Broken Lullaby. Pamela TracyЧитать онлайн книгу.
and Mary wished she could disappear, too. Instead, she stoically marched toward the decaying office building, stuck her key in the knob and turned.
The door still squeaked when you opened it. The floor still had ugly green-speckled tile and sloped a bit. The whole place smelled like dust and neglect. When Eddie managed it, it had smelled like exhaust fumes, cigarette smoke and tension.
At least the tension was gone.
“I’ve made so many mistakes,” she whispered into the stale air. And it sounded like she got an answering moan. Mary stepped back in surprise, then peered into the door of Eddie’s former office.
At first, Mary thought the prone figure wrapped in an aged blanket surrounded by years of grime and neglect was dead. Then, it rolled over and sat up.
Mary screamed.
TWO
The wide-eyed young woman in the blanket struggled to sit up, then fell back and looked ready to cry. Now that her heart had dropped back into her chest, Mary could see she was no more than a girl, a teenager, really, with matted black hair.
“Are you hurt? Do you need me to call someone?” Mary did not need any complications. Not on her first day back to the Gila City and Broken Bones area. She’d wanted to slide in under the radar. A girl in a blanket hiding out in Mary’s abandoned car lot didn’t bode well at all.
The girl responded with a blank stare.
“Are you well enough to move?”
Still no answer. Mary had grown up around some of the best con artists in the world, namely her father, brothers and her late husband, and she knew when someone was playing her. She hadn’t liked the game then; she didn’t like it now. She reached into her purse for her cell phone and said, “I only speak English. What a pity. I guess I’ll have to call the police.”
The girl finally sat up. She hardly weighed anything and her torn and dirty clothing looked two sizes too big. Mary swallowed.
She punched numbers into her cell phone and waited. The girl didn’t have to know that the numbers she’d dialed were only to check her voice mail.
“No, please,” came the response in halting but clear English. “I will leave.”
Mary flipped her phone shut. Truthfully, she was hoping to avoid the police at all cost, but now what was she going to do?
The girl slowly got to her feet, took two steps, stumbled, fell and passed out cold. This was definitely not the new beginning in Arizona Mary had hoped for, but maybe it was the beginning she deserved.
Bending down next to the girl, Mary said gently, “I’m right here.” There was no response. Taking a breath, Mary reached for an arm. The girl was heavier than she looked but Mary was able to drag her into the main room and lay her on the dusty couch. Still, the girl remained unconscious.
“Who are you?” Mary whispered, “And what am I going to do with you?”
The girl still didn’t stir.
Justin chose that moment to stomp in. His unruly hair flopping over his sweaty brow; he stopped at the door. In his hand, he held up what looked like a tailpipe. “I thought I heard a scream. Are you okay, Mom?” When Mary nodded, he threw the pipe back out the door. “This place is a mess. Are you sure we want it?”
“I’m sure.”
“Are we leaving now to meet Uncle Eric?”
“I don’t think Eric is our main concern anymore. But, you’re right. We need to get moving and I need your help.”
Looking suspicious, Justin slowly moved from the door to the desk. Now he could see the girl lying on the rundown couch. “Wow! Who’s she?”
“I don’t know. I found her in the back room and—” Before Mary could say another word, Justin interrupted.
“Is she dead?”
“No!”
Justin looked intrigued. “Are you sure?”
Great. Not only did her kid assume the worst, but he did it in an offhand manner. Shades of her brothers? Too much television? Mary wasn’t sure, but it bothered her. “She’s not dead. She just fainted.”
Justin nodded, managing to look both interested and unfazed.
“Go out to the car and get me a bottled water,” Mary finally said. “And grab something for her to eat.”
The water woke the girl up, the small bag of chips lasted about thirty seconds and the sight of Justin made her cry.
“What did I do?” Justin asked.
“Nothing, she probably just needs a good cry.”
The girl hiccuped and asked, “Are police coming?”
“I didn’t call them,” Mary said.
The girl relaxed a bit and stared at Justin. “Your brother?”
“Oh, I like you!” Mary exclaimed. “No, this is my son.”
“Son?” The girl seemed to draw into herself. This time, when the tears flowed, it didn’t look like they’d stop anytime soon. They certainly showed no sign of ceasing while Justin and Mary finally helped her to her feet and propelled her toward the door and out to the car. She went willingly into the backseat and curled up in a fetal position.
Justin raised his eyebrows, glanced at his mother and shrugged. It was actually refreshing. For the first time in days Justin wasn’t bemoaning the move to Broken Bones, Arizona.
For her part, the girl in the back was busy talking to God in Spanish. Mary figured part of the prayer had to do with the way she backed up the car with the U-Haul attached. The prayer was enough to keep the bud out of Justin’s ear and inspire curious looks that might mean actual conversation.
“What are we going to do with her, Mom?” Justin positioned himself so he could stare at their passenger.
“Take her to the cabin, feed her, clean her up and,” Mary switched to a fake German accent, “ve haf vays to make her tock.”
Justin chuckled and looked back at the girl. She struggled to a sitting position as Justin asked, “Do you have a name?”
“Alma.”
Trust Justin to ask a simple question and get a simple answer. Mary felt relieved. “Well, Alma, now that you’re talking, why don’t you tell us where we can take you? What you were doing at the car lot?”
Alma didn’t answer. Obviously Mary hadn’t mastered asking “simple” questions. “Alma?” Justin said to himself. “I’ve never heard of that name.”
Alma answered in flawless English. “I am named after my grandmother.”
“Are you from Mexico?”
“Yes.”
“When did you move here?”
“Maybe it has been a week.”
Justin was on a roll. “We just got here today. Mom says I’ll get to go to school and play sports. Baseball’s my favor—”
Mary butted in. “Are you homeless? Are you hiding from someone?”
No answer.
“I can help,” Mary said softly.
“Yeah,” Justin agreed. “We’re real good at hiding.”
Alma frowned. “I am hiding. From…No. I’m looking for my husband and—”
“Husband?” Mary interrupted. Yikes! The girl barely looked old enough to be past Barbie dolls and high school pep rallies. “Where is your husband?” Mary asked. “Do you need me to call him?”
“I