“Tomorrow? You want to do this tomorrow?”
“No. Tonight. Please talk to Stymak. I’ll call him, too, but he’s going to say no to me at first. I need you to persuade him. We can do it at whatever time he wants, but it has to be tonight. Please, Lily.”
She hesitated. “I—I’ll call him. Tonight. All right, I’ll call right away. Oh, dear God, I hope this works. Julianne’s so weak when she isn’t . . . doing things. I’m so scared.”
“It will work. Call Stymak. Then go to church as soon as some relief comes. I want you to go and pray as sincerely as you know how. If God is going to say anything, now will be the time. Trust me.” It certainly couldn’t hurt to have a god on
“I . . . I will. All right, I will. I’ll talk to Richard. I’ll be there.”
“Thank you, Lily. Thank you. I’ll see you there.”
I didn’t even know where “there” was yet, but I’d be there.
My next call was to the Sterling house, but I couldn’t get through to Olivia. I would have to go there and see if I could catch her in person.
I tried the care center Jordan Delamar was in, but the staff told me Levi hadn’t arrived yet. I’d have to make that visit in person, too. Damn it! I needed to get a lot coordinated in a very short time and people weren’t taking my calls. At least I didn’t have to worry about Papa Purlis at the moment, since he was probably still in the hospital for that leg wound and if not, I guessed that Quinton’s continued absence was so he could keep an eye on his frustrating father and make sure he didn’t come after me before he cut out for Europe and whatever he’d have already put in motion there. For a second I found myself hoping Purlis’s wound wasn’t as bad as it had looked. Then I forced my mind away from it—I couldn’t spare sympathy for my almost-father-in-law right now. I suspected that he was much like the proverbial cat that always landed on its feet one way or another. I still didn’t like him and I wished he were long gone without dragging Quinton along for the crash, but that was another thing I’d have to worry about later.
I tucked Chaos into her cage with fresh food and water—I wasn’t sure when I’d be home and I didn’t want her to breed too much of her namesake while I was gone. I checked and reloaded my gun and headed out the door.
I drove to the Sterling house first, thinking it was going to be harder to catch up to a high school kid on summer break than it would be to find Levi Westman. The neighborhood was busier than it had been before. I saw quite a few families loading ice chests and folding chairs into SUVs and minivans, and there was a surfeit of small humans dashing around on lawns and sidewalks.
As I walked up the driveway to the Sterling house with its tarped-over construction, someone in the street let off one of those annoyingly loud whistling fireworks. I turned around to find the culprit and discovered a smiling young man coming up the driveway behind me, flipping a Zippo lighter open and closed in his hand.
He was as blond as Olivia Sterling, but his face was plumper and less prematurely aged with worry. Which is not to say he wasn’t slim; he had the slender, flexible look of an athlete and the confident stride to go with it.
“Hey there,” he said as he closed with me. “You here for Olivia?”
I was startled, but played along. “Yeah. Is she in?”
“Yep. She’s probably still trying to get out from under Mom’s clucking like a hen, but she’s ready to go. When are you going to bring her back?”
“Oh. Not too late.”
“After the fireworks, though, right? I know Mom was trying to get her home earlier, but I think Ollie needs some more time out of this place, y’know? She’s stuck here all the damned time taking care of Dad. So, you’re good to go?”
“As soon as I see Olivia.”
He gave me a thumbs-up much like Olivia had the first time I’d parted from her and headed for the door. “You wait here. I’ll get her and send her out. Mom will be all over you if I don’t and you guys will never get out of here.”
I stood at the edge of the walkway to the front door, a little stunned and wound up with nerves as the young man went inside the house. In a few minutes, Olivia came trotting out with a backpack in one hand and a tote bag slung over her shoulder. She stopped short when she saw it was me and I watched the conflicting emotions storm over her—surprise, disappointment, excitement, worry. . . .
“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I know you’re expecting someone else, but I need to talk to you.”
She closed the distance to me and bit her lip as she looked up into my face. “I’m sorry—I didn’t have a chance to bring you more of Dad’s notebooks. Mom hasn’t let me out of her sight.”
“How’s your dad doing?”
“He’s . . . well, not good. Really restless. It’s been harsh and it makes my mom kind of crazy. She’s been really wound up and I swear now she’s not even eating—she looks like a skeleton. I’m worried about her. And don’t say I need to watch my own weight—I know I’m too thin. I didn’t used to be. . . .”
That was a detail I’d let slip my mind again until she mentioned it: All the patients and their caregivers were dangerously skinny. They were all starving, like Hazzard’s victims. Even the ones who ate regularly were being drained by the proximity to Limos. That situation would only worsen and spread if Limos and Hazzard were successful. “It’s not your fault, Olivia, but I think it’s one of the side effects of what’s happening to your dad. And that’s one of the reasons we need to stop it as soon as we can.”
“I’m trying. I kind of feel guilty that I’m going out. . . . My brothers, Peter and Darryl, are here, though, so they’re going to hang with her and Dad for a while. Let me, y’know, get some sun.” She lit up suddenly. “Hey! I could get one of those notebooks for you now! Peter could help me. That’s my big brother, who you met just now—he’s totally cool.”
The sudden flip in her attitude was something I’d seen before when people try to deny the horror of a situation they can’t seem to get out of. I put out my hand to stop her from turning and running back into the house. “I didn’t come about the notebooks. I figured it out. What I need is for you to come to a seance tonight. I don’t know the time and place yet, but if you can come, I think we can fix this problem. For good.”
“Tonight?” She looked stricken. “But . . . it’s the Fourth of July! I practically had to sell my soul to get out of the house. Mom’s going to freak. . . .”
I felt a stab of panic as I thought of what an excellent opportunity Independence Day offered to Hazzard and Limos, with the hundreds or even thousands of people who would be all over the waterfront to hang out at the park, eat junk food, ride the carousel on Pier 57, and watch the fireworks display over Elliott Bay. No doubt there would be a long line to get on the Great Wheel and see at least a few minutes of the display from the unobstructed height, through the Wheel’s swinging glass gondolas. I swallowed my swelling fear before it could infect Olivia and said, “Don’t tell her. Do you have a cell phone?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah.” She gave the word two syllables, somehow.
“Give me the number and I’ll call you when I have the details. It’ll be later, maybe after the fireworks. But this is important and I’m sorry it’s messing up your plans—you need to come when I say. This is the key to everything.”
She sighed, her jaw muscles bunching as she fought her fear and disappointment. Then she rolled her eyes and sighed again, settling. “All right. For my dad. But this has to work. Please say it’s going to work. . . .” Tears lined the bottom of her eyelids, swelling on the pale fringe of her lashes.
I wasn’t sure—I never am—but I lied for her. “It will. With your help.”
She bit her lip and then launched a hug-tackle at my midsection. “We’re going to save him. Thank you! You’re the best!” Then she backed off self-consciously. “Oh. I’m sorry. That was, like, really overboard, wasn’t it? Oh, God . . .”
I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s just fine. You’re fine. It’ll all be good. Now—phone number?”
