She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,169

it, locking the dead bolt, and putting the chain in place. If somebody wanted to get in, these things would only slow them down, but that was better than nothing.

I pulled back the corner of the curtain and looked out over the parking lot, my eyes bouncing from one white car to the next.

“It’s not them.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know. Not every white car belongs to them.”

Somehow, that didn’t reassure me. “Did you have anything lined up in South Carolina? A place to stay or anything?”

She shook her head.

“I think we’re okay here for tonight, but we should probably head out first thing in the morning. We don’t want to be around when they find Leo. And there was only one white car yesterday. Probably nothing, like you said, but best to keep moving.”

Stella wasn’t listening to me. When I turned around, I realized she was standing in front of the mirror above the sink. She had peeled off her clothes as she went, leaving a trail behind her.

I think my mouth fell open.

Down to only a black lace bra and matching panties, Stella rolled her eyes. “You’ve seen me naked, Pip. No need to be shy. I need a shower. I’ve got his blood in my hair. That doesn’t usually happen.”

With that, she stepped into the small bathroom and pulled the door halfway shut behind her. I heard the water start a moment later.

I picked up my empty bottles and other trash and took it all down to the Dumpster, cleaning the room up as best I could before she finished.

A fourth white car had joined the others, a white Ford Escort. Nobody was inside.

When Stella emerged from the shower wrapped in a white towel and somehow smelling of vanilla again, I hastily shucked off my filthy clothes and showered too. The steaming water felt fantastic, and I stayed in there far longer than I probably should have, scrubbing and scrubbing until my skin was pink and raw, until I saw the last of Leo Signorelli wash down the drain.

By the time I came out, Stella had changed into an oversize tee-shirt. She had washed her black gloves by hand in the sink, and they were now draped over the edge of the cracked formica counter, air-drying.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her slender bare legs crossed beneath her. “I bagged our clothes. We need to get rid of them somewhere. Not here, though.”

I had left my backpack on the floor outside the bathroom, next to Stella’s duffle bag. It was gone now. “Have you seen my—”

“What’s this?” She held up the letter from her parents to mine, my backpack open beside her.

“Go ahead and help yourself.”

“What is it?”

I took a pair of sweatpants out of my pack and slipped them on under my towel, threw the towel in the general direction of the bathroom, and sat down beside her. “My next-door neighbor gave me that right after my aunt died. I think your dad wrote it.”

“Our parents knew each other? Why didn’t you ever show this to me?”

“I tried. I brought the letter with me when I went to see you that year, that was…wow…1993, five years ago. You weren’t there, though, only Latrese Oliver. That was the year she gave me your letter, the one I showed you. I never saw you after that.”

Stella read the letter again, her finger slipping across the paper, following along. “My father wrote this. This is his handwriting.” She considered this, her eyes glistening again. “I’ve never seen his handwriting before. I…I don’t have anything from my parents. He sounds so…paranoid.”

“Do you remember them at all?”

She shook her head. “My earliest memories are of Latrese Oliver, a series of nannies, staff at the house. Nothing about my parents.”

“Did Oliver tell you anything about them?”

“Only that they died when I was a baby, a bad car crash. She said she was close to them and had been appointed my legal guardian.”

“I was told my parents died in a car crash, too.”

“They didn’t, though, did they?”

I shrugged and told her about my father’s grave. What I found. I told her he might still be alive.

Her eyes turned into saucers. “You dug up your father’s grave? Wow, my little Pip isn’t as timid as I thought.” Then her eyes grew even wider. “Do you think my parents might still be alive, too?”

“I wish I knew.”

After a long pause, Stella said, “May I see the books?”

“At least you asked this time.”

I rutted