Triptych

“I called him at the number he left,” she told John. “Some girl answered.”

John’s tongue wouldn’t move in his mouth. What should he say?

“He said he’d see me on the weekends. He says Mindy will take me shopping.”

John repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“Why do you hang around with that jerk?” Mary Alice asked.

“Who?” John turned around, following her gaze to Woody. His cousin practically fell off the back stairs as he walked toward them. He laughed at his lack of coordination, so John laughed, too.

“Wet your whistle,” Woody said, handing John another drink.

John took a sip, trying to pace himself because his head was already swimming.

“Hey, girlie,” Woody said, leaning against John as he stared at Mary Alice. “What took you so long? I was begi

John started to make introductions, but something stopped him. He didn’t like the way Woody was looking at her, the open lust in his eyes. The guy already had Alicia back in the house ready to do whatever he wanted and now he was going after Mary Alice. It wasn’t fair.

“We were just going,” John said, taking Mary Alice’s hand as if she belonged to him.

“So soon?” Woody asked, and John realized he was blocking their way. “Come on back inside with your old cousin Wood. I got something for you.”

“I don’t think so.” John threw the empty cup into the yard. “I should take her home. Her mom will be looking for her.”

“Just a little hit,” Woody insisted. “Or another, I guess I should say.” He winked at Mary Alice. “Think you can handle a drink, sweetheart? Might help dry those pretty blue eyes of yours.”

Mary Alice looked odd. She was smiling, almost flirting. “I wasn’t crying.”

“Sure, babydoll.”

“Woody,” John began, but Woody put his hand over John’s mouth to stop him, telling Mary Alice, “This one likes to talk too much.”

She laughed, and John felt his anger spark up. She was laughing with Woody. She was laughing at him.

Woody asked, “You think you can handle a little drink, little girl?”

Her lips went into this sexy kind of half-smile. “I can handle it.”

“Mary Alice,” John said.

Woody had taken away his hand and wrapped his arm around Mary Alice’s shoulders. He licked his lips as he looked down her shirt, telling John, “Shut up, Cousin.”

Mary Alice laughed. “Yeah, John, shut up.”

Woody pulled her closer in and she tilted up her head. He kept his eyes locked on John’s as he pressed his open mouth to Mary Alice’s.

She started to kiss him back and John felt like somebody had ripped his heart out of his chest. He stood helpless as Woody’s hand went down Mary Alice’s blouse, cupped her breast like groping her was something he did every day. His mouth got wider against Mary Alices and she jerked away, coming to her senses a second later than she should have.

She yelled, “Stop it!” as she tumbled toward John.

John caught her, holding her up. The button had ripped off her shirt where Woody’s hand had reached inside.

“You’re disgusting,” she told Woody, clasping the blouse closed, tears springing into her eyes.

Woody was smiling. “Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.”

“I can’t believe you,” she cried. “Your tongue is disgusting.”

His smile became more sinister. “Watch it now.”

She curled in closer to John, crying, “Please, take me home.”

John started to lead her away, his eyes on Woody, not liking the way his cousin was staring at them.

“Get back here,” Woody ordered, reaching out for her again.

“Leave her alone!” John yelled, fists clenched. Woody had about a hundred pounds on him but John firmly believed he could and would kick his ass if he so much as touched another hair on Mary Alice’s head.

“Whoa.” Woody held up his hands, taking a step back. “Didn’t know you’d already claimed her, little man. Go on. Take her home to her mommy.”

“Stay away from her,” John warned. “I mean it.”

“No hard feelings,” Woody said, but he was still leering at Mary Alice like a lion who had been denied its prey. “Best man wins.”

“Damn straight.”

“Here,” Woody said, digging into his front pocket. “Parting gift.” He tossed a bag of powder to John. “No hard feelings, right, Cousin?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

John had found out about the news story by accident. He had been vacu-U uming out the cargo space of a mud-splattered Subaru Forrester. He picked up a stack of newspapers to throw in the trash and the whole pile fell from his hand like playing cards scattered on a table. He bent down to gather up the pages and saw two words he had never noticed before: Local Edition.

The Subarus owner was from Clayton County, but John knew if there was a special insert for one town, there had to be one for the others.

He had told Art he was having stomach problems so he could leave work early and headed straight downtown to the main branch of the Fulton County Public Library. The newspaper’s online archive required a credit card for access, so instead he requested microfiche of the Gwi

SNELLVILLE GIRL ABDUCTED FROM LOCAL NEIGHBORHOOD.

There weren’t many details. No name was mentioned, just the age- fourteen-and that she had been walking from her home to visit an aunt down the street. Obviously, the family wasn’t talking to the press and there was no mention of suspects or leads the police were following. John sca

John’s heart had been in his throat from the moment he’d found the article. Slowly, he put the pieces of the puzzle together. Ben’s game of what-if kept coming back to mind. What if Woody had been using John’s identity to cover his tracks for the last six years? What if Woody had assumed John would never get out of prison? What if Woody found out John was walking among the free and had decided to do something about it?

The car behind beeped its horn and John sped up, taking the first side street he came to and pulling up behind a parked cable truck. His heart was pounding so hard that he felt dizzy. Vomit swirled in the back of his throat, threatening to come up in a hot rush of panic and fear.

He put his head on the steering wheel, playing out the night before. Sunday. Super Bowl Sunday. The fucking Falcons were playing that night and John didn’t want to watch it on TV, didn’t want to hear the game on the radio. He wanted to see what Woody was doing, wanted to watch him like he could stop what had happened from happening again. And again.

The wife had gone to work and Woody had waited thirty minutes before heading out. He had taken his usual route into Atlanta, but this time he’d turned into Grady Homes. John had followed him, so tense he’d forgotten to keep back, a couple of times thinking for sure Woody had seen him, that he’d been caught.

A white guy driving a dark blue Ford Fairlane through the projects on a late Sunday afternoon was too conspicuous, but John had followed him in anyway. When Woody had stopped in front of a row of hookers, John had driven past him, thinking he’d be better served keeping an eye on his cousin in the rearview mirror. Nothing ever worked out as pla

Now, John broke into a cold sweat when he thought about what had happened next, what he had seen. He could still hear it, those piercing screams, the primal fight for life.

John got out of the car, nodding to the guy in the cable truck. Casual. Cool. He belonged here.