Jade returned about midday. She jumped into the basement room, but Amanda’s hopefulness quickly dissipated. Jade wore a long frown and shook her head at them.
Jade opened her hands, palms up. “I’ve got nothing, guys. I can’t get any leads. Any opposition people I know are either hiding or in jail.”
Dawn lifted her head up from her slumped position. “Can’t Carter do anything?”
“You know he’s a member of the NCP. He only helps me out because he likes how I look.”
“It’s only been a few hours.” Chiara attempted a smile. “It’s not likely you’d find anything so quickly.”
Jade rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t be so hard if there weren’t a million JPD officers around everywhere.”
Larry rolled a toothpick between his pointer finger and thumb. “So, Sauron the Great left his hold in Mirkwood and now reigns in the Dark Tower of Mordor, eh?”
“I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about.” Jade scowled. “Maybe you can make some sense for once and do something to help us!”
“Don’t waste your time,” Dawn said. She picked at the roll from earlier, putting tiny crumbs into her mouth. “He’s off his rocker.”
“How’d he end up here with both of you?” Amanda asked, still watching Larry, who now pulled a small notebook from his pocket, along with a golf pencil, and began writing—seemingly oblivious to them and the conversation.
“I went into a restaurant to order some food.” Jade took a seat near them. “Larry sat at the bar, a drink in his hand. When I left, he followed me. I shouted at him to leave me alone, but he said he wouldn’t hurt me—he just needed a place to sleep that night.”
“That was five whole months ago.” Dawn creased her forehead. “And he’s still sleeping here!”
Jade shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t hurt us at all. I mean, he’s harmless.”
Joe narrowed his eyes. “Seems to me the crazy ones can come pretty unhinged when you least expect it.”
Larry’s voice thundered above the conversation as he paused, his pencil midair. “Is Mr. Heathcliff a man? If so, is he mad? And if not, is he a devil?”
“See what I mean? Gibberish!” Joe snickered.
“No, not gibberish.” Amanda shook her head. “He’s quoting Wuthering Heights.”
“Huh?” Joe wore a blank face.
“You’ve never heard of it? It’s a work of classic literature.”
“You forget,” Chiara said, an arm around Joe, “we aren’t all Academy graduates.”
“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t pick up a book every now and again. You two do know how to read.” Amanda gave them a knowing look.
“Nah.” Joe sat back, stretching his legs. “I’d rather just watch the movie.”
Jade laughed, clearly sympathizing with Joe and Chiara. The three of them fell into a conversation about movies, a new, refreshing topic that seemed to revive them and offered some distraction from their plight. Amanda didn’t partake. She didn’t watch many movies, much preferring books instead.
After a few minutes, she stood up and knelt next to Larry. He hummed “Hotel California,” just loud enough for her to hear, and flipped through the pages of his little notebook.
She cleared her throat a little. “Tolkien, Brontë, Orwell—you’re very literary.”
“Eh?” Larry chewed on the pencil’s eraser. “Urinary? Toilet’s back there in the corner if you need to use it.”
“I—I’m good, thanks.” Amanda paused, debating how to proceed. “My favorite author is Dostoyevsky.”
Larry’s lazy eye rested on her. “Those be fightin’ words, little lady.”
Amanda opened her mouth to answer, but he continued before she could say a word.
Larry dropped his voice to a low murmur. “A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man’s mind. Who knows what might be the target of the well-read man?”
“The problem is that not everyone is a well-read man today.” Amanda stared at her shoelaces. “And those who are educated are reading the wrong kinds of books.”
Larry had resumed his scribbling without commenting.
“What brought you here?” she asked.
He winked at her with his good eye. “The circus didn’t need any more clowns.”
She gave him a half-smile but wasn’t ready to give up. “Why is the JPD after you?”
“Who said they were after me? Maybe I just like it down here. Great ambiance, no?”
Larry stood up and bowed, tucking his notebook in his Hawaiian shirt pocket. Without further ado, he climbed through the window and disappeared.
Dawn huffed. “Gone drinking, I suppose.”
Jade kept them company the rest of the afternoon, but when night fell, she also left, determined to find a lead and some food. Dawn had become very sullen—she said a severe migraine plagued her. She lay prone on the floor, unspeaking.
Joe, Amanda, and Chiara stared at each other in the shadows. Twenty-four hours had passed since they entered the basement. They seemed no closer to finding their dad and the opposition group.
Joe paced back and forth, running his hand through his hair, a gesture Amanda recognized from his dad. “Man, I’m going stir-crazy here. In another day or two, I’ll be as loony as Larry.”
Chiara cupped her chin in her hand. “We might end up like Dawn—trapped in here for months without a way to escape.”
Amanda bit her lip. “Don’t say that.”
Joe put both hands on the windowsill and began to pull himself up.
Chiara flew to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I gotta get some fresh air.”
“No!” She rushed to Joe’s side. “What are you thinking? Someone could see you!”
Joe sighed. “There’s no one even freakin’ out there. Chill, alright?”
Chiara placed her hands on her hips. “You know there are JPD officers crawling all over the place. It’s just our luck that you stick your head outside and they’ll happen to see you. And then everything’s ruined!”
“Oh, come on! It’ll be for like five minutes. There’s a dumpster right outside the window. I might find some leftover food in there.”
Chiara scoffed. “Like some soggy fries from a few days ago are worth it. Don’t be so stupid.”
“So now I’m reckless and stupid, huh?” Joe’s cheeks began to turn red.
Amanda, silent, watched the two of them. Their disagreement pained her, but part of her found some degree of selfish consolation in it. Every touch of affection, word of support, and look of devotion exchanged between Joe and Chiara reminded Amanda of the man she loved … and who didn’t love her in return. It was hard to play third wheel to the world’s most perfect couple. Sure, Joe and Chiara didn’t have an Academy degree. They were young, inexperienced, and ignorant in the eyes of the world. But Amanda knew enough by now that Joe and Chiara’s love mattered more than degrees and accolades. And compared to them, she was a mere pauper: Ethan had stolen her love—spat upon, rejected, and tarnished it. He left her penniless.
Chiara’s eyes began to fill. “Alright, fine. Go outside. Who am I to tell you what to do, right?”
Joe spun around and put one hand back up on the windowsill. Then he paused for a long moment, unmoving. He turned around again, looking at Chiara. He shrugged, his voice lower and more deliberate. “You know, it’s really not that important.”
Chiara frowned and glanced down. “No, I mean, if you really want to go out for just a minute … it’s not that big of a deal. You’d probably be perfectly fine. I’m just overreacting.”
“Nah, I don’t have to go.” Joe walked over to her and, with both hands cradling her chin, gently raised her face to look at him. “Who are you to tell me what to do? You’re only the most important person in the world to me.”
Chiara threw her arms around him and he spun her around, her heels leaving the ground. A moment later, they both began laughing and Joe brushed a piece of hair from Chiara’s face.
Amanda excused herself, claiming that she needed sleep. Sleep wouldn’t help her though. She crept over to her book bag in the other corner, placing her head on top like a kind of pillow. She waited as Joe and Chiara whispered together, their arms around each other. In time, their whispering faded away. Chiara’s head rested on Joe’s chest; his arms wrapped around her. They slept. Amanda did not.
She stared at the dark ceiling and saw Ethan’s hazel eyes. She heard his voice in her memory, words like knives cutting her inside … the last words he said to her: See you, Amanda. See her when? He was probably already hobnobbing about Antwerp by now. In a matter of days, he wouldn’t even think about her—maybe she had already left his thoughts. How large of an impact could she have made on his life if he could walk away from her so easily? She had just been a blip, a tiny dot in the diverse, eclectic range of experiences he collected from life. She could never have meant to him what he meant to her.
She pulled the zipper on her bag, inching it open and trying not to awaken the others. One by one, she removed the items inside: some art supplies and sketching paper, a box of matches, a few seashells she had found in Plymouth, the piece of paper with Raeley’s name and number on it, and then … Amanda lifted out the canvas at the bottom of her bag. She stared at the image, painted so long ago in her childhood. How even younger she seemed, that girl who painted this so many Christmases ago.
This one painting represented her treasured possession. She shifted a little on the floor so the beam from the nearby streetlight landed on the image, illuminating it. Amanda stared at the painting of herself, holding the umbrella formed of three interlocking hands. The raindrops fell as tears all around her, but she stared at the puddle before her … the puddle that once held the beautiful, ethereal face of the woman—the Mother who had spoken to Amanda in her heart, thanking her for helping Ethan. The Mother was no longer there though; Amanda and Ethan had profaned her cherished work and now an empty hole remained. She had nothing else to remember Ethan by, no photograph of them together, no special memento he bought for her on a special occasion, no love letter … just a destroyed painting. She fingered the frayed canvas, just as he had touched it that night. This was all she had of him … and it was nothing.
Footsteps pummeled the alley outside, along with the stifled sound of cries. Joe and Chiara awoke. Amanda threw the contents of her bag back inside and sprang to her feet. A moment later, Jade jumped into the basement room, her face stained with tears and her hands shaking. Her jeans had a tear at one knee, revealing a bleeding cut. Her hair looked tousled and both shoelaces had come undone.
Dawn gasped and stumbled to her feet as well. “Jade! What is it? What happened to you?”
Jade ran to Dawn and began crying, her shoulders heaving. Dawn caressed her back and held her. Joe, Chiara, and Amanda exchanged worried glances.
“Check there’s no one following her,” Chiara said under her breath.
Joe half-raised his head out the window, staring left to right. He came back inside and shook his head.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Dawn asked.
Jade took a shaky breath. “I—I’ll try.” She rubbed her eyes. “I found someone I thought could give us some information. I thought I recognized him as one of the guys who worked at the food pantry we used to go to. So, I figured he was safe. I found him in a bar and waited for him to leave.”
Dawn tsked. “You shouldn’t be out alone at night, talking to strange men you don’t know.”
Jade’s eyes blazed. “It’s never been a problem before! And I would’ve been okay tonight, too, except this guy ended up a turncoat. I was exactly right: he had worked at the church. But then he went over to the NCP. I only said a few sentences before he grabbed my arm and began pulling me toward his car. I started fighting him tooth and nail—I bit him and kicked him. He started swearing and saying he’d make sure the JPD took good care of me. He had his car door open and I began screaming. I didn’t care if I woke the whole city.”
Chiara stared, wide-eyed. “How did you ever get away?”
Jade’s lower lip trembled and she turned white as a ghost. “As I screamed, there was a gunshot. The guy fell to the ground, dead, his brains blown out.”
“Who did it?” Joe demanded.
Jade stared blankly ahead, her mouth ajar. “Larry.” She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “Larry shot him.”
“Larry!” Dawn’s jaw dropped open.
“How … where … Larry?” Joe furrowed his brow.
“He must have been in the bar and heard the noise outside or something …” Jade turned to them, mystified.
“But how’d he know it was you who needed help?” Joe scratched his head. “There’re street fights and arguments all the time.”
“Maybe he followed you without you knowing it?” Chiara offered.
Dawn raised her eyebrows. “Still seems pretty incredible he happened to be in the exact right spot at the exact right time.”
Amanda’s heart began beating faster as a possibility arose in her mind. The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Maybe,” she breathed, “he’s an angel!”
A moment’s silence followed. Dawn, Jade, Joe, and Chiara turned and stared at Amanda.
Amanda shuffled her feet, her cheeks burning. “I mean, it could happen … right?” She smiled weakly at them.
Joe snorted. “Well, if he’s an angel, he’s a killer angel.”
“Let’s stay focused on the facts.” Chiara looked at Jade. “What happened next?”
“Larry gave me this.” Jade pulled a wad of cash from her pocket and turned to Dawn. “It’s enough money to buy whatever you need: medicine, blankets, food. You’ll finally be comfortable and have what you need.”
Dawn’s eyes filled and she hastily wiped a tear that escaped down her cheek. “I can’t believe it. Where did Larry ever get that amount of money?”
“There’s more too.” Jade took a piece of paper from her other pocket. “Larry said he wouldn’t come back here—he’d have to go to a new city. But he made me promise to give you this.”
Jade walked over and gave Amanda the paper.
Mystified, Amanda opened the folded paper: it belonged to Larry’s small notebook. She read aloud the scribbled words: “What do you think, wouldn’t thousands of good deeds make up for one tiny little crime?”
Chiara cocked an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Dostoyevsky.” Amanda stared at the words. “I told him that Dostoyevsky is my favorite author. It’s a quote from Crime and Punishment.”
Joe chuckled. “What, so the two of you have a book club or something goin’ on?”
Amanda ran her finger over the words. One tiny little crime … she wouldn’t consider killing a man a little crime. But the image of the JPD officer she had shot in Cambridge still haunted her. If she spent the rest of her life doing good, maybe it would tip the scales and God could forgive her for taking someone’s life. What measure of good could ever do that?
Jade interrupted her musings. “Larry said one other thing too. He told me that the curly-haired girl would know where to find the opposition.”
They all stared at Amanda again.
“What?” Amanda gaped back at them. “I … Larry never told me anything … How could I know? What special knowledge do I have that you don’t?”
Jade shrugged. “I’m just reporting what Larry said.”
“And then what happened?” Chiara persisted.
“He told me to get the hell out of there. So I did.”
Silence fell upon them.
Chiara looked at Amanda. “Think back to everything Larry said to you. Is there something he might have mentioned—some kind of clue?”
Amanda wracked her mind. “Honestly, I have no idea.”
They spent the next couple of hours, late into the night, analyzing and reanalyzing everything. But as much as they worked on the puzzle, no answers came.
Joe at last sighed and threw himself down on the ground. “I give up. Could it have killed Larry to just tell us where to find the opposition?”
Chiara yawned. “He was cryptic to the very end.”
“You say cryptic; I say crazy.” Joe shut his eyes.
Jade sighed. “All I know is that he saved my life.”
Dawn patted her hand.
Amanda lay down for a second time that night and closed her eyes, but her mind couldn’t slow down. What did Larry mean that she knew where to find the opposition? She pictured Larry as she last saw him: writing his note (perhaps the one she now had in her pocket), humming “Hotel California.” Amanda listened to the lyrics as they played in her mind: Welcome to the Hotel California. Such a lovely place, such a lovely face. Plenty of room at the Hotel California. Any time of year, you can find it here.
You can find it here.
She bolted up, her heart hammering. “Jade! Jade, wake up!”
Jade mumbled in response.
Amanda ran over and shook her. “Is there a hotel here in Peekskill?”
Jade opened an eyelid. “Huh? Hotel?”
“Yes!” Amanda shook her again. “One with lots of room … um … open all year …”
“There’s the Inn on the Hudson up on the mountain. And the Sleep Suite, by the bus station. Oh, and the Golden Bridge Hotel across from the power plant, but that’s been closed for a while now.”
Amanda held her breath. “No, it’s not closed! That’s where the opposition is: at the Hotel California!”
Jade rubbed her eyes. “I said it’s the Golden Bridge Hotel though.”
Joe and Chiara, wide awake, looked at Amanda.
“Dad.” Amanda smiled at them. “We can find him now!”