House of Fire (Unraveled Series) (13 page)

“Well, hello there,”
Cherry breathed. She stood alone on the perimeter of the tight crowd. The same
black clutch from yesterday was pulled snugly into her armpit. Except tonight,
the clutch accompanied a skin-tight, yet flattering, red dress that made her
breasts pop. Tonight, she was the sixty-year-old woman that every other middle
aged woman scorned. She was the envy of women who talked behind her back while
their husbands would secretly, or not so secretly, snag looks at her, imagining
what a night with Cherry would be like. Cherry had transformed.

“Hi.” Delaney
startled, craning her neck past Cherry’s black bob to locate the blue dress.

“Missing someone?”

“Just a friend,”
Delaney stammered as the crowd swelled even more, the blue dress nowhere in
sight.

“Interesting about
his resignation, don’t ya think?” Cherry leaned in toward Delaney. Her breath
reeked of stale cigarettes with overpowering peppermint trying its best to ward
off the nicotine. The smell nauseated Delaney.

“Yeah.” Delaney
turned her attention to Cherry’s imploring eyes. They were the kind of eyes
that held secrets; those eyes had witnessed more than she let on. This was
Delaney’s chance. “Probably not entirely unexpected, from your perspective that
is.”

“Maybe.” She popped
her shoulders with a shrug.

“What do you know?”
Delaney took her turn leaning in, this time smelling the hint of lilac on her
neck. The woman was a sweltering mess of flowers, peppermint and smoke.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” Delaney
hissed, her face flushed.

“Why should I?”
Cherry murmured back as she shifted her eyes to the crowd ahead of them.
President Givens was in the middle, fielding questions and shaking hands.

“Because the men you
are dealing with are extremely dangerous,” Delaney whispered, grabbing Cherry’s
elbow. “I don’t think you know who they are.”

“Yes, I do.” Cherry
jerked her elbow back.

“I don’t think you
do,” Delaney said, shaking her head.

“I know what I’m
doing. I’m playing their little game.” Cherry leaned back, her voice cool. “Why
don’t you try playing, too? It’s a lot easier that way.” Delaney followed
Cherry’s eyes to the right. A man’s head traveled down the hallway before
stopping in front of the blue dress.
Ann.
The man turned, his hard
profile and gray suit at once registering in Delaney’s mind.
Holston.

“No,” Delaney
whispered as she shoved Cherry out of her way. Cherry stumbled back in her
heels with a low laugh as Delaney pushed through the outside of the crowd.

Delaney focused on
her mother’s blue dress, still visible in the hallway thirty feet away. Her heart
pulsed through her chest as she knocked into a waitress holding a tray of
little sausages. The tray rocked toward the waitress, the sausages flying into
her white shirt to leave dark brown stains blotting her blouse.

“I’m so sorry,”
Delaney said as she grabbed the waitress’s arm and plucked a sausage off her
shirt. Delaney threw it on the tray as heads began to turn their way.

“It’s okay,” the
waitress replied through gritted teeth. A dress next to her made a “tisk” noise
through her lips as she turned her back to Delaney.

“I’m sorry, I have to -”
Delaney said as her head whipped back to the hallway. They were gone.
Damn.

Delaney weaved more
carefully through the last group of people until she was standing in the
hallway, exactly where they had been, just a few feet from where she had seen
Evie earlier. She turned her body around, darting her eyes in every nook and
cranny. The clanging of dishes and voices swelled with a swing of the door. She
spun to see white shirts moving in and out of the kitchen, empty trays swapped
out for full ones. Delaney ducked her head down as she saw the waitress with
the brown stains walking toward her, the sausages scattered on the tray.
Delaney moved against the wall, finally spotting the women’s restroom.
Please, let her be in the bathroom.

Delaney shoved the
door open with two hands, slipping into the bright silence. Her eyes fell on
the concrete countertops indented with deep troughs for sinks; the modern
silver faucets remained still, waiting to gush water at a moment’s notice. The
lighting glowed a bright white, fully illuminating the entire bathroom.
She
has to be in here. Please.
Her heels echoed in the space as she bent down,
desperate to spot the familiar heels. Her hands began to shake as she thought
of the possibilities of Holston taking her. She would have gone willingly; she
knew him as George Boyd. Delaney heard a small sniffle leak from near the end
of the stalls. She ran past the rows of doors and stopped in front of the last
door. Blue shoes curled against the toilet peeked beneath the door.

“Mom?” Delaney
whispered, feeling her chest collapse. “Ann,” Delaney repeated, this time
louder. Delaney waited as she watched the shoes curl out from the toilet and
flatten against the tile. Another small sniffle was followed by a clearing of
her throat.

“Give me a moment,”
Ann said, her voice barely recognizable. Delaney exhaled, feeling relief swarm
her body. She listened and bent her head down again, looking for any other
shoes in the bathroom. It was empty. Her heart slowed as a loud flush echoed
through the space. The door cracked open to a ruddy Ann Jones, compulsively
turning the back of her earring.

“Mom, stop,” she
urged, pulling her mother’s hand down to rest at her side. Ann clenched the wad
of toilet paper in her fists. A splotch of mascara was smudged underneath her
eyes. “What is it?”

“Nothing…” Ann
trailed off, looking down at her toes.
George Boyd isn’t nothing.

“Mom, how do you know
him?”

“Delaney, I can’t do
this now. Not here,” she whispered as she shot her eyes around the empty
bathroom.

“No one is here, Mom.
Tell me, how do you know Holston Parker?”

“It’s not Holston
Parker. It’s George Boyd. He must have changed his name,” she whispered,
fluttering the toilet paper underneath her eye.

“What did he say to
you?”

“Nothing really. He
told me how lovely I looked,” Ann started, pressing her dress down. “But that
doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. It’s been so long. Your father is out there
waiting for us. He probably is wondering where we are.”

“Mom, he’s fine. He’s
with James. How do you know Holston or George?” Delaney pressed again. She had
never seen her mother like this before. He had shaken her core, and Ann Jones’s
core was never shaken. She was a rock through and through. Death hadn’t rattled
her like Holston Parker had.

“He was an old friend
of mine,” she whispered. “A long time ago. I don’t want to drudge it all up
tonight. Your father would be so upset.”

“Did you meet him
before or after you met Dad, Mom?” Delaney breathed. She dreaded the answer,
although, deep within, she knew. The tension between mother and daughter hung
in the air. Delaney envisioned Gunnar slicing through it with his machete. He
would have loved to see this.

“Delaney, I don’t
want to talk about it tonight,” Ann responded curtly as she pressed past
Delaney to the faucets. She tossed her toilet paper in the trash and inhaled as
she looked at her own reflection. Ann wiped the black from beneath her eye and
shoved her hands beneath the faucet, the water gushing automatically from its
spout.

“There’s something
you’re not telling me. Not telling all of us. Does Dad know?” Delaney accused as
she watched Ann pull her dripping hands from the faucet.

“Of course your
father knows,” Ann said. “But that doesn’t mean that it’s time for you to
know.”

“I think it is,”
Delaney said as the bathroom door swung open to a clattering horde of women
talking and laughing. The women filtered into the bathroom, all three filing
into their separate stalls while still chatting. Delaney turned back to Ann who
now stood poised in front of the dryer with her hands, waiting.

“Tomorrow. I
promise.” Ann’s words ended with the blast of commercial humming.

16

June 16 - 6:45 p.m

Evie held her breath
as her heels scratched against the porcelain of the toilet. She crouched down,
feeling her black cocktail dress brush against her feet. Ann and Delaney Jones.
Her mother and sister were only feet away from her. The only thing between them
was a metal bathroom door an inch thick. She concentrated, listening to their
voices. The sudden chatter and laughter of women filled the bathroom as the restroom
door closed. The blast of a hand dryer muffled the noises of the stem of her
shoe clamoring to the floor.
Tomorrow.
What was Ann going to tell
Delaney tomorrow? She counted to five and exhaled a final breath before poking
her eye through the crack of the door. They were gone.

She slipped out of
the stall and paused in front of the mirror. She adjusted her wig, pulling it
back on her head until the bangs grazed her eyebrows. She looked good as a
blonde. She dug inside her bra and removed her phone, checking the view of the
camera she had left on a piece of artwork facing the main reception area. The
picture buffered until it focused in on the faces of the crowd. Evie spied
President Givens’s gray hair somewhere in the middle.

The resignation had
sent shock-waves through the attendees, including President Givens himself.
Holston had taken the resignation upon himself; he was planning his next move.
Although Evie didn’t know what it was or what President Givens had done and why
Holston had a special interest in his resignation.

Evie scanned the
faces closest to the camera. Mark. His body turned for a moment, his face
flashing in clear view of the screen as he walked past the camera and into the
hall. Evie shoved the phone back into her bra and peeled the wig from her
skull. She ran her fingers through her dark brown strands before she dumped the
wig in the trash and strolled out in front of Mark. She hesitated, glancing
back at Mark for a brief second before taking a hard right down the hall toward
the back of the building. One, two, three…

“Evie?” Mark called
from behind her. Evie walked faster, her heels clicking feverishly against the
floor as she pedaled down the hall. She needed to see Mark, but without Holston
knowing. She turned left, the layout of the building engrained in her mind.
Another right turn would lead her to the garden. Twenty feet away. He would
follow her.

“Evie?” he called out
again, this time his voice louder. He was gaining ground. She sprinted the last
five feet until she saw the glass of the door. She slammed the door open and
felt the breeze run through her hair. She waited for the door to slam shut, but
instead heard his voice.

“I thought that was
you,” Mark said behind her. She turned to see Mark’s eyes studying her body. “Evie
Parker. Where have you been?”

“Mark. It’s good to
see you.” Evie smiled as she leaned in and gave him a brief hug. She let her
breasts rub against his arm before she backed away.

“I didn’t know you
were going to be here.”

“Well, I thought I
would drop in to see how the building turned out. It’s outstanding. Simply
gorgeous,” she said, pressing her hand on his arm. She didn’t like using Mark;
she actually had liked him for the couple weeks she had known him before she’d
fled. But she needed him.
If Mark knew, he would understand
, she told
herself. “But I don’t want anyone to know I’m here. I just wanted to drop in,
and you happened to catch me.”

“Where did you go?”

“Mostly China. I
wanted to immerse myself in the culture, get away from everything for a bit.
Working for Parker Enterprises is taxing as you know from experience. My father
can be… pretty demanding,” she said. She hated saying the word father; he was
everything a father shouldn’t be.

“China? That’s pretty
crazy, and yeah, it is pretty demanding. I’ve been working long hours, but I
expected that,” Mark replied, now studying her face. Evie’s skin itched as she
returned his gaze. He was handsome with this tight crew cut and wide smile.

“Can you do me a
favor?” Evie snuck her hand through the top of her breasts and retrieved a
piece of folded paper from her bra.

“Sure.” Mark cleared
his throat as he watched her.

“Can you hand this
note to your sister? She’ll know what it means,” Evie chose her words
carefully, unsure what Delaney had told Mark about that night. From the looks
of it, Delaney had followed Holston’s lead and told him nothing.

“Okay,” Mark replied
with a puzzled look on his face.

“I’d love to give you
a ring tomorrow to catch up on everything. What’s your number? I heard you got
slightly drunk and lost your phone the last time I saw you.” Evie laughed as
she reached inside her dress again, this time, for her phone.

“You’ve got to get a
purse or something,” Mark joked as he recited his number to her.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.
Remember, not a word,” she whispered as she moved onto the grass along the side
of the garden.

“Do you need a ride?”
Mark called to her. Evie turned and waved Mark off. He stood in his suit
watching her with the note still folded in the palm of his hand.

17

June 16 - 7:30 p.m

The sun descended
from the sky, its yellow haze burning the last few minutes of the day as it
neared the horizon. A slight breeze brushed against her skin as she watched the
Fox River surge downstream, racing toward the last warmth of the summer sun.

Delaney shivered,
rubbing the back of her arms with her hands. She felt a jacket drape over her
shoulders, the heavy polyester blocking the coolness of the early night.

“Thanks.” Delaney
smiled as James’s hands first rested on her shoulders and then wrapped around
her. He stood behind her, Delaney’s body cradling into his thick chest.