The Sound of Broken Ribs(63)

*

Belinda’s first thought was that she was dead. She felt floaty and dizzy and not the least in control of her body. Her vision blurred to the point she thought she saw the author bitch’s shadow come alive. It loomed over her, hovering on the roof of the sedan, glaring down at her with yellow pinpoints of lights.

Then the pain hit her. Molten threads, like blazing worms, snaked from around her nose and crawled into her cheeks, her temples, across her forehead, down her neck. The author bitch had broken her nose. No doubt about that. When Belinda moved her upper lip, she could feel and hear the cartilage shifting inside her face.

“Make the fucking call,” the author said. “Make the fucking call or I shoot you in the kneecap.”

Blood from her shattered nose cascaded over her lip and down her shirt. She blinked hot tears from her eyes. “I—I can’t. It—it—it fucking hurts.” She sounded like she had the worst head cold ever recorded—her words were nothing but nasal mumblings.

“Poor baby.” The other woman’s face was blank, unreadable, but Belinda thought that if she hesitated another instant, she’d likely never walk right again.

Grinding her teeth through the pain, Belinda put the phone on one thigh and used her good hand to unlock the screen. Yellow and brown liquid had begun to soak through the toilet paper wrapped around her finger. Could her wound be infected already? She thought it might be. After all, mouths were the nastiest places known to man.

She brought up the numeric keypad and punched in 911.

The author said, “Speakerphone.”

Breath hitching, Belinda pressed the proper button.

“Emergency services, how may I help you?” The dispatcher was male and sounded altogether bored, as if he couldn’t be bothered to so much as breathe.

“My name is—” she glanced up, knowing—just fucking sure—she had already made a mistake. The author only nodded, as if to say, “Go on.”

“My name is Belinda Walsh and I’m calling to report a murder.”

*

Lei listened as Belinda, obviously in a great deal of pain and sounding like a boxer at the end of a long fight, confessed to the man on the phone. During the story, Belinda sped up and slowed down, as if someone were in her head revving her engine and then letting her settle back to idle. Lei never once stopped her or told her to slow down. She only listened intently. She knew that all emergency services recorded and tracked calls. The Powers That Be could play back the tape if they missed anything. When she was done, Belinda cut her eyes up to Lei and Lei nodded.

“And where are you now?” the man asked.

Lei mouthed, “Hang up.”

Belinda didn’t hesitate. She shoved her thumb into End and the man from 911 vanished.

“They’ll be able to trace the call.”

“Doesn’t matter. You stole my phone.” Lei righted herself in the driver’s seat. “Put my phone back where you found it.”

Belinda did as she was told, and then she said, “They’ll put it all together. You kidnapped me in broad daylight. A dozen people saw you take me at gun point.”

Lei smiled. “Haven’t you heard, Round Eye—all Asians look alike.”

Twenty minutes of ascending paved mountain roads brought them to a sign that read:



MILEY AND Sons’ HOME AWAY FROM HOME

YOUR ESCAPE FROM THE CITY!



I guess the sons weren’t important enough for all caps, Lei mused as she turned onto the gravel road leading to the cabins. The way curved back on itself three times, and Lei kept thinking that she would wind up back on the main road, until finally she saw the widely spaced cabins come into view through the trees.

She still had no idea what she was planning from here on out. All she could do was take it a step at a time.

First things first—deal with registration.

The main building was a little smaller than the average two-bedroom bungalow but bigger than the cabins spread out behind it. A porch stretched the length of the building but did not wrap around. Two rocking chairs sat on either side of the double doors. Red, white, and blue ribbons had been woven through the slats of the chairs and wrapped around the bannisters and the rails bracketing the five steps that led up to the porch proper. The last major holiday would’ve been the Fourth of July, so the decorations were not out of place. What seemed out of place was the big CLOSED sign on the front door.

“Now what?” Belinda asked. The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, making her sound even stuffier than before. Lei was reminded of the adults in The Peanuts cartoons—all wha wha wha.

“Sticking with this plan until it pays out or goes under,” Lei told her. “Grab the phone again and look up Cabins in my contacts.”

Belinda grabbed the phone from under the radio and placed it on her knee. Lei saw how Belinda favored her hand, as if it pained her greatly to even move the arm it was attached to, only now noticing the disgusting color of the junk soaking through the bandage—a bandage Lei was sure couldn’t be anything other than toilet tissue.

Smiling, Lei said, “You should get that checked out.”

“Fuck you,” Belinda said as she scrolled through Lei’s contacts.

“That was probably what you were trying to do when I snatched you—huh?”

Belinda didn’t answer. She had found the right contact. The phone rang three times before a pleasant voice answered.