Shady had turned her out. She wouldn’t be down here, hooking for Horse, if he hadn’t. But she wouldn’t last long here, either. She was too much of an addict to make a good prostitute.
She’d hit rock bottom. It was the most pathetic sight Rex had ever seen, and he’d seen a lot of sad things in his life. He told himself he had no business watching her. That he should drive off and forget all about Mona, Shady, Horse and the others. But her sobs were so gut-wrenching he couldn’t bring himself to leave.
Leaning out the window, he whistled to catch her attention.
Her head popped up and, hiccuping as she looked over at him, she made a weak attempt to pull down her skirt. “You should get out of here,” she warned when she recognized him. “Horse’ll kill you if he sees you.”
Apparently she’d heard about his situation. “I know.”
She wiped her face. “So…why are you here?”
“Same reason you are.” He had nowhere else to go. It was the story of his life. He’d been scrabbling around, looking for a place to belong, since he could remember.
“What do you want?” she asked, curious enough to be distracted from her heartbreak.
To start over. To get out. Like Virgil. If only he knew how…. “Climb in. I’ll take you to a shelter.”
She raised her chin. “What if I don’t want to go to a shelter?”
“You have to go somewhere, right? You won’t survive here much longer.”
She knew it, too; he could tell. “I have a sister,” she admitted after a lengthy silence.
“Will she help you?”
“Maybe. I haven’t ever given her the chance.”
“Then don’t you think it’s time you asked?”
Slowly she climbed to her feet and came around the car.
“Where we headin’?” he asked once she’d strapped herself in.
She toyed with the twenty her last john had paid her, the only thing she had to show for her years with The Crew—besides a debilitating drug habit and possibly, likely, an STD or two. “Beverly Hills.”
He felt his eyebrows go up. “No kidding?”
She grinned at him. “No kidding.”
They had some trouble with the address. She got confused and couldn’t remember it right. But eventually they located her sister’s house and he waited while she went to the door. When the woman who answered hugged her, Rex knew it was going to be okay. At least for now. He was about to take off when she came hurrying back to the car.
“Do you want to stay here for the night?” she asked. “My sister’ll let you crash on the couch.”
“No, thanks.” He preferred to remember her at this moment, didn’t want to stick around in case her situation didn’t look quite as good in the morning, when she needed a fix.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, well, I appreciate the ride.”
“Good luck.” He shifted into Drive, but she didn’t step away.
“You know, I’m not sure whether to tell you this.” She fiddled with her skimpy, bralike blouse. “I’ve been thinking about it for the whole ride, but…”
“What is it?” he prompted.
Her chest lifted as she drew a deep breath. “They found Skin.”
Rex almost couldn’t believe his ears. “What did you say?”
“It’s true. I heard Horse talkin’ about it earlier.”
“How?”
“Some big muckety-muck inside the CDC ratted him out. Rick Walrus or something like that. They were all laughing about how fast he offered Skin up.”
The bastard… “So where is Skin?”
“Pelican Bay. He’s informing on the Hells Fury. No one knows why. The cops cut him some sort of deal, I guess. But whatever he was hopin’ to get out of it…it won’t happen. Shady and Meeks are on their way to Crescent City right now.” She shivered. “I know it can’t be good news for you, considerin’ what they’re gonna do. I’ve heard you talk about Skin, and I can tell you respect him. But…I thought you might wanna know.”
“Thanks,” he said. No words could convey the depth of feeling that engulfed him when he pictured Virgil locked inside Pelican Bay with no clue that one of the “good guys,” whom he was supposed to be able to trust, had just sold him out.
29
Rick Wallace hadn’t been picking up his cell phone or returning the messages she’d left, so Laurel wasn’t expecting it when he answered.
“Mr. Wallace?” she said, startled by his hello.
“Yes?”
She cleared her throat. “This is Laurel Hodges.”
She got the impression he wasn’t happy to hear from her. “Who gave you this number?”
“You did. Don’t you remember? You said if I ever needed anything to give you a call.”
“Oh, right. That night in Gunnison.” He sighed loudly enough that she could hear. “That seems so long ago.”
He sounded stressed. She felt guilty for bothering him, but she couldn’t believe that he was dealing with any more than she was. And this wouldn’t take more than a second. “Not to me,” she said. “I feel as if a tornado’s picked me up and is still whipping me around. I have no idea where it might drop me, or when.” Although two men from the U.S. Marshal Service had taken her to a different safe house, this one in Albuquerque, New Mexico, the man who’d stayed with her had told her it wasn’t a permanent location. The government was still working on the details of her new identity, which made everything even more difficult for her because she couldn’t settle anywhere. They’d left her waiting on pins and needles. And with no work, no friends, nothing except her children to distract her, she was going crazy, especially during naptime when the house was quiet. The marshal spent most of his time in his bedroom.
“I’m sorry, but I’m late for a meeting.” He didn’t seem to care about her plight. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m calling to check on my brother. If you won’t give me any way to reach him directly, you have to at least give me periodic updates. I’m in an unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar city. The Crew killed the last marshal, and I saw one man gun down two others. I think it’s understandable that I’d be a little rattled and need some reassurance to help me adjust to all this upheaval.”