The boy shakes his head. ‘He said you would. That it was a lead, like the weight.’ A shrug. ‘I’m sorry, Care. Really, I am. When I realized what was happening … That they wanted to frame you …’
He sniffs and Care leans in to embrace him, for real this time. He doesn’t pull back as he has before. Instead, he falls against her, crying easily like a child, and she coos like a much older woman as she rocks him back and forth. Outside, the day is fading, and I suspect that these children will both sleep soon. But now that I have drunk, I am aware again of hunger. Dusk was made for hunting, and so I slip by them, invisible in the darkness, to peer out of the doorway.
The city is quiet here and I can hear the rustling of rodents. The few human footfalls have slowed to a walking pace. Still, I slink down the alley, my body low, my dark fur hidden in the shadows. And there I see them, the two who hunted us – the smaller man and the brute with the bloody face. It is dark here in the shadows, and their eyes do not work like mine. Even as they crane around, I do not worry about them seeing me. I can watch them here in peace.
And so I do, piecing together the histories revealed by their voices and their clothes. The stories told by their scents and the way they hold their bodies. They are waiting, and so I wait too, even as my stomach growls in protest.
Their voices rise in greeting as a third figure walks up to join them. A tall man, in finer clothes, nods at their greeting and turns to survey the scene. He cannot see me, any more than they could, and yet I freeze, my breath seizing up inside me.
I know this man. I have seen him, standing on the shore as I was drowning.
EIGHT
I will not flee. I have been a hunter long enough to know how motion draws the eye, and the thought of these three spying me, alone, in this alley makes my fur rise. As it does, I sink low, to listen and to watch.
‘Talk to me.’ The newcomer – the one I recognize – doesn’t waste words. His voice has the tone of command, and his two colleagues exchange a nervous glance.
‘It’s all good, boss.’ The red-faced hoodlum, the one I’ve scratched, is trying to sound confident.
‘Really.’ It’s a question. Even I hear that, and the two look at each other in panic. The newcomer doesn’t see this. Doesn’t have to, I assume. He’s bending over a match as he lights a cigarette. The brief flare of sulfur reaches me as it catches. More interesting is the quick glimpse I catch of his face, the deep lines around a wide mouth. He’d be handsome were he not marked by his cruelty.
‘Fat Peter’s not going to squawk to anybody. Not anymore.’ The red-faced one again, trying to bluff. ‘Randy and I took care of that.’
‘And?’ The boss releases a cloud of smoke in the brute’s face.
‘The girl showed up, acting like she knew him. Maybe he tried to turn her out.’ My ears flip forward. They are talking about Care. ‘Maybe he did.’
‘That would be most fitting.’ He pauses to pick a fleck of tobacco from his tongue. I find the gesture cat-like and most disturbing. ‘If you had her.’
‘Not a problem, boss.’ The other man, Randy, has a face like a rat I met once. He looks up at his boss, like some dog expecting to be hit. ‘We’ll get her – Brian and me will. AD’s sent the boy to her. The boy will find her – and he’ll rat her out. He’ll do it for nothing, for a hit of scat. He’s got a taste for it, he has. From his mama. Then me and Brian will take care of the rest.’
My instincts are good, but at times I must fight them. I want to run. To seek Care out and make for safety. To take her away from that child who would betray her. Tick – this Randy must be speaking of the boy who led her into that basement. Led her, I now see, into a trap. Rat, indeed. My tail twitches at the word.
But they are still speaking, and I cannot risk rousing their attention by my movements. Stilling my tail – how unnatural that feels – I begin to back away, ever so slowly. And stop myself as realization dawns. I cannot afford to miss any of their planning. How they decide to spring this trap may be vital to avoiding it.
‘The boy will come back,’ Randy is explaining. ‘AD sent him with us, ’cause he knows her. They ran away together, he said. He took them in at the same time.’
‘Yeah? And how can you be so sure he’ll rat her out?’ The red-faced one has his bluster back now that someone else is on the hot seat.
‘She took off without him,’ Randy says, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. ‘Besides, he needs the stuff.’
‘Good work.’ The boss extends a match, its flash highlighting Randy’s rodent face. He takes the light, his thin cheeks sucking in to get his gasper started. But even as he inhales, his eyes dart up to the boss man. He’s smoking to calm his nerves as well as his fraying lungs. The muscle popping along his jawline … the way his forehead is knitted. Signs of tension. He’s doing the boss’s bidding but he is still afraid.