A Gift of Time (Tassamara) (24 page)

“Yes, it is,” Travis whispered furiously. “You guys are the only family I’ve ever had. I’m not letting go. And we’re not letting Mac get hurt. We owe that to Mary.”

Jamie closed his eyes. Rose thought he looked like he was fighting the need to cry.

Natalya looked down. She ate another bite of salad, before dropping the fork into the container and setting the container on the ground by her side.

“So let me get this straight,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’re going to go harvest the marijuana crop you planted. You’re hoping you can find a buyer for the plants—they won’t be properly cured, you know, so probably not worth much. When you do, you’ll use the money to get all five of you to… someplace. Somewhere you think will be safer.”

“Holy fuck, lady!” Travis jumped to his feet, his words a yell. “How the hell do you do that?”

She smiled, her eyes almost sad. “Go,” she said to him. “It’s not a great plan, but I understand why you’re hoping it works.”

The children were curled up on the floor like a pile of puppies, snuggled together, heads and bodies intertwined. One of them had the slightly stuffy nose that made for a gentle, occasional snore and gasp of breath.

Natalya wished she could follow their example. It was late. Really late. She didn’t wear a watch, of course—who needed a watch in the era of cellphones?—but she suspected Travis had been gone for at least three or four hours. Her best guess was that it was well after midnight.

She shivered. Clouds crawled across the sky, alternately shading and revealing the full moon. When it was clear, the bright light shone through the windows, casting a glow across the carpeted floor, but no warmth. She’d spread all the extra clothes across the children and Jamie, but she would have given a month’s pay for a space heater or an all-weather blanket. It wasn’t freezing—none of them were in any danger—but it wasn’t comfortable.

She picked up the flashlight sitting next to her and turned it on. Aiming it at the window, she clicked it on and off in a three quick, three slow pattern. She had no idea whether she was spelling O, S, O or S, O, S, but she hoped if anyone saw it they’d investigate even if she had it wrong. Not that anyone would. It was the middle of the night and she’d been signaling with the flashlight since the last of the children had fallen asleep.

Nothing was stopping her from waking up Kenzi and walking out into the darkness, of course. It might be a long hike, but the house had to be on a road that would lead somewhere eventually. But she couldn’t leave the other boys behind, and even if she could convince the twins to come with her, Jamie was in no condition to walk for miles.

She felt slightly guilty about Travis. She’d let him go off to harvest marijuana in the middle of the night knowing his plan had no chance of success. But it was a way to distract him, to keep him busy enough not to think of another plan that might work better. Carjacking, ransom, bank robbery—if she could come up with those ideas, he could, too. That gun and his seeming willingness to risk anything for his family made a dangerous combo.

Instead every minute he spent in their illegal garden brought them another closer to being found by the authorities. He might think he had until the school break was over, but she knew full well he had less than twenty-four hours until Zane got home from Japan and directed Colin straight to her.

Unfortunately, it felt as if twenty-four hours wasn’t going to be soon enough. Her gift was coming back and with it, her sense of foreboding. She felt like a deer trapped in the headlights. She didn’t want to be an armadillo, though—jumping up to avoid danger only to crash straight into the bumper of the car that would have passed over her if she’d crouched in stillness. Waiting in the silence of the night felt like her best option, even as she strained her brain trying to kick her gift into action.

She clicked the light off and paused. Had she heard something? What was that sound? Pushing herself to her feet, she held the flashlight by her side as she headed across the room. Her heartbeat was louder in her ears than she wanted it to be, her breath too fast. At the top of the stairs, she paused. Holding her breath, she listened.

A muffled thunk.

Could that be a car door closing outside, the sound carrying in the still night air? Or was the noise coming from inside the house? Maybe Travis was back.

Gently, she took two, three, four steps down the stairs. Her feet, clad in too-small socks belonging to one of the boys, were silent on the steps. She reached for the banister, her hand sliding along its smooth, polished wooden surface.

“I told ya.” It was Travis, his voice a yell, the angry grate in the sound setting every nerve Natalya possessed aquiver. “We don’t know where she is.”

“Shut up, boy.” The harsh rasp carried up the stairwell like smoke rising.

Natalya’s throat clenched closed. A flash of memory-precognition leapt to her mind: a dour, angry man’s face, surrounded by white, eyes closed, and then it was gone, replaced by Kenzi’s, pale and drawn, lips blue. Natalya’s hands tightened, one on the banister, one on the flashlight, as she brought herself back to the present.

“Where are they?” The raspy voice snarled. A door slammed.

“I dunno. They should be here,” Travis shouted back at him.

He was yelling for a reason, Natalya realized. Giving them time to hide. Or at least time to get Kenzi out of sight.

Hands shaking, she hurried back to the mound of children. Tossing the extra clothes aside, she reached for Kenzi’s small shoulder first and shook the girl gently until Kenzi’s sleepy eyes opened. One of the twins was stirring, too, kicking his feet as he burrowed deeper into the warmth of the others.

“Wake up,” Natalya said quietly, forcing her voice to a calmness she didn’t feel. “We need to hide you.”

Jamie had been sleeping slightly apart from the others, his head pillowed by a folded sweater. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, his eyes blinking awake. “What’s happening?” he mumbled.

“Shh,” Natalya hushed him. “Someone’s here. With Travis. I think…” She let the words trail off. She didn’t want to scare them, but the boys were already moving, rolling over, fumbling their way onto their feet. Jamie attempted to pull himself into a fully seated position, before falling back again, groaning in pain, as Kenzi scrambled up.

Kenzi’s hands fluttered in fear, her face contorting in a grimace that said more than words.

“It’s all right,” Natalya said, keeping her voice low. She wanted to comfort the little girl but a drumbeat in her blood was banging out ‘danger, danger, danger.’ “We’re going to hide you. No one needs to know you’re here.”

She looked at the twins. The restless one was yawning, rubbing his eyes, while the other looked asleep on his feet, his chin dropping onto his chest. Should she let them stay or make them scatter? But a glance at Jamie’s bruised face decided her. “Run and hide,” she told the boys. “If any of the rooms have locks on the doors, lock yourselves in.”

Flashlight in hand, she hurried Kenzi to the breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the larger room. Inwardly, she was cursing herself. Why hadn’t she explored the house? Mitchell had said it was big. There might be dozens of better hiding places than these cupboards. But her choices were limited. Travis and his company might already be headed upstairs.

She opened the closest cupboard and peered in, shining the flashlight into the darkness. Empty. No signs of creepy-crawlies or mice. She gestured to Kenzi, who didn’t hesitate. The little girl crawled in on hands and knees and wiggled around until she was facing the door.

About to close the cupboard, Natalya hesitated. The darkness would seem so solid behind the closed door. Impulsively, she crouched down and handed Kenzi the flashlight. She met the little girl’s eyes with her own. “Keep the light off if you hear voices or movement, okay?” she whispered.

Kenzi nodded, pulling the flashlight close to her huddled knees. Natalya rested a hand on her leg for a moment, hoping to impart warmth and comfort, before straightening and hurrying back to Jamie.

The twins were gone, headed to hiding places she hoped. Her heart raced as she wavered about whether she should try to move Jamie, stay with him, or go downstairs to confront the man she assumed to be Mr. Thompson. She dropped to her knees next to him.

“You should run,” Jamie muttered. “He don’t know you’re here.”

She raised an eyebrow. That option was out. She wasn’t leaving this child alone to face the man who abused him. “I don’t think you’re quite ready to do any running.” She touched his forehead. Still too hot.

“I’ll be okay.” Jamie tried to smile, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “He’s not looking for me.”

Natalya closed her eyes for a moment and took two deep breaths, trying to focus. Thoughts, emotions—they were just leaves on water, clouds in the sky. Adrenaline was starting to replace the fear. The stiffness from the cold, the exhaustion from the late night, began to fade, replaced by a sparkling energy that made the room seem more vivid, the moonlight brighter.

With a confidence she didn’t entirely feel, she said to Jamie, “He’s not looking for either of us. So let’s let him find us.”

“Huh?” Jamie blinked a couple of times, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her.

She nodded at him and then stood, the corner of her mouth lifting in a faint smile. “Stay there, but follow my lead. If I lie, don’t be surprised. Pretend I’m telling the truth.”

Moving with sure feet, Natalya went back to the staircase and took a few steps down. “Travis?” she called, trying to infuse her voice with welcome relief instead of the fear still tickling the back of her throat. “Did you bring help?”

Stepping lightly, she ran down to the next floor and around the corner, as if she were eager to greet Travis and his companion. They met her on the stairs, Travis in the lead with a lantern dangling from one hand. The light scattered shadows across the dark staircase as it swung, but there was enough of a glow to see that Travis’s lip was fat and bloodied, his face grim with suppressed fury.

After the one quick glance, though, Natalya ignored Travis, putting all her attention on the man behind him. “Mr. Thompson, it’s so good to see you again,” she said warmly. It was the man from her painting, the angles of his bones and thin lips even more severe in the darkness. As far as she knew, she’d never met him before. But she could have encountered him at one of functions she’d attended for the foster care agency. And the implied familiarity might confuse him, throw off whatever plans he had.

“What?” It was Travis who snapped the word, but both faces were startled.

“Come on up.” Natalya turned and led the way back up the stairs. “Travis, I’m so glad you made the smart decision and brought help. I know you were worried about getting in trouble for fighting with your brother, but like I told you before, it’s time to own up and take responsibility. Jamie’s going to be fine with a little medical attention but we need to get him to a hospital.” She was babbling, giving Travis time to recover from his surprise and play along. The feeling of eyes boring into her back made her skin crawl, though. Where was Travis’s gun?

“He probably needs antibiotics and some blood work. I know the doctors will want to be sure his electrolytes are balanced. Rehydrating too quickly after being dehydrated can be dangerous. He might need to spend some time on an IV.” She reached the top of the stairs and quickly crossed the room to where Jamie lay.

“Did you bring your cell phone, Mr. Thompson?” She turned to face the man, the window at her back. Travis still stood in front of him, his head at the same height as the older man but his frame much smaller. “It would be easier on Jamie if we called an ambulance, I think. The EMTs could start treatment on the way to the hospital.”

“Ambulance? No ambulance. Can’t afford that.” Thompson sounded confused, exactly as Natalya had hoped.

Calmly, she suggested, “All right, your car will work. Can you and Travis help Jamie down the stairs? He’s gotten weaker since he’s been here. We don’t want to take any chance of him falling.”

“What is this? Where is she?” The words were a growl, the shove that caused Travis to stumble farther into the room correspondingly violent.

The gun in Thompson’s hand looked much too familiar.

Natalya ignored it.

She kept her eyes locked on Thompson’s face, her calm expression unwavering.

“Mr. Thompson,” she said, her voice gentle. “Jamie needs help. Medical attention. I know you want to do what’s right for him.” Behind her serene façade, however, her thoughts were racing.

Why hadn’t she realized the risk in letting Travis go back to wherever Mary and Kenzi had been camping? Jamie had told her he’d revealed the location to Thompson. The man must have been waiting, hoping for one of the children to return there. Travis had walked into a trap, and somehow Thompson had gotten the gun away from him. Had he surprised the boy or had Travis been reluctant to pull the trigger?

“What’s right, yes,” Mr. Thompson said, as if grasping for the words with relief. “Yes. It’s Satan’s influence, you understand? It’s the mark of evil rising. Not what’s right, but what’s wrong. But we have to fix it. We can, you know, we can. If we cleanse the world of the marks of sin, we can go back. To how it was. To how it should be.”

Natalya’s breath stopped in her throat.

Jamie had given her all the information she needed, if only she’d listened. He’d told her life with the Thompsons had been all right. Then came a trauma, the lost job, followed by the long stretches on the couch, the quiet times, ending with yelling and ranting and bursts of energy. A psychiatrist would have made the connections immediately. Thompson’s condition presented as classic bipolar 1 disorder, mania followed by depression in a cycle that just kept spiraling down. And it had obviously gotten worse. His words now sounded like a full-blown manic psychosis.

“But I can fix it, I know I can,” he continued. “The word of the Lord tells me how.”

Oh, how she wished she was in a nice comfortable emergency room, with a couple of strong assistants standing by with sedatives and a psych consult on speed-dial. She’d realized Thompson could be dangerous, but she’d hoped some sensible self-interest mixed with reason would bring them all to a safer place. Unfortunately, reason and delusions didn’t blend well.