Vanished (16 page)

“Collin tried to yell at her,” Madison interjects, “but she obviously didn’t want to have anything do with us. She was…”

The wings,
I think. “Scared,” I supply.

Madison nods and bites her lip. “I don’t know why she would be, man,” Collins says, “She knows me, we hung out when you and her were…you know…” he looks over at Trin, looks at Madison then down at his plate. 

“Well,” I say, pushing back and glancing over at Trin for the first time.  She doesn’t look too happy but I’ve seen her look way worse at me before.  “That’s an interesting turn of events. How could
she
have survived?” 

Trin pinches her lips together and shakes her head, “She must have been somewhere deep underground when it happened, or she’s with him.”

“Him?” Zayn asks, “I’m lost.”

We tell them about the body, the letters and going to St. Raphael’s.  We skim over the details they don’t need to know about; her breakdown in the yard, the kiss in the stairwell and Trin gives them the note from her dad to pass around.

“Who’s Judge?” Zayn asks, looking up at her.

Trin stiffens. “Her step-dad” I answer. I know they read between the lines then but even Madison has the grace not to bring up what I know they’re all thinking. Now her secret is out.  I wonder if it will change her. I hope not.

Time to change the subject. I remember something, “Tell me about the tiger.”

Collin’s eyes light up and he gets all animated again as he describes how they drove over to check his mom’s house near Swope Park where the zoo is, and a tiger was sunning in the middle of the road.  “He saw us too, man.  Good thing we weren’t on foot.”

It’s hard to believe tigers and packs of wild dogs are roaming the streets of our city. My mind flashes back to part of the note from Trin’s dad;
it is not safe on the surface.

I take a deep breath, “It seems to me like we have two options for tomorrow,” I tell them, “We go to the school and hunker down there or we go looking for Celia Gerard and find out what she knows and how she survived.”

“We could do both,” Zayn suggests, “Two groups. One goes to the school, the other to search for Celia.”

“Kill two birds with one stone,” Collin answers, “I like it.”

“Who would go where?” I ask.

Jasmine answers, “You should be the one to try and talk to Celia, Logan. She knows you better than any of us.”

“Fine. Trin, Collin and I will look for Celia while the rest of you check out the school.”

“I’m going to the school,” Trin says.  I look over at her and the rigidness I’d noticed earlier when we were talking about Celia is gone.  This isn’t about jealousy. As if she wants me to understand that she adds, “There’s something there my dad really wanted me to see. I don’t want to wait.”

I begrudgingly agree to take Collin and Jasmine with me while Zayn goes with Madison and Trin to the school. I want Collin there in case anyone else we know shows up. He’s lived in the area a long time and he’s the one person from around there people are most likely to recognize. Jasmine is in some of the same circles as Celia and took a class with her last year plus Jaz just has a welcoming face
and she doesn’t have wings
. She’s not someone you would naturally feel like running away from. 

If everything goes as planned, our group will rendezvous with Trin’s at the church after we search for Celia.  “Madison’s apartment is the back-up meeting place if the church doesn’t turn out to be as safe as the note indicates.” I tell them. 

I’m amazed at how exhausted we all are by the end of the night.  I feel like an old man. We clean up the kitchen and everyone else disappears. Trin dries the last dish and puts it away. I stand by the candle ready to escort her to her room. She takes my hand and follows me down the hall.  “You’re not going to sleep in the hallway again, are you?” She asks me when we stop in front of her door. 

“That’s the plan unless you feel like company.”

“What if I feel like ‘company’ but ‘company’ has to sleep on the couch.”

I prop myself against the doorway and raise my eyebrows, “You’re ruthless, Snow, but I’ll accept your terms…for now.” 

Her cheeks fill with color and she immediately looks away, fumbling with the door-knob until she finally gets it and I follow her inside. 

It’s dark so we sit the candle on the table between the bed and the couch.  She digs around in the armoire producing sheets and an extra comforter for me, then grabs a pillow off her bed and tosses it my way. I take off my jacket and holster.  There’s a nervous tension in the air as she digs in the armoire for something to wear, “Madison said there were some pajamas in here but all I can find is slutty lingerie.” She holds up a fistful of lacy white, black and red stuff.

“Slutty lingerie works,” I say, unbuckling my jeans and stripping down to my boxers. She looks over at me and her eyes get wide.

She grabs a couple of white things out of the drawer and disappears into the bathroom. I smile and peel off the sweaty shirt, tossing it in the hamper.

A few minutes later, when she comes out of the bathroom, in a cloud of steam, wearing a bathrobe, I’m sitting at the table doing an inventory of the weapons we retrieved from my house. Her hair is wet and hangs down over her shoulders.  She glances over at me before climbing up into the big bed which practically swallows her whole.  Her head hits the pillow and I expect to hear some warning about keeping my hands to myself, but she just closes her eyes and passes out.

I slip into the bathroom, shower, put on the same boxers because my luggage is in the guest room Maddie assigned me, and when I come out she’s snoring softly.  Tip-toeing to the chair, I get my gun and stash it under my pillow. The minute I’m vertical, I’m lost to the world.

Chapter Thirteen

Trin

I wake up and I must have slept really hard because it takes me a second to process where I am. I look to my left and Logan’s is on the couch, asleep still, with his mouth slightly parted, and his tan ripped arm draped over the pillow I lent him. 

I decide to let him sleep while I take a shower.  The heat relaxes my tense, achy muscles.  I stay in so long that the bathroom gets all steamed up.  

I towel dry my hair and put on my robe so I can open the door to let some steam out. I peek to make sure Logan’s still asleep on the couch but he’s not. 

              I step out into the bedroom, “Logan?”

              No answer.

              His clothes are lying on the floor where he left them.  He wouldn’t have walked out into the hall in his boxers, would he?”  I open the bedroom door and look out.  “Logan?” I say, hearing my own voice echo down the vacant hallway, “Hello?”

             
No ones there!

              Shivers go up my spine and my heart starts racing.

I check the living room. Empty.

Kitchen…empty.  

“Logan?” I yell, hearing the panic in my voice.  “This isn’t funny. Where are you guys?”

              There’s no response.

              I run back to the bedroom but the hallway starts to shift. All of the sudden I’m in the upstairs hallway of
my
house.  Fear licks my skin and my heart is pounding so hard I almost miss the groan coming from my parent’s room. A scream bursts from me when I see Judge’s shadow on the hallway wall.  He steps out of the bedroom door and his mouth opens wide, so wide I can see down his throat.  His bright white teeth come to jagged points, like sharks teeth, and the skin around his lips begins to tear.  I can’t move as he lumbers my way, his mouth growing larger and more grotesque. 

              He reaches a beefy arm toward me and I try to turn and run but my feet are glued to the ground. 

              Since I can’t move, all I can do is scream.

              Then he’s tugging on me, pulling and pushing, up and down he shakes me, “Trin, wake up” I hear Logan’s voice and the dream explodes into a thousand tiny bubbles. 

              My eyes flutter open.  Sun is streaming through the windows and Logan is leaning over me, shirt-less, his butterscotch hair framing his face and his brilliant blue eyes filling with relief. “You wouldn’t wake up.” He leans back on his knees and rubs his eyes, “You were screaming.” 

              He helps me sit up and I notice that my clothes are soaked with sweat.  I swallow and my throat is sore.  “Sorry,” I reply, my voice hoarse. I take a deep breath and wipe moisture off my cheeks with the sleeve of my robe.

              “He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

              “I know,”
but I’m not sure Judge being dead matters
, I think to myself, and I silently wonder how long he will haunt my dreams.

__#__

              Madison stocked the armoire and closet with clothes for me so I take my time picking out a short black skirt, a black satin shirt with buttons up the front, black tights and shiny black knee high boots.  “Wow,” Logan says when I step out of the closet, “You look…”

              “Like a girl?” I offer as he stands there with his mouth hanging open.

              “I was going to say
hot
, but yes you
definitely
look like a girl.” He nods his head slowly up and down and the impish smile returns.

              He slipped out while I was showering and got his luggage, so he’s dressed already in black jeans, high-top bright white tennis shoes, and a ribbed white tank top with his shoulder holster over it and his black and grey tattoo peeking out from underneath.  I stand over his shoulder, alternating between studying the tattoo on his back and watching him clean his guns.  “Let’s go out on the balcony for a few minutes,” he says, tucking the guns into the shoulder holster.

              “For?”

              “You have your gun on you, right?”

              I lift up the front flap of my shirt and show him the holster hanging from my belt. His eyes get big and venture upwards.  I quickly put my shirt down again.

              “Anyways,” he says, shaking his head and looking down at the floor. “If we’re going to be apart today, I want to be sure you can shoot first.”

              “You don’t think I can shoot a gun?”
Can I shoot a gun?

He stands up, puts his jacket on, grabs a handful of bullets - from the open box on the table - and shoves them into his pocket.

              “No. I know you can shoot one, Snow, I’m just not sure if you can hit anything.”

              “Have you ever shot anything?”

              “I shot a man once.”

              I gasp and my hands go up to my mouth, “Are you serious?”

              He nods and opens the door, inviting me to go first.  “Tell me.”

              He shuts the door behind us and, instead of going right in the hallway, towards the kitchen and living room, he turns left.  He runs his hand through his hair and I watch his fingers slide down the back, noting the chunky sterling silver skeleton ring he’s wearing today.  “I think I was fifteen.  It was in the middle of the night.  I had just gone to sleep when I heard someone trying to get into the house.” Logan pauses to opens the door and we step out onto the biggest patio I’ve ever seen.  The bright light makes me squint.  I follow him over to the far edge by the stone ledge that comes up to our waists.

From up here you can see the entire plaza. I lean over the edge and my stomach shoots up into my throat. I turn to face Logan. “You were at the part where someone was trying to break in.”

  “Right. So, I waited for him to come through the door and shot him in the knee.”

              “You had a gun on you?”

              “I always slept with it under my pillow when it was just me in the house.”

              “Where were your dad and your brother?”

              “On tour in Iraq.”

              “What did the police say?”

              He shrugs, “What could they say? The dude was trying to rob us.”

              “What did your dad do when you told him?”

              Logan leans down and opens a plastic container taking out a bunch of empty beer cans and starts lining them up on the stone ledge, “When he came home, he gave me a pat on the back,  bought me these,” he stops and opens his jacket, pointing to the guns, “
and
he got me drunk for the first time. The next day he had two extra deadbolts installed on our front door and put up security cameras.”

              “Did you ever find out what happened to the guy you shot?”

              He takes my hand and pulls me about twenty feet away from the beer cans lined up on the ledge. “He went to jail.”