Лиза Гарднер - Before She Disappeared

“What happened, Deke?” I stroke his cheek.

“They demanded a meeting . . . with my source. But Livia, too scared. Angelique showed up in her place. She had . . . a new plan . . . not Real ID. Couldn’t”—he breaks off, coughing again—“be done. Visas. Student visas.”

“Angelique figured out,” I provide for him, “that forging a visa would be just as difficult as a Real ID. However, she could create an entire fictional college that would issue the application documents needed for a real visa.”

Short nod.

“Why a college for student visas, versus green cards?”

“Student visas . . . less scrutiny. And so many colleges. Easier place . . . to start. Plus, Angelique’s idea. She wanted. For herself. Her brother.”

“So this was the initial offer. Get these documents right and not only make huge sums of money now but set the stage for larger money later. Except they didn’t let Angelique come home from that initial meeting, though, did they?” This much Lotham and I had already figured out. “Angelique’s grand idea put more at stake. So big bad associate guys decided to protect their investment by keeping her. Which also provided leverage to force Livia to engage.”

Faint nod. Deke’s breathing is ragged. I can hear the beginnings of a rattle.

Paul: “Hold my hand, Frankie? Please. Just hold my hand.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I know. And I love you anyway. I’ve always loved you anyway.”

“But progress wasn’t happening fast enough?” I push now. “So they grabbed Livia anyway. Forced her and Angelique to work day and night?”

“Livia wasn’t doing . . . so good. The pressure . . . They got nervous. Worried she’d tell. Took her, too. Stuck ’em both in an abandoned building. One leaves . . . The other suffers . . . Couple of guys standing watch. I tried . . . when I could. Give them some breathing room. Let Angelique out . . . but she had to come back. She always came back.”

“For Livia,” I supply.

“She . . . she loves Livia.”

So he knew, then. How much Angelique and Livia meant to each other.

“What happened?” I asked, stroking his cheek. Not much longer now.

“I thought I could keep Livia and Angel safe. I thought . . .”

“You could control the situation?”

“Couldn’t. Everything harder than it looked. Guys, panicking. Girls, freaking out. Month . . . into month . . . into month. Took so long. Livia . . . poor Livia. Then you came. Rocking the boat. So I tried to . . . scare you off. Stop questions.”

“You shot at me, outside J.J. and Roseline Samdi’s house.”

“Thought better . . . if you gone.”

“But I didn’t leave,” I murmur. “And it didn’t get better.”

“Angelique thought, if they cooperated, everything’d be . . . okay. She got college website, registry documents . . . done. Had our first trial.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?” I fill in for him. “Heaven help you all. Angelique’s master plan succeeded, meaning suddenly, they didn’t need any of you anymore. Not Livia, not Angelique, not even you?”

“I tried to warn Livia . . . wanted to get her out. But . . . caught us. He killed her. Right in front of me. What happens if you try to run.”

“You got away. You came to Stoney’s bar. I saw you, outside my window.”

“Wanted to talk to you . . . But then . . . saw the cop arrive. Didn’t know who I could trust.”

“Where is Angelique, Deke? Tell me. I’ll protect her for you. I’ll save her, and I’ll be sure she knows it was because of you.”

Deke’s breathing is definitely ragged now. Suddenly, his body convulses. He winces, grabs his stomach, then heaves sideways just in time to vomit up blood.

“Please, Paul, just hang in there. Help is coming. Paul, Paul. Please God. Paul!”

“Housecleaning now,” Deke whispers. “No loose ends. I gave Angelique my phone. Told her to warn her brother. They knew . . . about her messages to him. But her call . . . not in time. They grabbed him. Threw him . . . in the van. I went for the gun. Enough . . . is enough.”

And there it is, the final death rattle I know all too well.

Me, clutching Paul’s hand. Keening, keening, keening.

Sirens in the background, still way too far away. They won’t be able to save him. No one can save him.

Paul, eyes fluttering open. “You are so beautiful. First time I saw you . . . I knew you were the one. So many, I tried to fix. But you . . . You healed me. I love you, Amy. Forever and always. I love you, for loving me.”

Me, keening, keening, keening.

As her name goes on and on. Amy Amy Amy. The woman he truly loved. The woman who loved him.

The woman I could never be.

There are no sirens now. No final declarations of love. A long, shuddery sigh.

“Livia,” he whispers.

Then I watch the life expel out of Deke Alarie. I feel his hand go limp in mine.

I bend over long enough to close his eyelids. I brush a soft kiss over his forehead. I thank him for trying to save Emmanuel and Angelique. I bless him for having the fortitude to tell me what I need to know.

Where I must go next.

When I finally rise to standing, I’m coated in blood and tears. And once more, that night, so long ago.

“I love you, Amy . . .”

I accept the pain as my due.

Then I grab Emmanuel’s backpack and I start to run. There’s not much time anymore. But finally, I know exactly where to find Angelique, as well as her brother.

I know how to get this one right.

CHAPTER 36

I dial 911 as I race toward the wide boulevard, then track north. I rant about a gunshot victim in a back alley. I tell the confused dispatch operator it’s Deke Alarie and he’s already dead and Officer O’Shaughnessy is in the vicinity and please let him know. And P.S., please tell a guy named Charlie that I’m sorry. Then I hang up before the operator can ask me any more questions.

Next I call Lotham’s cell. He answers instantly this time, already on high alert.

“Where are you?”

“They have Angelique and Emmanuel. Deke tried to stop them. He’s dead.” I tell him where I’m going, then warn, “Lights off, sirens quiet. If they know the police are there . . .”

Lotham doesn’t require further explanation. I think of his broad face, his mangled ear. I think he’s a good man, an excellent detective, and if anyone can get this done . . . I think, if I get shot next, he’s the one I would like to hold my hand.

He’s not speaking. I hear his thoughts instead. His quiet desperation for me to go home, be safe. His relentless need to save Angelique, to protect me.

But maybe I am growing on him, because he doesn’t say the words out loud anymore. He doesn’t tell me to do things we both know I won’t do. I hang up the phone. I keep running.

Toward where it all began two summers ago. Where it will end tonight.

The rec center.

And its kindly director, Frédéric Lagudu.

—

I come upon the van first. It is parked out front, the back doors slung open, the inside empty. I don’t dare use my pocket flashlight to examine it more closely. I sniff instead, catching the unmistakable scent of blood. From Deke, before they dumped him? Or am I already too late?

I refuse to believe that Emmanuel is dead, if only because I can’t bear the thought. All of my other cases, I’ve pursued my target from a distance, never having met the missing person in question. But Emmanuel, I’ve talked to him, comforted him. He’s just a boy. He doesn’t deserve this.

I creep my way around the giant metal building. I don’t see any trace of lights or detect any sounds of activity. But I know how immense the building is. Plenty of internal classrooms and smaller storage spaces that aren’t noticeable from the outside. What was it Mr. Riddenscail said? The operation could be as simple as a single computer and printer. Wouldn’t require much square footage at all.