Killing Bliss (12 page)

Of course, she could be heading to Wart, which only doubled his chances. A little pressure, and one or the other of them would rat Vanelleto out, and applying pressure to Wartenski and Beauty would be the first genuine fun he'd had in seven years.

He straightened. Beauty was coming out of the diner. He slunk down into the seat, but kept her in view.

She got into her car and pulled out of the parking lot onto the highway.

Yes. She was heading the same way she was going yesterday.

It looked as if she finally knew where she was going.

* * *

This time when Addy's phone rang at one a.m., it didn't wake her up. She picked up on the first ring, her chest thick with worry. "Hello? Is it you?"

"Yes, it's me. I called earlier, but you weren't around."

"I know. Are you okay?"

"Better than I was yesterday."

"Did you lose him? Tell me you've lost him." She could barely draw a breath as she waited for an answer.

"Actually, I'm looking at him right now, from my motel window. He's parked across the street," she said, sounding calm. Then she laughed as if pleased with herself. "Exactly where I want him."

Addy went cold. "Beauty. What are you doing? Please, please, don't do anything stupid."

"Wouldn't be the first time, Wart."

Oh, God...
Addy pressed a hand to her chest. "You are still coming here, aren't you?"

"That's why I'm phoning. I don't think so. Like you said, it would be dangerous." There was a pause. "I'll handle Bliss my way and the less you know, the better. You got dragged into enough dirt fifteen years ago. You don't need any more." Her voice trailed off, low, weary. "Seeing Bliss again, thinking about—"

"Don't." Addy said. "Don't go there. You've got to stick to the plan. Try and forget..." She closed her eyes.
Stupid, stupid words. As if any of them, could ever forget that day, that brutal night, and Beauty had more to forget than any of them, except maybe Gus—or that baby, if he'd been old enough to remember.

Addy shoved her chair away from the cabin plans she'd been working on. Outside the halo of light provided by her desk lamp, she stood, carried the phone to the window. She forced her heart to quiet, her brain to still. "Tell me what I can do, Beauty. I love you. I want to help."

A drift of quiet came down the line.

"How can you say that, Wart? I walked away from you, from Lund. I never looked back."

"I don't care about that. We all had to get some kind of life going. I was mad, sure. And hurt, but none of it mattered. You were there for me when no one else gave a damn." Addy choked up, the confusions and loneliness of a thirteen-year-old girl heavy in her mind, weighted in her soul.

"Gus was there, too. Don't forget that." Beauty said, her tone soft, drifting to the past. "Do you ever wonder about him, Addy? Where he went? What he's doing?"

Addy swallowed. "Where he is, or what he's doing, doesn't matter now. You're the one who matters." She brushed back her hair, left her hand tight on her nape. She couldn't talk about Gus, couldn't think about him without her brain hurting. She'd never understood him, what his... power was, and she was as confused as ever about her own feelings for him. Back then, it was like she was hypnotized by him, because he knew all the answers, or she'd thought he did until that night. But Beauty's fascination for him—back then she'd called him her one pure love—always scared her. To think it might still be there made her weak in the knees. "Tell me what you're planning," she said. "I'll help you."
Talk you out of it.

"What I'm going to do is between me, Bliss, and whoever up there gives a damn."

Addy gripped the phone, her hands cold, her grip painfully tight. "You're not going to lose him, are you."

"I'll lose him all right. Permanently."

"Don't say that."

"Why? What difference does it make. I'm already wanted for one murder. I might as well up the count and get some satisfaction while I'm at it."

"Beauty, listen to me." Addy knew there was desperation in her voice, but it was nothing compared to the fear simmering low in her belly. "What happened back then... to you, to Belle Bliss, it was bad. Horrible. We made a terrible mistake. We didn't think things through. Maybe because of how we felt about Belle, or because we listened to Gus—"

"Gus saved our asses, Addy. Don't you forget that."

"Maybe you're right, but so many times I've wondered how it would have turned out if we stayed." She rubbed at the knot in her stomach. "If we'd done the right thing, instead of running like scared rabbits."

"We had no choice. What cop would have listened to three kids fresh from The Ave, while the local crime techies were mopping up Saint Teresa's blood?"

"Belle Bliss was a long way from being Saint Teresa."

"You know that, I know that, but no one else did. Sure as hell Washington State's child protection unit—or whatever they called themselves—didn't."

"Frank did."

"Yeah, but it wasn't in his interests to tell anyone. Frank Bliss was a lying, brutal, raping pig. He still is. He deserves to die." Her voice was higher now, slightly breathless.

"Maybe he does." Addy worked to stay calm, but it wasn't easy. She'd never discussed committing murder with anyone before. Last time, it had just... happened. "But it's not your job to choose the time and place." She lowered her voice to a soothing level. "Listen to me, Beauty. Get in your car, point it north, and come here. So what if Bliss follows? We'll handle him—together."

"Addilene Wartenski, always the problem solver," she said, her voice low and disinterested.

"And there's another thing."

"Uh-huh," she sounded bored.

"You don't have it in you to kill, Beauty. Not Frank Bliss or anyone else. There's another way. All we have to do is think it through."

"And I think this problem's way beyond you, Wart. So I'm going to hang up now. I'll call you when it's over."

"Beauty. Don't hang up." She put her free hand to her face, clenched her eyelids tight, and prepared to say the only words she knew for certain would buy time—but not at all certain they'd do anything to save Bliss's miserable life. "I'll call Gus."

Chapter 8

Addy heard Beauty gasp. "You know where Gus is? You said you hadn't heard from him."

"I lied."

For a long time, the line between Beauty and Addy was filled with silence.

Beauty finally broke it. "Why, Addy, why did you lie?"

"Gus asked me to. Made me promise if you ever did come back to Star Lake not to—"

"Not to tell me where he was."

"Yes."

More silence, then a hissing breath Addy knew came with a shake of the head, and a crushing hurt "That son of a bitch," she murmured, the words completely lacking in malice.

"It was Lund who found him, not long after you left. He thought there was a chance you were with him. He never said as much, but he missed you, and he worried." She stopped. "Anyway, those old jailbird pals of his had friends in the right places. They had no luck finding you, but they found Gus—can't remember what name he was using—in less than two weeks. I guess it was easier for them to find a booster in San Diego than a seventeen-year-old girl in the cab of a long hauler." She went back to her chair, weary suddenly. "Lund said I should be the one to call Gus, so I did. When he heard my voice, he got mad. Real mad. He said it was dangerous for us to talk, always would be, and that I could blow everything. He said never to call him again, and that when our call ended he'd cancel the telephone number."

"Same old Gus, still giving orders," Beauty interjected, that predictable and dangerous trace of awe in her voice.

"Yeah." Addy smiled weakly. "Gus was good at that. When I finally got him to listen, I told him about you leaving, that we had no idea where you were, and asked could he help."

"What did he say?"

"He went quiet for a long time, then he said he had no idea where you were, and that you and I weren't his business anymore."

"And he told you not to tell me you'd found him. You're sure."

"I think he was afraid you'd call him, want to see him."

"Where is he, Wart?"

"I don't know."

"But you said—"

"I know what I said, but I don't know where he is. It's not like I have him in my address book. And I never called him again." She stopped. "The odd thing is he called me a few times ,after that. Never said much, asked if you'd turned up, if we'd heard anything. Never said a word about... that night, what he was doing, where he was. Nothing. His last call was a few months ago, just before Lund died." She hesitated. "On that call, he either forgot to block the call display feature on his phone or assumed I didn't have it. I do, and I wrote down the number."

"Give it to me."

"No." It was the only hand Addy had, and she intended to play it close. "But if that number is still good, I'll find him, and I'll tell him to come here. That's the best I can do." With Gus as a lure, she had a good chance of keeping her friend alive, and she wasn't above using it. In a calm and certain voice that didn't come close to reflecting her own fears, she added, "Here's the deal. You forget this stupid idea you have of killing Bliss, and I'll do everything I can to find Gus. He'll know what to do." Which was exactly what she was afraid of. "I think that's a good trade-off, don't you?"

A wash of tense silence claimed the line. Addy waited.

"You've turned into a sly little bitch," she said, sounding more impressed than angry. "You know damn well I'll wait forever if there's a chance of seeing Gus again." She stopped. "And you're right, he'll know what to do. Hell, if I'm lucky, he'll kill Bliss for me. Finish what he started in that shed." She stopped and Addy could hear her heavy breathing. "Find him, Addy. Please. I'll check in tomorrow night" She hung up.

Addy sagged against the windowsill, clicked the off button, and did some deep breathing of her own. Beauty was right. Gus would kill Frank Bliss. In a heartbeat.

What have I done?

Probably made the biggest mistake of your life, Addilene Wartenski.

After all these years, Gus's hold on Beauty still lay coiled within her—an unbreakable bond as strong, and as dangerous, as ever—and Addy had used it to put herself, Beauty, Gus, and Bliss on a collision course.

Like that hellish night fifteen years ago.

Her stomach an aching knot, she looked up at the black, star-studded sky outside her window. "Don't like unfinished business, do you?"

The question begged an answer, but it didn't come from the starry sky. It came from her uneasy heart. "I started this, I'll finish it somehow," she vowed. She had to stop Bliss—or Beauty—from spilling more blood.

So much blood...
She closed her eyes.

Beauty was rash, unpredictable, and Gus had the soul of a gravestone, but they'd looked out for her when no one else did, and now it was her turn. She owed them, because she'd never have made it without Beauty's brash optimism or Gus's endless pool of strength.

But that was then and this was now. She closed her eyes. She wasn't that thirteen-year-old girl anymore, and she didn't need anyone to take care of her.

Addy yearned to know the truth about that night, the whole truth. But all she had were sounds, pieces of a puzzle that wouldn't fit. A dark night, a baby screaming, a gun firing over and over. Gus's shout to
get out.
Stumbling through the black fields behind Beauty.

Then the years of questions with no answers. In the year before Beauty left Star Lake, she'd never talked about it, and when she'd ventured to ask Gus about it during one of his rare calls, he'd cut her off, said he didn't want to "go there with her."

She pulled the shutters closed on that barren part of her brain, squashed the simmer of disloyalty that made her stomach turn, and tried to concentrate on the job at hand—saving Beauty from herself.

She'd bought some time, now all she had to do was find Gus Vanelleto.

She lowered her gaze, looked out in time to see Cabin Six's lights go on. She looked at her watch. Nearly two.