Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
EDIE
“Did you have an order?”
I look up into the exasperated expression of the man behind the bagel shop counter.
I’ve texted Luka twice and there’s been no reply.
“If you need more time, can you please step aside?” he asks.
I mumble something about having to leave and bolt out of the place. My knees are shaking. Bender is Luka’s half-brother. Is he even a cop?
Did he erase those pictures from the web? And if it’s that important for him not to be recognized, did he kill to keep his secret? God, did I get poor Darren hurt—or worse?
And what does it mean for Mary?
I tell myself that Darren probably had his fingers in a lot of secret information. Isn’t the dark web full of killers and criminals?
But the timing seems suspicious.
Did he follow me to Darren’s? I feel like I shouldn’t go back to the residence hall.
With shaking hands, I text Luka yet again.
Heading to your place .
I can’t think of what to do next. My blood is racing, and I can’t think straight.
I should take an Uber, but what if Bender is tracking my credit card activity or something? If he sees that I called an Uber, he might be able to find out where I went.
I decide on the subway. I’m about to look up the best route on my phone, but then I set it to airplane mode, turn it off, and shove it back in my pocket because I’m in full-blown paranoia now.
I’ll do the old-fashioned thing and check an actual map. I make a beeline to the 116th Street station, stop at the map and figure out how to get myself near Luka’s condo. It’s just one transfer. I could be there in under an hour. But then I’d use tap-and-go and that could be tracked.
“Hey, fancy meeting you here.”
I know that voice.
Bender.
I fix my gaze on the map, pretending not to hear him. What if I darted down the steps into the subway? Would he chase me? But it’s not like I can run forever down there. Could I bolt up the sidewalk?
Running for it will probably tip him off that something’s up.
My stomach folds in on itself once and then again and then a third time. My stomach is a diamond of fear at this point. It’s a wonder I’m standing upright.
“Hey.” He comes up and stands next to me. He looks like his normal self, except he has a uniform on. He’s Luka’s half-brother. And he’s a cop.
“I got your text.”
I slap on my most neutral and bored face. My first thought is that he got the text I sent to Luka, but then I realize he’s talking about the proof of life ask.
“You didn’t respond,” I say.
He grins. “Well, I was busy asking your sister your completely random question. ”
“You were?”
“What is her doll’s favorite food,” he says. “That would be chocolate chip pancakes, I believe?”
Something in my chest unclenches. “She’s alive?”
“Of course she is,” he says. “And I believe you have something for me now?”
“I—I don’t have the hair with me.”
“That’s okay. I got the hair from another source.”
“You did?” My mind spins. I have to warn Luka.
Bender smiles like a Cheshire cat. “But I will take the story. Tell me where he was.”
My pulse races. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “And you’ll tell me where my sister is?”
“Yes. In fact, she’s been asking for you.”
“So... you talked to her? Is she okay?”
“As okay as she can be in rehab. I know she’s been complaining about the food.”
“She’s in rehab? Where?”
“Here in the city.” He puts out his hands. “But don’t you have something for me first?”
“The story,” I say.
“All ears.”
I did tell him I had the story, but something about all of this feels too easy. But he’s watching my face, waiting. Luka did say he didn’t care if we had to tell him.
“He was in South America. Some reformatory in the jungle. When the place was attacked, he and Orton got out and went into the mercenary life.”
“Hold on. He was in a correctional school?”
“Yes, and they were kept under lock and key and taught by harsh priests. The whole thing.”
“Did you happen to get the name?”
“Saint something?”
“You don’t remember?” He pulls in a breath like he’s struggling to keep his voice pleasant. “You were supposed to remember. Fine, never mind. And now I suppose you want your sister,” he says mockingly.
The whole thing feels weird, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m still so freaked out about Darren or the fact that Bender is being so pleasant. “Yes, I want to know about my sister.”
He sighs dramatically. “I suppose you’ve earned it. She’s in the south wing of St. Benhilda. It’s a locked rehab facility.”
“And she’s been in that rehab this whole time?”
“It was the only way to keep her on ice for you, and no offense, but she wasn’t gonna clean up on her own. It’s a little bit beyond the pale, I know, but I think you’ll agree we’ve both gone beyond the pale.”
“So if I go there... I mean, can I just show up?”
“No, I’d have to sign her into your custody.
She’s on what is known as a ten-week lockup.
We could take care of that right now.” He checks his phone.
“Otherwise, you’re going to have to wait for the weekend.
I’ll sign her into your custody, and we’ll call it even.
Your record’ll be clean, and we never met. Got it?”
He nods his head at a police car double-parked near the crosswalk.
I feel so confused. What if he didn’t kill Darren? What if this is exactly what it looks like: that Luka has a half-brother who’s obsessed with knowing about him? One thing I know for sure is he has my sister. She’s alive and well. There’s no other way he could have gotten that information.
“Where is this place?”
“Queens. Just over the bridge.”
“Why didn’t she contact me?”
“Rules. Like I said, it’s a locked facility. Come on. I have to be back across town at three. We’re doing this now or next week. Up to you.” He walks to his car.
I catch up. “All this time and they didn’t let her contact family? ”
“What part of locked rehab rules do you not understand?”
“But isn’t it illegal to hold someone against their will for more than seventy-two hours?”
He opens his door.
I step back. This is all wrong. “You know what? I’ll arrange to contact her myself. I don’t need a ride.” I will not be getting in a car with him. No chance. Plus, I have to warn Luka.
“You can’t visit without an official in.”
I stand firm. “I’m good.”
He comes to me. I back up. “I’ll go on my own.” He grabs my arm and takes my phone before I feel a prick like a needle jab into my neck.
“Hey!”
He turns me around, and I feel cuffs being slipped over my wrists. My injured one screams out in pain. I try to call out, but my voice is suddenly as feeble as the rest of me. I feel like I’m in one of those dreams where you try to fight back but your limbs won’t cooperate.
The sidewalk goes tilted. People are avoiding us and walking around us. I can hear him reciting my Miranda rights before he shoves me into the back of his car.