Last Breath (10 page)

“Can I help you, sir?” A fresh-faced kid—couldn't be older than twenty-five—gave him a salesman's smile.

“Yeah. I need a phone. And a service plan.”

The kid led Franklin around the walls of shiny phones in all colors. You no longer just spoke into the things. Now practically all of them took pictures and videos, and text-messaged. Some hooked to the Internet. Some had full keyboards like a computer.

“Don't need any of the fancy stuff.” Franklin grabbed a model from its stand. “I'll take this one.”

He waited impatiently as the salesman set up his service and phone number. “Your address?” the kid asked.

Franklin fished a piece of paper from his pocket. On it he'd written his new P.O. Box number and zip code. “Just got this.” He read it off to the salesman. The kid wrote it down.

Cell phone in his pocket, Franklin walked out of the store. He'd have to charge the phone for a couple hours. That was a problem. He might need it today. Where to plug it in while he was on the move all afternoon?

Stifling hot sun beat down on him as he stood on the street, thinking. Memories of prison flashed in his head. Right now it would be about lunchtime. A guard would be opening his cell, letting him out. He'd be walking along with the other inmates, wishing for eyes in the back of his head, highly aware of what every man around him was doing. Nerves on fire, muscles twitching.

Franklin glanced to his left—and spotted a police car. He froze.

The car drew closer, then passed by. The cop inside never even looked at him. At the next corner the cop turned.

Franklin exhaled.

The cell phone weighted his pocket. He'd have to check in for his flight early. Find an outlet somewhere in the airport and plug the thing in.

Which left him little time for the rest of his business.

He would not get close to Shaley and Rayne looking like some jailbird. He needed new clothes and shoes, plus a haircut.

Two blocks up Franklin saw a cab. He stepped into the street and raised his hand.

“Take me to the nearest mall,” he told the driver as he slid inside the car.

20

T
he meeting broke up. Morrey, Kim, Stan, and Rich milled around, kissing Mom and saying their good-byes. Each of them hugged me too.

A tour's end was supposed to be exciting. Mission accomplished, fans pleased—now for some much-needed rest. But cut off so suddenly, and under these circumstances, it just dragged everyone down.

It felt almost like someone had died.

I smelled a hint of Kim's spicy perfume as she drew me close. “'Bye, Shaley,” she whispered. “See you back home.”

Home
. My throat tightened. In a few days I would actually be
home
.

“Yeah.” I pulled back and gave her a wan smile. “See you there.”

Morrey ran his hand through the top of his black hair. “Take good care of your mom, now.”

“I will.”

As the four band members slipped into the hall, Ross hung back. “Be there in a minute,” he called. He motioned me toward a corner by the door.

Great. Now what?

Ross faced me, his back to Mom, and lowered his voice. “You can come back to the hotel with us if you want. The nurses are here to watch over her.”

“I know. But—no. I need to stay.”

“Okay.” He poked his tongue against his cheek. Clearly, he had more to say. “You know the police are looking for your father.”

I drew back.
Your father
. I didn't like the sound of those words, coming from Ross. As if the relationship-that-never-was linked me to the man responsible for three deaths.

My mouth firmed. “Detective Myner told me.”

“He told me too. I talked to him after your mom did. I made sure it was top priority with him. It's not safe for any of us as long as that man's on the loose.”

My gaze dropped to the floor. I knew it wasn't safe. I just didn't want to think about it.

“Shaley.” Ross nudged up my chin. “Don't do anything stupid.”

I screwed up my face. “Like what?”

“Like sneak out on your own. Like try to find answers the police should be finding.”

So that was it. While I'd been hiding in the bathroom, he'd apparently heard it all from Mom. How I longed to know about my father. How I wouldn't let the subject drop. Violation and betrayal kicked around in my gut.

My arms folded. “And why would I do that?”

Ross's stare bored right into me. “You're a teenager. They're known to do stupid things.”

“Yeah, well, in case you've forgotten, I don't have time for stupidity. I have to take care of Mom.”

“I know.” He held my gaze, silently hammering home his point. Then he backed up a step. “Okay, then.”

Ross turned around. “Rayne, I'm outta here. I'll be at the hotel if you need me.”

“Thanks, Ross. For everything.”

With a tight smile aimed at me, he left.

I stood staring at the closed door, visualizing Ross and the band members walking down the hall, slipping out a back entrance into a limo. I'd wanted them gone. But now the room felt so empty and silent. And behind me in the bed lay a mother who'd talked about me.

“Shaley.”

I faced her, my expression accusing.

“I had to tell him.”

I shivered. Had it gotten colder in here? “Had to tell him what? That I just won't leave you alone about my own dad?”

Mom's eyebrows drew together. “I didn't say that. Ross came to his own conclusions. I just told him about what I know of your father.”

“Hooray for Ross, hearing it all before me.”

“He didn't hear everything. Just the basics.
You
, I want to hear it all.”

I rubbed a hand across my forehead. “Well, now's as good a time as any.” My voice edged, but I didn't care. I was so tired of this.

“Come on over and sit down.”

As I crossed to the chair, Mom sighed. “I'm so sad about the tour.”

“Me too.”

I sat down, glancing at the clock. “Your lunch should be here soon.”

“Oh, joy. More hospital food.” She licked her lips. “What about yours?”

“I'll get something from the cafeteria.”

“You can't go down there alone.”

Air seeped up my throat. “Is this how it's going to be the rest of my life, Mom? Can't even go down an elevator in a
hospital
by myself?”

“No. Not forever. Just … until we get this sorted out.”

Great. And if the police didn't find Gary Donovon, then what?

I dropped into the chair. “So tell me—what made him go bad? What
happened
between you two?”

Part 6

Rayne 1992

21

W
hat happened? I'll tell you. It started with one niggling question that grew and grew in my mind: why wouldn't Gary ever allow me to go to his house?

By mid-April we'd been dating for over four months and really loved each other. Every chance we had, we'd be together. In the halls between classes, before and after school. Gary worked a lot, but he'd drive me home before returning to his own house to change into work clothes. On weekends after he got off work, Gary would come to my house, either to hang out there or pick me up to go out with friends.

And at least twice a month, a white rose, wrapped in green cello phane and tied with a red ribbon, would be delivered to my door. In it would be a note, always the same.

“You are my white rose. I love you. Gary.”

We talked about everything—except the one thing that ultimately would matter. Gary knew my deepest secrets. He knew about my longing to be a singer. The loneliness I felt over not having a father, or brothers and sisters. For all my popularity at school and my large group of friends, that loneliness could sometimes overwhelm me. When I had an argument with a girlfriend or my mom, Gary was there to listen. He'd let me talk it out, wait for me to calm down, then often say just the right thing I needed to hear. I learned to trust his insights.

For his part, Gary talked to me about his worries over his grandmother's health and his plans to study psychology in college. He told me about his distrust of the popular crowd at school, which is why he'd held back from talking to me for so long. He tended to view such people as fake and shallow. I had to admit, with some people, he was right. But as he got to know me and my friends, he saw us more for what we really were—struggling, trying to make sense of the world, just like everyone else.

Still, there was a big piece of Gary I couldn't reach—his private life with his grandmother. No matter how I tried, how many questions I asked, he
would not
let me in.

At first I pouted that he was ashamed of me. “Don't want your grandma Donovon to see me, huh? What am I, too ugly? Too fat?”

“You know you're the most beautiful thing on earth,” he'd reply, and kiss my questions away.

By February I'd decided his grandmother didn't exist. He lived alone, and he'd made her up so I wouldn't feel sorry for him. The pictures he'd shown me of a sweet-faced, gray-haired woman were of some lady who lived down the street.

The first time I told Gary my theory, he laughed. “Rayne, you sure can be crazy sometimes.”

But he still wouldn't take me to his house.

I would be turning sixteen in early May, which meant I'd
finally
get my driver's license. My mom had promised me her old Nissan. She was going to buy a new car. Well, used, but new to her. “Wait till I get my own car,” I teased Gary one Saturday night as we drove away from my house. “I just might go see your grandmother on my own while you're at work.”

Gary tensed. “Why do you keep coming back to my grandmother?”

“Maybe because I've never
met
her? I've never once seen your house?”

His lips firmed into a tight line. Suddenly, driving down a familiar street required his most rapt attention.

I folded my arms. “So what do you think? Will she like me?”

“Rayne.” His voice hardened. “
Don't
go by my house.
Ever
.”

I stared at him. He had never spoken to me in such a harsh tone. “Why? You know everything about me, Gary Donovon. You've seen my house and my mother a million times, and she loves you to death. You say you love me. But you won't even let me meet the one other important person in your life. Just what are you hiding? For all I know, you've got a wife at home.”

“Don't be stupid.”

“Well, what am I
supposed
to think?”

“You're supposed to trust me.”

“Trust you with what, Gary? To not give me answers? Not tell me the truth?”

He gripped the steering wheel. “Trust me when I say there's good reason to keep you away.”

Maybe I should have been more understanding. But after four months of this, I was just plain frustrated. “Fine. I will trust you. Just tell me the reason.”

“Rayne, I don't—”

“Tell me, Gary!”

He smacked his palm against the wheel. “
Why
do we have to go into this now? We're headed to a party, I've worked all day. Why can't we just have a good time?”

“Because this isn't just ‘now,' that's why. You've been hiding something from me ever since we started dating. And no matter how much I pour my heart out to you, you still hold back. You want to know how that makes me feel? Like you don't
care
about me enough to think I'll understand.”

A light in front of us turned red. Gary braked hard. He wouldn't look at me.

Okay. I'd had it. “Gary, if you don't tell me right now, you can just take me home.”

His eyes narrowed. The line of his jaw turned to granite. “Fine, Rayne.” His shoulders dropped. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with resignation. “Maybe I just should then.”

Fear for him stabbed through my anger. I'd never heard him sound so depressed. I touched his shoulder. “Please tell me. What is it?”

He focused on the light. It turned green. He hit the accelerator.

I sat twisted in his direction, not taking my eyes off him. And I
wouldn't
stop staring until he answered my question.

Gary sighed. “My neighborhood's … not safe.”

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “There are some nasty people living around me.”

I processed this. “Then why do you live there?”

“It's my grandmother's home. There's no place else to go.”

“Why don't you sell it and move somewhere else?”

His face darkened. “Rayne, drop it, okay? You
don't
know what you're talking about.”

“I was just—”

“I said drop it!”

I turned away and slammed back against my seat. Anger wafted from me in waves. We simmered all the way to the party, not saying a word to each other. All evening we stayed on opposite ends of the room, talking to other people.

The ride back to my house was quiet.

We didn't make up for four days.

After that, for the next three weeks until I got my license and car, we talked and hung out, trying to be with each other like before. But things weren't the same. You've heard the saying about the elephant in the room no one will talk about? That's what it felt like. This giant
thing
sat between us—and neither of us wanted to face it. But I knew we couldn't last this way. I felt cut to the core that he wouldn't tell me what was wrong.

As the days wore on, that hurt turned to doubt. If Gary couldn't trust me with this, why should I trust him? Maybe he was involved in something he didn't want me to know about.

Sometimes even now I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't taken matters into my own hands. If only I could have seen the future then. Maybe everything would have turned out differently.