Bloodshot - Cherie Priest [101]
Everything was unraveling. I could feel it, my whole world being teased open, like a thread of spaghetti pulled twisting onto a fork.
But I listened, and listened, and listened.
Somewhere in the distance of wherever Domino had secreted himself away, I heard a digital pop—the kind you hear when people are using walkie-talkies, or those phones that come with that same function. It was chased by a man’s voice, confirming something.
“Affirmative.”
The phone shifted again in the boy’s grasp; I suppose he was bringing it back up to his face. “I can’t find Pepper,” he said. “I think maybe they got her.” He was whispering as only a kid who’s truly half afraid to death can whisper, but apparently he felt secure enough to do so. I thought maybe there was a metallic echo to the soft puffs of words, and I assumed he’d climbed up into one of Pep’s favorite old hiding spots—inside the square aluminum tunnels of the ventilation system. They weren’t original to the building, of course, but they’d been added by the man who’d owned it before me.
“Why do you think that?” When I spoke back to him, I was quiet, too. Didn’t want to give him away. “Did you see them take her?”
“No. I got here, and she was gone, and they were here. But they were talking about her.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he asserted, but I thought he was only assuming the worst. Like I’d blame him for it. Like I wouldn’t do exactly the same thing. “They found a dead guy in the basement.”
“Bullshit,” I said, too loud.
He replied, “No bullshit,” and if there’d been any less peril to go around, I fully expect that he would’ve sounded smug about it. Awesome. So he knew, or he suspected. But what did that mean, anyway? He’d always known, and always suspected.
When in doubt, change the subject. “Domino, tell me. Who are they?” The answer was more pressing than what they were going to do with Trevor, anyway.
“I don’t know.”
“What do they look like?”
His hair or his neck, or maybe a scarf went dragging across the microphone. He was looking out, checking to see again if they were close, or if he could see anybody. He said, “They’re all wearing black. They look like army guys. But some of them are in suits.”
“Great.”
“I don’t think it’s great. I think it fucking sucks!” His voice got a little too loud, just a squeak.
“I was being sarcastic. Stay cool, kid. Don’t get loud or get mad. That’s the most important thing, right now.”
“No. Finding Pepper is.”
Devoted little bastard. You had to give him that. “The two goals are one and the same. You can’t find her if you get yourself caught.”
“Maybe I can. At least if they catch me, they’ve caught us both and I’ll know where she is. I’ll know she’s okay.”
He was right. He’d also just revealed that he wasn’t positive they had her; otherwise, he’d have already joined the fray. I was pretty secure on this point, so I ran with it. “Forget it. Keep your head low and keep watching. Your little sister, she’s a damn good hider.”
“But they were talking about her.”
“What were they saying?” I asked.
“They said they thought she might still be here. They said they know someone’s inside. They’ve been watching.”
“They could’ve meant anybody.” I pointed out, “They could’ve meant me. I bet you a dollar she’s stashed someplace where they haven’t looked yet.”
“Make it fifty,” he said. Ah, greed and a sense of humor. Or grasping at straws.
“Very funny.”
“Raylene?”
“Yeah?”
He said, “They’re going to find us.”
“Why would you say that?”
“They’re looking everywhere. Floor by floor, moving things around. Taking pictures.”
If I could’ve cringed myself into a tighter ball and still remained upright, I would’ve done so. Pictures. Perfect. It was all crashing down, wasn’t it? All of it. Fifty years of accumulated wealth and work, right out the window. Was it my life savings? No, not by a long shot. But it was still an awful lot