“HEY, ACE, IT’S ME, MATTIE. THAT IS, CHERRY.” Aynslee held the phone to Mattie’s ear and stood so her body blocked Mattie from the road.
Mattie still felt naked and exposed.
“Whatda you want? I heard you were dead.”
“I’m not. I need a fix. Something strong ’cause I’m in a lot of pain.”
“Yeah, right. You owe me for the last one.”
“I paid you.” Voices and the slam of the restaurant door made her duck. “I’ve got money,” she whispered. “I need some percs or kickers.”
Silence for a moment. “Thought you were getting off all that. Whatever. I can meet you—”
“No! You have to come here. And you have to drive me and a friend someplace.” She told him her location and where she wanted to go. He hung up after a few parting cuss words.
Mattie moved aside so Aynslee could hang up the phone. “Is he coming?” Aynslee asked.
“Yeah. He’s already south of town. He’ll be here in about twenty minutes.” The smell from the restaurant made her stomach growl, then made her want to puke.
“Let’s move away from the road.” Aynslee pointed. “We could hide behind those trees.”
“Good idea.”
“How are your hands?” Aynslee asked as they trotted toward the trees.
“Bad, but I’m tough,” Mattie said through clenched teeth. They ducked behind the nearest pine. She felt like a rat, slinking around. The forest behind her muttered like an old drunk talking to his paper bag of booze. She nudged the collar up on the stolen coat. She’d never liked the woods. Too many animals.
A van pulled in and parked near where they were hiding. A family piled out. “Loser.” Mattie whispered.
“Why?”
“He’s driving a minivan. Loser car.”
“Loser car,” Aynslee repeated. “Cool.”
The father lifted a small blonde girl from the rear seat, gave her a hug, and gently placed her down. “You’re the birthday girl, princess, so order anything you want.” He took her hand and led her toward the front.
The lights blurred together. Her broken fingers hurt less than the empty hole in her chest. Why couldn’t someone say that to her? Just once. She rocked back and forth slowly.
Aynslee gave her a quick hug. “He’ll be here soon. I’m sorry you hurt.”
Hot tears briefly warmed Mattie’s face, then chilled to icy lines on her cheeks. “S’okay. No one’s ever said ‘I’m sorry’ to me before.”
A second car parked, but no one emerged.
Mattie caught her breath. Ace?
The headlights flashed once.
Her heart pounded faster, making the pain retreat slightly. She jerked her head at Aynslee, checked the parking lot, then hurried to the passenger door. It opened, and she slid onto the warm seat. Her teeth started chattering, and she hunched forward. Aynslee hopped into the backseat.
The car reeked of cigarette smoke, dirty clothes, and body odor. Discarded fast-food containers littered the floorboards. The ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts.
“Give me the money or I’m dumping you right now.” Ace had a cigarette dangling from his lip and spoke around the smoke. He stuck out a dirty hand.
She awkwardly removed the wallet from her pocket, but before she could open it, he snatched it from her and lifted the bills. Swiftly counting the money, he grunted, then pulled out a plastic sandwich bag full of pills and tossed it into her lap.
Using both hands, she lifted the baggie to her mouth to open it.
He grabbed the bag and dumped out a small green tablet. “Open.”
She opened her mouth, and he tossed in the pill.
“Swallow it whole. Don’t chew it.” He folded the baggie and stuffed it back into his pocket.
She tried to gather enough spit, but the painkiller was like swallowing a boulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, the throbbing ache retreated.
“I kind of like this rescue stuff.” He leaned back and cracked his knuckles, then tossed his cigarette out the window. “Yeah. How about you giving me a thank-you gift? Maybe both of you.” He reached over and squeezed her leg.
A wave of disgust flooded her. “Don’t. Touch. Me!” Her voice was guttural with loathing.
He snatched his hand away like he’d placed it on hot coals. “Fine with me. Just don’t come whimpering to me again. Ever. Don’t need no gimp to work for me. Plenty of fresh meat out there.” Putting the car into gear, he spun his wheels on the gravel, fishtailed once he hit pavement, and raced down the street.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the blur of trees or flashing white lines. She wanted to pray, but didn’t know how. Or to whom.
When they reached town, he slowed.
“Aynslee, we’d better duck out of sight.” Mattie slumped in her seat until only her eyes were above the bottom of the window. Gaudy-colored lights from the downtown businesses danced like a stripper light show on the dashboard. He cranked up the radio, blasting her with heavy metal, and stepped on the gas. The lights disappeared.
“Turn up there,” Aynslee directed. “Now stay on this road for about six miles.”
No one spoke as the asphalt gave way to a graveled county road.
Finally, Aynslee leaned forward and pointed. “Stop there.”
He didn’t even bother to look at either of them, just slammed the brakes so hard Mattie flew forward. “It’s your funeral. Go turn a few tricks out here.”
They both jumped out.
He revved the engine. Aynslee pulled her aside as he reversed direction and spun his wheels, flinging gravel at them.
Dodging the small rocks, Mattie shot a few more cuss words at him, then stuck out her tongue. Aynslee stared at her.
“What?” Mattie asked.
“My mom would wash my mouth out with soap if I talked like that.”
“Well.” Mattie shrugged. “I don’t have a mom. And he deserved it. He’s a soggy wooker.”
Aynslee giggled. “What’s a soggy wooker?”
Mattie thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. I just like the sound of it.”
“Oh. Mom would call him a scumbag. But I like soggy wooker.” She pointed left. “We’re almost there.”
The dirt road stretched in both directions. The trees reached for Mattie on the right, and the splash of a creek reminded her that she still needed to pee. There’s nothing out there in the dark. Just deer and stuff like that. Bambi.
They started walking.
It took almost an hour for me to extract my car from the maze of trucks, people, and emergency vehicles. The car reeked of smoke and dog. Winston panted on the backseat, nervous, ropy drool hanging from his mouth. I’d get him water as soon as I got home.
Beth was going to be steamed at my leaving her at the hospital. Maybe I could do a portrait of her as a thank-you. Or better yet, paint Norman, her husband. I’d better start thinking of paying jobs as well. I was once again officially unemployed.
Beth must have been watching for me. She sprinted out of the hospital lobby and yanked open the car door. “Aynslee’s gone!”
I gripped the wheel tighter. “What?”
“Aynslee. And Mattie.”
“How—”
“Open window.”
“Get in.”
Beth jumped into the car. “I tried to tell him—”
I slammed the car into gear. “I’m dropping you off at your house.”
“What’s going on? Where have you been?” She looked in the backseat. “Why does your dog smell like smoke?”
“Someone blew up the animal hospital,” I said.
“Oh no, were any dogs hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
Her eyes grew shiny from unshed tears.
“This is twice that the Phineas Priesthood murderer has tried to kill Winston. Once when he called Dave and said my dog attacked Mattie, then today. I need you to take my dog. Norm can look after him—”
“Norm?”
“Tell him I’ll clean his fish for a month. I need you to call Dave. He’s not exactly talking to me at the moment. Tell him about the girls, then tell him Mattie said the killer was after Winston, Aynslee, and me.”
She gasped.
“Tell him about our ideas on tomorrow and possible Columbine-type action. It’s a long shot, but worth mentioning. I’m going home in case Aynslee’s heading there. If she’s not there yet, I’ll leave her a note and tell her to stay put and not answer the door for anyone, then I’m going to look for her.”
“Aren’t the police looking—”
“If she’s with Mattie, which I believe she is, she’ll be hiding from everybody. But she knows my car.”
“Where’s your cell phone?”
“At the hospital with my drawing supplies. If Aynslee calls you, tell her to stay put and call Dave to pick her up. I’ll check in with you.”
“What about calling Robert?”
I pulled up in front of Beth’s house and looked at her. “I . . . I think you’d better call him too.”