Chapter 4

© Copyright 2005 by Elizabeth Delayne



The night was alive with the sound of nature ... crickets, a dog in the distance. But still it was quiet, so much more so then it had ever been in her life. She had never been so aware of her heart beat, her breath.

Dressed in black, Nicole crept across the clearing that surrounded Jason’s house and reached the kitchen door without making a sound. She fumbled with the door and paused, breathed deep. It had been a long time since she’d used her tools. She had to get her wits together. One wrong move and she would end up back in prison.

Of course, caught or not, in the end Jason would know ... and he could always turn her in.

The locks were dealt with, then the security system. It was all pitifully simple, despite the amount of money he’d obviously put behind it. She’d learned from the best.

Unfortunately.

She stopped and listened, fully aware that she was entering the domain of a cop. Knowing that he slept not two doors away from her brother. He would have the ears of a cop.

He would have a weapon.

She crept through the house, her breath short, controlled. The steps were tricky, because she hadn’t walked them, but one rarely had the chance to learn the tricks for breaking into a house. She’d spent the evening watching, hidden in the shadows of the woods. She knew their rooms, for she’d watched them go up, go to bed.

The lights were off, the night was dark.

She dropped down, listened, and slowly turned the knob to his door. All stayed silent. He lay in the bed, sprawled ... much as he had as a teen.

This, she thought, was her brother. The way she remembered. Even in sleep his brows drew together in frustration. As he had ... as they always had.

She crept close, until she stood over him. She wanted to touch his face, to touch him. The awkward hug they’d shared. It wasn’t enough.

But a simple touch wasn’t something she could risk.

From her pocket, she pulled the note, set in on his bedside table on top of his watch. He wouldn’t miss the intent. She took the ruby earrings that were fashioned into tiny crosses, and held them tight in her fist. She might never see them again. And they were all she had of her mother.

But it was one gift she was willing to give him. She hoped that it would keep him from turning her in. She’d already lost them once, and she’d broken her new moral code only one other time after being released from prison, and that was to sneak in to her father’s home and take back what was hers.

She carefully placed them in front of the note. One at a time.

Then she stood over him ... and hesitated. He took his troubles with him into sleep.

And she carried hers with her, in her heart, as she slipped back out of the room.

* * *

Jason blinked awake.

The past didn’t belong here. Not now.

He stared up at the ceiling and watched as a shadow played across from the moonlight. The air seemed to prickle with anticipation. He sighed, feeling the empty pit in his stomach.

As if he should be making a decision. As if he had somewhere to go, something to do.

He pushed up, braced his arms behind him. He needed a good workout—he needed ...

Then he caught sight of the note on his night stand. The note and earrings. Earrings that were more illusion then reality.

She’d been here, been in here.

While he slept.

He reached out, picked up one of the earrings, and felt the memories cascade over him. His mother ... not a clear picture, not a perfect memory, but her presence ... her smile. She’d really loved to smile.

He weighed the earing in his hand. It matched the necklace perfectly—and made, what had been a simple memory, into a set.

A very valuable set.

Nicole wouldn’t have been the thief she’d become, if she hadn’t of known their value.

He hesitated a moment more before he reached for the letter. The sinking feeling weighed him down. His fingers trembled on the folded paper, just notebook paper, he thought, as he brought it close and slowly opened it.

I wish things could have been different in our lives, but I guess that I understand that we’ve both had to live in the worst of places—and maybe you have to do what you need to do to survive. I wanted you to know that I wouldn’t have stolen from you. That I could have, but that I didn’t.

He could almost see his father standing over him, mocking. Pride, he thought. He had it—and faced that his pride had forced her to risk it all ... for her own pride. She would go back to prison if he turned the letter in.

Pride ... it was one gift his father had given them both. It was one gift he’d taken away with him when he left.

* * *

Nicole wasn’t used to such dark. In New York, even the night was flooded with spots of light. Here ... out here, the night shown down, a moonless night.

She kept close to the road, using the feel of it under her feet as a guide.

She would believe Jason would sleep long and deep. She would be on the 5:45. When he awoke, when he found the note, she would be gone.

Long gone.

From his life....

And maybe, if he chose to remember her, it would be with a trace of wistfulness .... Maybe one day, he would look her up. They would talk ... share things, they hadn’t done or shared this time around.

She stumbled, and as she gripped, she missed the sound of the engine, until the car ‘s headlights caught her in their path.

She turned, stared into the blinding light, then took off for the woods.

The breaks squealed as the car abruptly stopped. The driver was out, upon her. Nicole ran, harder, faster.

She was out of shape. What a time to realize she needed more--

She felt herself flying forward as her feet stumbled on the uneven ground.

She rolled as she hit the ground and, out of breath, turned to face her brother.

Instead, she came face to face with her father. His face was cast in the shadows of the sharp headlights. He smelled of smoke. Bitter, specialty cigarettes he picked up at a little shop with ties to the black market.

Her stomach rolled.

“What are you doing here?”

“Keeping dibs on my little girl,” he reached out, grabbed onto her as she jumped up. She winced. He had always had a nasty grip.

“What do you want?”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

Though she knew.

“The necklace. Where is it?”

“I don’t know.”

She struggled as he started pawing at her pockets. “Stop—stop it! I don’t have the necklace.”

“You can’t tell me you came all this way and broke into his house without it getting it.”

“I’m not you.”

“You are more than you think. You were always willing to follow in my footsteps.”

He jerked her back, shifted his weight, and she felt it–the sharp prick of a knife at her gut.

“Now where is it?”

“I left them there,” she muttered, her voice hot and bitter. “The necklace, the earrings, everything. I left them so he would have them.”

“Liar.”

She remained still, feeling the sweat trickle at her neck. She knew what her father was capable of. “You can go back, see for yourself.”

“You’re going to go back,” he said, as he started dragging her back tot he car, “and bring them out. Bring them to me.”

“No-“ she struggled and suddenly the knife was back, and all was still. She stared at him, stared at her father, and saw nothing in his eyes. No life, no bitterness ... she was nothing to him. He would do with her what he chose.

For the couple of thousand the necklace set would bring.

And with her gone ... Dusty would have no one.

She was back where she’d started, years ago ... at the beginning of the long and winding trail that had taken her to prison.

The sound of an engine startled them both. He pulled her the rest of the way, but as they reached the car, she wrenched back. This was her one chance–her only chance.

And he plunged the knife into her.

She stared at him, in shock, in terror as the pain slowly began to reach through. She put a hand to her stomach, felt the warmth of blood. And watched as he climbed into the car, a silhouette in the beam of the oncoming lights.

* * *

In the distance, Jason saw the car–saw the figure climbing in. And the figure, the shape, was one that had haunted his dreams for over a decade. He gunned the engine and screeched to a stop just as the car flew back.

“Hey!” he jumped out, then watched in horror as the car veered forward ... watched the body fall back from the impact.

And knew it was his sister who fell.

He was still too far back. He ignored the car as it sped away, ran for Nicole. She curled in on herself, her breath wheezing out.

“Nicole,” he murmured as his hands ran over her. They trembled.

“He ...”

“Don’t. Don’t talk. Just don't talk. I saw.” He pulled off his t-shirt, pressed it to the wound, held it there.

“Your house ... he wants...”

“Shh. I got it. I got it taken care of.”

He grabbed his phone. Called 911, his fingers trembling, coated in her blood. It shocked him, for a minute—until he heard the voice of the dispatcher. He fumbled through the information. Listened to the instructions.

He nearly wept as he listened to the instructions. He grabbed on to Nicole’s hand.

Then, without thinking, hung up on the dispatcher.

And called Gabriel.


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