Betrayed (3 page)

"Where's Rae?" The words just came ripping out, like a burp after chugging a big gulp of Coke. "You meeting her
here or something?"

"Oh, I've already seen Rae," Yana answered. "And I'm hoping I never see her again."

"Huh?" There was still too much blood slamming around in Anthony's brain from practice. He wasn't getting her.

"Rae's still acting like the little rich girl who has to save all us commoners from our horrible little lives," Yana told
him, her blue eyes narrowed into slits. "I just thought you might want to know that."

"What?" Anthony kept walking. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to be having. Just talking about Rae kept
giving him flashes of that kiss.

"She wrote a letter to my dad saying that he wasn't treating me right. Can you believe that?" Yana demanded. "I
mean, did she not learn anything from the fiasco of finding your dad in, you know?"

In prison, Anthony silently finished for her. He ran his fingers through his damp hair. "She was just trying to-"

"You're not going to defend her, are you?" Yanainterrupted. "Don't bother. I know exactly how pissed off at her you
were. I was there, remember?"

"Yeah," Anthony said. What did Yana want from him? Had she sat through practice just so she could rant about
Rae? "Look, I gotta go in," he told her when they reached the door to the locker room.

"You want to meet up later?" Yana asked abruptly. "Go dancing or something? I swear, if I don't do something
active, I'm going to human combust. Every time I think about what she did, I just-" Yana let out a shrill shriek.

Anthony frowned. Didn't she have any other friends? Or a boyfriend, even? She seemed like the kind of girl who'd
have a bunch of guys she could snap her fingers at whenever she wanted one. "I'm not really a dancing-" Anthony
began.

"You were fine in New Orleans," Yana said. "And I hate going out by myself. I don't want any slimeballs hitting on
me. I just want to dance."

Anthony shook his head. "I have to-" What? he asked himself. Go home, deal with the rug rats, and, uh, try not to
think about Rae.

"It's not just the Rae thing," Yana added when Anthony didn't finish. "My dad basically told me he wants me out of
the house until late. Some hot date with some flavor of the hour. Like I'd want to be there to witness that."

Anthony understood that. Big time. His mother had dragged home quite a few semihuman specimens. Anthony'd
spent many a late night taking the kids to movies or McDonald's to get them out of the way. He felt a twinge of
sympathy for Yana. Maybe she was asking him because she knew he'd get it and her other friends wouldn't.

"Sure. Why not? Where do you want me to meet you?" he asked. "Club 112 at nine," Yana told him.

"Okay. See you there." Anthony headed into the locker room and stripped when he reached his locker.

"Who's the girl?" Sanders yelled as soon as Anthony stepped into the steamy shower room.

"Nobody," Anthony answered. He tilted back his head and let the water pound his face.

"You're not getting out of this. We all saw her," McHugh said. "Is she from your old school? Does she have a
friend? Because I heard some very interesting things about Fillmore girls that I'd like to check out for myself. I mean,
they're supposed to be wild, right?"

"Very nice, McHugh," Marcus commented. "So do you have something going with her?" he asked Anthony.

"Yeah." The word just popped out of Anthony'smouth. Why not let Marcus think he was with Yana? It would make it
easier to leave Rae alone. Until she and Salkow got back together. Because they would. Everyone at school knew it.

Rae got off the bus and started down the block. Her heart began fluttering in her chest when the Motel 6 came into
sight. They're not still there, she told herself. But the frantic beating of her heart didn't slow down.

Reluctantly she climbed the outdoor staircase to the second floor, the same staircase Anthony had carried her
down. He would have come with me, she thought. Even if he's avoiding me, he wouldn't have wanted me to come
here by myself.

They're not here anymore, she told herself again. You don't need Anthony for protection. And besides, after that
scene with Yana, Rae had wanted to be alone. Now that she was actually here, she wanted that a lot less. But the
men aren't here anymore, she thought again.

But where are they? she couldn't help wondering. She snorted. Maybe the first question she should be asking was
who were they. She knew who one of them was. Well, not really. She knew one of them had gotten into her
backyard posing as a meter reader. She'd even talked to the guy-which waswhy she recognized his voice when he
had her tied up in the motel room. But it wasn't like knowing that one of the guys was the fake meter reader did any
good. It wasn't like she could give the cops a name or anything.

The woman who had called her and told her to come to the motel said that Aiden wanted to meet her. So there was
a slim chance that the other guy was Aiden Matthews, the guy Rae and Yana had run into at the Wilton Community
Center when they were trying to get information about Rae's mother. Rae hadn't heard the second man's voice, so
she couldn't be sure if he was Aiden or not.

But it just didn't make sense. She hadn't gotten the sense that Aiden would be capable of something like that. And
besides, when you were going to kidnap someone, you didn't announce who you were.

Rae froze. Unless you planned to kill the person you kidnapped. Then it wouldn't matter. God, was the other guy
Aiden? What did he know about her mother? From touching his fingertips that day at the center, Rae had picked up
the fact that Aiden knew her mother had been experimented on. Had he actually seen the experiments? Had he
done them? Had he tried to help Rae's mother? Was he so freaked out that Rae would find out the truth about what
happened to her mother and the other women in herNew Agey group that he was willing to kill Rae?

Rae's heartbeat accelerated until it was beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. "One thing at a time," she
whispered, taking a little comfort in the sound of her own voice. "You're here to check the room. Think about the
rest later." She climbed the last few steps and shoved on the metal bar that opened the door. She didn't pick up a
single thought. So not a single print. Which was weird. The Motel 6 wasn't the kind of place they cleaned to the point
of spotlessness.

But maybe I just hit the day of their monthly supercleaning, Rae thought. It doesn't have to mean that somebody-like the fake meter reader or Aiden-came back and cleared the place of any evidence.

Rae made her way down the hall and stopped in front of room 212. Her head felt weightless, like it had turned into
a helium balloon, and she swayed on her feet. Don't lose it, she ordered herself. This is not a place you want to end
up fainting.

She gave her head a hard shake, and some of the strange balloon-brain sensation disappeared. Okay, probably
not much point in checking 212, she decided. The guys probably wore gloves in there. She might have better luck in
the room across the hall, the room where she'd been taken to go to thebathroom. The men might have been more
careless in their room. If they left a few prints, Rae could end up with some valuable info.

So the first thing I need to do-duh-is get inside the room. Rae spotted a cleaning cart near the end of the hall and
trotted toward it. The door closest to the cart stood ajar, and Rae poked her head in. "Uh, hi," she said to the
cleaning woman. "I was in room 213 last night, and I think I left my notebook in there. Do you think maybe I could-"

Rae's words trailed off. The cleaning woman was just staring at her, face expressionless. Rae felt like she'd have
more luck talking to the wall. "It would just take a minute," she added. The woman still didn't say anything. What
was her problem?

Money. Maybe she wants money. Rae fumbled for her purse, letting her old thoughts rush through her mind
without focusing on them, managed to unzip it, and pulled a twenty out of her wallet. She dropped it as she tried to
hand it to the woman. "Sorry," Rae muttered. She reached for the twenty, but the woman was faster. She had the bill
in her pocket before Rae's fingers were halfway to it.

"Come on," the woman said. Without another word, she led the way down to room 213 and unlocked the door.

"Don't take all day about it," she told Rae, then headed back toward her cart.

Rae ducked into the room and closed the door. She got nothing off the doorknob, and the air was thick with the
smell of disinfectant. Doesn't mean there isn't a print they missed, Rae told herself. She started her search with the
dresser, running her fingers over every inch. Nothing. Her fingertips ended up coated with oily furniture polish, so
she headed into the bathroom and washed her hands, then continued the search. Medicine cabinet. Nothing. Hot
and cold water taps. Nothing. Towel rack. Nothing. Toilet handle. Nothing. Little window. Nothing. Water glasses-clearly fresh with their little accordion-pleated paper tops.

Okay, okay, back to the main room. TV remote. Nothing. Phone. Nothing. Phone book. Nothing. The cleaning
woman wouldn't have wiped down the phone book. Clearly somebody else had gone over the place. And gee, I
wonder who? she thought.

Headboards on the two double beds. Nothing. Thermostat, nothing. Nightstand. Nothing. Bible. Nothing.

What else? What else? Rae surveyed the room. What had she missed? Her eyes darted back and forth, searching,
searching. I know! she thought. The little plastic thing on the end of the curtain pull. She rushed over and ran her
fingers over it. Nothing. Gotta be something else, she thought.

Light switches! Everybody touched those. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Rae tried the bedspreads, even though the strong scent of detergent made it seem unlikely she'd find anything.

And she didn't.

All right, I know, or at least I'm pretty sure, that they were listening to me and Yana. So there was probably a bug in
our room. And whatever they were using as a receiver, they probably took with them. So that's not helping at all.

Rae checked the wastebasket-empty-then searched it for prints and got, of course-nothing. What else? she
thought. The closet. With two long steps she reached it. The doorknob was clean. So was the shelf. And the folding
thing you could unfold and put your suitcases on. She slowly closed the closet door and studied the room again.

I guess I should look under the beds, she decided. Just in case. She walked over to the narrow space between the
beds and stretched out on her stomach. The carpet smelled like beer and shampoo and old vomit. Rae covered her
nose with one hand and peered under the bed to her left. Nothing. She turned her head to the right. Noth__

Wait. There
was
something there. Something that glistened in the dimness. Rae stuck her head under the bed. Just
a little clear piece of plastic, but shemight as well check it out. She stretched out her hand, straining until she felt the
muscles in her back cramp. Then one finger brushed up against the cool, slick surface.
killed her mother

The thought ignited her finger as if it was the tip of a long fuse, a fuse that ran up her arm and deep into her chest.

Rae ran her finger across the piece of plastic again.
killed her mother

The flavor of the thought was a little familiar. The inside of Rae's head itched as she struggled to pinpoint who it
reminded her of. "Who is it?" she muttered. "Who?" And finally it came to her. And it was no surprise-the thought felt
like it came from the fake meter reader, one of the men who held her prisoner.

Rae couldn't stop herself from touching the piece of plastic again. The spark that had started on her finger
traveled farther up the fuse.
killed her mother

My mother? she wondered. Did that man kill my mother?

The spark reached her chest. And Rae's heart exploded.

The little dance floor of 112 was packed. Anthony didn't have room to do more than sort of rub upagainst Yana in
time to the music. Which was fine by him. He was a lousy dancer, anyway. And the sensation of Yana's body
repeatedly brushing against his-well, it was nice. Although if he was this close to Rae Crap. He'd done it again. He
was here with Yana so that he wouldn't be sitting home, thinking about Rae until his brains started oozing out of his
ears. But every few seconds Rae would appear in his head, and she'd be looking at him the way she had in the
Motel 6 parking lot, and he'd be falling again, falling into the blue of her eyes.

"I wonder what Rae and the King of Wonder Bread are doing right now," Yana said, speaking right into his ear so
he could hear her over the pounding music.

"Huh?" Anthony mumbled, still halfway submerged in the memory of Rae's eyes.

"You know-Marcus. What do you think he and Rae do for fun?" Yana answered. She threaded her fingers in his
belt loops and pulled him even closer. "Go on-line and check their stocks? You know Rae got a lot of money when
her mom died, right? Well, at least her dad put it in an account for her."