House of Fire (Unraveled Series) (22 page)

The hum of the Focus
burned to life, the doors shutting with two loud bangs in the same way, in the
same exact moment. Delaney exhaled, feeling the sweat absorb in the
disgustingly tan, cloth seats. Her shirt clung to her back as she pressed it
against the seat, the summer heat vowing to release no prisoners in the midday
press to its peak. The windows shot down to let the sweltering waves of hot air
evaporate to the outside. Vehicles were cesspools of heat, the Focus no
exception. Delaney had heard of a neighborhood dog dying from heat exhaustion
from being left in the car too long when she was young.
Never leave a living
anything in a car
, Michael Jones had warned all of them.
Except for in
the winter - Rowan had fared well in that trunk until Gunnar reopened it.
The
end result for Rowan was the same, although Delaney guessed his death was much
less excruciating than the dog’s had been.
Lucky bastard.

The Focus jerked
backwards, the wheels spinning against the weeds of the concrete, possibly - if
the owners were lucky - tearing some of them up. Delaney shoved her elbow out
the window, feeling the scalding heat of the car sear her skin. She didn’t move
her arm, though; it was the least she could bear as she thought of what Holston
Parker might conceivably do to her mother.

“We’ll find her.”
Evie’s unflinching voice broke Delaney’s thoughts. She was sure of herself,
confident, down-right adamant that they would find her. Delaney hoped like hell
they would, and she contemplated for a fleeting moment on praying. She shoved
that irrational notion out of her head as fast as it had entered.
Where had
God been when my sister and brothers burned alive?

They sat in silence
as Evie pressed forward, back onto the on ramp of Hwy 41, heading north, the
only place they could conceivably go. They had no other leads, no other
prospects than to head to Amberg. The wind whipped through the windows; Evie’s
long, blonde strands pulled at its base, the wig threatening to shift from her
scalp. She finally reached up and pulled it down, letting it fall onto the
stick-shift. It rested on it like a mannequin head, the strands draped down the
console nearing Delaney’s legs. Entirely creepy, yet somehow, it managed to
affix to the car as if it had belonged there all along. Evie rubbed her scalp,
the short brown strands matted from her own sweat.

“It must be hot. The
wig,” Delany finally said as she pushed the button to roll up the window. She
reached for the AC, cranking the knob to MAX and opening her vents to let the
musty, lukewarm air blow into her face.

The sudden vibration
of the phone in her pocket shifted her attention to her sticky denim. She
spread her legs and forced her hips up as she dug in her pocket.
Too hot for
denim.
She envied Evie’s cotton dress that stretched around her thighs.
Her own skin rubbed against the abrasiveness, her thighs suffocating as she
struggled to remove the phone.
Evie’s dress is a glorious breeze for the
thighs. Damn, I need my pockets.
She would have to reconsider this, train
herself to do away with the engrained ritual she’d continued since childhood.
Her reality was unraveling before her and somehow, letting go of pockets seemed
like a good first step in moving forward at the moment.

Delaney held the
vibrating phone, unable to silence it, yet unable to answer it.
James.
His subtle face appeared in the screen, his mouth trying to hold back a smile.
His tie was yanked loose from his neck, dangling from his long day at the
office. She had taken the picture a few weeks ago, back in May, when she had
driven down on a whim after one of her morning classes. She had cancelled her
afternoon class and headed south down the strip of Hwy 41. It had been the
first seventy degree day of the spring; her windows down as the breeze flapped
through her Civic winding down along Lake Michigan. She had called James’s
assistant to ensure he was in; Carol had promptly cleared his late afternoon,
without Delaney’s request, with a bounce. Delaney could see her bopping
ponytail, the ribbon flapping like two large butterfly wings, as she talked to
her. Carol was in her forties, but she had never seemed to have matured; she had
the innocence and joy of a six-year-old trapped in a forty-six-year-old body.
She was as smart as they come, though, and loyal as hell. She had giggled when
Delaney walked in and stayed to take calls when James left for the day. James
and Delaney had spent the afternoon soaking up the sun and walking in the sand.
The picture of James had been taken at Bradford Beach.

It had taken longer
than she had thought for James to call; they had been gone for thirty minutes,
give or a take a few. The vibration pulsed through her hand, traveling up her
arm as she held it straight away. Not having a cell phone at the moment would have
its perks.

“Answer it,” Evie
ordered through the stagnant air. “Tell them we’re going to find her. Bring her
back.”

We.
Evie wanted them to know that
they were together. Delaney hit the green button and waited for James to speak
first.

“Delaney?” James’s
aching voice pulled at her heart. She remained silent, breathing lightly into
the phone. “Delaney, are you there?” His voice was panicked now, “Jesus, say
something.”

“I’m here,” Delaney
finally answered, her voice soft and steady. She needed to calm him down, make
him understand that climbing out of a bathroom window while the Police Chief
was at your house to investigate a missing persons report was entirely
acceptable behavior. Not to mention that Delaney had fled with the captor’s
daughter, who just so happened to be planning to murder her own father. She
leveled with herself; that feat was entirely impossible. Delaney caught Evie’s
hand gesture out of the corner of her eye, the rapid circular movement of ‘get
on with it’ was clear.

“Are you okay?” James
sputtered, his voice jolting up and down. He was pacing, like he always did
when he was stressed out, which was next to never. She had only seen him do
this twice, the incidences only months apart. Once, when he got panicky-pissed
when he thought his application was late to UC Berkley. The other time, when he
told Delaney that he loved her for the first time; they were both seventeen.

“Yes, stop pacing,”
Delaney said. The muffled noises on the other end stopped.

“Delaney, where are
you?” His voice was clear now, steady, but still urgent.

“I’m with Evie. We’re
trying to find Mom.”

“We were about to
file a second missing persons report. Why did you sneak out, Delaney? Your dad,
your brother. We’re worried about you. Everybody’s in a panic here,” James said.
“What’s going on?”

“I can’t exactly tell
you yet because I’m not entirely sure, but we think we might know where he is
bringing her. Did Sanchez leave?” Delaney paused, closing her eyes to see
Sanchez’s well-oiled face. Old Spice wafted through her nose. Sanchez could
have stepped out of an old western movie, his cowboy boots clinking as he
strolled out of the saloon.

“He did, and before
we knew you were gone. Be thankful for that,” James continued. “And do you want
to know why he left? The call he took on the porch was from campus.”

Delaney listened to
the silence on the other end, waiting for James to finish. The ticking of
Evie’s turn signal interrupted the stillness. The Focus’s engine revved as Evie
accelerated, jerking the car to switch lanes before she closed in on the
taillights of the SUV in front of her. Delaney grabbed the handle again, her
body swaying inside the plastic go-kart.

“They found President
Givens’s body, Delaney. Apparent suicide,” James finally offered.

“Suicide?” Delaney
said the word with added effort, deliberate and slow, as if she hadn’t already
known.

“Delaney, it’s not
safe. Whatever you are doing, stop now. Come back. We’ll figure this out
together,” James pleaded as Delaney heard the muffled sound of her father’s
voice in the background. “Your dad wants you to come back. He can’t have both
of his girls gone.”

Delaney swallowed
hard, the weight of James’s words crawling beneath her skin and burrowing deep
into her bones. Her father had experienced a tremendous amount of loss in his
life, and he didn’t deserve to be put through anything more. He couldn’t lose
Ann. He couldn’t lose his Delaney girl.

“I know he can’t.
That’s why I’m doing this,” Delaney whispered. “To get her back. It’s the only
way, James. We can’t trust anyone. Holston Parker is paying people off left and
right. He’s not who you think he is.”

“I get that, that’s
why you need to come back. It’s too dangerous,” James whispered back. “Mark
told me when your dad was out of the room. What the hell is going on? Was it
that day back in December? When that student went missing? Delaney, you have to
tell me. You have to trust me.”

“I do trust you. I
just can’t get into it all now, James. I’m sorry, I really am,” Delaney
replied. “Do the best you can to ward them off. I will call you once we know
something. I promise.”

Delaney waited for
the rebuttal, but it fell silent. James calculated on the other end; he was
innately good at arguing, often talking his way out of most discrepancies or
fights they had. Being a lawyer had polished that skill, honed it to
perfection. He also knew when he was fighting a losing battle. He would never
win this one, and he knew it.

“I love you. Call me
as soon as you find something,” James said. He paused before he added,
“Delaney?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you trust her?”

“Oddly enough, I do,”
Delaney answered, studying Evie’s eyelashes fluttering beneath the
aviators. Evie tightened the grip on the wheel, her tiny knuckles white with
the force. “I love you, too.”

Delaney swiped the
red button, the flashing numbers indicating the length of the call: 3:07. It
was the longest three minute conversation she had ever had.

“I should have taken
him out last night,” Evie’s voice scratched through the still musty air; the
cool breeze tickled the hairs on Delaney’s arms. The details of the whole
debacle were becoming excruciatingly twisted and painful. Delaney waited, too
exhausted to even ask for more information.

“Why didn’t you?”
Delaney asked.

“I wish I could have.
No gun,” Evie said. “And I was too tired and jet-lagged to go at him with my
knife.”

Delaney slid back in
her seat. She was finally feeling the slightest relief from the cool air
blowing on her body. The denim began to peel back from her legs, the sweat
drying and releasing its hold. She flapped her cotton shirt in the air. The
white flared in the air like the wave of a white flag, the surrendering of a
long fought battle. She felt her hidden 9mm rest against her chest.
Maybe I
should tell her.

“It’ll be fine,” Evie
pressed. Delaney couldn’t help feeling that it wouldn’t be fine. They were
headed straight north on a wild goose chase, a hint from a chain-smoking whore
who just happened to reveal herself as her adopted brothers’ birth mother. The
idea of Florence wouldn’t sit well with either of them, and Delaney
contemplated what the conversation would look like.
I met your mother. She’s
a whore. Chain-smoker. Lives in a motel.
Mark wouldn’t say anything while
Ben would nod his head, muttering something like, “Sounds about right.” Delaney
wondered if they would even want to know. The story of a runaway mother
branding legs and arms with black ink on a beach somewhere in sunny California
sounded better than the real deal.

“Do you really love
him?” Evie asked in her cool voice which Delaney was learning to both hate and
admire.
That was something about Evie
, Delaney thought, most people
probably either feared or hated her, most likely both at the same time.

“I do,” Delaney
answered with no hesitation. She had answered from her heart, her mind not interfering
with her response, telling her not to love so deeply as she did.

“What’s it like? To
be in love? Is it worth it?” Evie asked.

“I think so. It’s the
first time I’ve ever been in love. I take it you’ve never been. What happened
to Ethan?” Delaney replied, studying the small bicep that bulged underneath
Evie’s capped sleeve. For as tiny as she was, she was powerful and could pack a
punch. She hadn’t lost her strength, either, wherever she had been. Delaney
envisioned Evie throwing down push-ups and sparring in a boxing ring on a beach
somewhere. She was one tough bitch.

“He’s dead,” Evie
said. “I was there when Holston killed him. Ethan saved my life, three times in
twenty-four hours. I
think
he loved me, but I never got a chance to find
out if he really did. Or a chance to love him back.”

“I’m sorry,” Delaney
started, though she knew nothing she would say could make it better. Holston
had stripped Evie of any normalcy that she could possibly have, a life void of
human love. It was unfathomable that Evie had made it this far, a product of
her toxic environment.

“It was just a matter
of time before he took someone else from me,” Evie said. Delaney followed
Evie’s eyes to the road, the dotted white lines blurring into one continuous
stream of white.

“Who’s the friend you
visited?”

“Elizabeth’s brother,
Ryan. I thought he should know about his dad. It seemed like the right thing to
do, if there is a right and wrong.” Evie rubbed the wheel with her thin
fingers. “And I thought Ryan might help me out after he knew what had happened.
He’s the only one I had left after everything had settled, but it took me
months to find him.”

“Did he know about
Holston? Is that why it took so long to find him?” Delaney wondered how someone
could disappear for so long. She also wondered if she could do the same if
things went awry with Holston today. She was sure that Evie could; however, she
didn’t know if she could leave James behind.