Out of Time (Nine Minutes #2) (14 page)

He waited.

A split second later, Grizz came barreling back around the side of the office. He got to the pit; only Grunt and a few other people remained. Chico and his men had already left.

“Did you see Kit leave?” Grizz looked at each face, including Grunt’s. Everyone shook their head no, including Grunt.

Grunt couldn’t help himself. “Leave? Why would Kit leave?”

Grizz didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, and his fists were clenched as his arms dangled at his side. He was trying to control his emotions.

“Everyone rides. Find her.”

“What do we do when we find her?” Monster asked. “You want us to bring her back? I don’t know if we could get her back here without causing attention, you know?”

“No, don’t go near her.” Grizz’s face was shadowed. “Page me from a pay phone and wait. I’ll call you and you can tell me where you last saw her.”

“Should we go east or head west towards the Alley?” another person asked.

This question caught Grizz by surprise. It hadn’t occurred to him that Kit might head over the Alley. But why would she? She didn’t know anyone over there. Kit hadn’t made any friends that he knew of at the little church he took her to every week. Then again, he never went inside with her, so how would he know?

Just to be sure, Grizz would call his friend, Anthony, and have him post one of his guys at the Alligator Alley exit.

“What the fuck are you all waiting for? Go! Now!” he yelled.

The men who were still sitting jumped to attention and everyone started heading for their bikes.

“I’ll take my car,” Grunt said as he casually walked past Grizz.

Yep, he knew exactly where she would be, and if Grizz cared half as much for her as Grunt did, he would know too.

Chapter Twenty-Three

1950s, Fort Lauderdale, Florida

It had been
four days since that rotten bastard had taken off with everything he owned.

Somehow, he’d made his way to the downtown area, had been sleeping behind businesses and eating out of dumpsters. He had been racking his brain trying to figure out how he was going to survive with only the clothes on his back. He was big for his age and could try to get a job, but it wasn’t likely that he’d be hired looking and smelling like he did. He just needed to figure out a way to get his hands on some cash so he could get himself cleaned up and have a decent meal. Maybe then he could think clearer.

He thought about stealing the money. He could mug someone or even break into a business at night and raid the register, but he realized that the fear of getting caught and being connected to his family’s disappearance scared him more than being hungry. He’d been hungry before. He’d figure this out.

He was walking along the sidewalk and looking down when he collided with someone.

“Stupid son-of-a-bitch. Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you stupid ass?”

He realized he’d knocked over an old man who had been carrying his packages out of the post office. He was trying to get himself up and still cussing when the boy extended his hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Sorry, mister. Didn’t see you. Can I help you carry your stuff to your car?”

“Yeah.” The old man dusted off the seat of his pants and pointed to a car. “That one’s mine.”

He watched as the kid effortlessly scooped up the dropped boxes and easily strode to his car. He hobbled over and unlocked the trunk. The boy put the boxes in the trunk and slammed it shut.

“Anything else I can do for you, mister?”

Just then, the old man caught a whiff of him. “Holy shit, you stink, kid. Don’t your parents let you take a bath? Maybe you oughta go jump in a fountain or something.”

The boy didn’t say anything, just looked at the ground.

“What’s your story, kid?” the old man asked with a suspicious gleam in his eye.

“No story. Just looking for work to help out my family.” The boy looked up and met the old man’s gaze.

The old man was startled by the kid’s bright green eyes. They were intelligent eyes and the old man knew that they held a secret.

He knew because he had secrets of his own.

**********

Two months earlier: The Glades Motel

The old man had just come out of unit seven. He’d had one visitor to the motel that week and they had just left. He didn’t have any employees, so it was up to him to clean up the room. He didn’t have to. He had other rooms that were clean, but he considered himself a bit fussy, and having one dirty room would’ve bothered him.

He didn’t get many visitors out here. He’d made a bad business decision on a friend’s tip years ago that a highway would be coming through to connect the two Florida coasts. His friend had told him that being the first motel out there would make him a fortune. What it had made him was a lonely and bitter old man who’d wasted his life and savings waiting for a highway that hadn’t been built yet. When he did get a visitor, it was usually somebody who’d gotten lost in the middle of the night and would rent a room with the intention of starting fresh in the morning.

He had his back to the open door and was busy vacuuming when a voice startled him. He turned around and noticed a very well dressed man with a suitcase in one hand and a large bag in the other.

“I saw the vacancy sign. Can I get a room?”

The old man hadn’t heard the car pull up because of the vacuum.

“Sure can. This one just became ready. How long you staying?” he asked his new guest.

“Don’t know, yet. Any place out here to get food?” the smartly dressed man asked.

The old man told him the closest restaurant was miles away and back toward the beach. He quickly added, “I got plenty of food, though. I’d be glad to share my meals with you. You hungry now? I can get you a sandwich. Was fixing to get myself one as soon as I was done here.”

He looked at the man hopefully. He’d lost more than one visitor because of the remoteness of his motel. He’d learned to offer a homemade meal as a way to keep them from leaving to look for a more convenient place to stay.

He really didn’t mind. He had to feed himself anyway. He was getting old, though, and it was harder to fix a little fancier meal for a guest than he would’ve fixed for just himself. Hopefully, this guy wouldn’t mind a sandwich and a beer.

Truth be told, the old man didn’t really need guests. He had no debt and his living expenses were minimal. He had just enough saved to help with the bills when guests were too few and far between.

“Sure. A sandwich sounds good,” the man told him.

The old man pulled his vacuum cleaner out on to the sidewalk and told the new guest to make himself comfortable.

“I’ll get you some clean towels and some food. You can come sign the register later.”

“Can you bring me the towels now? I could use a shower and I’ll come find you so I can register and take you up on that sandwich.”

He had already delivered the towels and was now making his new guest a sandwich. The guy seemed nice. He hoped he would stay longer than one night, but it was doubtful. They’d made some small talk when he brought back the fresh towels. He was an insurance salesman and spent most of his days on the road. Had a wife and two daughters. He didn’t get to spend much time with them because his job kept him on the road, but the more insurance he sold, the bigger his commissions.

He decided to surprise his guest by having a cold beer and the sandwich waiting for him when he got out of the shower. He grabbed his ring of master keys and made his way down the walkway. He knocked and when there was no answer he figured his guest must still be in the bathroom. Good.

He let himself in the room and set the food and beer down on the dresser. He started to walk out when the large bag on the bed caught his attention. It was one of those big bags that a soldier might use, made of a heavy tan canvas-type material with one long zipper down the middle. Whatever was in it was causing the bag to bulge out as if it had been filled to capacity. He didn’t know why, but it struck him as an odd piece of luggage for the insurance salesman to have with him.

His curiosity got the best of him and he found himself unzipping it. His eyes widened when he realized what was inside.

It was filled to the brim with neat stacks of tightly clad money. A gun was laying on top.

“You shouldn’t have come back in here.”

The old man flinched
when he realized his guest had come out of the bathroom. He was standing at the door holding a towel around his waist with one hand. Steam from the bathroom slowly floated out into the air and added an almost sinister effect to the scene.

“What did you do? Rob a bank?”

“You should’ve minded your own business, old man.” He dropped the towel and made a quick lunge toward the bag. He was going for his gun.

With reflexes that he didn’t even know he had, the old man reached for the gun, aimed, and fired.

It took him forever to load up the body and all of his guest’s personal belongings into the man’s car. He was old and had been a chain smoker since he was ten. The task was daunting, and the only thing that drove him to finish the task was the fear of another guest showing up and catching him. That probably wasn’t a real fear, but with his luck, it’d be a bunch of coppers getting lost on their way to a convention.

He drove the car as far out into the swamp as he knew he could go and walk himself back safely. Even after the drive he was still winded from all of the work, and he allowed himself to catch his breath as he watched the car slowly sinking. He would carry the gun with him back to the motel. He’d need it in case he came across any gators.

While he walked back, he would try to figure out what to do with all that money.

One thing he knew for certain. He couldn’t spend it for a while. He didn’t know who, if anybody, would come looking for this guy. He would hide the money and give himself some time to make a plan.

**********

“I can give you some work, but I’m way out in the middle of nowhere. You have a ride?” the old man asked the kid as they stood outside the car.

“No. I can hitch though.”

“You ain’t gonna be able to hitch a ride to my place. Nobody comes out there. Sorry.” He started to walk towards the driver’s side of the car to
get in.

The boy followed him. “Maybe I can stay with you. I don’t need to sleep in your house or anything. I can camp in your yard, if that’s okay. I’ll work hard for you.”

The old man eyed him warily. This kid didn’t have a family. He was probably a runaway.

“You in trouble with the law? Someone looking for you?”

“No, sir. Just fallen on hard times. No family, and I probably don’t have to tell you that orphanages are worse than living on the street.”

“So, you’re a liar,” the old man added, not unkindly. “You told me you needed a job to help out your family.”

He didn’t expect the kid to answer. The truth was, he didn’t give a shit. And he really could use help at the motel. He was getting old, and even though he rarely had guests, there was still a lot of upkeep. At the rate he was going, he would die before he could spend all that money. He could use some muscle to take care of the shit jobs like keeping up with yard work, repairs, even the pool. Heck, maybe the kid even knew how to cook.

He didn’t give the boy a chance to answer his last accusation. “Got a name?”

The boy looked at the ground.

“What should I call you? Boy?”

The kid’s head snapped up and his green eyes were cold. “You can call me anything but ‘boy,’ mister. Don’t call me boy.”

“Well, how does Ralph work for you? Can I call you Ralph?”

“Ralph will be fine, mister.”

“And I don’t go by mister. You can call me Pop. Now get in the car and roll down the fucking window. You smell like a dead dog that’s been laying in the sun for a week.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

1976

Grunt was right
.

He pulled his car into the church parking lot and parked next to her car. It was the only other car there. She was really taking a big risk here, coming to her old church. Did she subconsciously want to be found? Did she want to run into that nun who’d been trying to get authorities to search for her?

Grunt quietly let himself in the unlocked doors. The church was massive and impressive. The smell of incense burned his nostrils. The lights were dim, but not so dim that he couldn’t make out a lone figure in the very front row. He could tell she was kneeling. Her head was raised. She was looking up. He looked up, too, and saw a massive cross over what he assumed was the altar. A man was nailed to the cross. This would be Kit’s Jesus. He called Him that because he wasn’t sure if he could be his Jesus, too. But He was definitely Kit’s.

Kit had tried to explain the basics of Christianity to Grunt. He loved to listen to her and was actually quite fascinated with some of the Bible stories she told. But he couldn’t fathom how it worked. And he definitely couldn’t fathom how it could work for him. No, he would listen to her stories, he would respect her beliefs, but he could not see how someone like him could be loved unconditionally by the man hanging on that cross.

Yet if he was going to be honest, he would have to admit that he admired, maybe even envied, her faith.

He barely noticed the beautiful stained glass windows that flanked each side of the church as he made his way quietly up the long aisle to where Kit was kneeling. He had reached her now and was getting ready to say something to her when, without turning around, she asked, “Will you sit here with me?”

He was shocked. How did she know he was even there? She turned then and looked at him, as she sat back on the bench. He slid in next to her.

“I saw two people murdered today,” she whispered. “I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do, Grunt. Please.”

“What is
He
telling you to do?” Grunt nodded at the cross.

“He’s not telling me anything. Or if He is telling me, I’m not hearing it. Or—” She paused, shook her head. “Maybe I don’t want to hear it. I’m so torn. Grizz is so good to me. Am I supposed to turn him in? Turn everybody in, possibly causing harm to Vince and Delia? Or should I stay and try to make a difference?”

Grunt thought about this carefully. She couldn’t go back home without calling the police. She’d been missing almost a year. People who knew her would be curious. If she said she’d run away, she’d be asked where she’d been all this time. Kit would never lie about it. At least not convincingly. So if she were to go home, she would have to report Grizz, and the gang to the police.

Grunt knew he was being selfish, but this would mess him up big time. Right now, Blue was paying for his college courses with money he earned from his gang activities. Money he earned from Grizz. If Grunt was ever going to make a life for himself and Kit in the future, he would need an education. That would be interrupted. And heck, he was only seventeen. He might even be put back in foster care, but most likely he’d go to a juvenile detention facility. No telling when he would be able to get back on track.

No. He would have to convince her to go back to Grizz.

His stomach dropped. As much as he hated the thought of her being with Grizz, he knew that his motivation was purely selfish at this moment.

“I don’t know if he can help who he is, Kit,” he told her softly. “I do know that you are the only good thing in his life. The only pure thing. He keeps you close because you’re the only light for him. Can you see that?”

Grunt was speaking from experience. Kit was his only light, too.

“But I cannot see what I see, Grunt. I cannot be true to myself, to my God, and live every day as if what he does is okay or acceptable.”

“Who says you have to think what he does is okay or acceptable? You don’t have to approve or condone his behavior. Maybe you can even get him to change his ways.”

Grunt practically choked on his last statement. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage Kit to get Grizz to change his ways. No, he was banking on the fact that Grizz wouldn’t change, that Kit would eventually turn her back on him. If he could just get his schooling finished, get a job, move out of the motel – be self-sufficient.

But he needed more time.

“Come back.” He whispered. “Come back, Kit. Maybe you can make a difference.”

“So you think I belong with Grizz?” She was looking at him now, her dark eyes unreadable.

This caught him off-guard. He didn’t want to tell her she belonged with Grizz. She belonged with him.

But he didn’t have to answer. She stood and held her hand out to him. He took her soft hand in his and stood with her.

As he walked her down the aisle and out of the church, he took a silent vow that one day, she would walk up this aisle, taking a vow of her own. As his wife. He would make that happen.

When they were in the lobby area, which Grunt would later learn was called a vestibule, she stopped and looked at him once more.

“He’s going to be mad thinking you had to bring me back. Do you think maybe I should just show up back at the motel on my own? Maybe tell him that I was just driving around to cool off?”

Grunt nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” He smiled warmly at her, and she just stared at him with those big brown eyes. He wanted to kiss her so badly, but it would just confuse her. And besides, he was used to waiting.

“I’m going to drive around for a little while,” he told her. “You know, pretend I’m still out looking for you. I’ll call or page Grizz in an hour. I’ll check in. See if you’ve been found.”

He winked at her and she gave him a smile that melted his heart.

Grunt walked her to her car and watched her drive out of the parking lot. Then he walked back into the church and over to a small table set up against one of the walls in the vestibule. The table was filled with all kinds of pamphlets and books.

That wasn’t what drew him back, though. It was something he’d noticed when he was walking Kit out.

He reached up to the bulletin board that was hanging above the table. Her smiling face and big, brown eyes were staring right at him. He yanked the missing person poster off the bulletin board and, stuffing it in his pocket, left the church.

**********

Kit tried not to struggle with her emotions on her drive back to the motel. She wouldn’t allow herself to think she was going back to a man who did the things Grizz did.

One thing she did know. He would be mad.

Would he hurt her or punish her for leaving?

She raised her chin in a small act of self-defiance.
If he lays a hand on me, I’ll know his true colors. I know I could never be with a man who abused me. One act of violence toward me, and I’ll leave.

And then, before she could even stop the thought:
I hope he doesn’t get mad. I want to stay with him.

Twenty minutes later, Kit pulled into the motel. There were only four motorcycles out front. She knew three belonged to Grizz and one belonged to Grunt. Everyone else was gone.

Where is everybody?
She parked her car, got out, and was slinging her purse over her shoulder when Grizz rounded the corner. He must have seen her pull in off the highway and head for her usual spot behind the office. He had to be watching from their window. He was now jogging toward her.

She resolutely started walking toward him. She opened her mouth to say something, “Grizz, I—” but was immediately caught up in a bear hug that almost crushed her.

His face pressed into the top of her head, he was inhaling her scent and talking fast. “Kit, you’re back. You’re home. Where did you go? Why did you leave me?”

Before she could answer, he stood back and placed both hands on her shoulders. He looked down at her upturned face. “I cannot believe you fucking left me. You know the rules. You aren’t supposed to drive anywhere alone. Anywhere!”

“Are you going to hit me? Punish me?” Her voice was calm, like it belonged to someone else.

“Kitten, I’m pissed that you left me, and I know I have done some awful things to people.” He paused. “I’ll probably keep doing awful things.”

She cringed.

“But,” he added, “I will never, ever,
ever
lay a hand on you.”

“I saw you hit Willow. Remember when you knocked out her tooth?”

Once again he pulled her to his chest and bent low to bury his face in her neck.

He whispered, “I was never in love with Willow.”