What The Cat Dragged In Ch. 19

"Yeah, but that makes you wet." He tightened his arm around her waist. "Sleep. Now."

Kelly laced her fingers with his and closed her eyes. She wasn't sure that she would sleep, but if she was going to lie awake this was a comfortable way to do it.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning passed in a flurry of last minute details. When she was at the end of her to-do list Victor came upstairs with a cooler.

"Pack enough food and snacks for the two of us. I don't want you seen any more than absolutely necessary." Kelly nodded and started packing the food while he sat in front of the TV sipping a beer. She knew his calm lounging was a front, though someone who didn't know him as well might have missed the subtle signs. There was a tension in his jaw, an occasional twitch in his foot, the sound of one claw tapping on the glass bottle.

She didn't want to think about how many years he'd been perfecting that particular ruse – and after his revelation about his age she wasn't sure that she wanted to speculate - but she knew calling him on it would only wound his pride. She packed all the food and drinks that would fit into the cooler. He glanced over at her when she closed the lid.

"All set?"

"Yes. Just let me grab my coat-"

"Nah, sit down for a few minutes. I don't wanna have to sit in traffic."

She sat near him and watched him flip through the seemingly endless parade of perky morning talk shows, game shows and soaps. Finally, he settled on InSession and proceeded to ignore the conversation the three correspondents were having about a trial Kelly had never heard of. She closed her eyes and starting running through her mental checklist, assuring herself that she had everything taken care of. What felt like seconds later, he was poking her shoulder.

Her eyes fluttered open. "What?"

"You been asleep for the last forty-five minutes. I'm gonna take the cooler downstairs. I'll be back up for you in a minute."

Kelly nodded and yawned. She rubbed her eyes and got up, pulling on her coat and taking one last look around to make sure she didn't leave anything behind. When she was satisfied that she had everything she picked up the remote to shut off the television when the image caught her eye. Stan and her mother, standing in front of a crowd of reporters. She turned up the volume and sank back down to the edge of the couch.

"...repeat, a body found nearly two weeks ago has been positively identified as that of Kelly Wilton, adopted daughter of Stanley Wilton, director of national youth outreach programs for the Church of Humanity. Mr. Wilton is expected to make a statement in just a few minutes. We don't know at this time if he'll be taking questions-"

The camera focused on Stan and her mother again. He looked much as he always had, except he was wearing a better suit. Her mother looked as though she hadn't slept in weeks. She swayed on her feet, first left, then right. Stan gripped her hand and wrapped it around his arm, stabilizing her for the moment. A stone settled in Kelly's chest.

"I-" His voice cracked. Kelly had heard him practice that sound. He looked down at the podium, then back at the transfixed audience. "I thought I could come up here and make a speech about loss and sorrow and trusting in God, but I can't. Our only daughter is gone."

Her mother choked on a sob. So did Kelly. She saw through Stan's false sentimentality, but seeing her mother looking so fragile, so pained, it was more than she could take.

"C'mon frail..." Victor's voice barely registered. He sat down next to her. "Holy shit."

"I don't have words to describe the shock...the pain." He looked sadly into the camera. "I don't think human beings have invented words for this kind of pain."

"Where's Cody?" Kelly murmured.

"He's a kid-"

"He's a prop to bolster Stan's image as the perfect father. He should be there." She started to tremble. He shifted closer to her.

"On it's own, this senseless tragedy would be enough to cripple any family, but now, so soon after our son's devastating injury-" His voice broke again. "We ask that you keep us in your prayers during this time of trial."

Kelly started shaking her head. It couldn't be happening. She couldn't have heard what she just heard. It had to be a ploy. A way to gain more sympathy from the public. A cruel joke. Anything but the truth.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Within minutes she was so fucking deep insider her own head that he could have set her on fire and she wouldn't have noticed, and for once he was glad. He got up, pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Link."

"I need medical records and I need 'em now." His eyes were fixed on the frail. Watching her as if at any moment she might shatter like glass.

A thick laugh. "Knew you weren't serious about that whole 'hiatus' thing."

His jaw clenched. "Shut the fuck up and find me the goddamn records."

"You caught me on a day when my crystal ball is in the shop. Mind giving me a name and a location?"

Creed growled. "Location is New York State."

"Where-"

"All of it. First name Cody, last name's either Demmer or Wilton."

He heard rapid keystrokes. The press conference was being replayed with commentary from an unseen reporter on the 'mutant angle'. He changed the channel. "Relative of your girl, huh?"

"That any of your business?"

"Just curious, on account of-"

"I don't give a shit why you're curious, it's none of your fucking business. You find the records or not?"

"Nothing under Demmer, but I got two Cody Wiltons. An old man and a kid."

"The kid."

There was a silence. "Damn. He's been in a coma for two days. Initial story on admission was a fall down the stairs. ER doc thought that was bullshit, but it looks like his superiors stepped in before that could be investigated."

"Send me everything you have access too." His eyes were on the frail. She was trembling. Her expression hadn't changed.

"Sent. Look, if-"

He ended the call, then checked his e-mail on the workstation in the apartment. He started everything printing and then went back to the frail. Not that he had a fucking clue what to do for her, but everything in him itched to do something. It was, admittedly, a new impulse. Still, it was one that he didn't question.

He squatted in front of her and studied her eyes. They weren't focused on anything happening in the present, but tears were still falling in slow streams. It occurred to him that he'd never seen her cry so openly before. A feeling akin to a low voltage shock radiated outward from his chest in pulses.

"Frail." There was no flicker of understanding. No indication that she'd even heard him. He brushed carefully at her wet cheeks. She didn't respond to that either. He moved forward and put his lips next to her ear. "I'm gonna get you someplace safe, then I'm going after Stan and I am gonna make him suffer like no one else has ever suffered. There ain't enough walls, or enough guns, or enough guards to keep me out."

No response.

He got up and checked the printer. The thick stack of pages was still coming, but he started to leaf through what was there. In the very beginning were pages of digital photos. The kind that doctors took when they were documenting suspected abuse for the police.

The kid was small, malnourished like the frail had been. The shape of his face was distorted by swelling and bruises. Some of the places had the pulpy appearance of swollen flesh over crushed bone. Another view showed the chest and abdomen. There was a deformation over the ribs on the right side. Hands and fingers were broken, probably in an attempt to fend off the blows. If this kid had fallen down stairs, the stairs had fists and wore heavy boots. Creed could see the pattern of the tread highlighted in blood and bruises.

He flipped forward through endless tests and consultations. The kid still had brain function and so far it was holding steady. He was making efforts to breathe on his own, and for now those efforts were holding steady too. A chance for some kind of recovery, if somebody didn't finish the job first. He dialed Conlon.

"Con-"

"Know anybody who can blend in at a hospital?"

Silence. "Maybe. Why?"

Creed sketched the particulars.

"Shit. How's Kelly?"

"How d'you think she is?"

"I have a couple ideas."

"Set it up. Fast."

He ended the call. They needed to get the fuck out of there. He turned off the TV and grasped the frail's upper arm carefully. "C'mon. We gotta go." He lifted and she got to her feet. She was trembling but she followed where he lead. Told him that she wasn't completely gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Creed drove north through Wisconsin. From the road, he called Joe, just to make sure he knew the reports of her death had been exaggerated. Thankfully, the old woman hated television and hadn't seen the broadcast. Joe would tell her what was going on before some well-meaning neighbor could. He wasn't sure how the old bitch was gonna take it, but that was Joe's concern.

He ate lunch when he changed vehicles, he even managed to get her to take a couple of bites. The rest of the time she spent curled up against the passenger door, her eyes unfocused but directed toward the scenery slipping by. Luxury car or rusty green pick-up, her position didn't change. He tried to ask questions, to draw her out somehow. Nothing worked.

She was never one to fill the silent spaces with too much chatter, but this time the silence was driving him fucking nuts. Maybe because her pain was so palpable.

"I tell you where we're going?"

She was silent, her eyes still toward the window.

He gave a little shrug. "It ain't much. In fact the whole fuckin' town ain't much. It's got a shitty bar, a general store and a gas station. Kinda place people pass through or disappear in." He glanced over at her. Some of the tension might have started to ease in her shoulders. Might've been his imagination too. "Cabin's a rental. It's small. Probably looks like a fuckin' shack compared to my other places."

The more he talked the more stupid he felt. He knew she was going to hate the place, and he knew that she wouldn't say a word about it and no matter what he said, none of that was going to change. Especially not when he couldn't even be certain she could hear him. He let the silence deepen again and let it stay that way while he followed the scenic route toward Minnesota and the Canadian border beyond.

He looked at the clock again and saw it was around ten. Conlon would already be at the rendezvous point. He still had another couple of hours to go.

"I was in the car with him." Her voice was flat, alien. Her eyes were still fixed on the darkness outside the window.

A sharp glance over at her. "With who?"

A little tremor went through her. "My father." That same flat tone. "It was nearly nine at night. My mother sent him to the grocery store for milk and eggs and I wanted to go. She said no, but he told her it would be fine and hustled me out the door. The store was only a couple of minutes away."

She drew a ragged breath. He could smell her tears, but he kept his eyes fixed on the road.

"We were singing a song I had learned at camp. The Cannibal King. He was pretending not to know the words."

He ventured another glance. A little smile touched her lips and then faded.

"I don't remember the crash itself, but we were hit on the driver's side. After...everything was quiet for a minute, like time stopped. Then I smelled the blood and heard him moaning. His head was-" Her voice broke. "I started screaming. He told me it would be alright, then he made me promise to take care of Cody until he got better."

"Frail-"

"I didn't!" The flat tone in her voice was replaced with pain.

"Bullshit!" He stopped in the middle of the quiet road and turned to her.

"It's not!" She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with anger.

"And just what the fuck have you been doing since Stan came into the picture? Sittin' back, staying out of harm's way?" He was angry too. Angry at how one pompous ass could presume to take so much from what was his.

Some of the fire faltered. "No, but-"

"No. You been putting yourself between Stan and the kid. You might've gotten used to me cutting you a little when I fuck you, but I know damn well you're not a masochist. So why'd you do it?"

"Cody was a baby, he didn't deserve-"

"And you did?"

"Of course I didn't! That's not-"

"So you did what you promised no matter what it cost you."

"Not this time!" She turned away. A moment later he smelled her tears.

"So how would you change that? Dawes would've killed you, either when you escaped that day I found you or soon after that. If I had let you go that morning you wanted to leave you wouldn't have fared any better and you damn well know it."

She was silent. "It felt so good to be safe for awhile. It's like I forgot..." The words were barely above a whisper. He unhooked her seat belt, grasped her wrist and pulled her across the vinyl bench seat of the old truck. She came to rest against his shoulder. He started driving again.

"What happened to him?" Her voice was quiet, but it was hers again.

"Somebody beat the shit out of him." He felt her tremble. "He's in a coma right now, although it's possible he might come out of it. When we get to where we're staying I'll show you the records if you want."

"How did you get hospital records?"

He smirked a little. "Told you, everything's on a fucking computer somewhere."

"What if Stan finishes the job before Cody has a chance to get better?"

"I got people in there. If the kid's gonna get better, he's got the chance to do it."

She took a deep breath. "Victor-"

"We won't cross the border tonight. After we do it'll take another couple of days to get there."

Kelly recognized the diversion. She didn't push.

*~*~*~*~*~*

At some time in its existence, the Wildwood Cabin Court must have been on something approximating a main road. Kelly didn't want to speculate how long ago that was. The six tiny cabins were located on their own little cul de sac. Even though she knew the road they came in on was less than a quarter of a mile away, the thick trees and snow gave the impression that they were in the middle of nowhere.

Victor stopped next to the office. Kelly moved to get out, but Victor grabbed her arm.

"Stay."

She nodded and watched through the window as Victor talked to an old man in a patched plaid bathrobe. He got back into the truck and drove past another occupied cabin.

"Conlon." He answered the question before she had a chance to ask it.

"He's coming with us?"

He swung the truck around so that it was facing the exit before he stopped in front of the last cabin. It was slightly larger than the others. "He'll be in the area. Where we're going is so goddamn far from anything that I don't want to have to wait for him to get there if I have to leave."

He got out of the truck, so did Kelly. She jumped when she heard snow and frozen gravel crunching somewhere in the darkness. Victor scented the air, then went back to taking things out of the truck. "Might be wise to announce yourself."

"Thought you'd be here earlier." He took the bags from Victor's hands.

"Shit happens." He unlocked the door. Conlon turned the lights on. "Anyplace around here to get something to eat at this hour?"

"Bar about five miles north of here."

Kelly went into the bathroom. The two men would decide whatever they were going to decide. All she knew was that she was mentally and physically exhausted and hadn't had a bathroom break in what felt like forever. The small space was scrubbed clean, but the fixtures were out of date. A portion of the ceramic times were cracked, and whoever had painted the top third of the walls had trailed some celery green paint over the tops of the white tile. Someone still made an effort to keep the place up, even if it was an imperfect effort.

She washed her face with cool water and looked at herself in a mirror clouded with age. Logically, she knew she bore no guilt about Cody, that didn't keep her from feeling it. She just hoped that she wasn't wearing it on her face when she emerged. Victor stretched out on the bed, dwarfing the piece of furniture. A little smile touched her lips.

"Where's Conlon?"

"Getting us some dinner and don't tell me you ain't hungry."

She smiled a little more. "Actually, I'm kind of hungry."

*~*~*~*~*~*

He let her eat first, then he handed her the medical file minus the photo pages. The listing of injuries was enough, she didn't need to see every bruise in living color. He could see that she wanted to cry, but in her conscious state, she held back the tears, replaced them with anger. It was another coping mechanism he knew well, and it pissed him off to see her have to use it.

She nodded off, fully clothed, with pages spread out around her on the bed. He was relatively sure that she didn't understand half of what she read. Didn't seem to matter to her, she'd just kept scanning the pages until she couldn't stay awake any longer. He collected the pieces of the file, undressed, and got her out of her clothes. She mumbled something, but didn't really wake. He knew the deep exhaustion was mostly emotional. Didn't matter, as long as she got some rest. She settled easily next to him, and her scent sweetened.

Tomorrow, he would make sure that she called the grandparents. Make sure they know she's still alive.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Kelly woke up to Victor shaking her shoulder. She groaned.

"What time is it?" Her voice was a gravelly mumble.

"Almost seven-thirty. Get dressed. I want to be outta here by eight."

"Need a shower." She held the sheet over her breasts and grabbed her clothes.

"Tonight." He paused. She could feel his eyes on her. He knelt on the bed behind her. "How's your back?"

"It's okay." She rubbed at her eyes and sat still, allowing him to do what he wanted. He took the dressing off. She heard him sniff the air.

"Looks good." He grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled her head back and to the side. She giggled when he nipped the side of her neck.

"Thought you wanted to leave by eight?" She turned and paused, her mouth just inches from his.

He grinned and kissed her hard. "Think I can't fuck you and be out of here in forty minutes?"

"I'd need a shower." She kissed his lower lip softly.

He moved back, fangs poking at his lower lip. "Maybe I'll let you blow me in the truck instead. Get dressed."

Kelly washed up and dressed. A strong wind buffeted the back of the cabin, making her shiver with anticipated cold. When was making sure she hadn't left anything behind, she noticed how threadbare the rest of the place was. Like the bathroom though, everything was clean and cared for. It was sad in a way. Once she was satisfied that she had everything, she stepped out onto the narrow porch with her bag. Victor was fussing with the cooler.

"What'd you do, pack all the food in the damn house?"

"No, just everything that would fit." She set her bag down in the bed of the truck. She raised her eyes to the thick brush across from the cabins. A movement caught her eye. She looked more closely and saw the outline of a crouching figure. "Victor!"

A gunshot rang out as he turned to look at her. His temple exploded. A warm spray of blood and tissue covered her face and the front of her coat. He hit the truck and then the ground, a red puddle forming around his head.

"Get back inside!" Conlon shouted. Another shot and he fell, blood soaking his thigh, then another hit him in the shoulder. The gun he held spun across the frozen gravel. He struggled toward it, trailing blood across the snow.

Kelly turned and came face to face with two men wearing white, black, gray and blue wintertime camouflage, their faces covered by ski masks. She turned and tried to run, but they grabbed her and lifted her off of her feet. She fought as best she could and managed to land a solid kick to the side of one's knee. She was rewarded with a scream of pain, but his grip didn't waver.