Descent Read online

  Nora

  “You have to admit there was someone else. You can’t deny it, not after seeing that letter,” she says.

  “Who is he then? This man she loved?” I turn to her to see the back of her head because she keeps her gaze out the window and it’s silent again and I realize something. “You know.”

  She looks at me but just then her phone rings and she shifts her gaze to it.

  “Answer. Put it on speaker.”

  She does as she’s told. “Hello?”

  “There’s a car outside, Percy. There are men inside it. I think they’re back.”

  As if on cue, my phone buzzes with a text from Peter telling me our men are in place.

  “It’s all right.” I say. “They’re my men.”

  “Percy?”

  “That’s Hayden Montgomery. It’s okay, he’s coming with me. He’s helping us.”

  Silence, then: “Can you stay on the phone with me until you get here? I don’t want to hang up.”

  Persephone nods. “Yes. Yes, we won’t hang up.”

  28

  Persephone

  Hayden’s attention remains fixed on the road, his hands tight on the steering wheel. He’s processing what he’s just learned. Trying to make sense of it. I know. I did the same thing when I first found out.

  I tell Lizzie about my visit to dad. I talk to keep her distracted as much as to keep from being questioned by Hayden, telling her about the facility, telling her I think it’ll be good for him. Both the doctors and the facility are top-notch.

  “They’d cut his hair and he looked good,” I tell her. I want to say he looked better but that may be me wanting to see something that isn’t there because the doctor was very clear that there was no change and not to expect one.

  “Will you take me to visit him tomorrow?” she asks.

  “Yes. We’ll go together. He’ll like that.”

  It’s silent for a while but we don’t hang up. Instead, we fill the space with talk about nothing.

  “We’re just getting off the exit,” Hayden says a little while later.

  I sit up taller, taking in the broken streetlamps, the flashing light of an all-night diner, the arrow pointing into the glaringly bright, empty place.

  “It’s two blocks away,” Hayden says.

  The hotel is more of a run-down motel that looks like it hasn’t been renovated since the seventies and I cringe at the thought that my baby sister is alone and scared here in one of these decrepit rooms.

  “Is that you?” she asks as Hayden pulls into the parking spot next to one of two other cars there.

  “It’s us. You can open the door.”

  Two men climb out of that other car and Hayden kills the engine. I slide out of the passenger side and carry the bundle of clothes to the room and when I see Lizzie’s frightened face peer out from around the half-open door, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  I look back to Hayden, who is watching me as one of the men talks, I guess filling him in.

  Lizzie opens the door a little wider, remaining mostly behind it, and I enter.

  “Percy!” she hugs me so tight it hurts.

  I hug her back, feel the scratchy, threadbare towel she’s wrapped around herself. I pull back when she finally lets me, and I look at her.

  Her eyes are puffy from crying but her makeup is gone, and I know Lizzie. She hasn’t even left her bedroom without a pound of makeup on in over a year. Her curly hair which she normally straightens hangs in ringlets around her shoulders and on her arm, I see the purplish bruises in the shape of a hand and one more high on her cheekbone.

  I take her face in my hands. “Did they hurt you?”

  Her breathing is shallow, and she wraps her arms around herself, shivering. I realize how cold it is in here.

  “Get dressed. Let’s get out of here.”

  She drops the towel and I’m relieved when I see she’s still wearing her panties and bra. She pulls on the sweater and yoga pants, which are a little big on her, but they’ll do. She bends down to put on the sneakers.

  “I forgot socks,” I say.

  She shakes her head as she straightens. “It’s okay.” She looks up at me. She’s just over five feet tall so I have a few inches on her. “And they didn’t hurt me like that.”

  I nod, relieved.

  There’s a knock on the door and Hayden pushes it open. He looks Lizzie over then runs his gaze around the room before turning his full attention to her again.

  I see her swallow when he does and I think about how he looks, how big he is, how intimidating.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  She looks at me. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “This is Hayden Montgomery. You’ve met him before, I think.”

  She nods, then turns to me. “Can we please go home?”

  “Not until you tell me what happened,” Hayden says.

  Lizzie looks like she’s just barely keeping it together.

  I touch Hayden’s arm. “We can talk at home.” When he doesn’t move, I step between him and her and take his hands. “She’s scared.”

  He drags his gaze from her to me then back. “One question. Who am I looking for?”

  Now Lizzie does start to sob, and I wrap my arm around her and walk around Hayden to the SUV. I open the back door and help her in, then close it and go back to Hayden who is standing outside the motel room talking to one of his men who just lit a cigarette.

  “Can we go home?”

  “No. You’ll stay at the club. Both of you.”

  29

  Hayden

  When we get to the club, Persephone and Lizzie disappear into one of the guest rooms. They emerge half an hour later and take a seat on the couch in my office. Lizzie’s hair is wet, so I assume she just showered.

  I’m sitting behind my desk. I look Lizzie over. She seems younger than fifteen and looks at me like she doesn’t quite trust me. I don’t remember the last time I saw her, but it’s been years.

  I walk around the desk and sit in the armchair across from the couch.

  “Can we do this tomorrow?” Persephone asks.

  “No.” I look at Lizzie who looks back at me.

  “Hayden—”

  “No, it’s okay. I’d rather get it over with,” Lizzie says.

  “I’m glad you feel that way. Who were you with?”

  “I told my sister already that I left with Marigold. We just went on a little road trip.”

  “And Marigold is?”

  “Her friend. She lives nearby,” Persephone answers for her.

  “And where is Marigold now?”

  “Back home,” Lizzie answers.

  “You left with Marigold. So, it was just the two of you?”

  She looks sheepish, glances at her sister, then back at me. “Yes.”

  “Try again.”

  “I don’t think she’d lie,” Persephone interjects.

  “Room was paid for in cash and registered to Joe Blow,” I say. “Try again,” I tell Lizzie.

  Persephone looks at her sister, surprised.

  “We left together and met Matt,” Lizzie says.

  “Matt?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “A…friend of Marigold’s. From school. He drove us to Manhattan. We were just going to hang out for a couple of nights. Get away from things here. He had a deal on a hotel, and it sounded like fun.”

  “What’s Matt’s last name and how old is he?” I ask.

  “Johnson and I don’t know how old he is.”

  “What would you guess? Your age?”

  She shakes her head. “Older.”

  “How much older?”

  She quickly glances at her sister then back to me. “I don’t know. Maybe twenty.”

  “And where were Matt and Marigold when you were at that motel?”

  She hesitates, her attention suddenly entirely taken up by a fingernail.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “Lizzie, he just wants to help.”

  Lizzie takes
a breath in before answering. “We’d gone to a club. Matt and Marigold hooked up and I didn’t want to be in the way, so I stuck around after they left. Met someone there.”

  “How did you get into a club?” Persephone asks. “You’re fifteen.”

  “Matt has a friend in New York who makes fake IDs.”

  “Matt sounds like a winner. You’ll stay away from him and this Marigold,” I say.

  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “I just did. This ‘someone’ you met, name?”

  Her expression changes, darkens. “He said his name was Mike.”

  “Matt, Mike, quite the night—”

  “Hayden,” Persephone gives me a look.

  “What’s Mike’s last name?”

  “I never got it.”

  “How old would you say Mike is?”

  “Early twenties.”

  “Lizzie!” Persephone exclaims.

  “And Mike took you to the fancy hotel where we picked you up?”

  She pulls her hands into her lap and drags the sleeves of the sweater down into her palms. She nods. “He got quiet in the car. Different than he was inside the club. I knew something was wrong when we left, but I didn’t know what to do. When we got to the motel, they were waiting.” Her expression changes as her eyes redden.

  “Who was waiting?” Persephone asks.

  Lizzie wipes her tears. “Two men. Older. Scarier. They spoke in Italian, I think. I couldn’t understand them. One handed Mike a wad of cash and Mike didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at me. He just got back in his car and left and the man who gave him the money, he took my purse and my phone, and I barely had time to scream before they dragged me into the room and…started.” Her voice breaks off at the end.

  “Can we not do this now?” Persephone asks.

  “We have to do it,” I tell her, then turn to her sister. “Started what?”

  She caves into herself a little and she won’t look at either of us.

  I lean forward, try to get her to look at me. “Did they hurt you, Lizzie?”

  “No,” Persephone answers as Lizzie shakes her head.

  I lean back in my seat.

  “Not like that,” Lizzie adds.

  “Where are your clothes?” I ask.

  “They took them. And my purse and phone.”

  “What did they do?”

  She looks away, wipes her eyes with the heels of her hands. “They took pictures.” She hugs her knees into her chest and hides her face.

  I meet Persephone’s eyes.

  “I didn’t want to but when I said no, the one who paid Mike hit me. The other one, the photographer, he stopped him when he tried to hit me again. His name was Angelo, I know that. He called the photographer that. And I was scared. I thought…I thought they could kill me if they wanted to. Or something else.”

  “You’re sure it was Italian they spoke?”

  “Pretty sure.” She nods. “I think the one with the camera didn’t speak English.”

  “What did they say they would do with the photos?”

  She shrugs a shoulder. “They didn’t.”

  “Did you hear anything else? Any last names?”

  “Just Angelo. When they were done, they told me to go into the bathroom to put on my underthings, but they didn’t give me back the rest of my clothes. They told me not to come out until they said and that’s when I saw the headlights of a car shine into the room. I went into the bathroom and locked the door. It was stupid, I knew they could break into it if they wanted, but they didn’t come in.”

  “Did you hear the man who came in?”

  “He spoke in Italian too, but he sounded different. I think he was American but knew Italian and I could tell he was in charge.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. I just did. And then a few minutes later, they were gone. I waited until I was sure and then I came out and called you. They’d taken my clothes so I couldn’t leave. I didn’t even have shoes. They had my purse and phone and I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared.”

  She turns her face into Persephone’s chest and Persephone hugs her.

  I stand. “I’ll find Matt Johnson where?”

  30

  Hayden

  Matt Johnson’s grease covered overalls stick out from beneath the engine of the crappy car he’s working on. The garage doors are wide open. It’s a sunny day even if it is cold. In the shop next door, I see a girl blowing pink bubble gum and watching us.

  I have three men with me. One just lit up a cigarette and is leaning against our car parked across the street. Another walks into the shop where the girl is. Shane is with me.

  “Turn that shit off,” I tell Shane and a moment later, he unplugs the radio playing the crap music Matt Johnson listens to.

  “Hey, what the fuck?” Matt starts, his tone already grating on my nerves.

  I watch him roll himself out from under the car. He stops before he’s fully out, hands still on the fender, taking me in.

  “You look older than twenty,” I say.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Get out from under there.” I kick his boot.

  “I asked you who you are.”

  He pulls himself to stand and I step toward him. I’ve got about half a foot and thirty pounds on him. He loses his bravado, leans against the car and brings his attention to wiping his hands on a dirty towel. I can see him scanning the road though.

  “Don’t make me chase you,” I tell him.

  He looks up at me and like the idiot I expect him to be, he drops the towel and sprints. Or tries to.

  I shoot my arm out and slam it against his throat, stopping him before he gets two feet from me. He drops backward, the car breaking his fall. The girl who’s chewing the bubble gum picks up the phone, her mouth dropping open.

  I’m not worried about her though. My man will make sure no one is called until I’m done here.

  Matt’s trying to catch his breath, both hands around his throat.

  “I expected Lizzie Abbot to have slightly better taste in friends.”

  At the mention of her name, his eyes go huge.

  I crouch down, grateful for the garage smell covering up Matt’s special scent.

  “I don’t know any Lizzie Abbot, man.”

  “No? How old are you exactly?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “And you hang around with high school kids?”

  He looks around nervously.

  “Easy money, I guess, selling them weed and arranging for fake IDs.”

  “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about or where you get your facts,” he actually uses air quotes. “But you got the wrong guy.”

  “Quite frankly,” I continue, ignoring his outburst. “I don’t care what the fuck you do, but I do want to know who you work for.”

  “Man, I work for myself. And old man Harvey here at the garage.”

  “I don’t care about the garage. Who’s your supplier?”

  He looks around again, then at my shoes and suit. “You’re not a cop?”

  Dumbass. “No, I’m not. Supplier?”

  I think he’s going to tell me and am pleased at how easy this will be, but then the idiot speaks. “I have no supplier. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I stand up, nod to Shane. “Jog his memory, will you?”

  “Sure thing,” he says, as I push the button to close the garage door.

  “Wait, wait man. What the fuck!” I hear the first punch thrown, then the second while I check the time. Matt whimpers like a little girl. One more punch and I turn around to find him cowering.

  “You broke my nose!”

  I nod for Shane to stop, pick up the greasy towel and toss it to Matt.

  He holds it up to his bleeding nose.

  “You’ll want to get that set pretty fast or you’ll be even uglier,” I tell him as I crouch down to get in his face. “Supplier. Who is it?”

  “I can’t—” />
  I grip him by the throat and haul him up to slam him against the hood of the car. It knocks the wind out of him, leaving him panting.

  “Who the fuck is your supplier.”

  “Italians. I don’t know who. I just know the one I buy the product from. Rudy. I don’t even fucking know if that’s his real name.”

  “Rudy. Last name?”

  “Like I said, I don’t even know if that’s a real first name!”

  “Did Rudy pay for your trip to New York City? Your hotel?”

  He looks around again, from me to Shane and back. I have my answer, but I want to hear it from him.

  “It was a bonus.”

  “Right. And he told you who to bring?”

  He nods. “Look, I don’t know her. Lizzie Abbot. Me and Mari, we have a good thing.”

  “You know they’re fifteen, right? Statutory rape. Do those words mean anything to you?”

  “No way she’s fifteen. They’re both older.”

  “Did Rudy pay you to bring them to the city?”

  “Yeah. Gave me the car to use and even got us a nice hotel.”

  “And who does Rudy work for?”

  “I don’t know. He’s my only contact.”

  I grip his collar and haul him to me. He puts both his hands up in defense. “There’s a name I’ve heard. I’m not sure if that’s it.”

  “And?”

  “It’s a weird fucking name. Anger or something. Angus.”

  I pause. “Last name.”

  “Scava.”

  Mother fucker.

  I turn, walk to the garage door and push the button to open it. I look back at Matt.

  “If I hear you’ve even breathed near Lizzie Abbot, I will break more than your nose, understand?”

  “Yeah, man, yeah. I don’t sell to her. It’s Mari. Mari likes the stuff.”

  “I don’t give a shit. Don’t go near her again.”

  I walk out to my waiting car, my men following. “Let’s go see Benedetti.”

  31