An Honest Lie(53)

Rainy stared at Marvin.

Turning back to his coffee, he said, “You’re not the first who’s come through here looking for a glimpse of him. Must’ve had a dozen kids like you, making the pilgrimage.”

“His children?”

He looked at her hard. “Nah, the ones like you who want something else.”

True that. How many kids had lived at the compound and had been brainwashed into adulthood to do his bidding? When Rainy looked at the pimply kid behind the counter, she realized that some of them could still be there—Sara could still be there. Had she ever considered that? No. She had actively tried not to think about that place. But she was here now, and there was no way around the thoughts.

“What do they want from him?”

Marvin turned his mean, old eyes on her, and she could see his rot in the yolky whites. “Same thing you do, I expect.”

Rainy took a sip of coffee, pressing her lips together as she eyed the bentness of him; he looked like a branch ready to snap.

“I doubt that, Marvin.” He’d lived so long and her mother had lived so briefly. The injustice of the good dying young was especially potent in that moment. Smacking her lips together, she set down her mug. “What’s he up to nowadays?” She didn’t see any point in lying to Marvin, who’d already made up his mind about who she was.

“He’s making money. Still lives up at the prison, but it’s just him and his closest now. He runs a couple online gigs, uses the space as a warehouse.” Marvin laughed. “His slave is the internet, not all those folks he had working for him for free.”

That made sense. He couldn’t continue doing what he was doing once social media happened: underage kids working his orchards for free, underage kids learning to build websites and what else? She thought of the photo, the one she’d taken from the front seat of his car, and she dropped her fork. It clattered to her plate. That’s what else. Reaching back, she pulled her hair across her shoulder and began to unbraid it. Her fingers flicked through the strands, detangling as her brain forced her to remember the photo: Feena wearing only her skin...clearly underage...clearly drugged...

She swallowed, but her throat was so dry it locked. Draining her water glass, she swung her stool outward so she was facing the parking lot.

“You think there are any rooms at Charlie’s Inn?” she asked, shaking her hair out. She reached for her bag and hauled it into her lap, making eye contact with the old man. She wanted him to remember her.

“Heh!” He choked out a laugh. “They ain’t seen a no-vacancy sign since they opened. You planning on stayin’ the night?”

She studied his graying skin, the liver spots that decorated it. Why would he eat here and give his money to the man who had most likely conned him out of his restaurant? Eat his eggs, and drink his coffee? “Figured it would be easier to get a ride out come morning. You gonna tell him I’m here?”

Marvin turned away from her, back to his coffee, and picked up his novel.

“Tell him who was here?”

She tossed a twenty on the counter. “Coffee’s on me next time, Marv.” She lingered long enough to see him smile before she walked out. Marvin. It was a great cover: harmless old man pretending to be bitter over the loss of his business, waiting to call the compound and warn the gang about who was showing up in Friendship. A spy. In fact, they probably had video of Rainy in the restaurant. Her stomach dropped as she walked through the motel office’s doors and handed her card to the guy behind the desk. If Taured owned the town, of course he would want to see who came through. Marvin had already been under Taured’s control; she knew that from when she’d hidden under the truck and overheard his conversation with Sammy. He’d asked for waitresses, and Taured had told Sammy to send the sisters. God, what was your big plan in coming here, Rainy? she asked herself.

She looked out the motel’s doors. She looked like her mother; that’s why she’d thought to take her hair down to try to hide the resemblance on the camera—to use it as a curtain—but of course it had been too late. Stupid to put herself on his radar. She didn’t even have a car—she couldn’t get away quickly. She took the room key from the clerk’s hand, smiled, walked back outside into the thick air. The thought of Taured showing up to her room didn’t scare her; it was the thought of not being prepared for him that did. The room was sparse and ugly, but cleaner than she had expected. She took off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. She fell back onto the white coverlet and, holding her phone above her face, she texted the group.

Won’t be at dinner tonight. Got stuck doing some tourist thing. Tell you about it tomorrow.
She hit Send and dropped her phone. Would they even notice if she didn’t come back to the room later that night? She doubted it. They’d accept her text because she was the strange, independent one, anyway.

She stripped down to her underwear and crawled under the covers, naked except for her necklace and exhausted from the day—the weekend—the month. No one knows where I am, she thought as she drifted to sleep...an honest lie.



17


Then


They let her pack her mother’s personal things into two plastic milk crates they found in the kitchen. Her clothes and shoes were distributed to the remaining women, which left her with some of her mother’s books, a Bible, two old photo albums and a box of trinkets that had no meaning to Summer. She watched as the women carried off the rest, fighting over her mother’s nicest shoes, which were too big for Summer. All she took for herself was her mother’s necklace, a simple gold chain her dad had given her when they got married.