Unfiltered & Unsaved (11 page)

That undid her. She had to lean against the door for a moment, struggling against the tears that threatened to rise and choke her. He’d thought of that. He’d thought of every step of it, and taken the time, even with his friend’s life on the line, to be sure she had what she needed to escape.

Oh, Elijah.

Somehow, that note, those three simple sentences, told her exactly what she needed to do.

Be safe.

She was going to do the exact opposite of that.

Brittany’s door had been repaired overnight. That was kind of surprising, but Hope supposed that the girl had screamed about it so loudly that some poor maintenance man had been rousted out of bed and told to get it done just to shut her up. There had probably been threats of lawsuits involved.

The new door was glossy, and Hope knocked on it loudly. Twice. On the second assault, the door cracked open, and a thin slice of Brittany’s sleepy, makeup-smeared face appeared. A liner-rimmed eye squinted. “Hope?”

“Hey,” Hope said. “Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s fucking early,” Brittany groaned, and opened the door. “And don’t worry, I’m not actually fucking.” She flopped on her bed, which was unmade but empty of any male company. “Did you bring coffee?”

“No.”

“Then what use are you?” Brittany pulled her pillow over her face, and her voice came through in a muffled howl. “Go away! God, I hate morning people!” Hope sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the pillow away. Brittany stared back at her, surprised into silence, and really looked at her for the first time. She sat up a little. “What’s wrong?”

“That man who broke down your door last night? He was after me,” Hope said.

“Yeah, genius, I got that. I may be a C student, but that doesn’t stand for
coma
. He damn sure wasn’t after me. The second he realized you were down the hall, he took off after you.” Hope looked her over. “You got away.”

“Thanks for being concerned.”

Brittany looked away and shrugged. She looked slightly embarrassed. Just slightly. “Well, you know, I had my own problems. What with my door being busted in and all. I had to call the cops. It took
hours
. I got, like, no sleep at all.” She paused and picked at a piece of lint on the robe she was half-wearing. “So you’re okay, then.”

“I’m okay. I’m sorry about him scaring you like that.”

A one-shoulder shrug. “Too bad Greg wasn’t here. He’d have beat the shit out of that son of a bitch.”

“Which one’s Greg?”

Brittany gave her a
look.
“My brother?”

“Oh.”

“So what do you want? Because I guess this isn’t a wellness check or anything.”

“I need your help,” Hope said. “You … look, don’t take this the wrong way—”

“When people say that, there’s no way what they’re about to say is a compliment.”

True enough. Hope almost smiled, but it wasn’t a time for that. “Do you know how I could get a gun? Without the waiting period.”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “Sha. Of course I can do
that.
I thought you were going to ask me for crystal meth or something, which would mean you’ve gone full-on narc. Guns? Easy. I’ve got three.”

“
Three
?”

“I was totally going to go Rambo on that asshole who kicked in the door but he was gone by the time I got to the one I kept under the bed. Too bad.” She got up, walked across to the closet, and pulled out one of many boxes of shoes piled there. Inside the box was a pair of boots, fleece-lined, way too warm for the Arizona climate except for very rare cold snaps.

Brittany pulled a gun out of the right boot. She ejected the clip, checked it, and slapped it back in, then marched straight to Hope and held it out. “Smith and Wesson M&P nine, compact size. Oh, and it has a thumb safety, so you have to release that to shoot. Do you need a second clip?”

Hope blinked at her. “Aren’t you going to ask why I want it?”

“Hell no. That way, when the cops come asking, I can legit say I had no idea. After all, you were my roommate. You’d probably know where I kept my guns, which are all legal, by the way. For personal protection. You’d better bring this one back, because it’s a sexy gun, and it gives guys gun-boners when I show it to them.”

Talk about better not to know … Hope shook her head and accepted the pistol carefully. It was heavy in her hand, though not as heavy as she’d expected. Some kind of composite material, she guessed. The size fit her hand, at least.

“You’re not going to shoot up the school, are you?” Brittany asked. “Because you know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones.”

“No,” Hope said. “I’m not. I promise.”

“Good.” Brittany flopped back on the bed. “Did you fuck that guy you were with before?”

Was it that obvious? Hope felt herself going red, and avoided Brittany’s stare, which suddenly sharpened. Her ex-roommate’s pre-coffee vagueness slid away, and she propped herself up on her elbows. “Seriously? Get it, girl! Finally, the virgin unlocks her knees. Too bad you moved out, you’d be more fun if you’re loosening up.”

“It’s not like that!”

“Did you bone or not?”

Hope knew her face was just burning with shame, and she avoided Brittany’s delighted stare. “Thank you for this. I promise not to do anything illegal with it.”

“Why do you think I gave it to you, Saint Hope? I know you won’t. Seriously, about the guy—”

“I have to go,” Hope said, and stood up. “Thank you very much.”

“Wait! I said I didn’t want to know what you’re going to do with it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know
something
. Like what was up with the son of a bitch who kicked in the door last night?” Brittany caught her by the elbow as she unzipped the duffel bag and stuffed the gun under the magazine touting the accomplishments of ASU-RV’s latest football star. “Hey, is that Blake? I know Blake! Cool!” She grabbed for the magazine before Hope could stop her, and even though it didn’t quite come out of the bag, it came out far enough to reveal what was underneath it.

They both froze. Brittany stared down at the cash, and while she was in a money-induced trance, Hope quickly shoved the magazine back down to conceal it again.

“My God,” Brittany said. She sank down on her bed again, and lifted her gaze to Hope’s face. “Who the hell are you, and what did you do with Jesus Camp Girl? What did you do, rob a bank? Wait, that doesn’t make sense. You’d borrow my gun first, not after. What the hell, Hope?”

“I can’t tell you what’s going on. Just—please don’t say anything. Please.”

“That much cash doesn’t come without serious problems, you know that, right? That’s murder money, right there.”

Brittany was right. If not murder money, it was at least blood money—stained with the memory of what had happened at The Coffee Cave, and of all the actions she’d taken since then. “I’m going to use it to help people,” Hope said.

“Starting with giving me a single room? Was that for me, or for
you
?” Brittany was way smarter than Hope had ever given her credit for. “Where the hell did you get this stuff?”

“I—” It hovered right in her mouth, burning like a hot coal, and she almost spit out the explanation. She’d told Elijah, but somehow that was different than telling Brittany. This wasn’t some high-school pinkie-swear promise; peoples’ lives and futures depended on her holding her silence. So instead, she just shook her head. “Let’s just say I found it.”

“Trust me, sweetie, nobody loses that much cash and just forgets about it. It’s not a dollar on the subway; that’s at least, what, fifty thousand? That’s murder money, like I said. Someone’s looking for it. Was it that guy who busted in the door? You’re going to get me killed. My Jesus-freak roommate is going to get me killed for drug money.”

“It’s not drug money!” Hope blurted.

“You are such a liar. Nobody packs that much cash in one place unless it’s drug money, murder for hire, or ransom. However you look at it, it’s something someone wants to keep quiet, and that means someone’s going to kill us, don’t you get it? God! Give me my gun back. I’m probably going to have to shoot some fools.”

“I can’t,” Hope said. “I need it. Brittany—” Brittany scowled at her and picked up her cell phone. “What are you doing?” Hope asked.

“Calling the cops. I’m not dying for this!”

“Please,” Hope said. “I’m asking you, please don’t do that.”

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t!”

For answer, Hope silently unzipped the bag, took out three fat stacks of cash, and put them on the bed beside her.

Brittany put the phone slowly back down on the table.

“All I’m asking for is a day,” Hope said. “One day. Then you can call the cops and tell them whatever you think you have to. But there are some people I need to help with this money, and I intend to do it. Then I’ll be on my way, and I promise, you’ll never see me again.”

“Okay, fine. But I’m going to take that gun back. With what you’re into, that’s trouble I
really
don’t need.”

“Brittany—”

“Not negotiable.” Brittany held out her hand, and after a long hesitation, Hope pulled the gun out of the bag and put it on her palm. “Sorry, but shooting some asshole with my totally registered weapon when you’re carrying this kind of dirty money means I end up accessorizing.”

“You mean, an accessory?”

“Exactly. Wait.” Brittany’s head cocked slowly to one side, but she didn’t take her focus off the money sitting on the bed next to her. “You said you’re
giving the money away?
“

“Yes,” Hope said. “Almost all of it. I plan to keep enough to get me where I need to go, but everything else I’m giving away. So that’s why I’m giving some to you.”

“Why?”

“To keep you from calling the police,” Hope admitted. “But also, because … because as much as you’ve irritated me, as much as you’ve been mean to me, I think you need it. You never said so, but I know you got here on scholarship, and I know you’re short of money. I know you’ve been looking for a job but you couldn’t find one. I know you get depressed about it. So … consider it a grant. You’re not stupid, Brit. But you act out when you feel bad about yourself, and you get yourself in crappy situations because of it. I just want you to—take better care of yourself.”

“You going to pray for me, too?” It could have been flung as a challenge, but instead, it came out softly, almost sadly.

“If you want me to.”

Brittany shrugged and looked down at her hands. She turned the cell phone restlessly, then put it aside. “Okay. Sure, pray for me. I can probably use a little divine intervention on my next test or something.” She paused for a second. “You know, you weren’t so bad, for a roommate. I mean, you were neat, and you were quiet, and you didn’t give me any shit. I guess the reason I kept pushing at you is that I—I sometimes wished I was more like you.”

“Then we’re even,” Hope said. “Sometimes, I secretly wished I was more like you, too. I wanted to just … let go. But I couldn’t let myself.”

“Until the pretty preppy guy?” Brittany raised her eyebrows. “Come on, confess your sins. You did, didn’t you? You totally did. You got it on with him.”

“We’re not having this conversation,” Hope said, but she was smiling. Insanely, she was
smiling.

“I’m just happy to know that even saints hang their halos on the bedpost sometimes. Did he do that thing with his tongue …”

“
Really
not having this conversation.” Hope zipped the duffel closed. “If that guy Skinner comes back …”

“He’d better be careful if he shows his ugly face around here again, because this time I’m keeping my gun in easy reach. Besides, I’m totally calling my brother and staying at his place for a while.”

“That’s good,” Hope said. She was surprised when Brittany suddenly, impulsively hugged her.

“
You
be careful,” she said. “I can take care of myself. You’re all … nice.”

“Not
all
nice,” Hope said. “I think I’ve left that behind. But I’ll be praying for you, Brit.”

It was a good feeling, being hugged, and Hope hugged her back, and when illogical tears started burning at the back of her eyes, she pushed away, put the heavy duffel bag on her shoulder, and walked away.

“Seriously,” Brittany called after her, “you should ask him about doing that tongue thing—”

Hope closed the door behind her.

###

She didn’t expect that Solomon would have kept Elijah and the others at the Rio Verde Valley Inn; he’d have moved them in case she called the police, of course. Like E.J. had said, they were mobile, and if Solomon was smart he’d have dragged them all off to another town, another score. But she did have something.

She had the number to Elijah’s disposable phone.

She hadn’t written it down last night, in the wake of that shocking text message, but for some reason it had stuck with her … probably because of the shock more than anything else. When she concentrated, she could still conjure up that text message, and the phone number.

She pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot of the motel and dialed the number. It rang for a long time before it clicked a connection, and she heard Elijah’s voice whisper, urgently, “Who is this?”

“Who do you think it is?” Hope asked him. “Where are you?”

“Van.” It was such a soft word it was almost lost in the sound of road noise. The van was clearly moving. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m going to find you,” she said. “You want me to, don’t you?”

There was a long pause, filled with the rumble of the van’s engine and the hiss of its tires. Then he said, “Yes.” Just that.
Yes.
And something that had clenched hard inside her let go.

“Then tell me where you’re going.”

“Flagstaff,” he said. “But—”

Whatever he was going to say, he didn’t have time. She heard a shout on the other end, and then a struggle and someone female crying out, and then the phone went dead.

Flagstaff wasn’t that far, straight up I-17. It had a small university in it, and she guessed that was Solomon’s basic strategy, hit the less-well-traveled schools, the more conservative the better, where people would believe the well-scrubbed approach much more easily. What was scary was that this new defiance from Elijah might be the last that Solomon would tolerate. He needed obedient slaves, whether they were willing or not, and E.J. had proven, more than once, that he wouldn’t be controlled that easily.