The Children and the Blood (16 page)

“They want her for something, Travis. When we were escaping, I heard them say they only needed one of the girls alive.

“And now Robert and Melissa are gone too. I don’t know what’s going on, but we need a place to hide till I can figure this out. That’s where you come in. If you’ll help.”

For a long moment, Travis stared at him. Efforts at humor flitted around his face, but couldn’t seem to find anywhere to land. “You realize this sounds insane.”

“You have no idea.”

Scoffing, the young man looked toward Lily. “And if it wasn’t for the kid sitting there, I’d tell you that was the most whacked out dream I’d ever heard.”

Travis paused, regarding the girl. “But just so you know, if you
are
some kind of sick pedophile drug dealer with a kidnapping scheme… this is the worst cover story ever.”

Cole said nothing, waiting.

“So how’d you get her away from those guys?” Travis asked curiously.

“The racing video games paid off.”

Shrugging an eyebrow, Travis glanced back at him. “And those freaks actually tried to
attack
you?”

He nodded.

“Damn.”

Travis fell silent, and in his eyes Cole could see the wheels turning. “But you don’t have any idea what this is about?” the boy continued.

He shook his head.

A smile pulled at Travis’ mouth. “Damn. This is
crazy
, dude.”

Cole nodded again.

“Okay,” Travis agreed. “Just so we both know that.” His grin widened. “So what’d you need from me in all this?”

“A place to hide. They’re looking for her, and maybe me too, and whatever they want–”

“Can’t be good,” Travis finished.

“Exactly. I’ve got to figure this out, but with Robert and Melissa gone…”

“So we keep an eye out for them, and if we see them again, we go from there. We can’t let those bastards catch the kid, right? So you’ve got to lay low till they make a move.”

He glanced at Travis, hearing copious amounts of first-person shooters and spy games coloring the guy’s words. “Okay, so…?”

“You stay here,” Travis said as though it was obvious. “That’s what you were hoping for, right? So yeah, you hide here. Preston never comes in my room and my parents are morons anyway. As long as we keep my mom from spotting the kid, we’ll be fine. Meanwhile, I’ll scout around town. Oh, but let me guess… the cops are in on it too?”

“Probably.”

Travis shook his head. “Bastards,” he said dismissively. “They’d have to be for the news to go on about so much ‘evidence at the scene’, or whatever it was they said. So we hide from the cops, and you lay low till the freaks resurface. Simple.”

Cole watched him. “You really believe me about all this?”

“Like I said,” Travis answered, grinning. “Worst cover story
ever
. I’ll give you enough credit, dude, that if you were going to lie, you’d come up with something more believable than this. She’s your long-lost sister or whatever. Not conspiracies for murder and ridiculous midnight escapes. Plus you both smell like you crawled through a swamp so, I mean… really.”

Hesitant relief moved through Cole as though uncertain whether it was in the right place. The whole nightmare was one big game to Travis, but that was fine. And if he was willing to accept Cole’s story as believable, so much the better. They could keep operating under the assumption it was just spy high jinks and potentially Cole’s lunacy.

There was no reason the guy needed to hear the rest.

He looked over at Lily, who was making every effort to appear engrossed in the idiotic rally racing game, while still glancing toward them every few seconds.

“You think we could get a change of clothes?” he asked. “She’s been in her pajamas since this all started.”

“Yeah, sure. Ellie’s got more than enough to spare. I doubt the little brat’ll even notice anything’s gone.”

Pushing off the couch, Travis headed for the door, only to pause thoughtfully. “So… how do you know I’m not in on it? I mean, this could be more of the conspiracy or whatever.”

Lily looked back, her eyes meeting Cole’s briefly before returning to the game.

“I don’t,” Cole admitted.

Travis grinned, obviously enjoying the answer. “Cool,” he replied, and then disappeared out the door.

Dropping the controller, Lily crossed to the couch, while behind her, the penguin crashed his rally car into the ice walls with a cartoonish display of disappointment.

“You okay?” Cole asked as she sat down next to him.

“We’re staying here?”

“Is that alright? You didn’t notice anything weird or…”

She shook her head morosely. “Not like Daddy. Not like the bad men. Not like you,” she listed the options. “Just… nothing.”

“The way that one guy felt?”

“Or the waitress.”

Cole glanced back at the door. Four categories then, in their crazy new worldview. Himself, the glowing men he could see, the bad guys she could see, and Travis and the waitress.

At least the latter group didn’t seem to be after them. Hopefully.

Studying her feet dangling off the side of the couch, the little girl sighed. “We’re not going home anytime soon, are we?” she whispered, only partly questioning.

He wasn’t sure what to say.

“And when Ashley goes looking for me… she won’t know where I am.”

Cole hesitated. “Ashley’s gone, Lily.”

She turned to him, almost fearsome certainty in her large eyes. “No, she’s not.”

He exhaled. “She was killed in the fire,” he said carefully. “On the cliff, after those men shot her.”

Lily’s gaze fell away, her determination dimming slightly. She shook her head. “She just doesn’t know how to find me. We got separated and now she’s lost. That’s all.”

Frustration rose in Cole, and he struggled to push it back. He’d gone for months after the robbery imagining his parents were still alive. He couldn’t begrudge her a bit of the same, especially since her loss was only a few hours old. And she’d have plenty of opportunities to accept the truth. A lifetime of them.

“We just need to stay here a while,” he said. “Till we figure out what to do next. Okay?”

She nodded reluctantly. “He’s goofy,” she said of Travis. “But he doesn’t feel bad.”

“That’s good.”

For a long moment, she was silent. “But I want them back,” she whispered. “Daddy, everybody… it’s not fair. I want them to come back.”

Tears slid from her eyes and her brow furrowed as she fought to keep the emotions at bay.

Hesitantly, he reached over, putting a hand on hers. “It’s okay to cry,” he offered quietly.

Lily shook her head hard. “Ashley’s strong. She’d want me to be strong too. Till we find her. Then everything will be alright.”

She trembled, holding the pain inside.

Cole watched her, remembering his ten-year-old self reacting so similarly. Daddy was strong. He’d want the same from me.

Pushing the memory away, he squeezed her hand. “You have to let it out, Lily. It’s hurting you. Ashley wouldn’t want that.”

A heartbeat passed, and then she looked up, fear behind the resolve in her shimmering blue eyes. “But it’s scary,” she whispered. “So much… it’s just so…”

He pulled her over and wrapped an arm around her.

“I know,” he said as the walls around her grief crumbled and she buried her head in his side. “I know.”

Hours drifted by. The cell bed creaked when she moved, and she could feel every twist of the metal springs through the thin mattress. Steel bars lined the front of the cell, and cement walls surrounded her on every other side. Across the concrete hallway, a narrow window hugged the ceiling, splintering the light with its own bars.

Shadows crept across the floor, tracking the passage of the last few hours of daylight. The cellblock was cold, and in the oversized sweatpants and shirt the police had provided, she shivered. They’d taken away her clothes upon bringing her to the cells, though they’d let her keep her shoes. Two female officers handed her the sweats and then watched her change with dispassionate eyes, before slipping her jeans and shirt into large plastic bags. Evidence, they’d explained. Because of the blood.

In the next cell, a drunk snored loudly, intermittently breaking the silence. Food had arrived a couple hours before, courtesy of a closemouthed officer who’d slid an orange plastic tray through a slot barely tall enough for a child’s arm. Though the drunk had thrown his dinner back immediately, where it now sat in cold lumps on the hallway floor, she’d nearly inhaled the meal, trying to fill the gaping hole where her stomach had been.

And time slid by, filled with snores and silence and a tiny ball of fire quivering inside.

Exhaustion pulled at her as she lay on the scratchy mattress, and memories and sleep interplayed through her mind, creating a reality all their own. In her dreams, the police’s story was true. Lily was fine. Missing, not dead, and still out there somewhere, waiting to be found. She could almost see the girl, so innocent and peaceful, her blue eyes twinkling as she smiled.

“It’s okay, Ashe. I’m right here. I’m safe.”

And then she woke up.

Tears traced paths through the dirt on her cheeks. Pushing away from the rough blankets, she drew her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly. Sniffling, she closed her eyes against the pain while snores echoed off the walls.

She wanted to go home. More than anything else in the whole universe, she just wanted to go home and have everything be alright.

The cellblock door clanked and the lock slammed back with a noise that ricocheted down the hall. Nervously, she looked up.

Two officers came down the hallway and stopped at her cell. While one watched her, the other pulled out a set of keys and then swiftly unlocked the door.

“Time to go,” he said.

She rose and walked to the doorway warily. The officer tugged a pair of handcuffs from his belt, and then jerked his chin at her.

Hesitantly, she held out her hands. The cuffs clicked around her wrists.

“This way,” he said, starting for the exit and leaving his partner to fall in behind.

She followed, while in the next cell, the drunk woke and began yelling for more food.

Malden glanced up as she stepped through the doors, and then returned his phone to his pocket. Pushing away from where he rested against the wall, Harris paused at the sight of her, and she could see him taking in the redness around her eyes. Blinking, she looked at the floor.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“FBI’s here,” Malden said shortly.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Oh.”

“Come on, kid,” Harris said, his voice kinder than his partner’s had been.

She didn’t resist as Malden reached over and grasped her arm, while Harris took the lead in escorting her down the hall. Behind them, the other officers turned to the cellblock and shouted at the drunk, who was steadily tearing his mattress apart.

The halls were a maze of taupe and tile, with archive rooms, storage closets and emergency exits providing the only break in the fluorescently lit monotony. Her sneakers squeaked on the linoleum, and by the time they reached the base of the stairwell, Malden’s grip was cutting off her circulation.

A voice echoed from the top of the stairs. “So I’m to understand there was no lawyer present when you questioned the young lady before?”

Her heart stopped beating. The world froze, taking with it all the air.

She knew the voice. She’d heard it the moment after her father died.

“No,” she begged as her heels dug into the linoleum, dragging Malden to a halt. Eyes locked on the stairway, she backpedaled. “No, no, no…”

“Quit it!” Malden snapped, trying to yank her forward as she fought to pull away.

Confused, Harris turned around and reached for her other arm.

“No!” she cried.

Heat.

Waves of flame rushing over her hands. Her arms. Her body.

And Malden screamed.

Through a curtain of fire, she looked at Harris as the molten handcuffs fell from her wrists. Tumbled back against the stairs, he stared at her, and then his gaze dropped to his partner.

She looked down.

Bubbling, shiny flesh. Blood everywhere. He was still screaming.

“Oh God,” she breathed. “Oh God…”

Her eyes rose to Harris as the flames around her died.

The man was coming. Any moment. He’d be here.

“I-I’m sorry. I–”

Harris fumbled for his gun.

She ran.

Sprinklers kicked to life and showered water down. Slipping on the wet tile, she slid and caught herself on the wall.

Bullets shattered the plaster beside her head.

Gasping, she shoved away and raced for the emergency exit at the end of the next hall. Shouting broke out behind her, and then she slammed into the push bar across the door and stumbled into the sunlight.

Claxons blared. Clutching the banister, she launched herself up the steps and out of the stairwell. Glancing back and forth frantically, she took off down the alley behind the station, and then skidded to a stop at the street. From the main entrance, people were calmly leaving the building. Across the road, others milled about in their designated evacuation places. Drawing a ragged breath, she darted out of the alley, ducked around the corner, and prayed no one saw her as she raced away.

Streets blurred. Sirens howled in the distance, though if they were approaching or not, she couldn’t tell. Alleys provided short-lived cover and intersections were a nightmare. People stumbled back and then stared in confusion as she rushed by.

Energy fading, Ashley pushed herself to run faster.

The alleys grew cluttered, and the buildings around them older and more rundown. Passersby mostly ignored her, though a few shouted insults for the police. The words were confusing, but barely had time to register. Sirens still rang, growing closer now she was sure.

She was wearing police department sweats. Their logos were on her legs and chest.

The realization cut through her panic, and then made it grow.

She had to get out of sight.

Stumbling to a halt in the middle of an alley, she looked around anxiously. Shops with bars on their windows lined the road ahead, and brick buildings flanked the alleyway. Graffiti covered the boarded windows to her right, while a wind-ravaged sign advertised a date three years previous for the grand reopening of the famous Plaza Hotel.