Slow Burn

  He wasn't downstairs.

  I went up the steps and opened the door to the bedroom.

  He was sitting on the bed, still wearing the towel.

  "Griffin, I didn't mean-"

  "Alone, Leigh," he said. "Do you know what that means?"

  Great. He was still mad.

  I retreated from the bedroom. But now I was standing out here wrapped in towels, and all my clothes were in my duffel in the bedroom. I was going to have to get in there eventually, but I guessed-

  My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a phone.

  Griffin had made me ditch my phone. But he'd picked up one. But no one called Griffin. Who even had that number? He'd barely had it for a few days.

  I pushed the door open again.

  Griffin was standing up, a look of confusion on his face.

  "Who would call you?"

  Then his eyes widened. "Beth." He dove for the phone, picking it up. "Hello." He listened, his expression hardening. "Fuck you, Knox. How do I know you even actually have her?" He was quiet, stony-faced. "Beth?... I'm coming to get you.... No, I'm-" He ripped the phone and dashed it against the floor. "Motherfucker."

  He threw his towel off and began getting dressed quickly.

  "What happened?" I said.

  He didn't answer me. He tied his shoes.

  "Griffin, who called you?"

  "Op Wraith," he said. "Guy named Knox. The fuckwad who knocked up Beth. The fuckwad who didn't give a shit when I told him I was supposed to kill her and his unborn child." He got up, throwing his pack over his shoulder, and stalked out of the bedroom.

  "Griffin," I called after him. "Where are you going?"

  No answer.

  I picked up my duffel bag. I darted down the stairs.

  He was heading out the front door.

  I ran after him, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Wait!"

  He turned to me.

  My towel was falling off. I struggled to tuck it back in. "Where are you going?"

  "He's going to kill her," said Griffin. "I promised her I would keep her safe."

  "How did they even find her? I thought she'd been there safe for months?"

  "I don't know. But I talked to her. And he got my phone number out of her. She begged me not to come. She said they'd kill her anyway. But I have to go. I promised her." He went through the door.

  "Griffin, wait for me," I said.

  He didn't stop. He just walked out into the rain.

  I was still in my towel. I didn't have shoes on. It was cold outside.

  And he was going without me.

  I hurried out into the rain, clutching my duffel bag tight against my chest. Maybe my clothes wouldn't be ruined.

  Griffin was inside the car next door, the one he'd checked out earlier.

  I dashed over to the passenger side. It was unlocked. I crawled inside.

  Griffin had the wiring out underneath the dash. I'd seen him do this before.

  I pulled the door closed. He didn't even acknowledge me.

  The door to the house opened. The same man leaned out. "What are you doing?"

  Griffin got the engine to start. He closed the door and backed out of the driveway.

  "You're stealing my car!" the man yelled after us.

  Griffin ignored him too.

  * * *

  I changed out of my towel on the road. I combed my wet hair with my fingers. If Griffin noticed that what I was doing was strange, he didn't let on. He wouldn't talk to me. He ignored every question I asked him. He drove eighty miles an hour, swerving around slower cars. His face was set and firm, his gray eyes steely.

  He didn't say a word until we made it back to Beth's neighborhood.

  Then he seemed to notice me again.

  "They'll know I'm coming," he said. "They'll be waiting for me. They probably did this because they know we're together. They want to draw you out. You're what they're after. They don't care about me. You should probably stay in the car."

  "No," I said.

  "You should have stayed in Nantucket," he said. "Why are you here?"

  "Griffin, I'm not going to be separated from you. I want to help. Tell me what to do."

  He shook his head. He seemed different than I'd ever seen him. Colder. "Every second I waste here is a second she doesn't have. They don't need her anymore. You understand?"

  "No," I said. I had no idea what he was talking about. And I had no idea why he was acting the way he was acting. He was almost a different person.

  "They needed her to talk on the phone to me," he said. "Once she did that, they knew I was on the way. They could have killed her right after we hung up."

  I grimaced. That was awful.

  "That's why she told me not to come," he said. "That's why she told me she was as good as dead." He rubbed his forehead. "God damn it. They used her to get to me."

  No. If what he was saying was true, they had used her to get to me, hadn't they?

  Griffin parked the car. He didn't bother to hide it like he had when we'd checked out Stacey and Jack's house. He parked right in front of the apartment complex in a handicapped parking space. "Stay here," he told me, jumping out of the car.

  I watched him sprint across the sidewalk to the landing. He'd have to climb the steps to get to Beth's apartment.

  I found his pack and looked through it until I found a gun. I loaded it, disengaged the safety, and went after him.

  He was already up the first set of stairs, cresting over the second landing.

  I picked out Beth's apartment door, fifth floor. It didn't look completely closed.

  It looked like it was moving.

  Sure enough, the door opened and the nose of a gun appeared out of it.

  "Griffin!" I yelled.

  I was too late. Whoever was at the door of Beth's apartment had already pulled the trigger.

  Griffin stumbled, faltering on the steps.

  I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, lined up my sights, and squeezed my trigger several times in succession.

  There was a cry.

  The door to Beth's apartment opened, and a body fell out of it, motionless.

  I'd hit him. Whoa.

  I started up the steps. "Griffin!" I yelled.

  "Nice shot," he said.

  "You okay?"

  "It's my leg," he said. "It's healing." He was starting to limp up the steps.

  I caught up to him as quick as I could. "The guy at the door? You think there are more of them?"

  "Probably," he said.

  "Give me a knife," I said. "He's healing right now. I need to get to him before he wakes up."

  He shook his head, laboring up the steps. "You don't know how to do it."

  "Fine," I said. I pushed past him.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'll cover him with my gun until you get there. You're limping, and I can go faster than you." I scrambled up the steps.

  "Leigh, wait!"

  But I wasn't about to listen to him. He hadn't listened to me, had he? He'd just barged out into this, with no plan, no caution. He wasn't himself.

  Wheezing, I arrived just outside Beth's apartment. I pointed my gun at the man who laid half out the door and half in it.

  From inside, I could hear a baby wailing. Dixie.

  They weren't going to hurt the baby, were they?

  "Well, well, well," said a voice. "Leigh Thorn, right on the doorstep. This is better than delivery."

  I whirled in the direction of the voice.

  Pain exploded in my cheekbone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I pulled the trigger of my gun without aiming. The shot was loud, and the guy who'd just punched me doubled over.

  "Shit," he muttered.

  I took better aim. I shot him in the head.

  It drove his body into the wall. He slid down onto the floor, leaving a smear of blood behind him.

  There were two bodies in front of me now. They were probably Op Wraith agents, which meant that
they were both healing. They'd wake up at any second, ready to hurt me.

  "Beth?" I called. "Are you in here? Are you okay?"

  No answer. The baby was still crying.

  "Leigh!" shouted Griffin from below.

  I peeked out of the door. "I'm okay. I shot them both."

  He was one floor down, coming up the steps faster now. His leg must be healing from the gun shot. "Good. That's good."

  "Beth isn't answering, but the baby's crying. I want to go look in the apartment and see if I can find them both."

  "No, stay there," he said. "And get their guns before they wake up."

  Oh. That was a good idea. He was good at this. I knelt down next to the first guy, the one lying out the door. I took the gun out of his hand and threw it further into the room, out of his reach.

  Then I went to the other guy. He wasn't holding his gun, so I had to pat him down, which was really weird, because he wasn't moving at all, and I didn't like it. He felt dead. I knew he wasn't, but he felt like he was.

  Eventually, I found his gun. I threw it out of his reach too.

  Griffin came in the front door. He kicked the first guy inside, and he shut the door after himself. "Stay here and cover these guys," he said.

  I nodded.

  "Beth," he bellowed, hurrying into the apartment.

  I glanced after him.

  And one of the guys woke up. I didn't see him until it was too late. He was on his feet before I could bring my gun around.

  He grabbed my wrist, twisting, forcing me to drop the weapon.

  I cried out.

  He shoved his hand over my mouth.

  I flailed, trying to hit him, to hurt him.

  He laughed. I was no match for him. He took me by the throat. He made a quick motion. I heard a snapping noise.

  Everything went dark.

  * * *

  When I opened my eyes, all I could hear was the baby, still screaming. The guy who'd shot Griffin in the leg was standing over the body of the man who'd broken my neck. That man was dead. His head was practically severed from his body. He lay in a pool of crimson liquid on the carpet.

  The other guy had his hands up, a knife dripping blood dangling from one. "Just wait a second, Griffin."

  Griffin was behind him with a gun against the back of his head.

  "Look, I took care of Finn down there, see?" said the guy. "I saved the girl."

  "Shut up, Knox," said Griffin, his voice tight.

  "Finn's the one who did Beth. I didn't want to do it. Every day since she's been gone, I've thought about her. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't."

  "I said shut up."

  "Why do you think I only shot you in the leg, man?"

  Griffin pulled the trigger.

  The left side of Knox's head caved in. Blood spattered onto Griffin's face.

  Knox crumpled to the ground.

  Griffin wiped his face with the back of his hand. He grinned-baring his teeth like a wild animal. "I think I might let him heal so that I can kill him again."

  I got to my feet. "Griffin?"

  He didn't look at me. He nudged Knox's body with his toe. He laughed, a high, hysterical sound.

  I made my way out of the living room, into the kitchen. It looked undisturbed. I went further back the hall. I hadn't been this far into the place before. I opened the first door I came to.

  A bathroom. Blue tile. A mirror over the sink. A rubber ducky sitting on the lip of the tub. Plush blue mats in front of the toilet and the shower.

  I went to the next room.

  She was lying on the bed, face down. Her neck was bloody, her head tugged away from her motionless body.

  Beth.

  She was dead.

  And the baby was still in her crib. Looking at it.

  I swept Dixie up into my arms and hurried from the room, making soothing noises.

  * * *

  I stayed in the kitchen with the baby. It was the only place that there wasn't any blood besides the bathroom. I had to change her diaper on the table, but I didn't figure anybody was going to be eating off of it any time soon.

  Griffin was in the living room. He had Knox tied up and gagged. Routinely, Knox woke up. Griffin "killed" him again.

  It was sick, and I told him so.

  Griffin wasn't listening to me.

  "We have to do something about Dixie," I said.

  He wandered into the kitchen. "Like what?"

  "I don't know. But she's lost her mother, and somebody's got to take care of her."

  Griffin knocked over the chairs. "Fuck."

  Dixie started to cry again. I'd just gotten her quiet.

  "You're scaring the baby," I said. And me. He was scaring me. Ever since that phone call, I felt like I had no idea who he was anymore.

  "Don't care," said Griffin. He kicked over the table too.

  "Please don't," I said. I was at the edge of crying myself.

  "I failed her," he said. "I failed Beth."

  "This wasn't your fault," I said. "You told me that you can't blame yourself. Remember when I was upset about Stacey-"

  "Not the same," said Griffin. "You didn't promise Stacey you'd keep her alive."

  "That's not a promise you can really make, though, is it, Griffin? I mean, people die sometimes, and-"

  "Shut up," he said.

  I took a step away from him, stung.

  Griffin sat down on the floor of the kitchen. "She was so afraid when she knew that they wanted her dead. She was terrified. And when I told her we'd get out of there, she looked into my eyes, and she believed in me."

  "Griffin, you couldn't have known-"

  "The last thing I said to her was ugly," he said. "I yelled at her."

  "It's not your fault."

  He buried his face in his hands. "Before Beth, I didn't think there was one other human being in the entire place. I knew she was a rebel. She was sleeping with Knox, and they really looked down on us assassins having affairs with each other. They'd rather pay for prostitutes, seriously. They didn't want us attached to each other. I knew she was a rebel, but I didn't know she was still a person deep down until she wouldn't terminate the pregnancy. She wanted a baby. Killing machines don't want babies. But she did. So she was still a human being. And if she was one, then I was one too. And I swore to her that I would keep her safe, that I would keep her alive."

  I swallowed hard.

  "I didn't keep her alive. I basically killed her." He looked up at me. "What if she hadn't had my phone number? If she hadn't known how to contact me, would they still have done it?"

  Carefully balancing the baby, I sat down next to him. "Griffin, I'm so sorry." I rubbed his upper arm.

  "Don't touch me," he snarled.

  I recoiled. "Why are you being like this to me?"

  He sneered at me. "This is what I am. Didn't you realize? All I'm good at is killing. I can't save people. You're not safe around me."

  "That's not true."

  "It is," he said. "It's true."

  "Please..."

  "Hold on," he said. "I think I hear Knox in the other room." He got to his feet and wandered out of the kitchen. There was a gunshot.

  Dixie started to cry again.

  I got up and began to walk with her, rocking. "We have to do something about the baby, Griffin." As soon as he got through whatever he was going through, he'd be okay again. He was only grieving. He was only blaming himself. Obviously, Beth had been very important to him. Maybe if I could distract him, get him moving again, then he'd start to snap out of it sooner.

  "Do whatever you want with the baby."

  "We should take her somewhere."

  "You take her somewhere," he said.

  "I need you to come with me."

  He appeared back in the kitchen. There was more blood on his skin and clothes. "I'm not going anywhere. Don't be ridiculous. I've got Knox here to play with. And let's face it, doll, this is no place for a baby."

  He mocked his pet name for me, made it s
ound stupid and sordid.

  I bit my lip. Could I do this without Griffin? "Where should I go?"

  "A hospital or something. There's got to be someplace you can take a baby."

  Maybe if I left for a little bit, when I came back, he'd be better. Less freaked out. He was scary now, and I supposed that I didn't really think I liked the idea of being around him. So maybe I should go.

  "You saved this baby," I said. "Maybe you didn't save Beth, but you saved the baby. Are you sure you don't want-"

  "Get it away then," he said. "I might kill it."

  "You would never-"

  "Things I try to keep safe die," he said. "I won't be able to keep you safe either. You'll die too."

  "You can't know what's going to happen."

  "You should both get away from me," he said. "You and Dixie. Get the flying fuck as far away from me as you possibly can."

  "If I take Dixie someplace, I'm coming back."

  "You shouldn't," he said.

  "Well, I will," I said.

  "Don't," he said. "I don't want you too. I want you to get away from me, because you'd be better off without me. I can't keep you from getting hurt. I only make it worse."

  "I'm coming back," I said. "Because I love you, Griffin Fawkes." Oh God. I'd just said that out loud, hadn't I?

  He flinched, as if I'd just punched him. For one moment, I saw something soft swimming to the front of his expression, the old him coming back. But then the stoniness slammed back down in its place. He laughed harshly. "That's pretty idiotic of you, isn't it?"

  * * *

  "This child is too old to be taken in under the Safe Haven law." The woman at the desk in the hospital was chewing gum. She had on cat-eye glasses, like a cafeteria worker from the 1950s. "You can only drop off unwanted babies up to seven days after they're born."

  Dixie was sleeping in my arms. Her mouth was open, and she looked so peaceful. "Look, it's not really that she's unwanted. It's just that her mother is dead."

  "You're not the mother of the baby?"

  "No," I said.

  "Then you have no legal right to leave the baby anywhere. Only the parent can do that."

  Was the woman deaf? "But her mother's dead. She's an orphan."

  "What do you mean her mother's dead?"

  What did I mean? "I mean she's no longer alive."

  The woman glared at me as if I were particularly stupid. "I mean, how do you know the mother is dead?"

  "Well..." What was I supposed to say here? The activities of Op Wraith were not within the confines of legality, but they were powerful, rich, and connected enough that they were able to make sure the law looked the other way. Would admitting I knew something about a crime make me get detained or something?

  "The reason I ask," she said, "is that in most situations, there would be someone official available on the scene of the death of a young mother. Someone who would know to call the proper people within Child Services-"