An Honest Lie(70)

24


Now


Rainy stared out the window at the gaudy lights and the silent desert beyond. Beside her, on the seat, sat her phone.

I’m going to kill her. You’d better come if you want to save her, the text had read.

She looked up at the cabdriver. “If you could drop me off a couple blocks away, I’d appreciate it.” She looked down at her hands as they shook in her lap, the chipped red nail polish reminding her of her mother.

A brief nod from the driver and the car veered sideways. It was too early for the city to be beautiful; Vegas was a moon child, and under the sun’s microscope, she looked like costume jewelry. Hands pressed between her knees, she stared at the Bellum, the crawl of it toward the sky. A vertical tomb.

Go to the Bellum Hotel. Wear dark leggings and a yoga top, no bra. Tight clothes with no pockets. I don’t want to have to pat you down.
Her dread was feasting on her thoughts, a dark dive into all the ways this could go wrong. She’d bought the top on the strip: sleeveless, with a high neck. I don’t want to have to pat you down. He liked to toy with women, hurt them, but what he was doing wasn’t sexual, she was convinced of that. Rainy—Summer—knew the verbal cues of a sexual predator; the way interaction with them made you feel violated and probed without ever being touched. She’d always got that feeling from Taured; that’s why her gut told her this wasn’t him. Nothing about Paul gave her pervert vibes; no, he was creatively angry. She had a theory, and she’d checked the articles about Sara and Feena on her laptop from the hotel: neither of them had been sexually assaulted. He wasn’t a rapist, he was a murderer.

The car reached the curb.

Overthinking is not a practical thing for an impulsive person to do. Fifteen years of therapy had trained the impulse to ask permission, to wait in a corner like an eager but well-trained dog. But for fifteen years, her fury had been closing in, and now there was nowhere to go but into the impulse.

Rainy slid cash through the window slot.

“No change.”

The driver held up his hand in thanks and she slipped out, dragging her duffel with her.

She looked down at her phone, at the last text he’d sent her.

At seven p.m., go to the buffet at the Greenery. There you’ll find a room key. You’ll know it when you see it. Go into the room, drink what I’ve left you, then lie on the bed. If anything happens to me, no one will be able to find Braithe in time to save her life. So before you act, remember that you’re not the one in control. One wrong move and she’s dead. I am the only one with access to Braithe.
She was breathing through her mouth: in and out, trying to calm herself. Paul, Paul—the name bothered her. Had she known a Paul at the compound? But again...there was no way he was using his real name. She supposed Taured could still be behind all of this, luring her here with one of his guys, but somehow, it didn’t feel that way to Rainy. Paul was acting on his own anger, playing his own game. The men who did Taured’s bidding weren’t witty or explosive: they were reliable soldiers.

She stopped at a Quick Mart two blocks away, gathering what she needed and dropping it on the counter in front of a stoop-shouldered woman whose name tag read Susan and who looked bored. At the last minute, she ran back to the fridge to get water and an energy drink. The bottle with the yellow label caught her eye—the one the bartender had shown her. Something was loosening in her memory, but she couldn’t quite grasp it yet. Grabbing the bottle of coffee syrup, she carried it to the register with her drinks. “I’ll have a pack of Capris, a lighter and that phone,” Rainy said, pointing, and pulling out her cash. Sad-looking Susan turned to grab the cigarettes and phone from the back wall. She looked at the coffee syrup with interest before sliding it into the bag with the box of Band-Aids, the phone and the drinks.

“Want these out?” She held up the cigarettes and lighter and Rainy nodded.

“I don’t actually want to buy the coffee syrup. I just have kind of a weird question about it. And do you get a lot of regulars over here from the hotel staff?”

“Oh, yeah.” She looked over at Rainy and annoyance lined her face just as much as the sun had. “They treat this place like it’s their lunchroom. It’s cheaper to buy stuff over here, you know? So they stop on the way in and on the way out.”

Rainy pursed her lips, nodding slowly. “Anyone come in here to buy this coffee syrup on the regular?” Rainy had that feeling again: it was the mist that kept showing up in her head, the mist she couldn’t see through. The bartender hadn’t been the only guy she’d known who drank that syrup. The compound had been a mecca for weirdos from all over America, and one of those weirdos had that bottle at the compound.

“Yeah, there are a couple guys who love that stuff. Say you can’t find that brand anywhere else around here.”

“Yeah? The guys ever heard of Amazon?”

Susan found that remark hilarious and her face didn’t look so sad anymore. She winked at Rainy before slipping the lighter into the paper bag without ringing it up. Rainy could be generous, too. And since they were playing that game...

“Hey, do you happen to know their names? The guys who buy the syrup.”

Susan frowned as she studied the lotto tickets thoughtfully. “They come in here separately. I don’t think they know each other.”