Two multiple-homicides in a 3-block radius, and I got the one with no survivors.
Dark backroom. Dead bodies still seated around a game of poker.
Each man was a high-ranking member of the Martinez Gang. Even if I didn’t know them from run-ins or rap sheets, the distinctive neck tattoos advertised it.
What is it about living teenagers that makes breaking into places after hours so appealing to them? I mean, look at me. I get rules. Don’t be seen, don’t be heard, don’t make mist unless the forecast calls for it. And curfew? I follow curfew every night. I’m only allowed out after dark, anyway.
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The book was lost. Of that, I had no doubt.
The problem was that it couldn’t remain lost. My life, as I knew it, as I longed for it to be, would not continue without the words my mother had left me.
The window was open just enough to let in the cool night air. It swam across her listless body and stirred the stench of rot that hung in the small space. She inhaled deeply and stretched her arms, feeling the weight of the heavy chains that wound around her wrists and attached to the thick metal rings bolted to the floor beneath the bed.
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“What were we looking for again?” Harvey asked.
“I already told you. I can’t remember the title, but I do remember the book had a bright blue cover.” Shelly picked up a book and showed it to him. “Like this one. Actually, that’s exactly the right shade.” She popped open the cover and began skimming the contents.
“Judith Wong?” Burke slumped. “You think Judith Wong is a Hungarian spy?”
“It makes perfect sense. Think about it!”
“Ok.” Burke made a show of thinking, then went back to looking weary. “There. Thought about it. It’s still crazy. Judith Wong is the most popular actress in the country, everyone’s favorite starlet.
“Who’s winning?” My girlfriend sat on the arm of my recliner and handed me a drink. She’d also brought one for my partner, Tommy. Pretty gracious, since she hated his guts.
He glanced at the open bottle with unbridled skepticism.
Molly glared at him, snatched it from his hand and took a long gulp.
The world jerks violently, snapping me out of my trance. At first, I’m too stunned to think.
The place I’ve woken in is dark. Enclosed. Unfamiliar.
Panic shoots through me, and I reach toward the walls shutting me in so tight I can barely move. The familiar fabric of my red sequined dress, tough and frilly, presses against my legs. But it’s a small relief.
“You wanted to see me?” I tried not to fidget, but anxiety hit every time I got called into the restaurant’s office.
“Where’s the silverware?” Mr. Jones glared at me, his already small eyes squinted.
“What silverware?” I smoothed the front of my uniform, an ankle-length black dress with a lace-edged white apron.
As head of security, Teddy saw every newcomer as suspicious, but the sixteen-year-old also hungered for news of life elsewhere. He lounged in a tattered lawn chair and set his hands onto the plastic folding table. The olive-green tent around him snapped against the poles as he waited to see why the boys on the watch had called him over, but the faithful shelter stood against an oppressive wind.
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Murph the Mooch had attained senility after decades of racketeering, contract murders, and domestic violence. Worse, he was cheap. Murph had required underlings to pay for their meals together, occasionally having them offed later that day.
And I needed to make Murph my best buddy.
Peter inhaled deeply, puncturing the quiet of the dark forest. One leg dangled from his perch on the tree, while his gaze remained fixed on the small village at the bottom of the hill. The bark dug into his back, but he reclined against it as if it were the most luxurious couch.
He couldn’t see her yet, but he would. Any moment now.
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