Desert Vengeance by Betty Webb

Author:Betty Webb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press, Inc.
Published: 2016-11-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Jimmy stood up when I entered the office next morning.

“What’s wrong?”

Still feeling weak, I sat down at my desk. “Turns out I’m married. And I have…I had…a brother.”

“Oh, Lena.”

The next thing I knew, he was leaning over me, his hand on mine. How odd. We never touched. Over the scent of fresh-brewed coffee, I could smell toothpaste and some kind of herbal shampoo. And cologne. When had he switched from Polo and started wearing Paco Rabanne?

“Tell me,” he said.

I took a deep breath, then told him.

At the end, he said, “That marriage isn’t legal, Lena.”

I swallowed. “It still happened. And my baby brother’s still dead and I don’t even remember his name and my father’s dead and I don’t remember what happened to my mother and what kind of world is it when you can’t even remember your own brother’s name?”

I couldn’t stop babbling and I didn’t like the tight feeling in my throat.

His hand squeezed mine. “We’ll find whoever did this to you.”

I stopped. Took a deep breath. “Did to me? I’m alive, aren’t I? The others aren’t.” I had never felt so empty.

“Did you see your mother killed?”

“No. But she’s…”

He put a cautionary finger against my lips. “Don’t say it, because you don’t know for sure.”

I drew back. For some reason, his touch, although warm, made me feel even more benefit than before.

“Lena, do you…?”

I shook my head. “Enough. No more.”

Without another word he returned to his computer and after one last long look at me, resumed typing.

From what I could see, he was scrolling through newspapers. Did he think he would find something new, such as an article we hadn’t already read a hundred times before? What was the point, anyway? What was done was done, and this continual rooting around in the past, looking for that mythical state termed “closure” never solved anything. People needed to just…

Then it occurred to me that Debbie Margules, Jacklyn Archerd, Nicole Beltran, and all the other members of Parents of Missing Children wouldn’t agree with that line of thinking. Although fearing the worst, their search for their children had never ended.

Inspired by their courage I forced myself to think about Golden Boy, about what he’d said to me in that grim forest.

“Don’t be afraid, girl. I protect my property.”

I was property then. That’s all.

Property.

Abraham had called my mother property, too, when he’d sent for her. All the women in the group were his property, he constantly reminded us. I was the sole exception because he’d transferred my title and registration to Golden Boy.

Remembering, my grief slid away, replaced by a deep, burning rage.

“Lena, are you okay?” Jimmy’s voice brought me back to the present.

“Never been better,” I lied.

***

After a workday that never seemed to end, I hopped on the freeway again and headed to Litchfield Park. This time I had better luck and the door to Casey Starr’s house opened just as I raised my hand to press the bell.

“Saw you coming up the walk,” a handsome man said. White teeth gleamed.

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