Framing Felipe (19 page)

She
folded
her
clothes
neatly
and
laid
them
on
top
of
the
dresser
along
with
her
knife.

The
knife
she
changed
her
mind
about.
She
unsheathed
it
and
carried
it
and
her
loaded
gun

to
the
left
bedside
table.

The
Glock,
she
laid
on
its
side
with
the
barrel
pointed
toward
the
wall.
The
knife,
she

left
beneath
her
pillow
once
she’d
gotten
rid
of
the
useless
decorative
pillow
that’d
been
on

top
of
the
smaller
one.
She
pulled
back
the
covers,
and
sat
on
the
edge
of
the
bed,
gripping

the
edge
of
the
sheets,
before
popping
back
up.
She’d
forgotten
to
unlock
the
door.
She

remedied
that,
then
padded
to
the
lamp
and
clicked
it
off.

When
she
eased
into
the
bed,
her
body
seemed
to
melt
into
the
mattress
a
bit.

Boneless.
So
tired.
Too
long
without
good
sleep.
She
didn’t
even
care
that
she
was
sharing

her
bed
with
a
handsome
stranger.
She
didn’t
have
the
energy
to
care,
and
that
was
a
sad

thing
indeed.

Felipe
deserved
a
woman
who
cared.

FRAMING FELIPE
–
73
–
Holley Trent

Felipe’s
plan
had
been
to
take
the
plates
to
the
kitchen,
get
a
drink
from
the
fountain

machine
in
the
dining
room,
and
hurry
back
to
Sarah
before
she
passed
out.
She
had
that

look
about
her.
It
was
the
same
look
Fabian
tended
to
acquire
on
the
rare
occasion
he’d
had

too
many
beers.

He
wanted
to
talk
to
her—pick
her
brain.
Ask
her
about
her
life
and
where
she
saw
it

going
while
they
had
the
quiet
time.
Once
she
got
on
her
feet
in
the
morning
and
steered

that
pick-‐up
truck
toward
Patrick’s
cabin
again,
she’d
become
more
and
more
agitated
as

the
day
grew
long.
She’d
been
the
opposite
there
at
the
lodge.
Although
he
could
tell
she

was
worried
about
her
separation
from
the
Shrews—from
the
action
she
perceived
she

was
missing
out
on—the
longer
they
stayed
away,
the
less
ferocious
she
was.

It
wasn’t
that
he
didn’t
like
ferocious
Sarah
a
great
deal,
but
ferocious
Sarah
was
hard

to
have
a
conversation
with.
The
language
barrier
and
her
goddamned
awful
accent
made
it

all
that
much
harder.
Tired
Sarah—Sarah
with
nowhere
to
run—she
was
far
more
tolerant.

The
moment
he
stepped
into
the
kitchen,
however,
his
plans
got
diverted.
Eric
stood
at

the
sink,
hands
on
his
hips,
staring
up
at
a
television
bracketed
into
the
corner.
He
cast
his

dark
brown
eyes
at
Felipe,
studying
him
for
a
moment,
then
looked
up
into
the
corner

again.
He
said
nothing
until
the
television
volume
ratcheted
up
as
the
station
segued
into
a

commercial.

“You
can
set
those
dishes
on
the
counter
over
there.
You
could
have
left
them
in
the

room.
Maid
would
have
got
them
in
the
morning.”

Felipe
did
what
he
said,
but
first
stopped
at
the
trashcan
to
scrape
the
remnants
in.

“Sarah
did
not
finish.
The
smell
probably
would
have
been
unpleasant
by
morning.”

Eric
lifted
a
brow
of
incredulity
and
turned
his
back
to
Felipe
to
tend
to
the
dishes
in

the
sink.
“Sarah
didn’t
finish?
That
doesn’t
sound
like
her.”

“She’s
tired.”

“She
works
too
hard.
I
keep
getting
on
her
to
take
a
break,
sit
still
for
a
while.
Even

offered
her
a
room
here
for
as
long
as
she
wanted
it,
but
she
wouldn’t
have
it.”

FRAMING FELIPE
–
74
–
Holley Trent

“Thanks
for
dinner.”
Felipe
started
backing
out
of
the
kitchen,
but
the
commercial

break
ended
and
Eric
said,
calmly,
while
elbow-‐deep
in
sudsy
water,
“I
would
watch
this
if
I

were
you.”

Felipe
turned
around
just
in
time
to
see
Eric’s
head
cocking
toward
the
television.

Felipe
looked
up
and
studied
the
headline
tacked
to
the
bottom
of
the
newsfeed.

Circus
owner
pleads
for
public
help
in
locating
missing
acrobat.

Missing
acrobat?

On
screen,
an
overenthusiastic
reporter
in
a
taupe
pantsuit
stood
between
Jacques
and

an
annoyed-‐looking
Fabian.
She
nodded
consolingly
as
Jacques
prattled
on
and
on
about

Felipe’s
“mysterious”
disappearance.
He
went
so
far
as
to
suggest
foul
play.
Fabian
said

nothing.
He
stared
at
something
or
some
one
off-‐screen
with
his
arms
crossed
over
his

chest.
Even
with
the
small
size
of
the
television,
Felipe
could
still
tell
his
brother’s
jaw

grating
side
to
side
as
he
ground
his
teeth.
If
anyone
in
the
public
thought
Fabian
was

concerned,
they
weren’t
good
at
reading
people.

Fabian
was
saying
all
he
needed
without
saying
a
word.
He
was
wearing
his
cross.
That

wouldn’t
have
meant
a
damned
thing
to
Jacques,
but
meant
a
change
of
plans
for
Felipe.

Dammit,
little
brother.

“If
you
have
any
information
about
acrobat
Felipe
Castillo,
please
call
Buncombe

County
Police
or
the
Merveilles
Sans
Fin
circus’s
answering
service
at
the
number
below,”

the
reporter
said.

Eric
reached
a
soapy
hand
to
the
remote
control
and
turned
the
television
off.
His
stare

asked
a
thousand
questions,
but
Felipe
wasn’t
in
the
mood
to
answer
any
of
them.
The
only

thing
he
was
in
the
mood
for
at
the
moment
was
getting
in
a
car
and
going
after
his
brother.

That
cross
Fabian
wore
meant
he
was
likely
about
to
do
something
very
rash,
and

maybe
he
didn’t
know
for
sure
Felipe
would
see
the
broadcast,
but
he’d
put
that
rarely-‐

worn
relic
on
just
in
case
he
did.
This
sign
meant,
“I’m
nearing
the
end
of
my
rope.”
The
last

time
Fabian
had
worn
it
was
when
they
were
doing
a
weeklong
stint
in
St.
Petersburg,

Russia.
Jacques
had
booked
Felipe
and
Fabian
into
a
personal
show
for
some
socialites
with

money
to
burn.
Jacques
had
very
nearly
become
their
pimp
that
night,
and
the
only
reason

they
hadn’t
gone
through
with
it
was
because
Fabian
delivered
some
very
tidy
insults
to

two
of
the
ladies
in
attendance.

FRAMING FELIPE
–
75
–
Holley Trent

Jacques
made
sure
Fabian
regretted
it
later,
but
Fabian
got
his
revenge.
Jacques
didn’t

know
it,
and
Fabian
wasn’t
the
kind
of
man
who
would
have
gloated
about
it,
anyway.

Whatever
Fabian
was
about
to
do,
Felipe
wanted
to
be
there
to
temper
the
fall-‐out.

“I
try
to
stay
out
of
Shrew
business
as
much
as
I
can,”
Eric
said,
casting
a
speculative

look
toward
Felipe.
“Astrid
prefers
it
that
way.
But
that
look
on
your
face
tells
me
you’re

about
to
cause
my
friend
a
heap
of
frustration.”

Felipe
shifted
his
weight.
“I
plan
on
doing
no
such
thing.”

“Oh
yeah?”
Eric
chuckled
and
shook
his
head.
“’Cause
if
that
were
my
sister
up
there

wearing
a
suspicious
look
like
the
thing
they’re
reporting
about
is
a
goddamned
lie,
I’d

probably
be
reaching
for
my
truck
keys.
But,
you
know…
I
know
Astrid
better
than
anyone.”

“Your
point?”

Eric
shrugged
and
wiped
his
hands
dry
on
the
half-‐apron
he
wore
tied
around
his
slim

hips.
“I’m
guessing
the
fact
you’re
here
with
Sarah
is
indicative
of
the
fact
you’re
not

actually
missing.”

“And?”

“And
your
brother
didn’t
look
too
concerned
about
you
being
missing,
either.
You
two

on
the
outs?”

“No.”

“I
didn’t
think
so.”
Eric
reached
around
his
back
and
unknotted
the
apron.
He
said

nothing
as
he
balled
the
fabric
into
a
compact
wad
and
tossed
it
toward
a
laundry
bin.
“So,

I’m
going
to
make
an
educated
guess
here.
Either
you’re
going
to
wake
Sarah
from
the
sleep

she
desperately
needs
or
you’re
going
to
walk
into
the
trap
alone.”

“What
makes
you
think
it’s
a
trap?”

Eric
groaned
and
rubbed
his
eyes
with
the
heels
of
his
hands.
“I
may
try
to
stay
out
of

Shrew
business
whenever
possible,
but
Astrid
and
I
have
a
lot
in
common.
Even
before
the

mutations,
she
was
a
naturally
suspicious
sort.
So
am
I.
We
get
that
from
our
dad.”

The
mutations?
Everyone
kept
pussyfooting
around
that
subject.
Just
what
had

happened
to
these
women?
Eric
didn’t
know
Felipe
didn’t
know,
and
Felipe
wasn’t
ready
to

admit
it.
He
wanted
to
pry—use
Eric
as
his
Sarah
encyclopedia—but
that
seemed
like

cheating
in
a
way.
Sarah
was
a
woman
who
needed
to
be
opened
up
petal
by
petal,
so
he’d

broach
the
subject
with
her
when
the
time
was
right.

FRAMING FELIPE
–
76
–
Holley Trent

“Let
me
go
with
you,”
Eric
said.