It reminded her of Kane.
Speaking of the other burn patient, Apex, along with Mayhem, was just outside, standing against the locked door by the Executioner’s cold body—
Luke made a noise in the back of his throat as if he were coughing, and she bent down closer to him. She had spent a lot of the time staring at his face, tracing the planes and angles of his cheekbones, his jaw, his brow, with her eyes. It seemed incredibly intimate to look at him like that, without him being aware she was doing so, as if they were separated by a crowd and she was off in a darkened corner, admiring him.
Speculating about his life was unavoidable, and she wondered how he had ended up here, in the drug trade, in a place that had its own pseudo police force. Who were his parents? Where had he grown up?
What would he do after this era in his life was done?
Assuming that his end in this business was not a grave.
Then again, the only way out for him was death. People as deep into the trade as he was didn’t make it out of this alive. And they were killed in brutal ways.
She thought of the Charger in that alley, the driver shot. And then she remembered the dead guy by the fire escape.
And finally, the hired hitman in that apartment—although who could have seen that big dog coming?
Oh, and then there was the Executioner, who she’d shot.
No, Luke was not going to live long enough to retire: He was just one more cog in the machine that had killed not only Rio’s brother, but her whole family.
“I should hate you,” she whispered to Luke.
She should hate him for selling the very drugs that had ruined not merely Luis, but her mother and her father. Because that was the thing about illegal narcotics. You didn’t have to do them to get lost in them.
Sometimes, it just took a son doing the using, and dying because of it, to take down an entire family.
Unable to stay still, she stood up off the mattress and walked around. Her aimless wander took her over to the folding table, and as she looked at the columns of numbers and dollar signs, it was a relief to focus on something else.
This was invaluable evidence, she thought. The question was how to get it out—
The phone. She had that phone.
Glancing back at Luke, she made sure he was still asleep. Then she took the unit out of her pocket. Of course it was locked, but it was an iPhone, so she swiped up from the bottom.
And accessed the camera.
Turning off the ringer switch, to make sure there were no sounds, she pulled some of the ledgers toward her and faced them right side up. The first picture she took was blurry because her hand was shaking. She tried again. Better.
Sitting herself down, she snapped photographs of each page in each stack, trying to get as much in the shot as possible. After she was finished, she moved on to some of the loose papers, which covered things like staffing the production rooms and schedules for the guards. And then there were order forms for bulk food.
“You have to feed everyone,” she murmured. “Of course you do.”
Flour. Sugar. Canned goods.
An abrupt image of the kitchen from The Shining came to mind, Wendy and Danny Torrance being led by Dick Hallorann through the dry storage room, huge cans of vegetables, boxes of cereal, and jugs of sauces lining shelves.
There had to be a mess hall somewhere, she thought. And support staff, workers whose sole job was to feed the others. The logistics were overwhelming—
The knock on the door by the wall was loud, and as she startled, she dropped the phone. Fortunately, the thing landed in her lap, but as the way in opened, she couldn’t put the cell in her pocket without being obvious. She slipped it under her thigh and then made a show of stretching her arms over her head.
“He’s still sleeping,” she said to Mayhem. “Is all that for us? We didn’t finish the first load.”
The guy had another big tray in his hands, with more of that bread and the same cheese on it, along with some Coke and Sprite in cans.
“Figured you’d appreciate some backup grub before you leave.” He put the meal right on the table, on top of the documents. “It’s not much, but it’ll fill your belly okay. Underneath is a bag you can put it all in.”
“Thank you.”
As Mayhem turned to check on his friend, she uncovered the bread with one hand and forced the phone into her pocket with the other.
“I’m not fussy,” she said as she tore off a piece and put it in her mouth. “Oh . . . wow. Still warm.”
“Fresh from the ovens.”
“God, you guys have everything here, don’t you.”
“Enough to keep going, at any rate.” Mayhem smiled at her. “You’re an excellent nurse. He’s looking better already.”
“Is he?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you, Lucan.”
“Is that his full name?” she asked when there was no response. As the guy just shrugged, she glanced at the back door. “You realize I’m not going to leave until he’s better.”
Mayhem nodded. “I figured. And he’s going to want to say goodbye to you.”
“How are things out there? Is everything . . . okay?”
“We’ll find out very soon. The sun’s down now and things are getting busy. Don’t worry, we’ll keep everyone out of here. Besides, you know the code on that back door. I saw you watch me put it in. If shit gets bad, let yourself out and run like your life depends on it. Because it will.”
She cleared her throat and cracked open one of the Cokes. “And this is cold. Funny what you think of as gourmet, huh.”
“Standards change depending on where you are. Well, I’m going to go back out there.” The man retraced his steps across the space and then looked over his shoulder at her. “You holler if you need us.”
“Actually, I was thinking I’d go check outside to make sure the fire is extinguished. What’s the code to get back in again?”