Sitting on the floor of our house four days later, Amena said, “Okay, okay, everyone be quiet.”
She’d finally convinced me to watch the stupid Game of Thrones show and had cornered us in the living room with a giant bowl of popcorn. I had no idea what was happening in the series, but I figured I could watch at least one episode. I mean, hell, it was sort of embarrassing that a Syrian refugee knew more about American pop culture than I did.
The screen went through about a five-minute intro with something like a Lego set coming to life, wasting my time. I said, “Why am I watching this? I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not going to understand it.”
Amena hissed, “This is the one with Arya. Don’t talk.”
Jennifer snickered, snuggled into my arms on the couch, and whispered, “Just watch it. Don’t say anything.”
Amena was transfixed on the screen, slowly putting popcorn in her mouth, and it made me smile.
It had been four days since the actions at Slaven’s house, and so far we were in the clear. Nobody in an official capacity had made any connection to us, so I began to believe that Misty had taken my words to heart. The only thing on the news was that some crazy-ass woman had ripped through the place slaughtering everyone, and then had vanished.
It had been repeated breathlessly on the local stations, which gave Jennifer no small amount of smugness, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. The girl in the bed—Tess—had been transported to a hospital, where they’d found the beginnings of sepsis. One more day in that bed, and she’d have died.
The news also talked about the two dead men in Rita’s, and speculation was ripe that it was connected to the death house, but the police simply fell back to saying the investigation was “ongoing.”
I’d have liked to leave it all alone, but in the end, I’d had to tell Kurt Hale what I’d done. Not because I felt like confessing, but because Beth had said Slaven was using her to turn a man working at the naval nuke school. She’d told me Slaven had leveraged her to force him to provide information for later sale, and I’d searched his phone, finding that he had, in fact, sent contact information for a meeting.
That was more than I could resolve by myself. I’d contacted Kurt Hale and told him what I had. Which is a short sentence for what ended up being a very, very long conversation. In the end, I’d convinced him that I wasn’t, in fact, a lunatic, and that there had been a penetration of the Naval Nuclear Power Training School. He’d washed my connection to the information, contacted the right people from the FBI, and I’d gone to the meet site—a Mexican restaurant called Taco Boy on Huger Street.
Taking a seat on the outside deck, the tables around me full of FBI agents, I honestly hoped that Lannister wouldn’t show. Praying he’d decided his career wasn’t worth treason.
But he had.
I saw him at the entrance and felt a little sadness. He recognized me from the parking garage and had come right over. He’d said, “Okay, I couldn’t get much, but I got some stuff.”
I’d said, “Where is it?”
He’d passed across a thumb drive and said, “That’s the maintenance records for the last six months.”
I palmed it and said, “This had better not be a bunch of shit from the motor pool.”
He glanced left and right, then looked at me, saying, “It’s not. Trust me. We’re done now, right?”
I nodded and said, “Oh yeah, we’re done.”
I stood up and walked away. Twenty agents descended on him, slamming him into the table. I passed the thumb drive to the lead agent at the door and he said, “Thanks. We appreciate it.”
I said, “No problem.”
He palmed the thumb drive, paused, then said, “If you don’t mind me asking, who do you work for?”
Seeing Lannister McBride facedown on the table, a flurry of agents around him, and feeling the sleaze of the last three days, I said, “A Syrian refugee. That’s who.”
I saw his eyes cloud in confusion and left him there, walking to my car. Inside were Jennifer and Amena.
I got in the passenger seat feeling tired and dirty. I said, “Let’s go. Take me away from here.”
Jennifer did so and Amena said, “So you got the bad man?”
I said, “Yeah. I got the bad man.”
“Beth will be happy.”
And that brought a smile. Because she was right.
After the assault, we’d returned to the sleazy hotel and had rapidly packed up, cleansing anything that could point to us. Amena had asked a ton of questions and Beth had acted like she was unsure of her fate. We didn’t have the time to sort out anything right then because we’d left a houseful of dead people that was about to be ground zero for the greatest news story Folly Beach had ever seen.
I’d taken Beth in my car, and Jennifer had taken Amena, both of us driving back to our house on the peninsula.
During the drive, Beth had asked, “What are you going to do with me now?”
I’d passed her my cell phone and said, “Quit that. We already talked about what’s next. Call your father. Tell him you’re coming home.”
Stunned, she’d just looked at me. I said, “No tricks. Call him.”
She’d picked up the phone like it was going to explode and said, “You’re going to let me call whoever I want?”
I’d said, “Yes. As long as it’s your family. If he’s like me, he’s begging to hear from you. Like I was with Amena.”
She said, “I haven’t been allowed to talk on a phone that Slaven didn’t own since forever.” She dialed, but I could tell she was afraid to speak. When someone answered, she said, “Daddy? Is that you?”
And then the waterworks had started. By the time I’d reached my home she was blubbering so hard I doubt anyone on the other end could understand what she was saying. I’d parked behind Jennifer, and Beth hung up, staring at me.
I said, “We have a couch for you tonight. Sorry, I don’t have a spare bedroom.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed, saying, “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to give you.”
I hugged her back and said, “You gave me Amena.”
She’d sniffled, then nodded, unsure what to do next. I said, “But if you really want to pay me back, maybe you can give Misty a little help. I don’t think she has a family like you do.”
She’d nodded her head so hard I thought she was going to break her neck. She’d spent one night in Amena’s bed—Amena saying she’d sleep on the couch—and we’d taken her to the airport with a ticket I’d purchased for Colorado.
It had been a little emotional at the drop-off, with her breaking down yet again and Jennifer beginning to do the same. I’d hugged her and said, “Remember what we talked about. Just like Misty, you can say whatever you want, but don’t give away our identity. Just say you escaped from the motel.”
Beth had asked not to be identified to the police right away, and I’d honored that request. She’d said she’d contact them after she was home and I didn’t see a problem with it. After all, it wasn’t like there was anyone left to prosecute, and Misty had been in captivity longer than Beth. All Beth would be doing was confirming the information Misty told them.
She’d laughed through the tears and said, “I don’t even know your real name. I don’t know anything about you.”
I said, “You know enough to cause problems.”
“Why is saving me a problem? You should be on the news as a hero.”
Amena said, “He doesn’t like the spotlight. I don’t know why, either.”
Beth bent down and hugged her, saying, “He’s a pretty cool guy, huh?”
Amena took Jennifer’s hand and said, “Yeah, they’re both pretty cool. For old people.”
Beth grinned, then turned to me a final time. She hugged me, squeezing hard, and said, “I’ll keep in touch with Misty and Tess. They’ve got the police stuff to sort out here, and Tess will be in the hospital for a few weeks. but my dad says they can come stay when they’re done.”
I said, “I appreciate you helping them out. I’m sure they do as well.”
She said, “My dad’s starting a nonprofit to help people like me.”
“He is?”
She shyly smiled and said, “Yeah, I didn’t tell you before, but he’s sort of rich. He asked me to help.”
I grinned and said, “I think you’ll be perfect at that. Better than perfect. You’re the only one who knows what happens. You can save others who are lost.”
The shyness dropped away and she nodded fiercely, saying, “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
I was surprised at how quickly her courage had returned, given what I’d seen in the motel. It was a good sign. Jennifer pulled her close and said, “You can free more of them than we ever did, that’s for sure. Tell your dad that. Don’t quit.”
She said, “I’ll never, ever quit.”
And I knew she meant it.
She’d hugged Jennifer and then was gone, inside the airport and on her way to restart her life.
Two days later, I was being forced to watch a series about medieval folks on an ice wall bitching about the winter coming. But I had to admit, I liked Amena’s fascination with the show. I pulled Jennifer into me and felt content.
Then I saw some guy having sex with his sister next to a dead body, right on our television.
I snapped upright, flinging Jennifer off of me, and said, “What the hell are we watching?”
Amena turned to me and said, “What?”
I snapped up the remote, saying, “No, no, no, no.” I looked at Jennifer and said, “Did you know that stuff was happening on the show?”
She shook her head, saying, “I had no idea.”
Amena said, “Put it back on!”
I said, “No, that’s not going back on. You can see it when you’re older.”
She leapt up and said, “Pike! Put it back on.”
“No. It’s not going back on. You’re done with that series. Winter has come and gone.”
She scowled, crossed her arms over her chest, and I saw the war coming, like had happened six days ago. Jennifer gave her a gentle look and the scowl fell away.
Amena smiled and said, “Okay, Pike. Okay.”
Surprised, I said, “Really?”
She’d never wanted to listen to me before, always fighting anything I’d asked, like she was an outsider being forced to bend to my will. Now, she was bending all on her own. It was a breakthrough.
Amena looked at Jennifer, then me, and said, “Yes. Because you’re family. And I’ll never fight my family again.”