All That Matters (44 page)

“Can we get to the point?” Train prompted when she fell silent.

Drea's eyes flashed with anger. “It was summertime. I was out of school. I could tell that Uncle Tony wasn't exactly happy they were there. I wasn't happy because I was fifteen. All I wanted to do was hang out with my friends and have fun. Anyway, Carlos was always around me. He gave me the absolute creeps, but I was supposed to be nice.”

“This still doesn't seem like the point.” Train was starting to get really impatient. The more detail that Drea gave them, the more he wondered what it was that she was trying to distract them from.

“They visited every summer after that, two weeks in the beginning of July. The summer when I was eighteen, my friend threw a party, and I took Carlos. I woke up the next morning with no clue why I was bleeding from in between my legs. Stop me if you've heard this story before. I think you have.”

“Does it end with a video?” Train asked.

“As a matter of fact, it does,” Drea replied.

“That was a long time ago. Why are you just getting around to killing them now?” Manuel asked. He'd been mostly silent.

“I had to wait. I couldn't kill him when my uncle was alive. My father was a lot of things, but my uncle still loved him because he was his brother. So, I waited until he died.”

“Is there anyone you can think of who'd come looking for retaliation over Gagliardi being dead?” Train figured it was a question that needed asking.

“No. Any protection he had died right along with my uncle. No one is going to shed a tear for him. You've got nothing to worry about on that front. If you were wondering, you've got nothing to worry about from me. I just want to run my shop and live my life. Is that going to be a problem for Nightshade?”

Train thought that it was a good question. For the most part, he figured she was being truthful with her carefully edited version of the truth. She was holding back. He didn't have to say it; Buster knew it too. “We've got no reason to get in your way if you stay out of ours.”

“That works for me. I'll start the process of getting out of your hair right now if you want.”

“No. Stay. Eat something. I can smell that Caroline's cooking. Someone will take you back home later. You can tell the others that we'll be back down in a minute.” Buster waited until she'd left the room. “Let's make this a quick one. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm exhausted and very much looking forward to my own bed.”

<#<#<#<#<

The meeting had been quick. Buster just wanted to make sure they were all on the same page about what to say if anyone came along asking. He wanted them all to be extra vigilant in the coming days but also said that he was sure they were out of the woods. Things could go back to normal, or at least what passed for normal with them.

The food was set out by the time that they got downstairs, huge trays of lasagna and sides of meatballs and sausage. The smell of the garlic bread alone was enough to make Train's stomach growl. He was going to have at least two helpings, maybe three.

People were already eating, but he spotted Meg in the kitchen, doing something to what looked like a bowl of salad. Great, he was going to have to have at least one helping of it or she'd give him the look. Train walked into the kitchen anyway. “Hey.”

She smiled up at him. “I should have known that you'd get back downstairs just in time for the food.”

“You need any help?”

“No. Go and sit, I'll bring you over a plate as soon as I get the salad out.”

“You get yourself a plate, I can handle my own.” Train worried about how she was taking care of herself. “Don't tell me that you're not hungry.”

“I am.”

“Good. After we eat, we're grabbing our shit and getting the hell out of here. I've got a surprise for you tonight.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you. You good with going home?”

“That's where we live, isn't it?”

“That's not really an answer, Meg. We both know it. Are you good with going home?”

“I'm a little freaked out, but wouldn't it be weird if I wasn't freaked out? I'll be okay.”

“You tell me if you're not. I'm serious.”

“I will. I promise.”

“You'd better,” he growled as he leaned in to kiss her. Train left her to finish up with the salad and filled a plate with everything that could fit on it. He got a beer from Claire; she seemed to have never actually left since they'd opened the doors here. Most of the tables were half full; he sat down at the first empty table he saw.

It might have been rude, it probably was, but he started to eat before Meg came over. The food was even better than he expected, so good that he didn't even slow his pace when he burned the roof of his mouth with an oversized bite. Half of the plate was clear when Meg came over.

She set another beer down in front of him. “Are you even bothering to chew?”

“I'm chewing. Where's the rest of your food?”

“This is all of my food, it's a normal portion.”

“Maybe a normal portion for a toddler.” Train solved the problem by transferring half the food left on his plate to hers. “There. That's better.”

“Some of this salad is for you.” She set a smaller plate between them. “There's lots of ranch dressing, croutons and some bacon bits, so it'll taste good.”

“You eat all that food, and I'll eat some of this salad. You're going to need to keep your energy up tonight.” Train laughed as she blushed. “Go on, eat. It's really good.”

“I can see that from your plate.”

“I'm going to head back up for seconds in a minute. Do you know if Caroline made dessert?”

“I made dessert, we're having brownies.” Meg's eyes narrowed and Train realized that he'd made a face. “What's that look for?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “I really can't wait for dessert now.” Train realized he'd have to eat at least one brownie, even if it was dry and tasteless, because he loved Meg, even if she couldn't bake worth a damn.

“Uh huh, I'm sure that's what it meant.” She huffed the words and picked up her fork. “Don't try and make it better, you'll only make it worse.”

<#<#<#<#

There was no reason why Train shouldn't be sleeping, he was tired and satiated in every way, but no matter how long he lay down, it just wouldn't happen. If he stayed in bed any longer, he'd start to get pissed off, and that probably wouldn't end well.

The house was quiet except for the steady blip of the alarm system. It was armed and connected now to the fence outside. He'd never expected the workers from Nightshade Construction to show up, on their own time, and build the fence that had been left half-finished in the aftermath of Danny's murder. He might have even gotten a little misty eyed when he'd come home to check the mail one day and seen it.

Nightshade Construction had a good crew. In fact, there were two guys he'd been keeping an eye on as potential prospects. Shawn Douglas had spent the past ten years in a cage for drug and gun charges. He'd done those years without affiliating himself with any of the prison gangs. Justin Patton was younger, probably in his mid twenties, and really serious, but there was something about him that told Train he'd be an asset.

Once everything settled all the way down, after Danny's funeral, he'd broach the subject of new prospects with the rest of Nightshade. He couldn't see anyone having an objection; it was obvious that they needed to grow to keep up with the demands of their business ventures.

It was too cold, even though it was warmer than the past few days, to sit outside, so Train headed for the living room. He caught sight of his video games; he hadn't played since everything had gone down with the boys being taken again.

He missed that kid.

Train turned the system on, logged in to his account. He flipped through the games he had on the hard drive. Shooting the shit out of something didn't sound like a bad idea. Zombies were always good for that. His message box icon was on; expecting nothing but junk mass messages, he clicked on it to erase them.

There were dozens of messages, all from the same source. “Jesus Christ.” Train almost dropped the remote control. It was Leo's account, one that Train had helped him make. He clicked the most recent message, two days ago.

Why aren't you online? Why haven't you answered me? You promised that you'd come and get me! You promised.

“Fuck me. Fuck me.” It should have occurred to him to check the game for messages from Leo. He might not be able to get to a phone, but  he had access to a game console. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” Train's grip tightened on the remote as he continued to read through the messages. They were all variations of the same, asking Train to come and get him. He was in Seattle, he didn't know an address but it was a big brick house with lots of trees in the yard.

The first messages were hopeful. The last were the exact opposite. They were angry. Leo was angry. Train couldn't fault him for that; he could only imagine the hell that the boy was living in. What was the lawyer doing? Why was all of this taking so long?

Hastily, Train typed out a message and sent it before he could second-guess himself.

There's been a lot going on here, kiddo. I haven't had much time for playing games. I wasn't ignoring you. I love you. Meg loves you. Our lawyer is doing everything to get you back. You will be back. I promise. I'll check the messages on here at least once a day. Let me know that you're okay.

Train dropped the controller onto the table when he was done sending the message. He left the console on, even though he had no more thought of playing games. No. He started for the stairs and realized that there was no difference between telling Meg now or in the morning. If he told her in the morning, at least she would have been able to get some sort of sleep.

He wasn't going to sleep. If he'd just turned the damn thing on, they'd have been in contact with Leo since the week after he was gone. They'd know how he was. If they went into a game, they could have even talked to him.

Train felt his head start to pound in a way that he hadn't experienced in a long time, not since before Meg. He curled his hands into fists and pressed them to his head. The urge to get up and smash everything fueled the flickering anger inside of him. It would consume him, take hold. He shoved to his feet, walked over to the front door and opened it.

The cold air was like a slap to the face, one that he needed. He took a deep breath and then another. His fingers became numb and then his arms. He stripped off the shirt that he was wearing, felt the chill spread to his entire body. As many times as Meg had told him the cold helped her head, he hadn't understood it until now.

The anger inside of him was still there, but the colder he got, the less he focused on it. Train was more in control than he'd thought he'd be. He continued to breathe, watched as his breath showed in the air like smoke.

“Train?” Meg's voice sounded like it was coming from a distance. “Jesus Christ, you're almost blue. What the hell are you doing? Train.”

“I'm fine,” he replied. Train turned his head to see her in the doorway.

“Get in the house. You're not fine. Did you eat some of Caroline's brownies or something?” She grabbed his arm. Her hand felt hot against his skin. “What the hell, Train?”

“It got loud in my head. Tried your trick, the cold helped.”

“How long were you out there for? Come on. Sit on the couch. Let me get a blanket. You're too cold.”

He heard the worry in her voice. “Sorry, I just...” Train wasn't sure how to explain it, but the cold had helped; he was in control of his emotions now and mostly pissed at himself.

“Don't be sorry. Just sit.” She ushered him to the couch and pulled the blanket she used for when she read on the couch off the back. “Here, this will help. I'm going to make you some tea. No arguments, you need something warm.”