Chapter Twenty-One - Lisa
“Jenny, I need your help,” I said, sitting down on my sister’s bed.
“Oh, really? For what?” she asked, looking skeptical.
“I need you to cover for me a few days, while I go look for Marcus,” I said.
“What’s wrong with Marcus? And why do you care who knows what you’re doing?” she asked. I didn’t want to tell her anything, but I knew she’d have to have some kind of explanation or she wouldn’t lift a finger to help me.
“He went out to New Mexico for a few days, and he was supposed to keep in touch no matter what, and now I haven’t heard from him in hours. Something’s wrong,” I explained, too distracted to come up with any kind of elaborate story.
“Excuse me, did I hear you right? You’re worried ‘cause you haven’t heard from him in hours? What are you, hung up on him, now?” she asked scornfully.
“You don’t understand. It was maybe dangerous, what he was doing. That’s why we said he’d text me every single hour, unless he was asleep. No matter what he had to do to make it happen. It’s been close to four hours, already. I’m telling you, something’s wrong,” I repeated.
“What’s he doing, drug running?” she asked, and that was enough to break my last nerve.
“I don’t know why I even bother to talk to you about anything,” I said in disgust, getting up to leave the room. Jenny let me get almost to the door before she called me back.
“Hey, sis. . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” she finally said, when she saw I really did mean to leave the room. I stopped in the doorway, hesitating, and then finally turned around and came back to the bed.
“Look. This is no stupid little game. It’s serious, and if you don’t want to help me then just say so and I’ll find somebody else who will. I don’t have time to mess around with you today,” I said.
“Sure, I’ll help. Really. Just tell me what you need,” she said meekly.
“Okay. This is what I need you to do. If anybody calls or shows up wanting to talk to me or asking where I’m at, then make something up to put them off. Tell them I’m sick, or I’m in the shower, or whatever you want. Just don’t let anybody find out that I went to New Mexico, and don’t give them any reason to be suspicious. All you have to do is put them off for a while, till I can get back. That’s it,” I said.
“What about Cody?” she asked.
“Especially not Cody,” I said.
“But how long am I supposed to keep this up?” she asked, and I had to think about that for a minute.
“I’ll be back in five days. If I can’t find Marcus by then, I might as well come on home, anyway,” I sighed.
“Why don’t you just call the police?” Jen asked.
“Because I don’t know if anything’s really wrong or not, and I don’t want to make a scene, and I don’t want Cody to find out. If I can’t find him myself then I will call them, but I hope I don’t have to,” I said.
“Whatever you say,” she said.
“And one other thing. The last place Marcus went was to see a woman named Layla Latimer; she lives in White Sands, which is kind of a suburb of Las Cruces. So that’s the first place I’ll check. If anything happens to me for some reason, call the cops,” I said.
For once in her life, Jenny actually looked a little bit worried, which might have been funny if things hadn’t been so serious.
“Don’t sit there looking like you swallowed a frog. Will you do it or not?” I asked.
“I said I’ll do it,” she said.
It was a chancy thing whether Mama’s old Ford would make it all the way to New Mexico or not. It’s an eight hundred mile drive, and that’s hard on any vehicle. I had no choice but to try, though. I wasn’t old enough to rent a car, and I didn’t have a credit card in the first place. But I babied it along, stopping only for gas, and as soon as I got to Las Cruces I found a cheap motel and collapsed into bed absolutely exhausted.
In the morning I slept in until nine, and then got up with the express purpose of going to see the mysterious Layla Latimer. I had to drive across the dry Organ Mountains to get there, and when I reached the top of the pass I found myself looking out across the broad plain of the White Sands Desert, blindingly bright in the sun. It crossed my mind that Reuben McGrath must have walked on the very road where I was driving, all those many years ago. I couldn’t help praying my journey would turn out better than his did.
I found Miss Latimer’s address easily enough, and for a little while I stood outside on the porch, trying to control my breathing so I wouldn’t seem nervous. When I finally thought I could speak in a normal voice, I determinedly knocked on the door.
“Just a minute,” came a muffled voice from inside. It sounded remarkably normal, and that reassured me somewhat. A second later the door opened to reveal a young girl who looked to be maybe nineteen or twenty, and I found myself wondering what on earth I’d been so scared of.
“Can I help you?’ she asked, with a pleasant smile.
“Uh. . . yes, I think so. I’m looking for a friend of mine who was supposed to come see you yesterday morning. His name’s Marcus Cumby, and he was interested in the article about the Battle of Mesilla that you wrote for the historical society a few years ago,” I explained, and the girl laughed.
“Oh, yeah, I know who you’re talking about. He did stop by, and we talked for a while. Please come in,” she said, and so I did. There was a strong smell of burning incense in the house and a few oddities sitting around; a crystal ball on the coffee table and a dark red dyed-rice curtain dividing the living room from the kitchen. Nothing super weird, though. We sat down across from each other with the coffee table between us, and made ourselves comfortable.
“Do you know where Marcus is now?” I asked, disarmed by how helpful and accommodating the girl seemed to be.
“He’s still doing his research, as far as I know,” she said.
“He is?” I echoed, unsure what that was supposed to mean and why Marcus hadn’t contacted me, if that was the case.
“Yeah. He wanted to know about some things the article didn’t mention, so I told him I had all kinds of stuff stored at my brother’s house,” she explained. Which, needless to say, didn’t seem to explain much.
“But is that where he is now? Where does your brother live?” I asked.
“Well, before we get into that, let’s talk a little more about why you’re really here. Then I’m sure we can work something out,” she said.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, even more confused.
“Now, Lisa, let’s not beat around the bush. People who come here asking the kinds of questions you and Marcus ask always want something which they can’t get anywhere else. And I can almost always give it to them. For the right price, of course. So what is it y’all are really after? Like I said, I’m sure we could work something out. I love to make deals,” she said, with another bright smile.
I never told her my name. I was absolutely sure of it, and Layla Latimer was definitely beginning to creep me out again. But it was no time to be a mouse.
“Can you break a curse?” I asked boldly.
“It depends. What kind?” she asked, without so much as a blink.
“My boyfriend has a curse on him that he’ll die before he’s thirty years old. Can you break it?” I asked, and the girl actually laughed.
“Oh, that old thing. You’re talking about Cody McGrath, right? I can see why you’d want to keep him around a little longer; he’s a sweet chunk of meat,” she said, making it sound like he was a juicy steak she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into.
If any other woman had said something like that to me, I would’ve had some choice words to give her and they wouldn’t have been pretty, either. But it was scary how much this girl knew, and I was afraid if I said something nasty she might not deal with me at all.
“Yeah, that’s him,” I said tightly, ign
oring the rest of her words. If Jenny ever taught me anything, it’s how to have a thick skin when I need to.
“Well, I have to say that particular curse has been awfully entertaining over the years, but it does seem to have reached the point of diminishing returns. I tell you what; I’m willing to break it,” she agreed.
I felt my heart lift, but I was still wary. I hadn’t heard the price, yet.
“What’s your price?” I asked carefully.
“Hmm, now that’s a good question. I think I’d like to see you break up with him. A really nasty scene that makes him feel terrible and ruins his life. Let’s see, maybe we could have you hook up with Marcus, too; that’s his best friend, I do believe. A little extra betrayal to spice things up a bit. Yes. That’s wonderful. Let’s do it that way,” she smiled, looking pleased with herself.
I sat there on the couch with my mouth hung open and eyes wide, utterly at a loss for words.
“Let’s not attract flies, my dear. Will you take the deal or not?” she asked, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.
“You. . . that’s. . .“ I sputtered, horrified. She seemed to be enjoying the sight.
“Now, if you do decide to take me up on the offer, I’ll want you to wear this little hi-def camera on your lapel, of course, so I can see and hear the whole thing when you break up with him. Just make sure you don’t block the lens, you know,” she said calmly, pulling a small device from her purse and placing it on the coffee table within easy reach.
“Why would you want something like that?” I whispered, staring at the camera like it was a rattlesnake. Layla smiled broadly.
“Oh, my dear. Pain is sweet. It’s beautiful, really. The only truly beautiful thing there is. You’re asking me to give up a certain amount of it, if I break that curse for you. I’m willing to do it, but only if you give me some other pain to replace it. Something fresh and new and flavorful. Yours, and Cody’s, and Marcus’s. It’s not so hard to understand, is it?” she asked reasonably.
It made a kind of horrifying sense, I suppose. . . if you had the heart of Satan. I realized that up till then I’d never in my life met anyone who was truly evil. And this pretty, fresh-faced girl with her sweet smile and colorful blouse was the stuff that nightmares were made of. Real ones.
“I can’t do that,” I finally said, gripping the edge of the couch cushions tightly to keep from shaking.
“No? Maybe if I let Marcus go, too? Although I have to admit, he does look pretty tasty himself,” she laughed, and that was enough to make me shudder in spite of my grip on the couch. Whatever this devil meant by “tasty” I devoutly didn’t want to know. I could think of a dozen possibilities, each one more horrifying than the last.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” I asked, and she smiled again, seemingly not offended at all.
“Tsk, tsk. I always keep my word. If I didn’t, I’d never get any customers, you know,” she said reprovingly.
I still couldn’t bring myself to agree to such a thing. How could I tell such a horrible lie to all the people I loved? How could I tell my mother? How could I tell Miss Josie? How could I tell Brandon, or Marcus, let alone Cody? Besides the way it affected me, it had the potential to bust up everybody else’s lives in all kinds of ways. It could easily end up costing Marcus his job, his best friend, his home, and even his most favorite hobby as the Mustangs’ drummer, all at one whack. Miss Josie would think I was no better than trash, and how could I blame her? And then when it came to Cody. . . my heart broke when I thought about how much it would cost him, no matter what happened. I knew him too well. It would wreck every ideal about love that he’d ever believed in.
Which was exactly what Miss Latimer had in mind, no doubt. I looked at the woman with loathing, wondering how it was possible for any human being to be so cruel or so filthy.
“I’ll have to talk to Marcus, first,” I said, temporizing, and for the first time Layla frowned slightly.
“You don’t have much room for negotiation, you know,” she reminded me, and then she seemed to have a change of heart.
“But nevertheless, I’m feeling generous this morning. Let’s go talk to Marcus, and then you can make up your mind,” she said. I doubted whether Layla Latimer ever had a generous impulse in her entire life; most likely she hoped to witness some more grief and heartache out of the deal. Probably mine, when I got a glimpse of whatever she’d done to Marcus.
And so it was. I followed Layla’s little brown Subaru wagon back up into the mountains again, until we arrived at a fancy mobile home hidden away in a dusty and very secluded valley surrounded by rugged peaks.
I killed my engine, not wanting to get out. But I was the one who’d asked to go there, after all, so I nerved myself and opened the door.
Layla was waiting for me at the door.
“Hurry up, slowpoke. I’ve got things to do, you know,” she said, tapping her watch.
She led me to one of the back bedrooms, and my hand flew to my mouth when I saw Marcus hanging from the ceiling by his wrists. He looked up when the door opened, his eyes full of pain, and his face clouded over with fresh misery when he recognized me. He probably thought I was Layla’s next captive. My tongue stuck in my throat, and Layla herself seemed to be enjoying the sight of all this horror like a cool drink on a hot day.
“Cut him down!” I demanded, when I could find the strength to speak.
“Certainly,” she agreed, and slashed the rope that held Marcus to the ceiling. She did nothing to break his fall, though, and Marcus crashed to the floor in a heap, groaning. I ran to him and threw my arms around his body, trying to comfort him.
“We’re going home, Marcus. Get up if you can,” I whispered in his ear, almost in tears. Only the thought of how much Layla would enjoy it if I started to cry gave me the strength to hold it back.
“I’ll try,” Marcus croaked, and he made a valiant effort. But even with my help he wasn’t able to stand, much less walk. All I could do was help him crawl, dragging him in places. Layla followed, watching us.
I finally got Marcus out to the car and into the passenger seat, and then found Layla close beside me.
“I assume we have a deal, since you’re taking him with you?” she asked, gesturing toward Marcus.
“Yes,” I whispered, hardly able to choke out the word.
“Good. Now, here’s your camera. Make sure to get some good footage, please. I’ll give you a few days to work out all the details, of course, but I’ll expect to see you again no later than. . . hmm, let’s call it two weeks from today? I’ll break the curse when I see you then, as long as you keep up your end of the deal in the meantime,” she said, placing the small camera in my palm and squeezing my fingers around it. Her skin was cool and dry like lizard scales. It was all I could do not to shudder again.
I couldn’t have said another word right then to save my life, so I only nodded. Then I fled from that horrible place as fast as I could safely go.
My first impulse was to hit the gas and fly back home as fast as the car would take us. But Marcus needed attention, so I stopped at a convenience store in Las Cruces to get some bottled water and some ointment for his wrists. They were raw and bloody from the chafing of the rope, and I wondered how long he’d been hanging there before I arrived.
He’d passed out in the car seat almost as soon as I got him in there, and he was still deeply asleep when I came back out of the store. I washed the sweat from his face and cleaned his wrists, and in spite of my gentleness the pain must have woken him.
He jerked back violently and tried to hit me, and if he hadn’t been so weak then he might easily have given me a black eye.
“Marcus! It’s me,” I told him, and then he came to his senses. He stared at me with wild eyes, and then gradually relaxed.
“I’m sorry, Lisa. I wasn’t thinking,” he said hoarsely.
“It’s all right. Here, drink some wate
r. You look like you need some,” I told him, and he didn’t need to be asked twice for that. He grabbed the bottle and drank all of it, hardly slowing down to breathe.
“I haven’t had anything to drink since yesterday morning,” he said, as soon as he could talk.
“What happened? What did she do to you up there?” I asked.
“Not now, Lisa. Please. I’ll tell you when we get home, but I can’t do it yet. Just get us out of here,” he said.
“All right. Go back to sleep, Marcus,” I said, smoothing the hair back from his face.