duck, but when they catch up to me, I’d like to give the hunters a run for their money.”
“ Wait.”
She stopped, watched him come from behind the counter, go to the door, lock it. For a second she thought he was locking her in, but the look on his face told her he was locking others out.
“ Name’s Nate,” he said. Then “Come on to the back.”
“ I don’t have a lot of time.” But she followed him into a back room anyway, where she saw a small desk with a couple coffee cups on it.
“ Everyone’s got time for a good cup of coffee.” He opened the top desk drawer, took out a thermos, then a flask. “Take a seat.” He motioned toward a chair, then poured a couple cups. “Irish whiskey.” He poured a generous shot from the flask into each cup. “I’m not gonna ask what kind of trouble you’re in. I saw it on the news. And I’m not gonna ask did you do it. Some of it you told me, but I know a frame when I see it, ’cuz I been spending my life under the radar ’cuz a one.” He pushed a cup toward her, lifted the other as if to toast.
“ Really, I’m in a hurry.”
“ Have a drink, relax for a minute. You’re safe here.”
“ Alright.” She took a chair, then picked up the cup.
“ Safe passage.” He clinked her cup.
“ That about says it all.” She took a sip.
“ Don’t it though.” He took a bigger sip. “Now show me your guns.”
An hour later she parked in front of the local Goodwill store. Nate had given, not sold her, five clips for the Rugar, loaded and ready to go and a dozen for the forty-five. A lot of money to give away, she’d told him and he told her to forget it. “Besides,” he’d said, “if I can’t fool the tax man, I’m most likely going to jail, anyway.” She hoped he’d be okay. He was a nice man, who’d helped her when he didn’t have to.
In the Goodwill store, she remembered what Nate had said about her not looking road weary enough, so she bought a couple pair of black jeans and several black tee shirts. She found a pair of black, low top Converse tennis shoes that fit and she found a ratty looking black sweatshirt that had a vee cut out of the neckline. Dressed in her new clothes, she’d look the part.
Now all she needed was a plan.
Lila Booth saw the McDonald’s on the right as she came into Susanville. She pulled into the parking lot, went in to use the restroom and splash water on her face. According to her laptop, Izzy Eisenhower was in Medford, had been for the last forty-five minutes or so. It was about three hours to the Oregon border, another twenty minutes to Medford. If the woman stayed put, Lila could catch up to her around noon, provided she got right back on the road.
But she had something to do first.
She hadn’t seen her mother in a dozen years. Not since her stepfather had raped her. She’d left town that night, hitchhiked to Reno, where she found living on the streets was hard. After two weeks of sleeping in San Rafael Park at night and begging spare change during the day, she met Mansfield Wayne, a truly evil man, but he’d been good to her.
He’d found her begging outside of the Sands Casino. He wouldn’t give her any money, but he’d offered to take her to the truck stop next door and buy her lunch. And during that lunch she’d sensed something about Mansfield Wayne, sensed his true nature. But despite that, she sensed that he’d never hurt her. He was evil yes, but he had class.
And he was patient. He had a way about him, something that made you want to confide. Usually to your detriment, but it wasn’t so with Lila. She’d been young and easy for him to probe. She’d told him everything.
The next day he drove to Susanville and put a bullet into her stepfather’s brain, earning Lila’s undying loyalty. Fortunately for her mother, she’d been shopping at the Grocery Outlet or he’d’ve killed her, too.
He’d raised her as if she were his daughter. Tucker was older and already out of the house, going to school back east. Yale. So it was just the two of them in that big rambling house up on that mountain.
Theirs had been a stormy relationship, but they’d been close. He’d turned her into a killer, but she’d never regretted it, never looked back, never spoke to her mother again, had never been back to Susanville again. But now she was driving through and she couldn’t pass by without seeing her.
A dozen years, a long time. But even though she hadn’t had any contact with her, she’d kept track. She knew her mother had gotten married again, to a man named Martin Stover. Lila hoped number three was better than number two. She hoped her mother was happy. Everybody deserved to be happy.
Back in the Jag, she mentally chided herself for not putting the top up and locking the car. A stupid oversight. She was really off her game, she thought as she checked behind the passenger seat. The bag and laptop were still there.
“ Come on, Lila, keep it together,” she mumbled.
She started the car. In a couple minutes she’d be face to face with Mr. and Mrs. Martin Stover. She hoped her mother would be glad to see her.
Edith Stover held the rolled dollar with a shaking hand as she snorted the white powder. When she’d met Martin they’d used hundreds and were snorting coke. Now they were using singles and snorting meth. She preferred chasing the white dragon, but Martin got into one of his crazy fits last night and broke the pipe and Edith hated slamming. She was afraid of needles, afraid of AIDs, so snorting was the way to go.
Martin slammed first, then snorted right after his initial rush.
She sighed as the high flowed through her. There was nothing like it. Better than coke. She bent down to the coffee table, did the other line as the girl started screaming from the other room. Martin and his hookers. She’d been a bit put out at first, but he kept her in meth, so as far as Edith was concerned, he could fuck every teeny bopping whore from here to Reno if he wanted. What did she care? She got hers plenty.
Besides, she liked watching. She got up to check on the action, but was interrupted by the doorbell.
Who the fuck?
She went to the door, opened it.
“ Hey, Mom.” It was Lila, dressed like a refugee from a cowboy movie. All she needed was the hat.
“ What’s with the coat?”
“ After all this time and you still trash talk about the way I dress.”
“ What do you want?”
“ Nothing.”
“ You took Gary’s love away, then got him killed.”
“ He raped me.” Always the same with Lila.
“ Nothing’s changed,” Edith said. “It’s always been about you. I guess it still is.” She was about to tell her to get on back to wherever she’d come from, when the girl screamed again.
The scream ripped through Lila. All of a sudden she was thirteen again and Gary Rose was raping her. Horror seized her. It was happening all over. She pulled the Glock from the shoulder holster, pushed her mother aside, stepped inside the house, started for the bedroom.
“ No!” her mother grabbed her gun arm with a crab like grip, spun her around. “He’s mine!”
“ Get away.” Revulsion poured over Lila like black paint. She latched onto her mother’s fingers, pulled them back, heard one break, but the older woman’s grip was strong as death. She held on. “You go away!”
“ Stop it.” Lila bent her fingers back farther, heard another break. Her mother was crazy strong, crazy period. Without letting go of her mother’s hand, Lila spun to the right, elbowed her face, stepped away as her mother fell to the dirty carpet, but still the woman held on, dragging Lila to the floor with her.
“ He’s mine,” she hissed, deadly as any snake.
Lila grabbed back onto her mother’s gripping hand and this time she let out a scream when Lila squeezed and bent the fingers back. Finally her mother let go and Lila rolled away, jumped to her feet, charged toward the bedroom, where she found a monster of a man raping a wisp of girl.
“ Get off!” Lila sounded like a banshee to herself as her scream tore through the room. The man stopped fucking the child, pushed himself off, turned to face Lila and she shot him through the heart and like a lightning flash, her memory came flooding back. Her mother had been watching when Gary Rose had raped her.
