“Boo-fucking-hoo.”
Maya stepped into Cameron’s face, moving in so close she could see the layers of foundation covering her adult acne. “Look, I’m giving you one last chance to tell me where he is, or I’m going to beat you senseless and then read the note anyway.”
“I’ll tell you where he is. But only if you promise to take me with you.”
“No way,” Maya said, stepping back and shaking her head. “You’re not going anywhere with me.”
“Well, then sit and spin on this.” Cameron held up her middle finger. “And then get the hell out of my house.”
She could knock the bitch out and search for the note, but that could take hours. Hours Maya wasn’t sure she had.
“So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna bring me along, or are you gonna randomly drive around Bowling Green looking for your kids?”
“I should take my chances on the street.”
“Yeah, maybe you should.”
Maya scoffed and gave in. “Fine.”
“That’s what I thought,” Cameron said. “Now, let’s get—”
Maya stepped completely into the punch, her fist smacking off the side of Cameron’s head with a dull thunk. Gerald’s girlfriend collapsed to the floor, her arms spread and her eyes closed. She didn’t move.
Maya shook her hand out, feeling her knuckles beginning to swell. It wasn’t like in the movies. People had hard skulls, and Cameron’s was about as thick as a cinder block wall.
“Sit and spin on that, bitch.”
12
Maya opened her eyes, unsure of what had woken her. She rolled onto her back, her vision blurry as she stared at the ceiling. Then she heard a faint shriek from the basement and remembered that she’d dragged Cameron down there and locked the door. As a single mom and the sole protector of her own house, even the slightest noise would pull her out of a deep sleep.
She had resisted the urge to tear the house apart in the hopes of finding Gerald’s note, but there was no guarantee it was there anyway—or that he’d written anything. Cameron could have been lying about all of that. Besides, Maya’s body had refused to cooperate. She’d had to rest, even if that meant catching a few hours on Gerald’s couch.
After stretching her arms and cracking her neck, Maya walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. She poured herself a glass of water, then opened the refrigerator. She scoffed when she saw three beer bottles, a half-finished carton of Chinese food, and a hunk of some unidentified cheese that probably wasn’t supposed to have fuzzy mold growing on the edges.
“And he wonders why I don’t want the kids staying here.”
Maya grabbed a beer, shaking her head.
“Of course. Bud Light.”
She popped off the cap and took a swig. Light beer tasted like piss compared to what she drank. Maya didn’t trust a beer she could see through—something she’d heard her father say numerous times growing up when they’d be out in the yard working on his Chevy Nova together. But the cold brew would have to do for now as she listened to Cameron yelling in the basement.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
Maya looked at the kitchen’s ceiling fan as she took another swig, closing her eyes and devouring the sudsy, liquid breakfast. Then she opened her eyes up, belched, and looked at the door leading down to the basement.
From the bottom of the steps, wedged between the washer and dryer, Cameron continued to kick and scream. Maya had locked her down there, dragging the woman’s limp body down the stairs and tying her up before she’d gotten a chance to come around. The laundry area reeked of mold and bleach with a constant drip of water coming from the darkened corners of the basement. It had to be twenty degrees colder down there. Maya hadn’t been trying to knock Cameron out, but it hadn’t been her fault the chick had a glass jaw. For a moment, Maya felt guilty for locking her in the dungeon of a basement. For a moment.
Before crashing on the couch, Maya had done a quick search looking for the note Gerald had left for Cameron. But she’d come up empty. Maya had rifled through Cameron’s pockets and upended the trash cans sitting in the driveway. Nothing.
As the woman continued to curse in the basement, Maya rubbed her head, trying to block out the noise so that she could think. Cameron may have been immature and trashy, but she wasn’t a pushover. Even after Maya had decked her, the woman still wasn’t going to give in—she was down there launching insults and threats at Maya, not crying or begging to be untied. Maya knew a little about the woman’s past, including how her father had beaten her and sexually abused her, and even about how she’d had an abortion and a miscarriage from previous relationships. In some strange way, she’d admired Gerald for putting up with the woman’s bullshit and caring enough to maybe help her live a stable life. Then again, it could have simply been her nice rack.
“Damn it.” Maya had to face the reality of the situation. Gerald’s little girlfriend knew where he was, and she was the only way Maya was going to find Laura and Aiden.
“Bitch! Let me out of here right now!”
Maya finished emptying the beer bottle, staring at it for a minute before slamming it down on the floor so that it shattered into pieces. Then she eyed a glass of water on the counter, grabbing it before she walked to the basement door.
13
As she started down the stairs to the basement, Maya flipped the light switch. Cameron sat where Maya had left her, on the concrete floor with her hands bound to a support beam with laundry-line rope.
“You fucking whore. Let me go right now!”
Cameron hurled a long string of profanity at Maya, who walked over to the woman and tossed the water in her face.
“Shut up for a minute. I mean, my God, I can’t even hear myself think.”
“Untie me right now and get the hell out of my house.”
Maya thought the deed was probably in Gerald’s name, but she wasn’t in any mood to debate the semantics of home ownership with Cameron. If she was going to have any chance of finding her kids, she was going to have to figure out some way to work with this woman.
“Look, I need to have a serious conversation with you. If I untie you, will you chill out and talk to me like an adult?”
Cameron looked away with a huff and a quick sniffle. She then stared at the cold, concrete floor and nodded.
Maya walked to a folding table and grabbed a pair of scissors. She reached behind Cameron and slid the blades underneath the rope binding her hands to the beam.
“Don’t move.”
Maya cut the rope and then walked back around in front of Cameron. Still sitting on the floor, the woman massaged her wrists.
“All right,” Maya said. “Now, let’s—”
The pain shot through Maya’s leg as Cameron kicked her in the shin. Maya cried out and doubled over to grab her leg as Cameron jumped to her feet and took her first step toward the stairs leading up to the kitchen. But Maya reached up and grabbed a handful of Cameron’s hair. The girl screamed as her head snapped backward. Maya dragged her over to a chair and threw her into it. Then she pointed the scissors at Cameron’s throat.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t jam these into your neck right now!”
“I know where your kids are.” Cameron’s mouth twisted in a lipstick-blurred sneer, her face nearly as red as her dyed hair.
“But you won’t tell me. I might as well tie you back up and leave you down here to rot.”
As Maya turned around and began to climb the stairs, the young woman started to cry. Cameron’s makeup already ran down her cheeks in dark trails of tears. She didn’t come at Maya again, and didn’t light up with another string of curse words. Instead, Cameron put her face into her hands and sobbed quietly.