Page 82 of The One Who Won’t Get Away
There.An explanation about why the traffickers wanted me gone without ripping my insides out and laying them bare.
Vera paled, obviously reading between the lines.“How many?”
Damn it.A drink would be really good right about now.
“Have I mentioned I talked to a therapist?She said I’m an alcoholic.”I’d rather hear Vera’s I told you so than answer her question.
Vera put her hand over mine.“Yeah, I figured.I have some chamomile and lavender tea, if your withdrawal symptoms are hitting you.It won't take them all away, but it is calming.”
I shook my head.If I stopped now to have tea I might never have the guts to have this conversation.
“One of them broke in the other night, but Nick got him arrested and they found a little boy at his place.And then they found bodies of more kids.So, their operation is still active and they have no intention of stopping.”
Vera sat closer and put an arm around my shoulder, holding me together when my memories threatened to shred me.
“Now I understand why that FBI agent was asking me all those questions.They're trying to shut it down,” Vera mused.
We sat with that for a while.This was probably the most we’ve talked about back then in years.I could go a few more decades without talking about it.
Thankfully, Vera didn't ask me how many of those pervs I’d seen.Not that she forgot about it or didn't notice my less than subtle change of topics, but because she understood that I didn't want to go there.
The silence was cut by a sudden noise—a metallic scrape, then a soft thud from the back of the house.Both of us froze, instinctively turning toward the sound.
Vera’s face was calm, but her body went rigid.“Must be Sean,” she said, but her voice was just a hair too high.
I grabbed her wrist, hard enough to feel the pulse under her skin.“Why would Sean use the back door?”I whispered.
Her eyes widened, the practical nurse suddenly gone, replaced by the girl who’d hidden under beds and in closets to keep the monsters away.
We both listened, breaths held, as the noise came again.Another scrape, then the unmistakable sound of the back door sliding open.
We crept toward the stars.Probably not the best escape route, but we didn't have time to backtrack because the sound of footsteps coming closer reached us.
Vera's eyes widened at the sound, and she gestured for me to go upstairs with her following closely behind just as another set of footsteps joined the first.They sounded aggressive.
Upstairs, Vera herded me to the giant bathroom and locked the door.
“That didn't sound like Sean's footsteps,” she whispered as she started rummaging under the sink and pulled out cleaning chemicals.
I took a canister of scrubbing bubbles.Not the best weapon, but it would have to do.Vera grabbed a mop, unscrewed the handle off, and held it like a weapon.
