it felt like at the moment.
She passed a stack of cardboard boxes as she stumbled down the hall to her room, but stopped at the door when she found Gilda within. The older woman was scooping clothes out of her drawers and dumping them into a cardboard box, just like the ones in the hall.
'What do you think you're doing?'
She started-so intent on what she was doing she hadn't heard Dawn arrive. She straightened and gave her a cold smile.
'I am packing your things.'
'Why?'
The smile became harder, colder. 'You are moving out.'
The words shocked her. Moving out? No. No way.
'You're crazy!'
'Oh, no. Not me. The Master has called and told me to pack up your things. You leave tomorrow.'
'Like hell!'
The woman stepped closer. 'Yes. He is kicking you out. And good riddance, I say. You have been nothing but trouble since you set foot in this house. No more will I have to listen to your whining and complaining. I cannot wait till you are gone. Then there will be peace.'
'You're lying.'
'We will see. The Master will be here tomorrow to personally throw you out on the street.'
No… he couldn't. Not now.
'Get out,' Dawn said.
'I will not! The Master told me to-'
Despite feeling she might collapse at any minute, Dawn grabbed the older woman by the front of her blouse and swung her around, then shoved her toward the door.
'Get out!'
Gilda stumbled backward through the doorway and almost fell. She steadied herself at the last instant just as Dawn slammed the door and locked it. Feeling too exhausted, too totally rotten to deal with any of this now, Dawn pulled back the covers on her unmade bed and slipped under them.
Sleep… she needed sleep… she'd be able to deal with this once she got some sleep.
16
Jack peeked through the tiny glass pane set in the emergency exit door. Outside in the alley, Abe stood next to the open rear doors of his dark blue panel truck. He looked edgy, repeatedly glancing toward the street.
The mystery man hung over Jack's shoulder. Trussed head to foot in duct tape and wrapped in a sheet, he'd struggled at first. But the bouncing trip down the stairs had taken some of the fight out of him. Jack's shoulder nestled in his gut and he had to be sore by now. The guy was heavier than he looked.
Jack kicked the door to get Abe's attention.
'Get behind the wheel,' he shouted when Abe looked up.
Abe nodded and bustled away toward the front of the truck. Jack gave him thirty seconds, then pushed the door open. An alarm bell began clanging, just as the sign on the door had promised.
Jack dumped the guy into the back of the truck, hopped in, and closed the door behind him.
'Go!'
Abe hit the gas and they lurched into motion, out of the alley, onto the street, and into the traffic-a nondescript panel truck in a stampeding herd of other nondescript panel trucks.
'Where to now?'
Jack was slipping into a pair of work gloves Abe had had lying about. 'Let's just drive around while this fellow and I get better acquainted.'
Before sending Munir and his family off in the cab, Jack had pulled him aside and told him to hold off as long as possible giving the address where his wife and boy had been held. None of this was making sense and he wanted a little time with the mystery man.
But back upstairs he spotted a familiar scar through the tear in the guy's shirt and realized the situation had suddenly become complicated. He called Abe and asked him to bring his truck downtown.
He peeled back the sheet to free the guy's bloodied, blindfolded face, then yanked the tape off his mouth.
'Help!' he screamed as he started slamming his feet against the truck floor. 'Help!'
'No tumel!' Abe shouted from up front.
Jack gave him a backhand slap across the face.
'Don't waste your breath. You're in a truck with no rear windows in the middle of downtown traffic.'
'Just turn me in.'
Jack shook his head. 'Not gonna happen. Who are you?'
'Richard Hollander.'
'Nah. You went to a lot of trouble to make people think that, did everything to make this look personal-fooled me on that one-but Munir has met Hollander and he says you're not him.'
His face twisted. 'You believe a lying sand nigger over-'
Jack backhanded him again.
'None of that,' he said as he wiped the blood off his glove onto the man's shirt.
'You're pretty brave with me tied up.'
Feeling the darkness struggle to get loose within him, Jack leaned closer and spoke through his teeth.
'Do you have any idea what I want to do to you? You mutilated a little boy! And you made his mother watch! People like you-'
'Worthless mongrel,' he muttered.
Jack hit him again.
The guy clenched his teeth. 'Be a man. Untie me and we'll see-'
'What? See you running away like you did when I came through the window-even though you had a meat cleaver? If I hadn't grabbed the back of your shirt, you'd've been gone. But I'm glad it happened that way, otherwise I'd never have seen the brand.'
'What are you talking about?'
'How long have you been a member of the Septimus Order?'
'I'm not-'
Jack poked the guy's chest and he flinched.
'Uh-uh. I know the brand.'
'So, you know the brand. Big deal.'
'Is the Order behind this?'
'Of course not.'
'What's the Order got against Munir?'
'Absolutely nothing. This is personal.'
'Where's the real Richard Hollander?'
'You're looking at him.'
Jack shook his head again. 'You left all the evidence where it could be easily found, so that when this was over, everything would point to Hollander. Where is he?'
And then, in a strobing epiphany, it all became clear. Jack sat back, stunned.
'Hollander is dead.'
'Ridiculous.' But his voice carried no conviction, no sense that he'd be believed.
'I just realized… you weren't wearing a mask when I broke in. Barbara and the boy knew your face. But you didn't care if they could recognize you, because you were planning all along to kill them. Hollander would get the blame, but Hollander wouldn't be able to defend himself because you killed him first and probably disposed of his body. The cops will be looking for someone they'll never find while you roam about free as can be.'
