Shadow Moon, page 16
My team reluctantly departed.
I gazed into Paula Scott’s colorless gray eyes, unable to move. If Faye had kept Anna Starr and given me up, this woman would have been the only mother I ever knew.
She must have been thinking the same thing. “I’ve always wondered why your mother didn’t keep the pretty one, but I see you haven’t turned out so bad.”
Okay, now I understood why Anne Marie could make a putdown sound like a compliment. Her mommy had taught her.
“Thanks, I guess.” I sat down opposite Paula Scott and placed the picture of Faye and her newborn twins on the table between us. I saw no reason to be tactful. “So you’re the woman who bought my twin sister.”
The black pupils in her eyes elongated, like a cat’s. It was like looking into the eyes of a feral animal. A stray thought passed through my mind. Was this woman even human?
Scott reached into her purse and pulled out a folded document. “I wondered what approach you’d take.” She unfolded the document and set it on the table between us. She smirked and tapped the Washington State seal with one perfectly manicured fingernail. “I figured you’d try to prove the adoption was a fake. This proves it wasn’t.”
I studied the paper signed by Faye and Grandpa Claude. By their signatures, they’d given up all rights to the child known as Anna Starr Emerson. It was notarized by a lawyer. It looked like the real deal until I noticed another signature, the name of the adoptive mother. Paula Scott.
I pointed at the signature. “You weren’t Paula Scott back then. You were Karla Ring.”
Scott’s face turned red and she snapped, “That’s a lie.”
“No, it’s not. I have your picture from when you worked in the hospital.” I pushed the paper back across the table. “This looks real, but I bet it’s a forgery. That adoption was bogus and you know it. My mother was seventeen years old and out of her head sick. She didn’t even know what was going on. Her creep of a father took advantage of her and sold you a baby.”
Paula Scott smiled, but her eyes were as cold as the Arctic Sea. “Prove it. Do you know what that would involve? We live in different states. You’d be tied up in court for years. Besides, Anne Marie is gone. I put her on a plane this morning. You’ll never see her again.”
The air rushed out of my lungs like I’d been punched in the gut. She was right. There was no way this mess could be resolved in a few months. Face it, Allie. You failed.
Even though I had no hope of winning the battle, I fired one last shot. “You’re a Trimark.”
Paula Scott didn’t act surprised or say, “What’s a Trimark?” She showed me her palm and smiled her cold smile. “Do you see an inverted triangle? I don’t think so.”
I saw a faint etching of scar tissue on her mound of Mercury, the outline of an inverted triangle. I nodded. “Of course you are. That explains a lot.”
When she didn’t answer, I said, “You were going to kill both of us in the hospital, weren’t you? I know you were caught standing over my bassinette with a syringe. Air bubble? Is that how you were going to do it? When that didn’t work, you were told to separate us, but you picked the wrong twin. Was it that little star on her butt that fooled you?”
Her eyes narrowed and I swear, she hissed.
I opened my hand and pointed to the star on my palm. “I’ve got one, too. So what’s the plan? Has to be about the Trimarks’s rise to power. Nineteen times nineteen. Am I getting warm?”
Scott’s face closed up. She gathered up her belongings and stood. “I’d like to say it’s been nice meeting you, but it hasn’t. Take your little gemstone and go back to Peacock Flats, Alfrieda. Without my daughter, you’re as good as dead. You can’t stop the inevitable.”
The truth of her words pierced my heart like razor sharp arrows.
She was halfway to the door when she stopped, whirled around and walked back to the table. She leaned close and whispered, “Almost forgot. Tell that boyfriend of yours to drive safe. There are so many terrible accidents on the interstate. Really, it’s sad. People get killed all the time. Oh, and watch out for the eighteen-wheelers. They’re way bigger than you.”
The fact that she was threatening me was exactly the call to action I needed. Failure was not an option. My blood boiling with fury, I bolted out of my chair. She backed up a step. I said, “You don’t scare me. You think I’ll give up? Well, I’ve got news for you. I’ll never give up.”
Her gaze shifted away from mine, and she mumbled, “We’ll see about that.” Once again, she headed for the exit. As I watched her leave, I realized our danger level had just ratcheted up another notch, if that was even possible.
Your mother will be the first.. Then your father. After you watch them die, you will be next.
There are so many terrible accidents on the freeway. People get killed all the time.
Back in the car, heading north.
After I’d delivered the bad news, we’d all agreed there was no reason to hang around southern California.
“Today’s the twenty-third” Junior said. “If we start now, we’ll be home for Christmas.”
“I can’t believe that woman!” I said. “She didn’t even bother denying she was a Trimark. And what about my so-called sister? She’s a spoiled brat who doesn’t care about anybody but herself.”
Junior said, “Your mom got to see Anne Marie. Isn’t that worth something?”
My mouth snapped shut. I turned in the seat and looked at Faye. Somehow, she looked different. Younger, even. The tension lines around her eyes had vanished. She wasn’t exactly smiling, but she looked relaxed and at peace.
“While you were in Starbucks,” she said, “the rest of us talked. All of us, except for you, realized the chances were slim to none that this mission would be successful. The Scotts are rich and powerful. We’re . . . well, we’re not so rich and powerful. It was worth a try, but it didn’t work out. It’s not your fault, Allie. It’s nobody’s fault.”
I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say.
Faye continued, “Look at the big picture. Instead of hammering poor Anna Starr like she’s a devil child, imagine what it would be like to have a mother like Paula Scott. That could have been you. Raised by a Trimark. If anything, you should feel sorry for her. I do.”
Was it possible her meeting with Anne Marie had provided Faye with some sort of closure?
Did I feel guilty? Oh, yeah. I mumbled, “Sorry,” turned to face the front and slumped down in the seat.
Junior, weaving through traffic, reached over and took my hand. He lifted it to his lips and gave it a loud smack. “You did your best. That’s good enough. You’ll feel better when you get home.”
Completely spent of all emotions, I dozed off and didn’t wake up until we stopped at a truck stop for dinner.
I yawned and stretched. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Remember what Paula Scott said about eighteen wheelers.”
Faye said, “We’re hungry and it’s the only restaurant around.”
Junior said, “Aw, she was just blowin’ smoke.”
It was pitch dark and pouring rain. We dashed into the restaurant holding our coats over our heads. The waitress who took our order asked where we were headed. When we told her Washington, she said, “You better get as far as you can tonight. This rain isn’t going to stop and northern California’s a real mess. The Weather Channel is predicting the worst blizzard in decades. Good luck.”
“Oh great,” Sammie said. “Now, Mother Nature is out to get us.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. What else could go wrong?
Chapter Twenty-Six
That night we drove until we were north of Sacramento and Junior was so tired he was seeing double. Faye and I offered to drive, but being a macho, Hispanic male, Junior refused, so we stopped for the night. Faye borrowed Junior’s cell phone and called the chicken guy to wish him Merry Christmas. Thankfully, she went into the bathroom and shut the door so I didn’t have to listen to her end of the mushy conversation.
When she came out, Junior was snoring on the couch. He came to long enough to say, “What about you, Allie. Wanna call Kizzy?”
I dialed her number, knowing talking to Kizzy always made me feel better. She was the only person in the world who truly understood how weird my life had become, which was only fair since it was Kizzy who had given me the moonstone.
I hadn’t talked to her since before we left, so we had a lot of catching up to do. I told her Sammie was with us.
She said, “If she’s a friend of yours, she’s welcome to stay with me her as long as she wants.”
“Thanks, Kizzy.”
“What about Anna Starr?” Kizzy asked. “Did you find her?”
I launched into the story of my epic fail. When I finished, she said, “Alfrieda, may I share something with you?”
“Sure.”
“What seems like a failure now may turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Things happen for a reason and more likely than not, exactly as they are supposed to.”
Kizzy was always saying stuff like that, and she was usually right.
“What about Carmel and what’s his name? Are they around?”
Her hiss of disapproval bounced across dozens of cell towers and into my ear. “Northern Idaho,” she said. “Pete Prather set them up with a church there.” I got a sudden visual of Jessie and Carmel scouring the town for anyone they deemed supernatural.
Just as my finger was hovering over the end button, Kizzy said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Mercedes wants you to call. Something about that incident at school.”
Mercedes answered on the first ring. “Girl, do I have news for you.”
Knowing how long it would take for Mercedes to get to the point, I stretched out on the bed. Which turned out to be a good idea because for ten long minutes (I timed her), she rattled on about the wonderfulness of Gilbert. I may have dozed off, just a little, but tuned back in when I heard other names inserted into the one-sided conversation. Cory Philpott. Nicole Bradford. Molly Reed.
“Wait, wait!” I said. “I missed that. What about Nicole and Molly Reed?”
Heavy sigh from Mercedes. “Weren’t you listening? That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It was Molly Reed who put the vodka in your Pepsi. Nicole was at the mall with a bunch of girls and heard Molly bragging about it. Guess what happened next?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
Mercedes giggled. “This is the best part ’cause it happened at church.”
“No way.”
“Way. While the choir was singing, Molly Reed left to go to the bathroom. Nicole followed her. I was curious, so I followed both of them. Nicole told me to guard the door. Then, guess what Nicole did?”
“Just tell me . . . okay?”
“Okay, okay. Nicole grabbed Molly by the ponytail and lifted her up in the air. I’m not lying. Molly’s feet were actually dangling in the air! That Nicole is one strong chick. Molly started screaming and yelling, but nobody could hear her ’cause the choir was so loud.
“Nicole said she’d only let Molly down if she promised to tell Mr. Hostetler what she’d done to you. Molly just hung there for a while, but she finally agreed. I guess she was afraid Nicole would yank out all her hair. So Nicole put her down and said, ‘Listen up, Molly. I’m talking about today. Mercedes and I are going with you to make sure you do it right.’ And we did, and you’re off the hook. Oh, girl, it was way cool.”
Totally flabbergasted, I tried to make sense of Mercedes’ story. “But why did she do it? Molly, I mean. I never did anything to her.”
“Remember how I always said Cory Philpott liked you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, apparently Molly Reed has this big crush on Cory, and all he could talk about was you. Constantly. Actually, the whole thing makes sense. You’re the other woman. I see it on my soaps all the time. Molly was jealous and wanted to make you look bad.”
I burst out laughing. “That is so lame. Doesn’t she know I’m with Junior?”
The mention of Junior’s name caused Mercedes to inhale sharply. “Oh my God, I almost forgot to tell you. Junior’s mama told my mama . . . ”
She was off and running again. Twenty minutes later, we said our goodbyes. Once I’d hung up, I related the Nicole Bradford story to Faye and Sammie.
Faye said, “Early Christmas present.”
When I crawled into bed next to Sammie and turned out the light, I smiled, knowing my off-kilter world had made a slight adjustment back toward normalcy. Things were looking up.
It was the day of Christmas Eve, and we were in a shopping mall in northern California. Don’t ask me where. Even though the weather was getting worse by the minute, Junior insisted he had shopping to do.
“Twenty minutes,” he said. “That’s all I need.”
He made me wait outside the jewelry store and promise not to peek. I had no shopping to do since my presents for Junior and Faye were back in Peacock Flats. Besides, I was flat broke. Ten minutes later, Junior waved me into the store and showed me the earrings he’d picked out for Faye and his mother. I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks for being nice to Faye.”
He brushed off the compliment and headed for the door.”We’d better get going.”
That’s when I spotted the glittering silver chain in the jeweler’s glass case. I called to Junior, “What about Sammie? We need to get her something. She has her mom’s locket hanging from a dirty shoelace. ”
One last purchase and we were back on the interstate twenty minutes later. By two p.m., the sky had grown darker still, and the rain had turned to wet snow. Traffic slowed to a crawl. Mt. Shasta hid herself behind a thick layer of black storm clouds.
“Lots of trucks,” Junior commented. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“That same truck’s been behind us since we left the mall,” I said. “Do you think . . . ?” Before I could finish my sentence, the truck in question swung into the passing lane and pulled up beside us.
Junior slowed down. The truck slowed down. “Go around us, asshole,” Junior muttered.
I leaned around Junior and looked through the side window. The truck kept pace with us, its weasel-faced driver grinning down at us like he’d just heard the funniest joke ever. The trucking firm’s name was printed on the door in bright red letters. Triangle Trucking. My heart kicked up a notch. Faye gave a little shriek of fear.
Sammie said, “What’s that dude up to?”
Through the falling snow, we watched the truck edge closer. The dome light in the truck cab flashed on. The driver lifted his right hand, a cylindrical object clutched in his fist. Seconds later, a wicked-looking blade popped into view.
“Switchblade!” Junior said and swore a blue streak.
“Trimark!” I said, feeling sick to my stomach.
As if he’d heard me, the driver ditched the knife and raised his hand in salute, palm forward. I couldn’t make out the lines on his palm but I didn’t need to. I knew what we were dealing with. Satisfied he’d scared the crap out of us, he accelerated and pulled into the space in front of us.
My mouth went dry. “She sent him. Paula Scott,” I said. I twisted around in my seat, looked behind the minivan and caught my breath. “And there’s another truck behind us. Exactly like the one in front of us. They’ve got us boxed in.”
Faye and Sammie peered through the back window. Faye said, “Maybe we should pull over.”
“Yeah,” Sammie agreed.
“No way!” I said. “The guy behind could have an Uzi. We stop. He stops and takes us all out. Or, the other guy comes back and butchers us.” My voice was shrill with alarm.
“Geez, Allie, we’re not dead yet,” Junior said. “I’m going to try to pass the guy in front of us.”
“Careful,” Faye said. “The road’s getting icy.”
Junior pressed down on the gas pedal and eased into the passing lane. The forward truck accelerated. As Junior sped up in an effort to pass, the back end of the minivan began to fishtail violently. I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming as Junior fought to keep us from spinning out.
“Dammit!” he said, pulling back between the two trucks. “Okay, let’s go for Plan B. We try to get the guy behind us off our tail.”
We all held our breath as Junior once again moved to the passing lane. This time, he slowed down. The truck behind us slowed down too.
Faye muttered, “Plan C, anybody?”
“Maybe just stay in the passing lane for now,” I said. “Everybody’s driving slow because of the weather.”
A snowplow lumbered past us, heading south. A couple of minutes later, a flashing overhead highway sign directed all traffic into the right lane, and we were once again sandwiched between the two eighteen wheelers.
A blast of wind pushed us sideways. Junior cursed again, struggling to keep us on the road. Howling wind blew through wildly flailing trees, clinging to the icy ground with tenuous roots. Our car was eerily quiet except for the radio tuned to the station broadcasting highway conditions.
Just south of the California/Oregon border, we slowed to a stop, still trapped between the two semi trucks. A state trooper was making his way down the line.
Faye leaned forward. “We need to tell that cop what’s going down.”
Junior glanced over his shoulder at Faye. “And say what? That the trucker flashed something that looked like a knife? Not gonna work.”
I said, “At least they won’t try anything while we’re stopped. Too many people around.”
When the trooper reached our car, he said, “We just closed the highway. Twenty minutes earlier and you’d have made it. We’re letting people go through a few at a time to see if they can find lodging in the next town.”
We were all out of ideas. At least, that’s what I thought until Junior said, “Screw this,” and cranked the Toyota around in a tight U-turn. He ignored our chorus of startled shrieks and tromped on the gas pedal, heading south on the northbound passing lane.
Faye was the first to find her voice. “What the hell are you doing, Junior? Trying to get us killed?”
