letter of the law, done what needed to be done for Angel. Andrea has called her findings in to the police; if anyone is still looking for Billy Martin, they’ll get out there fast.
But what if there isn’t time? What if another night, another day—another hour—means it’s too late for a boy in trouble? To save his life, to save his mind.
After all, that’s all it took for me, just an hour. Right, Lara?
THIRTY-THREE
She stood to leave, Hank sat staring at his cup in Café Orlin.
“Did you forget something?” He picked up the heart and held it out to her in his palm.
“Keep it, Hank,” she said. “I never wanted it in the first place.”
She intended it to be mean; it was not even true. But she hated him in that moment. Wanted to hurt him. She could tell by the look on his face that she had. He closed it in his palm.
“He’s unstable,” she told Greg in the taxi. “He needs help.”
“What did he say?” he asked.
But she didn’t tell Greg that Hank was planning to kill Eugene Kreskey, that he’d asked her to lure Tess’s killer back to that house. That Hank had a plan, a plan for revenge—it was well thought out. He’d been to the house a number of times. He’d purchased the items he needed to carry out his task.
No, Rain didn’t tell Greg.
She didn’t tell anyone.
In fact, later that night when she woke sweating and weeping from a nightmare where Kreskey sliced her open and pulled out her heart, the only person she thought to call was Hank. He answered on the first ring.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice heavy, knowing.
“No,” she said, breathless. He was right there. Kreskey. Lurking in every murky corner, of the room, of her mind. She wasn’t free. “Of course I’m not.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything. I had no right—”
“I’m in,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”
Rage.
Of all the emotions she’d acknowledged and examined, of all the feelings she’d laid bare for shrinks. That beast crouched inside her, unwelcome, unexpressed, but there all the same. Because deep down, beneath the cover of shame and self-blame, survivor’s guilt, she knew who was responsible for what happened to her and to her friends. And she’d never stopped hating him for it, never stopped wishing something horrible would happen to him.
“And then,” she went on, gripping the phone. “You and I are done.”
Hank breathed on the line. Then, “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”
It should have been her that day; that was the other thing she knew. Cosmically, maybe, it had been her day to die. And because of Hank, she’d lived. Now, she’d finally go to the Kreskey house to save Hank.
And this time, they’d win.
THIRTY-FOUR
The shuffling came from behind the door, a series of scratches. Then quiet again. Why didn’t she turn and leave? Why couldn’t she keep herself from moving forward? There was another high-pitched noise, too. She couldn’t identify it, but it made her skin tingle. Something hurt or trapped? Since she’d had Lily, the thought of anything helpless in pain or in distress sliced her. She couldn’t stand the thought of hungry children, abused pets, runaways, women hiding from abusive husbands. She had the iPhone camera running, held out in front of her.
The door swung open. In the corner, mingling with the shadows, she saw a form, something small and rustling. A pair of yellow eyes stared at her, startled by the light from her phone. A low yowl. A cat, black with a white chest and yellow eyes. Around her a litter of kittens.
“Oh!” she said, moving forward, crouching down. The kittens mewled and wriggled, hairless, eyes closed, and mama didn’t look happy.
“That’s all right, kitties,” she said. “I won’t hurt you.”
Rain rose, backed away and didn’t see him until it was too late.
Kreskey, towering and filthy, arm raised. He slipped out of the shadow behind the door and she didn’t even have a chance to scream.
The blow caught her on the side of the head and she went sailing, like she weighed nothing, head cracking against the floor. The world spinning. The cat hissing, wild, right by her head. When he came at her again, the cat lunged—going straight for his face. And he issued a yell, ripping the cat away and tossing it brutally against the wall.
Then he was coming toward Rain again, howling, bleeding from the scratches on his face. She just cowered, not believing her eyes.