They're Gone Read online

  And now Rebecca wouldn’t look at her.

  “Are you all right?” Kim asked.

  Rebecca met her eyes but quickly glanced away.

  Kim hated this. She desperately wanted Rebecca to look her in the eyes, wanted to let Rebecca know she wasn’t in danger. Kim wanted to lie to her, to tell her that everything her mother was saying was made up, this was all a fevered hallucination brought on by grief. Assure Rebecca that nothing had changed, she was fine.

  They would be okay.

  “Keep a low profile,” her mother was saying, that urgency still in her voice. “And if you see Levi, tell him you haven’t seen us. Tell him you and Kim broke up. This will all be over soon, I promise.”

  “Okay.”

  Everything is fine, Kim didn’t say.

  She wanted to, but the truth of the situation held her back. Her mother, the Castillos. All that had happened over the past few weeks.

  Kim wanted to comfort Rebecca, but she didn’t want to lie. And couldn’t give her false assurances.

  “You and Kim can’t talk for a few days,” her mother was saying. “Not until this is over.”

  “All right.”

  Rebecca accepted the idea of distance more easily than Kim would have preferred, but Kim didn’t have a right to call her out on it. And she had no anger toward her girlfriend.

  Rather, it was directed at her mother for taking over this conversation, taking over her relationship, ruining her life with the mess her father had left them.

  Kim searched Rebecca’s downcast face, still trying to find a way to look her in the eye, to shake her of the notion that their relationship was a tree her parents had poisoned, infection spreading through the branches and trunk and down into the roots, sickening everything it touched.

  But she didn’t say anything.

  And she and Rebecca didn’t say goodbye when Rebecca left.

  CHAPTER

  41

  “SO BASICALLY,” TEMPLE asked, “you have no leads, no clues, and no idea where anyone is. Is that a good summation?”

  Price stood in front of Temple’s desk, shifted weight uncomfortably. “That sounds like we haven’t made any progress.”

  “Oh!” Temple’s voice took on a mock excited tone. “You’ve made progress? Do share!”

  Price glanced behind himself. Seth was standing at the door, hoodie and hat and sunglasses still obscuring his face, seemingly indifferent to what was being said.

  Harris stood behind Temple, looking worried but clearly trying to hide his concern.

  “We went to the daughter’s college to find her friend. Rebecca Blake.”

  “And what did Rebecca Blake tell you?”

  “She wasn’t there. I asked around and found out she’s at home. Comes from money. One of her parents is a big-time lawyer.”

  Temple sighed. “Okay, so you won’t bark up that tree too loudly, right? Stay away from people who can draw attention to us. What other leads do you have?”

  “That’s it,” Price said. He glanced back at Seth again, who still seemed impassive to everything being said. “But we’re looking.”

  “You hung out with Deb Thomas for weeks. And she just disappeared on you?”

  Price felt a mix of anger and concern rising inside him, and he wasn’t sure which was going to win out. He trusted Scott but hated having his back to Seth. His spine was tense, as if a bullet might end up in it at any moment.

  “For now,” he admitted, “but we just started searching.”

  “What if she goes back to the cops?” Temple asked.

  “You are the cops.”

  “Not all the cops. Her story’s crazy, but not if someone believes it and starts digging. She needs to disappear before that happens. And you need to find out who shot up your house.”

  “They didn’t really shoot up my house …”

  Temple looked past Price, to Seth. “Is he slowing you down? Would it help if he was out of the picture? Is he pushing the goalpost further away?”

  “Out of the picture?” Price asked. He thought he saw sympathy in Harris’s eyes.

  Seth barely shrugged. “He’s all right. For now.”

  “What did you mean, ‘out of the picture’?”

  “Because if he is,” Temple went on, “then just let me know. He’s always been one to look around instead of forward.” He stared at Price. “And you never know what you’re walking into when you’re looking back.”

  “You’d kill me?” Price asked.

  “Everything is murder and death with you.” Temple frowned. “But yes.”

  Price felt his stomach tighten, throat thicken. “We’re family.”

  Definitely sympathy in Harris’s eyes.

  “My God, Levi,” Temple said, “what do you think kept you alive this far? Anyone else would have had you shot in the back of the head and thrown you into a ditch. Do you know how much danger we’re in, all because you thought you fell in love?”

  “To be fair, I didn’t think I was in love …”

  Temple let his exasperation get the best of him. “Seth, remember how I said you had to check in with me before you killed Levi?”

  The burned man nodded.

  “No need to check in anymore. If he’s being unhelpful or even if he just annoys you, go ahead and put a bullet in him.”

  “We’re family!” Price exclaimed.

  “Cousins. Not like we’re brothers, for goodness sake.”

  “Look, give me a few days. I can find her.”

  “Oh, I don’t have a problem giving you a few days. Seth might, but I’m okay with it.”

  Price looked at Seth again, saw himself reflected in the burned man’s sunglasses.

  “I’ll find them,” Price said.

  “Or die!” Temple agreed cheerfully. “See how important it is to set realistic goals?”

  * * *

  “You’re really going to kill him?” Harris asked Temple after Seth and Price left.

  “Of course not,” Temple replied. “Seth will.”

  Temple’s mood had lightened since they left, which relaxed Harris. Not completely, but a little.

  “You’re not going to stop him?”

  “I don’t think I could. Seth is a very determined young man.” Temple frowned, indicated the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

  Harris had been standing close to the door, hoping to leave soon. But he sat in the hard wooden chair, nervously crossed his legs.

  Temple walked around his desk, sat on the edge. “Freddie, do you know Herman Cortes?”

  “Is he from around here?”

  “Not quite. Herman Cortes was a Spanish conquistador who helped lead Spain’s conquest of Mexico in the 1500s.”

  “So, not from around here?”

  Temple smiled widely. “Exactly. He landed in Mexico at a time when the Aztecs were thriving. Cortes’s men were exhausted from their sea voyage, and arrived tired and disillusioned. Certainly not ready to fight. Cortes saw the exhaustion in his men’s faces as they docked on the beach and, despite his own weariness, knew they had to press on. After all, the Spanish hadn’t arrived at Mexico simply to frolic at the beach. They’d come to conquer the country for their king.”

  Harris nodded.

  “Cortes, realizing that the men needed to be inspired, put forth one of the great motivational lessons in history. One morning he stood in front of his sullen soldiers and exhorted them to fight. He told them that this expedition was their God-given purpose. He told them that they needed to press on, that their journey and glory had yet to be realized. He told them that their kingdom was as far as they dared let themselves see.”

  Harris shifted in his chair.

  “It was an outstanding speech. Many of the men were inspired, and they raised their swords and shields to the sun, the dull metal glinting in the morning light. They cried Cortes’s name, and the name of their King, King Charles. But not all of the men were motivated.”

  Temple’s voice lowered, grew more
intense.

  “Cortes knew he needed complete, unwavering support. And so he burned the boats.”

  “What?”

  “He burned his own boats. Set them on fire. The men watched them burn, these magnificent vessels that had taken them across the sea. Taken them from their families and friends. The ships burned in the water, and the soldiers realized they would never have the opportunity to return home. They would stay here, and they would fight. Their only option was to fight. What a feeling that must have been! To watch the boats engulfed by flames. To feel the sword in your hand and realize, now, this was your only passage.”

  Harris listened, spellbound.

  “You haven’t seemed comfortable making that kind of sacrifice. You and James, rest his soul, haven’t been motivated to stop Cessy Castillo.”

  Harris blinked. It took a moment for him to slip out of the story, return to the present.

  “Wait—what? I’m motivated! I am!”

  “I just don’t know,” Temple said. “Sometimes I get the sense that, among those burning boats, you would have tried to swim back to Spain. After all, you let Cessy leave the hospital.”

  “No way. No way.”

  Temple leaned back on the edge of his desk, smiled.

  His foot smashed Harris’s throat.

  Harris was off his chair and on the ground, choking. Breath came to him through a maze, a maze taking too long to solve. He felt his hands on his throat, trying to squeeze air in. His mind was a dark spreading cloud.

  Something heavy on him.

  Temple.

  “You just don’t have the vision I need,” Temple said calmly.

  Only one thing was clear to Harris, one thing breaking through the terror and the pain. Temple was holding a sharpened pencil he’d taken from his desk, and pressing the point into Harris’s right eye.

  Temple’s knees had pinned down Harris’s shoulders, and the man’s thrashing didn’t dislodge him as the pencil sank deeper. Temple pulled out his phone with the other hand, flipped it on.

  “Siri, show me a diagram of the human eye.”

  As the pencil pushed further, Harris’s struggles weakened. But his screams increased.

  “How interesting,” Temple told him, talking loudly. “We’ve extended past the pupil and into the vitreous cavity. Which is what is producing this fluid. And that,” and he wiggled the pencil, “is the orbital bone, but we don’t want to stop there. We need to go through the optic nerve, but it doesn’t seem like the pencil will fit.”

  Temple wiggled the pencil some more. Frowned.

  “Surprisingly fragile orbital bones in the human eye. Apparently with enough force …”

  Temple leaned forward, over the pencil and over Harris’s head. Pushed down with all his might.

  The pencil sank in to the eraser.

  Harris’s arms and legs kicked wildly. Then his movements and screams abruptly ceased.

  “Apparently with enough force,” Temple went on. “You can break through those bones and penetrate the brain. So I learned something! And a day where someone gains painful knowledge measures a year of happiness for someone else.”

  Temple stood, wiped his hands.

  Picked up his phone from the floor.

  “Siri, take a note. Poster idea. Man standing at the edge of the ocean, looking out. Photo is black and white. Underneath is text saying, “A day where someone gains painful knowledge measures a year of happiness for someone else. Call it ‘Vision.’”

  CHAPTER

  42

  “THAT LYING MOTHERFUCKER!” Nicole exclaimed. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “No, you’re not,” Deb said into the phone. “You’re going to lay low and keep an eye out for him. Or anyone suspicious.”

  “Let them come!” Nicole declared. “You know I have a gun.”

  “You do?”

  “This is Vir-gi-ni-a,” Nicole said, saying the state name slowly. “Of course I have a gun.”

  “Northern Virginia. And how come you never told me about this?”

  “Well, whatever. But good thing I have one, right?”

  “I don’t want you to have to use it. So lay low and don’t do anything.”

  “Come stay with me. You and Kim. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “I knew you’d say that,” Deb said. “And I love you for it. But I’m not going to put you in any more danger.”

  “So you’re just going to stay in hiding forever?”

  “I’m thinking of a plan,” Deb said. “It’s just taking a while.”

  “Will you let me know what it is when you know what it is?”

  “I will. Hey, you know, I think Levi was trying to convince me that you were involved in this somehow.”

  “What?”

  “He kept dropping hints that I couldn’t trust you.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t believe him. Even for a second.”

  “Not even for a second.”

  “What an asshole.” Nicole was quiet for a moment. “Hey, I have a place you can use.” My folks bought land in Chincoteague before they died. It’s in my name, and I never go there.”

  “Chincoteague? That little sailing place in Maryland?”

  “Yeah, the little town where they have the ponies? Out there.”

  “You never mentioned you had another house.”

  “Well, it’s not really a house so much.”

  “So much?”

  “So much as it’s a plot that’s never been developed.”

  “You’re saying we can go stay on your pile of grass?”

  “It’s more marsh than grass. But it is next to a creek. So, pretty?”

  “Well, thank you for that. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Hey, sweetie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you. Can I give you my gun?”

  “I love you too. And no.”

  * * *

  It took two days for Deb to finally sleep.

  After meeting with Rebecca, she and Kim had driven Kim’s Jetta until they found a small, nondescript motel in Alexandria. She thought about going farther out for safety, but the towns outside of the area were too small. Strangers made an impression. Here, it was easy to get lost in the crowds, to be forgotten. The motel she picked was the kind in need of paint, with a billboard missing letters, not visited by anyone in serious search of rest. They parked in back and rented a room for fifty dollars a night. Deb paid in cash, checked her balance at a nearby ATM.

  Her account was low. Deb wondered, of all of Grant’s cruelties, if leaving his family without resources was the worst.

  “What are we going to do?” Kim asked when they checked in. Deb didn’t have an answer.

  Kim slept that first night in the new motel while Deb sat up in the room’s other bed and wondered about Levi. Wondered how she could have been so mistaken, never seen him for what he was. He’d seemed so confident and believable when she thought he was working for the FBI, and all that confidence had vanished when he’d told her the truth. As sudden as the removal of a mask.

  It made her feel stupid.

  Like she had with Grant.

  That was the worst feeling. Stupidity. Having to admit she’d been so easily fooled to Kim, to those siblings, to herself. She saw herself through everyone else’s eyes, saw herself as helpless.

  As sunlight crept around the motel’s windows and the night turned to morning, Deb touched a tissue to her eyes—by now, the bed was covered in crumpled tissues. She’d felt helpless ever since Grant died. Ever since she’d realized that her freelance income would need to be full-time, but hadn’t been able to find work. Ever since she’d desperately wanted to talk to Grant about the changes Kim was going through, and remembered over and over that she was alone. Ever since bullets had flown in that dark house.

  Ever since her fear had grown stronger than she was.

  Kim woke up about an hour after dawn. Stretched, looked around the motel room as if remembering where she was.

  “What
’s the plan for today?”

  The plan was to watch TV, which they did after Deb walked over to a nearby convenience store and bought water, cereal, bananas, and an assortment of junk food. They ate Pop-Tarts and watched game shows and soap operas.

  “Got any idea what we’re going to do?” Kim asked around noon.

  Deb shook her head.

  They watched TV until evening, Kim sleeping intermittently through the afternoon. Sometimes Kim talked about Rebecca, and once or twice she cried about Rebecca, but she seemed to be handling everything fairly well. And for that, Deb was grateful.

  By the second evening, Deb’s own fear started to recede. Television introduced a sense of removal from their own lives, and both women were appreciative of it. It was nice to be reminded that they were part of a larger world.

  “What are we going to do?” Kim asked again.

  Deb still didn’t know, but she was relieved that a sense of calmness was starting to grow.

  Kim slept soundly that night, and for the first time in two days, Deb did as well.

  “We need to figure this out,” she told Kim the next morning.

  “We really do,” her daughter replied. “I can’t wear these same clothes one more day.”

  “There’s that,” Deb acknowledged. “And we also can’t live in this motel room for the rest of our lives.”

  “Should we try the cops again?”

  “I don’t think so. I thought about it, and there’s nothing we can tell them that will help us. We don’t have any proof of anything. I think we should go back home.”

  “You do?”

  Deb weighed her plan as she spoke.

  “The only help we’re going to find is if we get it from the source itself. And the only person who can tell us we’re safe is Levi, and I know he doesn’t want to hurt me. He thinks he loves me, so let’s use that. He’ll come back once we go home, and he’ll find me, and I can tell him that we’re not going to tell anyone about him or whoever he’s involved with. I’ll tell him that we’re going to forget any of this ever happened.”