Mortal Sin (44 page)

They sat in a rented car, parked in the shadows outside the Starlite Motel, watching traffic pass by on Route 1. On the radio, Steven Tyler sang softly.
Hey, j-j-jaded
. The night was dark, ripe with the sounds and scents of early summer. The dashboard clock read 9:13. Her palms were damp, her stomach queasy. This would be their only chance. If they blew it, she might never see Kit again.

From somewhere, Clancy produced a .38 revolver. He checked the chamber for bullets, then closed it. “Do you know how to use one of these things?” he said.

“Are you kidding, sugar? I grew up in Louisiana. I learned to shoot before I learned to read. But Where’d you get it?”

“Better if you don’t ask.” He handed it to her. “If anybody comes after you… “

She was sending him into danger to bring back her daughter. She hadn’t wanted to face that truth. But the weight of the gun in her hand negated her denial. “What about you?” she said. “Don’t you need it?”

“I’m going in unarmed. All Rio knows about me is what Tom told him. He can’t afford to be too trusting. Where’s the money?”

“Right here.” She opened her purse, took out a manila envelope stuffed with cash and handed it to him.

He tucked it into the pocket of his suit coat. “The money will buy my way in,” he said. “I can’t guarantee you’ll get it back.”

“I don’t care about the money. All I care about is getting Kit back.”

He touched her cheek with his hand, and she turned her lips to his palm and kissed it. Beyond his shoulder, she watched a red BMW slow and turn into the motel parking lot.

“It’s showtime,” she whispered tersely. “He just drove in.”

Rio parked the car, turned off the engine and the lights, opened the driver’s door and got out. He walked around to the passenger side, and Sarah held her breath as he opened the door and her daughter stepped out of the car. Kit took a long, sweeping glance around the parking lot. She was too far away for Sarah to read the expression on her face, but her body language spoke volumes. She clearly didn’t want to be here. “Oh, God,” Sarah said.

“Is that her?”

“It’s her. My baby.”

Rio took Kit by the elbow and steered her in the direction of the motel room door, swung open the door and shoved her through it.

“That son of a bitch,” Sarah said, reaching instinctively for the door handle of the rented Alero.

Before she could open it, Clancy’s fingers clamped tight around her wrist. “Wait,” he said.

“I’ve waited almost three months! Isn’t that long enough?”

“We don’t know what might happen,” he said in a maddeningly reasonable tone. “This whole thing could blow up in our faces. I’m trying to prevent that from happening. Let’s do this the way we planned. Are you with me?”

Every atom in her body screaming resistance, she said bitterly, “Do I have a choice?”

Clancy released her wrist. “Keep watch,” he said, unclipping his cell phone and handing it to her. “If anything goes wrong, you’re to call the cops and then get the hell out of here. Do you understand?”

“And leave the two of you alone in there with him?”

“Sarah.” He caught her chin in his hand and forced her eyes to meet his. “If there’s any trouble, I don’t want you in the middle of it. Do you understand?”

“Yes! Damn you.” She reached up to pull away his hand, but at the last minute, wrapped hers around it instead. “Be careful,” she whispered.

He kissed her, hard. “Time to rock and roll,” he said, and climbed out of the car.

She watched him cross the parking lot, watched him knock on the door of the motel room. The door opened a crack, and he exchanged a few words with Rio. Light spilled out onto cracked asphalt as Rio slowly, cautiously scanned the deserted parking lot. Satisfied, he opened the door wider. Clancy stepped inside, and it closed behind him.

And the wait began.

It looked just like every other cheesy motel room he’d ever seen. A double bed, stripped because they’d used the bedding to cover the window. A mattress stained with God only knew what. Above the bed, a nondescript landscape painting, a trio of three-masted schooners with billowing sails.

“Mr. Bryant?” Rio said. “I’m going to have to check you for weapons. Can’t be too careful.”

“Of course. I understand.”

He stood stiffly while Rio patted him down. “You seem nervous,” Rio said.

“Damn right, I’m nervous. If my wife finds out about this, I’m dead meat.”

Rio chuckled. “Not much chance of that,” he said. “With you being here, and her being… where was that again?”

“Phoenix.”

Rio’s cool blue eyes studied him with open speculation. “I don’t hear a Southwestern accent.”

“Always this suspicious, are you, Mr.—ah—I never did get your name.”

Rio didn’t take the bait. “You don’t need to know my name. And I’m being cautious for a reason. If I make a mistake, I’m out of business.”

Clancy nodded agreement. “Fair enough. I’m originally from the Boston area. Somerville. It’s my wife who’s from the Southwest. Her parents are in their seventies. We settled in Phoenix to be near them.” He gave Rio his most engaging, comrades-in-arms smile. “And to get away from the cold winters.”

“Those New England winters can be a bitch,” Rio agreed. “You have the money?”

“Of course.” Clancy fished the manila envelope from his pocket, handed it to Rio, and watched him count it.

“Excellent. So you’re a friend of the senator’s.”

“That’s right. We were in college together. Harvard Law.”

“And you’re in town for… ?”

“Business.” Again, he turned on that conspiratorial smile. “And a little fun while I’m at it. So where’s the girl?” He glanced around the room, took careful note of the stripped bed, the lights, the camera, the notable absence of Nate, the techie Terry had told him about.

“In the bathroom. She’s a little bashful. Inexperienced. She might need to be coaxed a little. Tommy said you were looking for something extra-special, and that’s just what Kit is. Young and innocent. Just like you ordered.”

“She’s clean, I trust?”

“Don’t insult me, Mr. Bryant. I run a quality operation. And I already told you she’s inexperienced. As a matter of fact—” Rio’s grin was cool and self-satisfied “—you’ll be her first.”

“I’d like to talk to her.”

Rio’s smile vanished. He studied Clancy cagily. “Talk to her,” he said.

“If I’m going to be, ah—intimate—with the girl, I’d like to talk to her first. Get to know each other a little before the clothes come off and the camera starts rolling. After all…this is my first time, too. She’s not the only one who’s nervous.”

Rio clearly wasn’t comfortable with the idea. In his world, it apparently wasn’t a common expectation, that two people might exchange a few words before they exchanged body fluids. He moved to the bathroom door and rapped twice. “Kit? The client wants to talk to you. Open the door and come out.”

Clancy cleared his throat. “I, um—I’d prefer to speak to her in private. I hope that’s not a problem. This is all so new to me, I don’t know what the boundaries are. I don’t want to step on anybody’s toes. But Tom told me that for my three thousand dollars, you’d give me whatever I wanted. It’s a lot of money. I want to make sure it’s well spent.”

“Trust me, it’s well spent. Kit’s special. She’ll blow your freaking mind.”

“I’m in Boston five or six times a year. If I decide she’s worth my while, I’ll come back the next time I’m in town.”

Clearly torn between greed and whatever ethical code he adhered to, Rio debated his options while a trickle of sweat rolled down Clancy’s spine. He was walking a fine line here, and if he took a single misstep, the game would be over. On the other hand, although Rio didn’t trust him, the pimp was enough of an entrepreneur to realize that if he insulted a customer, there would be no repeat business. And Clancy suspected that repeat customers were the lifeblood of this particular enterprise.

Rio reached a decision. He turned away from Clancy and said to the closed bathroom door, “Kit? I’m sending him in so the two of you can play
let’s get acquainted
.”

Relief flooded him, and Clancy tried not to let it show. Rio opened the door and motioned him inside. “Two minutes,” he said. “Then we either get this shoot underway or we call it off. Either way, I keep the three grand.”

The bathroom was tiny, and carried a faint scent of urine that a heavy dose of disinfectant hadn’t quite been able to mask. Somebody had opened the window a crack, most likely to air the place out. Kit sat cross-legged on the commode, looking like something out of a Britney Spears video: red and black plaid pleated skirt, knee-length socks, and a midriff-baring white blouse. Defiance and fear oozed from her every pore, so palpable he could smell it in the air as she stared at him with enormous blue eyes, Little Red Riding Hood, waiting for him to swallow her alive.

“Hi,” he said in a brisk voice he hoped would convey earnestness, tempered by nerves, through the door to Rio. “It’s Kit, right? I’m Ed Bryant. I thought we could talk before we get started. Break the ice a little.”

Those blue eyes accused him as he held a finger to his lips in a
shh
gesture. He walked to the window, tested the strength of the rusted screen, and ran his fingers along the wooden frame, mentally measuring the opening. It was a narrow window, about ten inches high and maybe fifteen inches wide. He might get Kit through it, but there was no way his shoulders would ever fit through that small an opening. Even if he could somehow squeeze her through, it would be a long shot. There was no way of telling what lay beyond, how far a drop it was to the ground, or what she’d find when she got there.

So the window was out. On to Plan B. He knelt on the floor in front of her. “I am
so
happy to see you,” he whispered. “My name is Clancy, and I’ve been looking for you since March. I’m a friend of your Aunt Sarah’s. She’s waiting outside, in the car.”

She studied him mutely, trying to decide whether or not to trust him. “Kit?” he whispered. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?” He took her hand in his, tried to rub some warmth into her cold, clammy fingers. “I’m here to take you home.”

For the first time, he saw something resembling hope in her eyes. Guarded hope, but hope nevertheless. “You’re that priest,” she whispered. “The one Gonzales beat up.”

“That’s right. And I’m going to get us out of here. But I’ll need your cooperation. Are you with me?”

She hesitated, and he offered up a silent prayer:
God, please don’t let me fall in this endeavor. Please give me strength and wisdom. And if You’re willing, a strong dose of luck
.

Her fingers closed around his. “Yes,-” she said. “I’m with you.”

“Good girl,” he said. “I hear you want to be an actress.”

Outside the door, Rio knocked. “Your two minutes are up, Mr. Bryant. Time to come out.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Why?”

“You’re going to get a chance to audition for the Academy Award.”

He’d been in there for hours. She didn’t care if the dashboard clock said it had only been eight minutes. In the tortured world she now inhabited, those eight minutes had taken hours to pass. Sarah lowered the window to allow the night air inside. She was sweating heavily, her heart galloping like a racehorse at Suffolk Downs.

On Route 1, traffic whizzed by at a pace far beyond the posted speed limit. She drew in a deep breath of air tainted by exhaust fumes. What could be going on in there? The two people she loved most in the world were inside that motel room, while she’d been relegated to the exalted position of sentry. The indignity didn’t sit well with her. Nor did the frustration of not knowing. She should be in there with him.

Kit was
her
daughter, not his. But this was a one-man mission, and unfortunately, she didn’t have the proper equipment for the job. Like it or not, her only option was to trust him. And maybe pray a little. She’d never been a particularly religious person, but if there ever was a time to take up religion, it was now.

What in hell was taking him so long?

An eighteen-wheeler passed by, grinding gears as it slowed for its exit. Behind it, a low-slung black Camaro blinked and turned into the motel parking lot. The car passed her and shot into an empty slot beside Rio’s BMW. Sarah sat a little straighter, her stomach jumping all over the place as two men got out of the car and closed the doors. For an instant, the glow from one of the overhead lights illuminated the gold chains the driver wore looped around his neck Then Luis Gonzales pocketed his car keys, and both men walked directly to the door Clancy had disappeared through about a year ago.

“Sweet Jesus,” she whispered.

Clancy unlocked the bathroom door and swung it open. Rio waited impatiently on the other side. “Move it,” he said. “I’m renting this place by the hour.”

Like the sixteen-year-old that she was, Kit plopped onto the bare mattress. Clancy stood awkwardly beside the bed, hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet as though he wasn’t quite sure what his next move should be. It was pretty close to the truth.

Adjusting the angle of the camera, Rio said, “Any time you two kids are ready.”

Kit sat up straighter and crossed her arms. “I’m not doing this,” she said.

Rio froze, then straightened to his full height and studied herewith cool deliberation. “What did you say?”

Squaring her shoulders, she said, “I… am… not… doing…
this.” She swallowed hard, and tears welled in those blue eyes, making them look twice their size. Bursting into tears, she wailed, “And you can’t make me!” She buried her face in her hands and began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Rio said. “What’s this all about?”

“Yes,” Clancy said, “just what is this all about? You told me she needed coaxing. You didn’t tell me she wouldn’t go through with it.”

Rio raked a hand through his hair. “Give me a minute!” he snapped. Turning back to Kit, he said firmly, “We talked about this already. We came to an agreement.”

She glared at him through red-rimmed, watery eyes. “I changed my mind.”