The Lost Saint(40)

Tidwell Library sat only a few blocks from Markham Street and The Depot. I checked out the faces of every person on the street. I knew Jude could be somewhere nearby, but if this place was anything like Markham, the neighborhood would be deserted by the time the sun went down.

Talbot opened the van’s back doors. “Come on, let’s get started.”

I pulled out a box and almost fell over because of the weight of the thing. I finally steadied myself and looked over at Talbot. He had three boxes of the same size stacked in his arms.

“You can do better than that, kid,” he said, with a little goading jab in his voice on that last word.

“Yeah, right.”

I thought it would take a million years to unload all those boxes into the library, but Talbot carried in six boxes for every one that I managed to haul in. I hated looking weak in front of him, and I finally got annoyed enough with myself that I managed to muster up a burst of strength that helped me carry in two boxes on my last trip. Considering how much easier it was, I wished I had been able to do that in the first place. But I guess I didn’t really want Talbot to notice my disproportionate girl-to-upper-body-strength ratio.

“That’s more like it,” Talbot said as he held the door open for me on his way out. I carried the last two boxes to the information desk and left them with the librarian.

“So where to now?” I asked when I got back to the van, feeling like I’d gotten a second wind. “Can we go paint over some graffiti or something?”

“Not sure what we have time for, kid.” Talbot pulled off his hat. His wavy brown hair all squashed against his head made him look like the kid. He reached up to sweep his hand through his hair. But then he dropped his hat and whirled around. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

I concentrated hard, holding my breath until I felt that stinging irritation in my ears. Then I heard it, too: a woman’s scream. It sounded so close in my ears that I thought she must be only a few yards away, but the street was dusky and deserted except for Talbot and me. It could have come from a couple blocks away for all I knew.

“Come on!” Talbot said. “We’ve got to help.”

“What? No. We should call the police!” I reached for my phone in my pocket.

The scream sounded again but suddenly cut off, like someone had covered the woman’s mouth. My muscles flared.

“There’s no time.” Talbot grabbed my wrist. “The police can’t help her, but you can.”

“Me?”

Talbot let go of my arm. “I’m going.” He tossed the van keys at me. “Lock yourself in the van if you’re too afraid.” He took off jogging in the direction of the scream.

“Stop!” I shouted after him. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Not if you’ve got my back,” he yelled.

What the hell did he mean by that? I glanced down at the keys in my hand. I’d caught them midair without even realizing it. When I looked up again, Talbot had already disappeared around the corner.

“Crap, he is going to get killed,” I said to myself. The tension in my muscles coursed like fire. My body wanted to do something, even if my better judgment screamed at me to stay put. Then an explosive bang rattled the sky. A gunshot!

Go! a foreign voice shouted in my head. I took off running before I could even stop myself. In a matter of seconds, I rounded the corner where Talbot had turned, and ran smack into a woman who was running the opposite way. Tears streamed down her face, and she held her torn shirt closed in front of her chest.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I tried to grab her arm, but she pulled away from my touch.

“Get away,” she cried, and kept running.

But I couldn’t leave without Talbot. I took a few more steps and stopped dead at the scene in front of me. Three guys. Two dressed in black with bright red ski masks. I could tell by their slight build that they were probably teenagers. The third person was Talbot. One of the ski-masked guys had him pushed up against a cement wall, a gun pressed to his head—the muzzle lost in the mop of Talbot’s hat-head hair.

I tried not to scream. I really did. I choked it back as hard as I could, but a high-pitched squawk escaped from my throat. I threw my hands over my mouth.

The guy pushed his hand against Talbot’s sternum, pressing him into the wall. He gestured in my direction. “We’ve got company.”

The second guy turned toward me. He had no face other than the two dark eyes that glared at me through the holes in the red ski mask.

“Bring her here,” the gunman ordered.

The other guy took a step toward me.

“Do something, Grace,” Talbot said.

The guy took a second and a third step.

Do what? Run? But I was frozen to that spot. Except, I wasn’t technically frozen, since every cell in my body seared like Fourth of July sparklers under my skin.

The man had only half a dozen more steps to take to close the gap between us, but I still couldn’t move. My stomach clenched into a fiery knot.

“Damn it, Grace!” Talbot shouted. “Do something. I know you can.”

“Do what?” I shouted back.

“That feeling in your stomach? That’s anger. That’s power. Grab on to it and kick that guy’s ass!”

How would he know …?