Altercation Page 5

  Megan suppressed a sigh. Stop it. Boyfriends aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, anyway. Or popularity. Not that she’d know. She had been on her fair share of dates. Even had some kisses. But definitely not anything she could call a relationship.

  “Hey, Megan.” Someone poked her in the waist.

  She yelped and spun around, slapping her younger brother Spencer on the shoulder. “Jerk!” She hugged her physics book to her chest.

  He grinned at her. “You always do that.” He grabbed the car keys off her finger. “Can I drive? Can I can I can I can I?”

  “No way.” She scowled and took the key ring back. “You barely got your license.” Her eyes shifted one last time toward Sasha Nuñez.

  Spencer followed her gaze and gave a low whistle.

  “Spencer!” Megan hissed, her blue eyes narrowing to slits. Last thing she needed was her own brother hitting on Sasha.

  “Don’t worry, sis, she’s out of my league. I’m just looking. Besides, I like the hoop ladies.” He mimicked tossing a ball through a hoop in the air in front of them.

  “I want out of here.”

  He shot her a sidelong look and opened the door to the parking lot. “We’re going home.”

  She stomped her foot impatiently. “No. Here.” She gestured behind her. “This school. This city. I need something bigger.”

  He grunted. “Me too. At least this is your senior year. I still have three to go.”

  “Yeah that. Sorry, kiddo.” Megan unlocked the white Honda Accord and they climbed inside.

  “Besides.” Spencer tossed his backpack on the seat behind him. “In a week we’re taking off again. Gonna visit the girls’ families, like Dad promised.”

  Megan sighed. “Idaho. What fun.” Couldn’t they ever take a real vacation?

  The engine gave a sluggish grunt before turning over and starting. Megan kept her foot on the gas, coaxing it out of the parking lot.

  Chapter Seven

  The least these guys could do is invest in an X-box,” Ricky complained, his fingers working on the Nintendo controllers as if they had a mind of their own. “I mean, this thing is so old school. I think my Grandma used to play this.”

  “Just be glad we have one,” Neal replied, not looking away from the television screen. His avatar threw a ball of fire at Ricky’s. “Grandma couldn’t even afford this old thing.”

  Jaci watched them, and had to admit it was obvious that neither of them had much practice. She was quite certain that she could beat them. Having two brothers forced her to be skilled in the arts of video games.

  She had never really thought about the fact that her family didn’t struggle for money. She just assumed her dad had a good job. Where did the money come from, if he wasn’t even employed?

  She wondered if the twins missed their grandmother. The woman had died a few weeks before the boys met the girls. Her death helped motivate them to leave their town behind. But they rarely mentioned her.

  “You’re beating me, Neal!” Ricky cried. “How is this even possible?”

  The game system beeped out an old-fashioned tune, and the words “Game Over” flashed across the screen. Neal grinned and popped his fingers. “You lose.”

  Upstairs a door slammed shut, and Banks’ voice called down, “Lunch is here!”

  Ricky dropped his controller and ran up the stairs as eagerly as a five-year-old.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m starving,” Amanda said, heading up after him.

  Sara didn’t budge from the corner of the couch where she huddled.

  Jaci held out her hand. “Come sit with us, Sara. Maybe you’ll see something that looks good.”

  Sara let Jaci pull her to her feet. The smell of melted cheese and greasy pepperoni hit Jaci as soon as the upstairs door opened.

  “Pizza,” Neal said, a ravenous look coming into his eyes.

  Jaci took two steps into the living room and stopped. The sights and smells of the Idaho Falls shopping mall flooded her senses. She remembered the chilly September air invading the food court every time a door opened, people bumping chairs, Callie laughing as she tried to bite off a strand of gooey mozzarella.

  “It was her birthday,” Jaci said. She choked back a sob, the tears spilling from her eyes like water from a leaky faucet. “No one should have to die on their birthday.”

  Chairs scraped back from the table, and then Agent Magrew stood next to her, wrapping her in a hug. The tall woman smelled like Dove shampoo, a scent Jaci associated with her mother. She sobbed harder.

  “It’s alright,” Magrew soothed. She pulled Jaci to the couch and sat her down. “What’s wrong? What are you thinking?”

  Jaci pulled away and wiped her eyes. The impulsive emotion faded, leaving behind embarrassment for breaking down in front of everyone. “I can’t eat the pizza.” The very thought made her stomach churn.

  “Why?” Amanda came into the living room and sat down in front of her.

  “Callie.” Jaci shook her head. “It’s the last thing Callie ever ate.”

  “But you ate pizza at Natalie’s house.”

  “We were starving. I didn’t care. I can’t. I can’t do it now.”

  Magrew’s eyes flicked over Jaci’s face. “You don’t have to. We have plenty of other things to eat. You want a sandwich? I’ll make you one.”

  “Yes.” Jaci nodded, tears welling up again. Callie hadn’t known she would never eat again. “Thank you.”

  Amanda spun around to Agent Banks. “What happened that night?” she demanded. “Where was Callie’s mom? Why didn’t anyone come for us?”

  “There was an accident.” Banks entered the living room and sat on the edge of the coffee table, looking at the two girls.

  “An accident?” Sara echoed. She sat down next to Jaci.

  “Yes. A car accident on Yellowstone Highway blocked the road.”

  Jaci rubbed her finger over her eyebrow. Yellowstone Highway was the main road from Shelley to Idaho Falls. If it were blocked, the detour would add at least another forty minutes to the drive. “Unfortunate for us.”

  Banks surveyed the three of them and nodded. “Very.”

  Magrew handed Jaci a plate with a sandwich cut into fourths. Jaci picked at it.

  Banks cleared his throat. “Tell me about that night at the mall. Why did they kidnap you?”

  Jaci took the sandwich apart and tore the meat into strips, a hollow feeling building in her stomach. These were things she had done her best to forget.

  Ricky broke the tense silence. “Well, I don’t know. I wasn’t even there.”

  “Shut up, Ricky,” Neal murmured, his voice carrying from the kitchen. “He’s not talking to us.”

  Banks looked over his shoulder at the boys and smiled dryly. “I know that. You boys didn’t come into the picture until later. So I guess that means you don’t have to answer the question.” His phone beeped, and he scrolled through a message with his thumb. “The counselor’s here.”

  “You mean our shrink,” Ricky said, a corner of his mouth rising.

  “She’s just going to evaluate your mental state. Please be honest with her.”

  “Do we have to be?”

  Banks gave Ricky a sharp look. “Yes. Richard.”

  Ricky coughed. “Gotcha.”

  Banks stood and pulled a clipboard from a bookshelf next to the couch. “Jacinta.”

  Jaci winced. He hadn’t even tried to pronounce it in Spanish, and his gringo accent was horrible. “That’s me.”

  “She’ll meet with you first.”

  The door to the garage unlocked, and then a woman grunted, pushing the door open with her elbows and leaning against it. She held thick green folders in her arms. Jaci eyed her suspiciously. Her highlighted blond hair was piled on top of her
head, held in place with a pencil. Stylish blue glasses framed her large blue eyes. The tight blazer and short skirt hugged her curvy body. What kind of therapy was she planning?

  “Hi.” The woman flashed a smile, showing off her white teeth. “I’m Crystal Florence. Which one’s Jacinta?” She said Jaci’s name with perfect, unaccented Spanish.

  “That would be me,” Jaci said, already not liking the woman. “I go by Jay-See.”

  “Great. And which one’s Richard?”

  “Uh, me.” Ricky stood up from the table, his gaze dropping below her face and then up again.

  “You’ll be next. Come on, Jaci.” She walked through the living room and down the hallway, motioning for Jaci to follow.

  They stepped into the second office, the one with the closet full of random clothing. A sofa, two beanbags, and a la-z-boy were the only furnishings.

  “Anywhere you want to sit,” Florence said, settling herself on a corner of the sofa. “And you can call me Crystal.”

  Jaci sat on a beanbag, feeling awkward and small at the way it swallowed her up.

  Crystal reached up and brushed back a strand of blond hair. “We’re just going to talk. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

  Jaci stared at the shaggy carpet. There was nothing she wanted to talk about.

  “Who gave you your nickname?”

  “I did. Nobody at school could say ‘Jacinta.’ They called me ‘Beaner’ instead. So I shortened my name to Jaci.”

  “How old were you?”

  She shrugged. “Seven? Eight?”

  “Can you speak Spanish?”

  “Of course.”

  “How are your parents?”

  Jaci’s thoughts flew to her father. She studied Crystal. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

  Crystal dropped her eyes and twiddled a pen between her fingers. “Well, Jaci, if you don’t know, I certainly don’t.”

  Jaci doubted that. She resented the secrets, even if they were supposed to ‘protect’ her. “Are you a doctor?”

  “No. I’m a licensed therapist.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did you want to do this?”

  Crystal crossed her bare leg over the other one, the tight skirt revealing muscular thighs. “I always enjoyed helping my friends when they had personal issues. I realized I like talking things out. And few people need to talk things out more than those who have been through a traumatic situation. Unfortunately, those are the hardest to talk about. Nobody wants to relive something horrible.”

  Jaci paused, considering that. “So why don’t we talk about something else?”

  “If it will make you feel better.”

  The patronizing tone grated on Jaci’s nerves. “Nothing will make me feel better.”

  “Tell me something you like to do.”

  “I like to run.”

  “That’s right. You’re on the track team?”

  “Yes.”

  Crystal leaned forward and touched Jaci’s knee. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore, Jacinta.”

  Jaci pulled her leg away, heat rising in her face. The very mention of fear made her heart pound. She took several deep breaths. “How do you know Spanish?”

  Crystal settled back in her chair. “It’s an important language to know in this country. I hope someday to live in a Spanish-speaking country.”

  “Oh.”

  “How are you feeling, Jaci?”

  Jaci crossed her arms over her stomach. “I’m a little hungry.”

  Crystal stood up, smoothing her satiny skirt. “Well, Jaci, we’re done. Shall we go get Richard?”

  Jaci pushed herself from the pink beanbag. “That was it?”

  “What did you think, I was going to drink your blood? That’s it.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “Oh, tons.” Crystal’s eyes sparkled. “You have a strong personality with the desire to control your situation.”

  “Are you saying I’m controlling?”

  “You like things to be your idea, at least.”

  Ricky and Agent Banks were the only ones on the first floor when Jaci and Crystal walked out. They sat at the kitchen table, talking quietly.

  “Are you Richard?” Crystal asked, stopping in front of him.

  He pulled on his earlobe. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Come on, then.”

  “Sit, Jacinta,” Agent Banks said in his horrible Gringo accent, pulling out a chair opposite of the one Ricky had just vacated.

  “I go by Jaci.” She’d go crazy if he said her name again.

  “Oh, that’s right. How was it with Agent Florence?”

  Jaci found the remains of her sandwich and sat down. “It wasn’t so bad, thank heavens. Where is everyone?”

  “Downstairs.” He got up and poured himself a cup of juice. “We can go down if you want.”

  “That’s okay.” She put her sandwich back together and took a bite.

  “You started to tell me before we were interrupted. What happened that night at the mall?”

  “Don’t you already know?” She swallowed.

  “We know that there was a robbery and that The Hand kidnapped you. But why?”

  Jaci closed her eyes. “We were at the mall. It was late and we went outside to wait for Callie’s mom. She didn’t show.” Jaci took a deep breath, sandwich forgotten. “Okay. Anyway. All the cars left and it was just us. A black van pulled up to the jewelry store. Amanda—” Jaci stopped and shook her head. The terror of that night rushed back at her, and she clutched at the table. The feeling was so tangible that the hairs on her neck stood up.

  “Would you like a drink of water?” Banks murmured.

  I’m safe. We’re not there anymore. She had to get over this fear. “No. I’m fine. When the van pulled up, Amanda wanted to check it out. We tried to convince her not to, but she insisted on keeping watch at the doorway while I called the police. I guess they saw her. Callie screamed. Sara yelled at me to run. A man grabbed me, then he knocked me out with some chemical.”

  “Some chemical?” Banks echoed, his eyes on her. His unibrow arched.

  “I’m not sure which.” She wasn’t as good at chemistry as she was at biology. “It smelled awful, and it burned my nose. I woke up in the back of the van. We were all there. Callie told me she and Sara had tried to run, but he’d chased them down. She and I made plans to escape.” Jaci closed her eyes, hot tears making trails on her cheeks.

  “She was still alive at this point, then.”

  Jaci nodded.

  “Did you see Callie die?”

  “We all saw it.” Jaci pushed her hand against her chest, trying to ease the pain. “Callie and I heard a car coming. She ran for the road. They shot her before she got there.” The words choked out of her. She wanted to vomit, and all she could do was cry. She couldn’t even tell him the worst part.

  Banks opened the pantry and pulled out a box of tissues. He gave it to her. “That must have been awful to see.”

  Jaci grabbed a couple of tissues and nodded. She struggled to compose herself, returning that memory to its neat black box. Close the lid. Leave it there.

  “You’re lucky they didn’t shoot all of you. What happened after that?”

  “They put us back in the van. We were there for at least two days. We got hungry, so we went through the boxes looking for food.”

  “What did the van look like? What was in it?”

  “It was a black van. And it was full of boxes and crates. Most were empty, but some had jewels in them.”

  “Was The Hand there?”

  “No. There were three men, but Claber was the only one who talked to u
s. We didn’t meet The Hand till we got to his house.”

  “Okay. So you looked through boxes for food.”

  “Right. But all we found was jewelry. Amanda took some.”

  “She took it?”

  Jaci nodded. “Yes. She probably still has it.” She ran a hand through her long black hair. The crying had sapped her energy. “I’m tired. I don’t really feel like talking anymore.”

  Banks nodded. “That’s fine, Jaci. Go rest. We’ll talk later.”

  Jaci scooted her chair back and then paused. There was something she was dying to know. “I have a question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do you know about my father?”

  Chapter Eight

  Agent Banks jerked back as if scalded, eyes widening slightly. “What about your father?”

  Jaci noted his reaction and phrased her response accordingly. “He’s missing. My mother told me the police have been in our house searching. Why?”

  His shoulders relaxed. “We need to make sure there’s no foul play involved. Could be he just up and left, or could be related to what happened to you.”

  Jaci’s mouth trembled, and she felt the words on the tip of her tongue. The Carnicero. The Butcher. That’s what The Hand had called her father. She shook her head. It was difficult to remember that revelatory conversation where she overheard The Hand’s plans for them. “Okay.”

  “Do you know if The Hand planned to sell you, Jaci?”

  Why did he ask that? Jaci narrowed her eyes at him. It was almost as if he knew about the conversation. Was it related to her father’s disappearance? “I don’t know. Maybe. If he did, we escaped before he could.”

  “Pretty clever escaping out the bathroom window.”

  Jaci nodded.

  “And they didn’t catch you?”

  “No. We ran into the forest.”

  “And then what?”

  “A girl found us. Natalie.” Jaci sighed, beginning to feel annoyed by the questions. “I’m sure it’s in a report somewhere.”