Redzone (14 page)

Lee pulled a mask down over her face before going to open it. A girl with a linen-covered tray was waiting in the
hall. She looked nervous. “A bite to eat, Miss . . . And a note from Mr. Heevy.”

Lee said, “Thank you,” and took the tray. As the door closed she carried it over to the ornate makeup table and put it down. When Lee removed the cover she saw the envelope. She tore it open. The card read: “Your mother knows you're here—and would like to see you at 1:00
P.M.
Her maid will take you there. Affectionately, Hiram.”

Lee felt her spirits soar. She looked at her watch and saw that it was 11:50. The salad looked good, so she tried to eat it, but she had no appetite. Her mother . . . After all of those years. She cried.

*   *   *

Like his brothers, James was required to spend every third day at the mine. “You need to learn the business,” their father told his sons. “I won't live forever.”

And that was true. But both Hoss and Bruce knew James was the favorite, so why bother? And James knew he could rely on the mine's manager, a crusty old coot named Barrow, to run the operation far more effectively than he could. So it was his habit to make an appearance at the mine, follow Barrow around for a while, and fade. Of course he needed a place to go—so he was renting a small apartment above Heartbreak's single feed store. As for Barrow, he knew that James would be in charge one day and wasn't about to complain.

Meanwhile Bruce's mother, a beauty named Monica, went into town on a frequent basis. The ostensible purpose of the visits was to volunteer at the company-run school. But her
real
objective was to escape her husband and the stifling environment at the house for a few hours. And that was how the affair had begun. James and Monica kept running into each other in town and became confidants. So it wasn't long before James invited his father's second wife to his secret hideaway for an informal lunch. Time passed, the visits grew routine, and the inevitable occurred.

Now, many weeks later, Monica was naked and lying on the rumpled bed with her legs parted and James kneeling between them. He never tired of looking at her. Though more than twice his age Monica was very pretty. Part of that was related to a girlish figure. But a lot of it, more than James cared to admit, was related to the iridescent scales that covered large portions of Monica's anatomy. They made her look exotic in a way that none of the local girls could.

But that wasn't all. James knew that part of the attraction was the opportunity to punish his father for infecting his third wife with
B. nosilla
. “Don't make me suffer, James,” Monica said huskily. “Give me what I want . . . what I
need
.”

As James lowered himself into place she took him in. Her arms wrapped around him, a moan escaped her lips, and the bed began to squeak. Revenge was sweet.

*   *   *

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, Lee heard a knock on the door. She hurried to open it. The woman who stood there was dressed in a gray-and-white maid's uniform. She would have been pretty had it not been for a bulging forehead. “Good afternoon, Miss . . . My name is Myra. Your mother is waiting. If you're ready, I will take you to her room.”

“Thank you.”

Lee followed Myra down the hall to a central staircase, then up to the third floor, which was entirely dedicated to members of the Heevy family. From there it was a short walk down the hall to a door that stood slightly ajar. “This is it,” Myra announced, and stood aside to let Lee pass.

Lee heard the door close as she entered the room and saw the woman who was sitting up in bed. “Cassie!” Alala said, as she held out her arms. “My precious Cassie!”

If you're so precious, why did she abandon you?
the voice in Lee's head inquired.

But Lee
wanted
to believe and made her way over to the bed. An awkward embrace followed. Then, as Lee straightened, Alala spoke. “Hold your breath, Cassie dear . . . Let me see your face. Just this once.”

So Lee took a deep breath, removed the mask, and let her mother look. Then she put the mask back on, “You're beautiful,” Alala said. “So very, very beautiful. Even with short hair! You had an Afro in the pictures I saw.”

“It will grow back,” Lee assured her. “But short hair made sense for the trip.”

“Thank you for coming,” Alala said. “It must have been very difficult. Hiram told me about the way the dogs attacked. That must have been very frightening.”

So Lee told her about the trip and was truthful for the most part, except for the claim of having hitchhiked into the area. She hadn't told Bruce or his father about the truck and saw no reason to mention it then.

Once the story was over the two women stared at each other for a moment. Alala broke the silence. “What I did was wrong . . . very wrong. And I apologize.”

Lee looked into her mother's eyes, saw the emotion there, and nodded. “Thank you. So tell me . . . How did you wind up here?”

Alala shrugged. “It's like I told you in the letter. Things weren't going well with your father . . . And I felt overwhelmed. I wandered up the coast, lived in Oregon for a while, and eventually met a man named Ted. He had plans. Lots and lots of crazy plans. Schemes that would make the world better. One of which was to make a documentary about life in the red zone. A film that would show how similar norms and mutants are. And that seemed like a wonderful idea to me. So we saved our money, bought the necessary equipment, and entered the red zone.”

Lee frowned. “You're joking.”

Alala shook her head. “No, I'm serious. Things went well
at first—and we were capturing some really wonderful footage. But our luck ran out in Nixon, Nevada. Bandits hit the town while we were there. Ted was killed, I was taken prisoner, and they sent me south. Norm females are worth a lot of money, as you know. So they put me up for sale at an auction in Indian Springs. Hiram made the winning bid.”

“So, he bought you.”

“Yes,” Alala agreed. “But he also married me . . . And I had nowhere else to go. But enough about me. I want to know about
you
! About all of the things I missed.”

Lee did her best. She told her mother about school, about college, and her decision to follow in her father's footsteps.

And when Alala asked about men, and whether there was a man in her daughter's life, Lee told her about Kane. More than that, she told her mother about how nice he was—and was surprised to hear herself speak at length. Had there been someone else she felt that way about? Not that Lee could remember.

That was when Lee realized that she and her mother were having the sort of talk that both of them had missed. The realization made Lee feel sad, but she did the best she could to keep the emotion hidden.

Finally, having laid the necessary groundwork, Lee told Alala about the video, and the gruesome nature of Frank Lee's death. “So, I feel guilty,” Lee concluded. “About the nature of our relationship. He was a hard man to like.”

Tears were streaming down Alala's cheeks. “Oh, Cassie, I'm so sorry. And believe me, I understand. Frank was a fine man in many ways. But there was a darkness in him. Something he wouldn't talk about. And there were dreams.
Terrible
dreams that caused him to thrash around at night. That's part of why I left. Looking back, I realize that I should have stayed for your sake . . . or taken you with me. My failure to do so still haunts me.”

Lee gave Alala a hug at that point—but the cop in her was thinking. According to Cheyenne Darling, McGinty
had bad dreams too . . . And the men had been partners. Was there some sort of connection?

Lee was about to pull back when Alala took hold of her wrists. “I have a favor to ask,” she whispered. “It's something that would mean a great deal to me. But I'm the one who owes you—not the other way around. So if you say no, I'll understand.”

Lee said the only thing she could. “What is it?”

“Hiram told you about James.”

“Yes.”

“You'll meet him tonight . . . He's a god boy. Like you in many ways. And Hiram's favorite. But there's a darkness in Hiram just as there was in your father. My luck isn't very good where men are concerned. Not very good at all. So I want you to take James with you. To Los Angeles, where Hiram can't reach him. James is a mutant—but he isn't communicable. The right tests will prove that, and with you to sponsor him, the authorities will allow him to live in Pacifica. I know that . . . I did my homework.”

Lee wanted to cry. There it was . . . the thing the other part of herself had feared. She'd been lured into the red zone for a purpose. Two purposes really . . . To assuage her mother's guilty conscience—and to take her half brother into the green zone. But in spite of the way she felt Lee managed to maintain her composure. “I see . . . And how does James feel about your idea?”

“He doesn't know,” Alala confessed. “There was no reason to raise the possibility if you said no.”

“And your husband?”

Alala's eyes grew wide with fear—and her grip was like steel. “He'd be furious! He's depending on James to take over. He would kill you if he knew . . . So this has to be our secret.”

Lee felt a lump of cold lead form in the pit of her stomach. Her mother was trying to use her—and Heevy would make a dangerous enemy. So why place herself in danger? Then something occurred to her. Something she should have
asked earlier. “Tell me, Mother . . . You lived here for many years without contracting the plague. What happened?”

Alala looked away and back again. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Hiram can be very rough at times. Especially in bed. He tore my mask off. S-s-so he could look at m-m-me.”

Lee swore. “Okay . . . You tell James this . . . If he wants to go, I'll take him.”

*   *   *

There were rules in Boss Heevy's house, one of which was that every member of the family would show up for dinner, and do so on time. That had been made clear to Lee by her mother. So, at 5:50, Lee descended the stairs to the main floor, where one of the house servants directed her to the dining room. It was a long, relatively narrow space with six tall windows on one side and cabinets on the other. The shelves were filled with mineral specimens that had been chosen for their beauty rather than their intrinsic value. Large geodes had been sliced in half to reveal the glorious layerings within, there were all sorts of crystals to admire, and one section of the display was dedicated to chunks of quartz. All were lit by strategically placed lights.

But Lee had scant time to examine the specimens because the butler was there to receive her. He stood at least six and a half feet tall—and was so thin that he resembled a living skeleton. And if he thought that the sudden appearance of a norm was strange, there was no sign of it on his long, lugubrious face. “Good evening, Miss Lee,” he said in a deep baritone. “My name is Manley. Please allow me to show you to your seat.”

Lee's seat was on the other side of the dining room table with her back to the windows. Though set for nine the linen-covered table was long enough to accommodate twice that number. It was replete with candelabras, gleaming silverware, and all manner of glasses. Others were filing in by that time, and Lee found herself sandwiched between Bruce
Heevy, and a large man who introduced himself as Hoss. Both brothers were nicely dressed.

“So,” Bruce said, “it's nice to see you again. How's your room?”

“Very pleasant, thank you.”

Bruce had just started to say something more when James entered with a woman on each arm. Lee knew it was James because she'd seen a photo of him in her mother's bedroom. A picture that hardly did him justice. He had black hair, skin about the same color as hers, and shockingly blue eyes. Not shocking because of their color so much as the intensity of his gaze. “There she is!” he proclaimed, as he looked at Lee. “My long-lost sister! Welcome to Heevy house, Cassandra . . . I'm James. The lovely lady on my left is Monica—and the lovely lady on my right is Bethany.”

Chairs scraped as the other brothers came to their feet, and both women said their hellos. James made a show out of seating them—and that gave Lee a moment to form an impression of each. Lee was immediately struck by how different the two women were. While Monica had high cheekbones and a shapely body, Bethany was a stocky woman with a doughy face and glaring eyes. “I hear you killed some of our dogs,” she said accusingly.

“I ordered them to surrender,” Lee replied. “But they refused. That left me with no choice.” Bethany scowled, James laughed, and Bruce joined him. Hoss looked down at his plate.

Meanwhile a girl who looked as if she was in her late teens entered the room. She was wearing too much makeup, an excessive amount of jewelry, and a party dress. James stood to seat her. “This is Dawn. She's Bethany's daughter and Hoss's sister. Dawn, it's my pleasure to introduce my sister, Cassandra. She's from Los Angeles.”

“Do you know any singers?” Dawn wanted to know. “Or movie stars?”

As Dawn took her napkin off the table Lee saw that the
girl had a single finger and thumb on each hand. “No,” Lee answered. “I'm a police detective. So I spend most of my time with cops and criminals.”

“Of which there are many from what I've heard,” Bethany said acerbically.

“We have our share,” Lee allowed. “But we can drive from city to city without being attacked by bandits.”

Bethany's expression soured even more, and she was about to reply, when Heevy wheeled Alala into the room. She was seated in a wheelchair, but nicely dressed, with a blanket across her lap. Her eyes sought Lee and went to James before surveying the rest of the room. “Good evening, everyone. Sorry I'm late.”