures?”

“They recognized you. They knew your face.”

Lethe closed her eyes, shuddering. Lannes swore, and pulled off the road. The Impala bounced, something crunched. Ahead of them, the Humvee also pulled over. She saw a faint light out the window. Eastern sky. A hint of dawn.

Lannes undid her seat belt and dragged her into his lap. It was uncomfortable-the wheel dug into her back-but his arms were strong and his voice rumbled like thunder in her ears, in her mind.

“It wasn’t you,” he whispered again and again. “It wasn’t you.”

“Close enough,” she replied, ragged and soggy, unable to breathe through her nose. “I don’t… I don’t know the details of what you went through, but I know it was bad. How can you be near me and not think about what happened?”

“Easily,” he said. “You make it better.”

A sob rose up her throat. She could not choke it down. Lannes cradled her against him.

“You asked me if you were a good person,” he said quietly. “The answer is yes. You were a good person, Lethe. Memories might shape you, but they don’t make you. Not where it matters. Not here.” He placed his hand over her heart.

He was not lying. He meant every word-she could feel it in him. If the link had not been there, she might still have believed him. He could hide nothing in his eyes. Despite his mask, he was guileless.

So are you, he whispered inside her mind.

I’m not safe, she told him. There must be more to why I destroyed my memories.

“You’re assuming too much,” he said out loud. “What makes you think you had a choice?”

“Because I did,” she said, certain of it. Ahead, a car door slammed. Rictor appeared. Lannes rolled down the window. Lethe buried her face in his chest.

“Everything okay?” asked Rictor.

“Just need another minute or two. Where are we going?”

“Charlie called Koni. He came through with the address and number for Ed. He lives nearby.”

Lannes frowned, and Lethe could feel in his mind a hint of confusion that his brother had not called him directly. “Okay. Like I said, another couple minutes.”

Rictor seemed to hesitate before walking back to the Humvee, or maybe that was Lethe’s imagination. She felt him look at her though-a glance that broke through her like she was made of air and glass. It made her uneasy. She wondered what he knew about her.

Lannes rolled his window back up. “Will you feel like talking to Ed?”

“I have to,” she said. “I don’t think he trusts you guys as much.”

“Then let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, and helped her sit back. He dragged a box of tissues from the backseat, and she blew her nose while he got out of the car to dig around the trunk. He came back with a clean rag, a bottle of water and a teddy bear.

Lethe stared at the bear. Lannes said, “My niece. I bought it for her.”

A smile bubbled out of her, a weak one, and he said, “There. Good. Hold the bear.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered, but she took the stuffed animal and hugged it to her chest, watching him as he dampened half of the rag and began washing her face. She let him do the first few strokes, just because it was the first time she could remember being babied, but then it started to feel like he was going to scrape off her cheeks. She took the rag from him, and he sat back, watching. His eyes glittered in the shadows.

“Feel better?” he finally asked.

“Better,” she said. “Thank you.”

Lannes nodded roughly. Ahead of them, taillights winked. He leaned over, planted a hard quick kiss against her brow and then started the engine.

Ten minutes later, they drove up to Ed’s house.

The old man lived on a back country road that was more gravel than concrete. It was still dark, but the sky had lightened enough to illuminate the individual silhouettes of trees, and fence posts that bordered large meadows filled with vague dark blobs that were probably cows and horses.

Ed had a long driveway, and they parked at the end of it. He lived in a manufactured home that had been neatly maintained. He was up-or at least his light was on. Through the window Lethe saw the old man puttering around, dressed in pajamas.

The predawn air felt cold and good on her face. Koni approached and gave her a long look that was surprisingly kind. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said, trying not to think about the fact that he knew her-the other her-and had not said a word. Although, in hindsight, the way he looked at her had been revealing enough.

“I called ahead,” Koni said, as Lannes tucked Etta’s shoe box under his arm. “Told him we were checking out early but wanted to say good-bye.”

“I like him,” she found herself saying, as if it would bring her comfort. And it did, in a way. She liked Ed. She. Now. She was still a person, her own person, and no matter what had happened in the past, no matter whom she was associated with, her future was her own.

More or less. If she kept telling herself that, maybe she would finally believe it.

Ed disappeared from the kitchen window as they walked up to the house. An orange cat appeared from inside a small doghouse and started purring like a freight train. The cat was especially taken with Rictor and kept jumping in front of him, wildly leaping to rub against his legs.

Koni grinned. Rictor glanced at him. “Not one word.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the tattooed man replied.

Lethe raised her hand to knock on the door. It opened before she could, and Ed greeted her with a gentle hug that left her breathless.

“You’ve been crying,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. The porch light felt hot on her face.

“It’s why we’re leaving early,” she said.

Concern flickered in his eyes. “I’m sorry. Come on in. I’ll make you all some coffee. Or do you prefer tea?”

“Anything,” she said, while the others made polite little grunts of vague approval. The cat followed them in, meowing plaintively at Rictor. It was rather big, with white socks, a round tummy and a stubby tail.

“Roxanne,” Ed said. “Hush.”

The cat only got louder, standing on its hind legs and digging her claws into Rictor’s leg. Koni covered his mouth, facing the wall and a long line of photographs that seemed to consist of young children under Christmas trees or standing in the grass surrounded by dogs and the legs of adults.

Ed’s home was simple but cozy. It had tan carpet, a small dark green couch and a coffee table covered in magazines and books about World War II. The American flag, hanging from a pole, had been propped up in the corner, and beside it was a box filled with wrapped presents, lovingly covered in glittery ribbons.

“Christmas shopping done early?” she asked Ed as he handed her a cup of coffee.

He looked sheepish. “I can’t help myself. I see little things here and there, down in Jasper or Paoli. I don’t have anyone else to spend on but my grandkids.”

“I bet they love you,” she said, and he blushed happily, shaking his head as though having their love was something to which he was far too modest to admit.

She looked up and found Lannes watching her. Her heart twisted in her chest, pounding fast with grief…but also hope. His eyes were filled with concern, but there was nothing but warmth on the edge of his mind; his heart was sweet against her own. “Ed,” Lannes rumbled, tearing his gaze from her. “We have a picture we wanted to show you. We were hoping you might recognize some of the faces.”

The old man clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “I would be delighted.”

Behind him, the cat was still having a vigorous conversation with Rictor, who, in a sudden burst of motion, swept down and scooped her into his arms. Four white paws curled in the air. The cat chirped once, then fell silent.

“Huh,” Ed said, frowning at the orange tabby. Rictor remained utterly impassive.

Lannes opened the shoe box and removed the black-and-white group photo. Ed carefully took it from him and sat on the couch. He stared for a long time. Long enough for Lethe to take a sip of coffee and realize that she hated the stuff.

“I know these people,” he said, finally. “All but one.”

He pushed aside some magazines and laid the photo down. “Here, this little girl is Milly. That’s Etta Bredow beside her. The two boys are Marcellus and, well, Simon. This here is William.” Ed tapped the young man’s face. “He had a good heart. Always a kind word. His parents owned the spread where this picture was taken.”

“His family owned a cemetery?” Lethe asked, finding that rather odd.

“Not just a cemetery,” said Ed, tapping his chin. “And by the thirties they had stopped burying local people. Maybe any people at all.”

“Um,” she said, and pointed at the child in William’s arms. “How about this little guy?”

“He’s the one I don’t know. Probably because he was too young to come out and play.”

She glanced around to see if the others had questions, and found Koni staring at the photo with unnerving intensity.

“Where,” he said slowly, “did you say this was taken?”

“The farm is in Cuzco,” Ed replied, looking at him curiously. “Fifteen, twenty minutes from here.”

Lannes also glanced at Koni. “Is it still owned by the same family?”

“I assume so. Every now and then I hear rumors that William still visits the place.”

“He would have to be near a hundred years old,” Lethe replied.

“Young lady,” Ed said, “a man is quite capable of living that long and doing things, even if he’s got one foot in the grave.”

Lannes smiled and started to put the photo back into the box. Ed stopped him and reached inside. He pulled out a pink piece of paper, his hand shaking slightly.

“Runa’s stationery,” he said reverently, though hearing that name made Lethe’s stomach twist. “She used to write grocery lists on this stuff. I would do her shopping when she was busy.”

He glanced at Lethe. “May I?”

She hesitated, afraid of what he might read, but Ed did not wait. He unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning words.

“ ‘Dear Abigail,’” he read out loud. “ ‘Aware as I am that you no longer welcome my letters, I nevertheless feel compelled to try one last time to make you understand the very real danger that threatens your children. I confess to having serious concerns about Simon. He is a bad influence, and the ill-advised present of that blasted grimoire does little to assuage my fear that he will commit to a grievous action beyond our ability to repair. I warn you, Abigail, Lucy and Barnabus feel the same and have ordered William to take special care when around that child. He is not to be trusted. Nor will your children be, should they continue to keep his company.’ “

Ed stopped reading and set down the letter. He stared at it, his hands pressed flat against the table. Lethe forced herself to breathe, those words ringing through her as though she could hear them in her head. Which, given the nature of things, would not have been an incredible surprise.

Koni and Lannes appeared equally troubled, while Rictor displayed a cold glimmer in his eyes. The orange tabby hung over his shoulder. The entire front of his body was covered in cat hair.

“Some letter,” Ed whispered. “Bitch.”

She stared, startled, but Lannes was on his feet in a moment, slamming a hand against the old man’s shoulder. He bore him down against the couch, and Koni leapt over the coffee table to take his other arm. The old man did not struggle. He looked at Lethe, and smiled.