Cain knew all about that because she had been picked up hitchhiking and then assaulted by one of these “Brothers.” She’d briefly been held against her will before escaping, and had left the dude looking a lot like Ken did right now.
But she said with authority, “I’m a cop.”
“Bullshit! Show me your badge. And what would you be doing here?”
“I’m undercover investigating some of the lowlifes in the area, so I’m not carrying a badge. Besides, you think every gal could take out somebody like Ken without special training?”
It was sometimes stunning to Cain how easily she could produce lies that sounded authentic, like she had with the security guard that morning. But for most of her life Cain had been in situations where coming up with an alternate reality on the fly and under stressful situations—and making it sound so real that sometimes she believed it herself—was the only thing that allowed her to keep breathing.
Practice makes perfect. And practice under penalty of death makes better than perfect.
Painter’s Pants said, “She’s talking truth to you, Beth. I mean, you can see that with your own damn eyes, gal. Hell, I bet she’s like ex-military or something with all that damn ninja training.”
Cain said, “So, Beth, go get my money, all of it, and bring it here to me. And I won’t call the cops. Not because I don’t want to see you and Ken go to jail, but because I don’t want to waste time filling out the paperwork. I have better things to do.”
Beth stood there for a moment, wavering. Then she ran back to the office and came back with the money. She handed it over to Cain, who counted and then pocketed it.
Cain went to her room, grabbed her things, and met Rosa outside. She had put on jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt and carried a small duffel.
They drove off while everyone else stared at the unmoving pile of Ken.
CHAPTER
20
CAIN GOT ROSA INTO A WOMEN’S shelter that Cain had used when she had first come to town. She pressed a hundred dollars into Rosa’s hands and said, “Don’t ever go back to that guy. He will kill you, okay? The dude’s just bad.”
“I swear I won’t. And . . . thank you.”
Cain said nothing in reply because she wanted no thanks, from Rosa or anyone else. She just wanted to be left alone and wondered why she kept inserting herself into other people’s troubles. Maybe because no one had done that for her, and she understood quite clearly the catastrophic results of looking the other way.
She decided to splurge a bit and checked in at a local Marriott using her credit card. Cain took her things up to her room on the fourth floor and closed the door behind her. She took a long shower with actual hot water, letting it soak into her and using all of the complimentary toiletries the bathroom had to offer. It took her only a few seconds to dry her hair. She put on a clean pair of jeans, to replace the pair dirtied from the fight, with a white T-shirt and a loose-fitting straw-colored sweater over that.
After that Cain sat on her bed and stared at the floor. The day was not yet over and she had covered a lot of ground, from being thrown out of her lodgings, to having to vacate her next home, to arriving here. She didn’t have to work as a security guard tonight, and tomorrow was payday for the forklift job. She would get her check and cash it, and put the money with her other money.
She lay back on the bed and used her phone to once more access the notice from the FBI. She brought up the image of herself on the screen: wild-eyed and long haired and both thrilled and terrified at her sudden liberation after all those years. She put the phone against her chest, closed her eyes, and conjured up that final night with the Atkinses.
She had run toward the house, not because she wanted any sort of revenge, but because she knew that was where the road out of this nightmare was. She knew she had limited time because of the camera outside the door. Joe Atkins had told her time and again that I’m always watching you, Becky, always. Don’t you even think about trying to get away, you hear me, girl?