Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series) (12 page)

“Honey?” I asked.

“Your sister,” he said, walking out of the bathroom, not looking at me.

I followed him. “What?” I asked. I couldn’t have heard that right.

“Sasha,” he said. “She wanted to see you. She called me.” He looked up at me and seeing the angry look on my face, held up his hands defensively.

“You said you paid her back, not that you invited her for a visit,” I said, my voice rising.
I hadn’t seen her in almost two years.

I started pacing, unable to believe this was happening. “She can’t afford to come out to Tennessee — she has to work. She doesn’t have time to drive, and she can’t afford a plane ticket. Otherwise, she would have come to see me in Vegas.”
Or so she said,
I thought, bitterly.

“I bought her a plane ticket,” John said, packing the last few things and surveying the room. “I’m paying for the trip. And if she wants to come up to the house this fall, or for the holidays, I’ll pay for that, too.” He looked up at me, challenging me.

“Huh?” I just looked at him, incredulous. Now he was planning family holidays with my estranged sister? Part of me was thrilled that he’d thought ahead, and he’d included me in the picture —
he wanted to spend the holidays with me! Oh my god! I happily pictured a huge tree, a roaring fire, and having wine with Ian
— and part of me just wanted to slap him for meddling. I was
pissed
at Sasha. I was not ready to forgive her for abandoning me. For not replying to my emailed pleas while I cared for mom and then later, as I stripped away my time in Vegas.

“Liberty, I know what it’s like to lose your family. I know you’re angry with her, and I understand, but she’s your blood,” he said. “I won’t let you shut her out forever.”

“That’s awfully bossy of you,” I said, trying to control my temper. “I think I can make up my own mind.”

“Of course you can,” John said. “But do it after you’ve seen her face to face. Now let’s get going. Any more fresh talk from you and no Stop N Go Burger.”

Catherine wouldn’t look at me. She was handcuffed in the back of the van in her new clothes. They were a steep step down from her usual attire. Matthew had picked out a long-sleeve white tee shirt with a fluorescent-pink smiley face on it for her, pleated khaki shorts and white leather sneakers — the kind usually favored by grandmothers.

“Thanks for the dorky outfit,” she’d said nastily to him, when we first got into the van.

“Suits you,” Matthew said and smiled at her wickedly. She hadn’t spoken since.

That was fine with me. I sat quietly, watching the flat Texas landscape go by, hoping that we wouldn’t get carjacked by
Los Morales.
Every time I saw a Hummer, and there were a few, my heart stopped. But nothing happened, and we drove on in silence.

John came back at intervals to sit near Catherine. I let him be alone with her. She didn’t look at him, looking out the back window instead, probably hoping for gunfire to suddenly erupt.

I tried to calm the jumble inside my mind. It was pretty busy in there: I kept thinking about food (particularly burgers, milkshakes and French fries), Eva, sleep, sex, Catherine, the holidays, Sasha.
John.
His presence overshadowed everything else; nothing else was quite as important. Only the burger came second, closely followed by thoughts of my sister.

I was going to see Sasha tonight.
That was the thought I kept circling around. I was afraid to let it take center stage, to have to address it directly. So much had happened since I’d last seen her.

I hadn’t seen her since before Ray started going after me, since Mom had gone from bad, to worse, to almost dead, to dead. Sasha didn’t know about my real father, unless John had told her, which he might have. It was all mixed up in my brain; I couldn’t remember who knew what.

Sasha had never called me while I was in Vegas. She’d talked to John but never met him. She had to have some vague idea about what he did.
That
would be an interesting conversation. She didn’t have a clue about my time in Mexico. She’d just lent me the money. I hadn’t told her what I needed it for. It was none of her business.

All of a sudden I laughed out loud, earning funny looks from Sean and Matthew. I was picturing us all at dinner tonight. Me, Sasha, John, and Catherine — I could imagine her looking pissed, trying to drink chilled vodka while wearing handcuffs.

The fried chicken better be pretty freaking good.

“What’s that?” Matthew asked, turning from the front seat. John was still sitting in the back with the silent Catherine.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “My sister’s meeting us in Nashville. I was just picturing us all at dinner tonight — one big, happy family.” I giggled. It was going to be ridiculous. I could feel other eyes on me: I looked back and Catherine was looking at me with an expression of disdain on her face.

“What’s
your
problem?” I asked.

“You, among other things,” she said, turning to look pointedly at her father and then back out the window.

“Love the shirt,” I called back to her. I didn’t turn to look at her reaction; instead I watched as Matthew laughed without noise in the front.

John sighed behind me. His hopes for one big happy family, if he had any, were probably sinking fast. “I called your mom,” he said to Catherine.

“What’d she have to say?” Catherine asked flatly.

“She’s going to come out to see you,” he said. “She’ll stay for a couple of days.”

“Coming out
where
?” Catherine asked.

“Rhode Island,” John said, matching her flat tone.

“Why are you doing this?” Catherine asked, turning to him. “This is ridiculous. I’m an
adult.
It’s not like you can lock me up and homeschool me. I have a
life
— and it has nothing to do with you.”

“Catherine, I’m your father. I care about you,” he said. I could hear the pain in his voice, the guilt. “I wasn’t the best dad in the world. That doesn’t absolve me of responsibility for you.”

“I’m sure you feel guilty about what happened. And you should. A lot of it was really bad,” she said. “I was beaten, drugged, and raped. For weeks. By lots of different guys.”

She stopped for a second. Maybe she was afraid to reveal too much. “But it doesn’t matter now. Someone saved me. And you don’t know him, and you don’t know me — you never did.”

“I know he’s a criminal,” John said, not backing down. “I know what he does for a living. I know hundreds of people disappear or die in his part of Mexico every year.”

Catherine snorted. “You don’t even understand.
His
people are the only ones who care,” she said. “You’re so fucking American, John. So ignorant. The cartels are doing what they’re doing down there because there’s nothing else. They provide the only jobs. They’re the only hope. What’s the alternative — do nothing and starve? Wait for
Al Qaeda
to show up and start recruiting people?”

John sighed. “I understand what you’re saying,” he said. “But spare me the foreign policy lesson, please. I’ve been down there many times over the last six years, looking for you. The government was no help to me. That doesn’t mean I condone your boyfriend’s choices.”

They were both quiet for a moment. I tried to casually look over my shoulder and saw that they were staring at each other. Blue eyes to blue eyes, neither one backing down. They looked very much alike right now. I shivered at the thought.

“They are the enemy, Catherine, all of them. Even him,” John said.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “I owe him my life — I belong with him. So either you let me go or he’s coming for me. So just let me go,” she said.

“I can’t,” John said. He sounded hopeless, more lost than before. “I can’t.”

It was a long day. John sat beside me, silently checking his email, for the rest of the ride. I wanted to ask him what sort of cases he had now but didn’t. Catherine hadn’t moved. She was still looking out the window, her injured foot propped up, waiting to be rescued.

The bright spot was Stop N Go burger. John and Catherine stayed in the van. “Shouldn’t I take her to the bathroom?” I asked the guys, once we were inside. “We’ve been driving forever.”

“No,” Sean said. “We can stop on the side of the road somewhere. She’ll just make a scene here or run. Guaranteed.”

“She’s been turned,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “One hundred percent. She’s a believer.”

“Do you think it’s
reversible
?” I asked, while we waited in an endless line. “John mentioned something…some kind of syndrome hostages get, when they think they’re in love with their captors.”

“
Stockholm
,” Matthew said, nodding. “It could be. She needs intensive therapy.”

“She’s in love with him,” I whispered.

“That’s what it sounds like,” Sean agreed. “That’s some crazy shit.”

“One big happy family,” Matthew said, and laughed. “This makes my in-laws look almost normal.”

I just glared at him and waited. I was more than a little impatient for my 3x3 with lettuce, tomato and spread.
And don’t forget the chocolate shake and large fries,
my inner voice whined.
I’ve been waiting for those.

Don’t worry,
I thought.
I’m on it.
And I wasn’t planning on forgetting any of it, not a crumb. Not any time soon.

The sun hadn’t set all the way when we got to Nashville, but I wished it would. I was ready for it to be night. I didn’t want to see Sasha in the harsh light of day. I didn’t want her to see how skinny I was, or how much my face had aged over the past two years — even though it wasn’t wrinkled yet, it’d definitely changed. I think maybe I just looked harsher.

The world will do that to you.

John went into the back and took the handcuffs off Catherine. “I expect you to behave,” he said, coolly. “Otherwise, no cigarettes and no vodka.”

“Got it,” she said, and turned to me. “Are you going shopping while we’re here?” she asked.

“I think so,” I said, as the guys got out of the van, discussing something.

“Can you please buy me something to wear besides this stupid fucking tee shirt?” she hissed.

“Maybe,” I said. “But…” I hesitated. “Remember that game we played? The one you taught me: I do something nice for you, you do something nice for me?”

She just looked at me. “What,” she said, flatly.

“Please go easy on your dad,” I said. “He’s been so upset about you for so long. He really does love you.”

“You are so juvenile,” she said. “But whatever. Deal.”

“Just be nicer,” I said. “Nicer equals
Neiman Marcus
. Otherwise, I’m getting you a
Hello Kitty
sundress.”

“I told you — it’s a deal,” she said. “I fucking hate
Hello Kitty
.”

John stuck his head in. “You ready?” he asked us.

“Sure, Dad,” Catherine said, without a trace of sarcasm. John tried to hold back a smile. She shot me a look over her shoulder as he helped her out of the van, making sure I saw.

Maybe I was finally getting somewhere.