At first, he thought it was meant for Father, but the man seemed fixated on the route his hand was taking. So the “no” was for Justin.
Fuck! Everything on her pained face told him she didn’t want what was happening, and yet she was telling him not to interrupt?
Shit! He had to do something. He couldn’t see Father’s hand anymore. It was too dark again, the stream of traffic having passed. But from the movement of the man’s shoulder, Justin figured he must be digging into her. Maybe by now, he had his goddamn hand down the front of her pants.
Justin laid his head back. He had to do something. Fuck! He needed to think. Suddenly he decided. He jerked and twisted, flaying his body back and forth in the seat, faking a nightmare as best he could. Then he slammed his body forward and yelled, “Stop it! Don’t do it!”
It was enough to wake everyone, and several people hung over or around their seats to look. Justin shook his head and rubbed his eyes and face.
“Sorry, everybody. Bad dream, I guess. I’m okay.”
He glanced at Father. The man was staring at him, the anger easily visible in the dim light. As he stood, he scowled down at Justin, holding that pose as if wanting everyone to witness his disapproval. How could he justify being angry about a nightmare? Of course, no one else would know the real reason for his anger. But Justin didn’t care if anyone else knew. He was just glad the pervert had stopped. He simply shrugged at Father. Then he shifted in his seat away from that piercing and condemning stare, mumbling an apology to the zit-faced dittohead sitting next to him.
Finally, he heard Father turn, but Justin waited until he heard the click of the back compartment’s door before he looked over at Alice. Her face was turned to the window again, but, almost as if reading his mind, she glanced at him over her shoulder and again slowly shook her head, only this time she didn’t look pained. This time, she looked worried, and he knew he was probably in a whole lot of trouble with their leader, their so-called fucking soul caretaker. How could he take care of their souls when he couldn’t even keep his fucking hands to himself?
CHAPTER 19
SUNDAY
November 24
The Hyatt Regency Crystal City
Arlington, Virginia
Maggie checked her watch again. Her mother was fifteen minutes late. Okay, some things never changed. Quickly, she chastised herself for the thought. After all, her mother was trying to change. Her new friends seemed to have had a positive influence on her. There had been no drunken bouts or botched suicide attempts in more than six months. That had to be a record, yet Maggie remained skeptical.
Her mother rarely left Richmond, but lately she was traveling some place new every other week. Maggie had been surprised to get the phone call last night and even more surprised to find her mother had been calling from the Crystal City Hyatt. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had been to the District. She had told Maggie she’d come for a prayer meeting or some such thing, and for a brief moment Maggie had panicked that it was the prayer thing she was being invited to. Now Maggie wondered why she thought having breakfast with her mother would be any less awkward. Why hadn’t she just said no?
She sipped her water, wishing it were Scotch. The waiter smiled at her again from across the restaurant, one of those sympathy smiles that said, “I’m sorry you’ve been stood up.” She decided if her mother didn’t show, she’d order bacon, scrambled eggs and toast with a tumbler of Scotch instead of orange juice.
She refolded her napkin for the third time when all she wanted to do was dig the exhaustion from her eyes. She had only gotten about two hours of sleep, fighting images of Delaney’s head exploding over and over again. God, she hated funerals! Even Abby’s innocent acceptance of her father’s death hadn’t stopped Maggie’s memories from leaking into and invading her sleep. The nightmare that finally convinced her to stay awake was one of herself, tossing handful after handful of dirt into a dark hole. The process seemed endless and exhausting. When she finally looked over the edge, she saw the dirt quickly turning to maggots scattering and crawling across her father’s face, his wide eyes staring up at her. And he was wearing that