Breaking the Rules

CHAPTER

THIRTY



LAS VEGAS

SATURDAY, MAY 9, 2009


Neesha waited.

Every so often the phone would ring, and she would answer it, hoping it was Danny or Izzy or Eden or Ben, but it was always a lady whose voice she didn’t recognize, and Neesha always said, “No, thank you,” and hung right up.

But then the phone rang, and it was Ben. He was all right—they were all all right, but they were being taken to the hospital. And he wanted Neesha to meet them over there.

He told her that a woman named Lindsey, who looked kind of like Neesha, would come to the door. Neesha should let her in, and she would take Neesha over to the hospital.

And finally, it came.

A knock on the door. A voice, calling from outside. “Neesha? My name is Lindsey. I’m a friend of Ben’s. I have a key, may I use it to unlock the door and come in?”

“Yes,” Neesha said.

And the woman came in, pushing her way around the refrigerator.

She was short, like Neesha, and she had dark hair, like Neesha, and brown eyes similar to Neesha’s. And when she smiled, Neesha was reminded of her mother’s smile.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m Lindsey.” Her hands were empty, and she kept them out and open in front of her. She was also wearing some kind of padded vest that made her look like a baseball umpire.

One of Neesha’s visitors had liked baseball, and always tuned the TV in her room to a game.

“Did you get the pictures I sent to your phone?” she asked.

Neesha shook her head. “I didn’t know how to see them,” she said.

“May I come into the living room?” Lindsey asked. “I can show you …”

“Please close the door behind you,” Neesha said, so Lindsey did before she crossed the apartment, still with her hands out.

She sat on the couch, next to Neesha, taking in the fact of that gun on Neesha’s lap, the same way she’d glanced down the hall and made note of Todd’s body sprawled in front of the bedroom door. She was not afraid, but she was also not a fool.

Continuing to check for Neesha’s permission, she reached for the cell phone and opened it, pushing some of the buttons and … She held it out so that Neesha could see the pictures on the tiny screen.

Yes, that was Lindsey with Izzy and Danny and another, shorter man, and another man with darker hair. “That’s from my wedding,” she told Neesha with a smile. “Izzy and Dan and our other friend, Jay Lopez, they were all best men. My husband, Mark—that’s him.” She pointed to the shorter man who was smiling broadly. “He couldn’t decide who should be his best man, and since he has three best friends, he had three best men. He’s very diplomatic.” She pointed to the dark-haired man. “That’s Jay. He’s outside, with Mark, right now. The three of us will take you to the hospital. With a police escort, of course. But you’ll be in the car with us. And one of us will stay with you, until you feel confident that you’re safe. Is that okay?”

Neesha looked back into Lindsey’s eyes, but didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure yet if it was okay. “Can I keep the gun?” she finally asked.

“No,” Lindsey said.

Neesha nodded. “I didn’t think so. Will I go to jail?”

Lindsey answered the exact same way, with no hesitation. “No.”

“But I’m illegal.”

This time Lindsey didn’t answer quite as quickly. This time, she said, “Is that what they told you? That you’d be arrested because you’re here illegally?”

Neesha nodded. “I saw on the TV news—all the people who hate me.”

But Lindsey was shaking her head. “Neesha, you were brought here against your will. You’re the victim of a terrible crime—you’re not a criminal. And if you want to? You can help the police and the FBI bring charges against the people who hurt you. You can go to court and testify. But only if you want to.”

Neesha looked at Lindsey. “I want to,” she said.

“Good,” Lindsey said. “The first thing you’ll do is look at some pictures and point out the men and women that you recognize—if there are any that you recognize.”

“I don’t have to look at pictures,” Neesha said. “I can just …” She reached over to the paper and pen she’d been using while she’d waited, after Todd was no longer a threat. It had been a long, long time since she’d had either to work with and at first she was rusty, but then she got better. She handed her drawings to Lindsey. “That’s Mr. Nelson, on the top,” she said as Lindsey flipped through the pages. “And a man called Karl and another called Ron. I haven’t seen them at all in the past few years, so maybe they’re dead—”

“They’re not,” Lindsey said. “Neesha, this is …”

“There’s Jake.” Neesha pointed at her drawings. “And a man named Nathan. And Todd. When he still had a face.”

Lindsey looked back at her. “Now I know why they were so desperate to find you.”

“They stopped giving me paper and pencils,” Neesha told her, “when I was twelve. It was the same year I first … met Todd.”

“God.” Lindsey held up the last page. “Who’s this?”

Neesha pointed to the woman she’d drawn. “That’s my mother,” she said, “before she got sick and died. And the man is her father—my grandfather.”

Lindsey nodded. “We can help you find him.”

“He might not want me anymore.”

“If he doesn’t,” Lindsey said, “he’s an idiot. Whatever happens, though? You’ll be safe. I can guarantee that.” She stood up. Held out her hand. “Why don’t you give me that weapon so we can get over to the hospital, get you checked out. You can say hi to Ben …”

Neesha looked up at Lindsey. And handed her the gun.