The Sons of Ladies One: Book Two of the Trinity Trilogy

By C.R. Kwiat

Anger clouds judgment. Sam Lancaster, also known as Sal Trinity, the adopted son of Lord Trinity, has taken the leadership position in the hunt for Rachael. Eric is doing his best to persuade Rachael from taking the offensive against Trinity, because it was this approach that failed when protecting Josh, Number Eight. But Lancaster and Eric go way back, to a time when their mothers competed for the number one position in the cult. They have history, both past and recent.

Running may be the smart thing to do, but sometimes human nature demands otherwise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781300991793

Book preview

The Sons of Ladies One: Book Two of the Trinity Trilogy

Original text © 2015 Catherine Kwiatkowski

1st edition

All rights reserved.

Characters and situations in this book are fictional.

Any name similarities to real individuals are strictly coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in part or in whole, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

Parent ISBN: 978-1-329-74499-8

ISBN: 978-1-300-99179-3

Chapter One

Six a.m. telephone calls hardly ever carried good news. The last time I got an early phone call was eight days ago, when I found out that my father, Detective Stanley Ross, was on administrative leave because Internal Affairs was investigating his relationship with me, his serial-killer son. Having access to police communications was valuable when it came to running and hiding from Lord Trinity’s bounty hunters. My father’s position in the police force had helped save my ass many times over the years. Now it was going to be even harder to keep my girlfriend, Rachael, safe from the zealously-religious, human-sacrificing psychotics hunting her.

The guilt of handcuffing Rachael to the bed had me tossing and turning all night, so the phone call hadn’t woken me. Why couldn’t she just promise not to run off? We’d both get better rest. I flopped my hand onto the hotel’s bedside table and fumbled with the cell phone for a moment before reading that the call was from Walker’s new pay-as-you-go phone.

Walker, what’s up? I mumbled.

When there was a pause, I was worried it wouldn’t be Walker’s voice on the other end. Perhaps Sam Lancaster was on the other side, wanting to trade Walker for Rachael.

Lancaster...now the number one in charge of finding Rachael and bringing her to the altar where she would be cut open and sacrificed by Bruce Rankin, the blood-thirsty madman who performed all of Lord Trinity’s sacrifices. I’ve been enemies with Lancaster ever since I can remember. My first memory of him was when I was four years old in Lord Trinity’s village, playing dinosaurs in the sand. He came up, claimed that dinosaurs never existed, then stomped my hand as I was holding my T-Rex, breaking two fingers. I cried then; and I cried later that week when he punched me in the nose, saying it was his right to punch me in the nose since his mother was now Lord Trinity’s Lady One. My mother was demoted to Two because of me, the son who didn’t put much effort into worshiping the God of Power. I was going to hell, he told me. That statement had me tossing and turning at night until I was five, when I saw him standing on the sacrificial altar with his mother, proudly watching his one-year-old sister being offered up to the God of Power. Then I knew who was really going to hell.

Eighteen years later when Lancaster violated Rachael and I was forced to listen from the other room, I decided to be the one who would send him there.

Bad news, Walker’s voice sighed on the other end. I waited silently for the rest of the message, wondering if the news was about Dad or the new hero in our little group, Doug Altman. All three were together, along with Rachael’s mother, Sharon, as they scoped out one of the companies in which Lord Trinity heavily invested. Since Dad lost access to important financial advisors when he was put on administrative leave, the company’s ruin had to come from external sources, such as arsonists sabotaging key buildings, or bad rumors that might send stock plummeting.

Tracy Altman’s dead.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. How?

She was found in a ditch not too far from their ranch. Abdomen cut open. A few organs cut out.

I quickly stood up from the bed, glancing in Rachael’s direction as I pulled up a pair of soccer shorts over my briefs. She wasn’t pretending to be asleep. From the dim light seeping around the edges of the thick curtain, I could tell her eyes were wide with worry.

What? she asked anxiously. Is everyone okay?

I gave her a nervous smile and didn’t answer. Instead I turned away and hurried toward the door.

Eric? Rachael’s voice rose, barely maintaining composure. What happened? Is Mom alright?

She’s fine, I answered as I swiped my hand across the dresser to grab a key card, knocking Rachael’s birth control pills to the floor. I scooped them up and threw them by the sink. Be back in a sec. I could hear her growling angrily, jerking her handcuffed hand in frustration as I left the room. The hallway was vacant, as I hoped it would be at six in the morning.

Was she at the ranch when they nabbed her? I asked.

Yep, Walker answered. Both of Doug’s sisters were spending the night in the house. No one was fooled by the For Sale sign or the moving van. Tracy was taken in the night; Anna Lee was knocked out, tied up, and locked in a closet. The authorities found her after they found Tracy in a ditch.

My Aunt Stephanie in New Mexico was going to try the same thing – a fake selling of the house in an attempt to keep her property safe. I’m calling Steph to tell her to get the hell out of Gila.

Your dad already did. She’ll be joining us tomorrow in Boston.

I hesitated. How’s Doug? Doug wasn’t my favorite person, especially since I was fairly certain he had an eye for Rachael; but I certainly felt his loss. To lose a sister.... I understood the pain he would be going through.

Changed, Walker replied quietly after a moment of thought.

How do you know? I asked, expecting such a response.

I can see it in his eyes.

I nodded, though I knew Walker couldn’t see me. Don’t let him go to the funeral.

We’ve already had that fight. I’m not sure I convinced him.

Tell him he’s out if he goes. If he’s going to be that stupid, we don’t need him.

I’ll pass the word.

You do that. I sighed, then stared in silence at the wallpaper. I have Rachael cuffed. She tried to run off for California two nights ago.

Walker smirked, You’re kidding. Still won’t give up the plan?

She’s stubborn.

Hmm. Walker paused in thought. Has her plan improved any?

I felt my teeth clench together in anger and held back a growl. She’s kept the suicidal part.

The part where she visits Lord Trinity in prison during visiting hours, provoking him so that he arranges a positive parole hearing.

She’s convinced he has enough power to get himself out, but I don’t know.

Walker paused. He might.

She wants to crawl right into the lion’s den when she should be hopping a jet to get out of the country.

Maybe there’s a compromise. Maybe she’ll let us hire a no name to go in and deliver a message. Our messenger can tell him that Rachael’s in the parking lot, mocking his inability to capture her.

I laughed humorlessly. You don’t think I’ve brought up all the alternatives I could think of? She’s convinced it has to be her, face to face.

Walker sighed on the other end of the phone. Keeping her your prisoner may backfire, making her even more determined. Somehow you’ve go to convince her to trust what we’re doing so she doesn’t run off the second your back is turned. Agree to her plan or something, but tell her it has to wait.

I ran my fingers through my hair and scratched my head, hating my predicament. I’ve been keeping my love a prisoner...the only woman who has ever made me completely happy, the only woman who’s filled a hole in my heart with pure love. I wasn’t worthy of such a woman. In return for her love, I gave her bruises on her wrist.

Give Doug my sympathies, but then burn the company down and get to the next. The larger the hole we make in Lord Trinity’s pocketbook, the less we’ll need a face-to-face.

Yeah, Walker replied, sounding weary. We’re on it.

Call me if Doug still gives you problems. Maybe I can talk sense into him.

Can do. Be safe.

Same to you.

I closed the phone and turned toward the door, not certain if I wanted to face Rachael. Finding out about Tracy’s death would add to her guilt. How can someone being hunted feel so guilty about the incidental casualties? They weren’t her fault.

I swiped the key card and reentered the dark room. Rachael was now sitting with her back against the headboard.

I want you to let me out of this handcuff so I can punch you properly, she said, refusing to look at me.

A brief smile crept onto my face at her threat. Her nineteen-year-old, slender frame wasn’t going to do much damage. For?

For walking out into the hall instead of letting me listen.

I flipped on the hallway light and looked for the key to the handcuffs on the television. I’m done keeping you chained up, I commented moodily as I grabbed the key and walked up her side of the bed. Her long, messed-up brown hair looked incredibly sexy, and I had a hard time not breaking character. I wanted nothing more than to bury my mouth and nose into her neck and start making love to her. But at the moment there were more important things than self-gratification. I needed to deliver a guilt trip. "If you want to run off despite everyone’s sound advice, then you really don’t love me." I sat down beside her, hiding how pleased I was with my accusation. I could tell she was irritated with what I was saying.

Of course I love you.

But yet the one thing in the world that I want...to be with you and to keep you safe...you don’t care about.

Her shoulders dropped and she looked at me impatiently. Stop it. You’re just saying this to keep me from running off.

I unlocked her cuff and unwrapped her wrist from a dry washrag that made her captivity more comfortable. I raised her delicate, reddened wrist to my lips and gave it a gentle kiss. If you ran off on me, I think my heart would shrivel up and die. I looked into her deep green eyes and felt my heart race, just like the first time I saw her eyes close-up in her calculus classroom three and a half months ago, looking up at me, annoyed and embarrassed because I had stared too long at the scar running along the length of her jaw, compliments of her father, Lord Trinity...because of me. She had looked away so quickly to read the assignment off the board, I felt deprived of a spectacular show; but now that we were together, I was able to gaze as long as I wished into her gorgeous green eyes.

Tell me what happened, she whispered, appearing equally entranced by my boring, dark brown eyes.

My gaze dropped to the blankets. Leave it to Rachael to ruin a perfect moment. It’s nothing you should worry about, I answered. Walker, Doug, Dad, your mom...they’re all quite safe, just trying to figure out what to do to give Lord Trinity a pay cut. She looked back at me suspiciously, so I turned and stood up with a huff. So much for sleeping in, I said, trying to change the subject.

You don’t call someone at six in the morning to ask advice.

I didn’t look at her when I answered her. She was too good at reading lies in my eyes. It’s eight where they are. Walker was just being thoughtless.

I walked between the beds and opened the bedside table’s drawer to retrieve my gun. Every time Rachael and I took a shower, I brought it with me, laying it on the tank of the toilet. Should we shower? I asked casually as I picked up the gun.

I don’t think so, she answered innocently, surprising me.

I looked at her, trying to figure out what she was up to. We always showered together. It was by far the best part of my day because it often led to other fun and fascinating activities. Was she already going to sprint for the door as soon as my back was turned?

She smiled a little too mischievously. You go on ahead without me. I need to wake up a little more.

That’s what a shower is good for, I reasoned with her. To wake up.

She shrugged. I’m staying in bed a little longer. Maybe I’ll watch a little television.

Television?

I watched in silence as she stretched across the bed to pick up the remote on the bedside table. Maybe there’s a good movie on this morning. She clicked on the television and started running through the channels. When she paused a long moment on the local Tucson news, I realized instead of plotting an escape, she might instead be searching... searching for a reason for Walker’s call. There actually was a risk of Tracy’s death being on the news, having been so brutal and so close to the sacrificial altar that was uncovered by authorities only three and a half weeks prior.

Or maybe she was just denying me sex in retaliation for keeping things from her.

Maybe I’ll watch with you, I announced, returning my gun to the drawer and sitting beside her. After a brief glance in my direction that shouted she didn’t want me there, she stopped on the Los Angeles news, but luckily they were doing a human interest story on dog psychics. Next stop: national news out of New York. I definitely wanted to avoid national news.

Flip it back to the local news, I requested. I need to get to know the roadways in case we have to make a quick getaway. Traffic’s coming up. Actually, I had no idea if traffic was about to be covered, but six-thirty was the beginning of rush hour in a big city. Educated guess.

With a bothered sigh, she flipped back to the Tucson news, and I was quite comforted when they were doing little, unimportant pieces about new construction projects at University of Arizona. I closed my tired eyes, my mind wandering to Tracy Altman. She had helped Rachael escape a tavern surrounded by Lord Trinity’s men by disguising Rachael as a postal worker, then Tracy lost her job because of it. She was worried about her little brother, Doug, joining the fight against Lord Trinity, afraid he would get killed; and now she was the one who ended up dead...cut open as if she was a sacrifice herself. Had to be Bruce Rankin who did it. It took a special sick person to be able to do such a thing.

Eric, Rachael said, a slight panic in her voice. Listen.

I opened my eyes to see a female reporter in front of a hotel amongst several hundred people.

...six of the nine hotels have had pipe bombs explode in various rooms, but no injuries were reported. The remaining three hotels are being searched... The reporter touched her ear as though she was listening to new information. More bomb threats in four more hotels have been reported within the last fifteen minutes in the same area. It appears the attackers, who have not yet claimed responsibility, are hitting nearly every hotel along the highway from West I-10 to East I-10...

I jumped out of bed and rushed toward the window where I peered at the parking lot two stories below. Our hotel was downtown near the university, so if the evacuations were meant to flush us from our hiding spot, we probably had some time. It seemed Rachael already knew what it all might mean, because she was already at her duffle bag, slipping on her jeans.

See anybody? she asked, removing her oversized nightshirt and quickly replacing it with her bra and form-fitting T-shirt.

I searched for movement. I could only make out a couple leaving in the dim light, suitcases in hand. Maybe tourists; maybe they had just planted a bomb. Nothing too suspicious.

"Do you think there’s any possible way they could have tracked us all the way from Wyoming to Phoenix to Tucson?"

I rushed away from the window to my own bag to dig out a shirt. There’s always a possible way, I commented quietly, yanking a black shirt from the top of my bag. Everything’s packed?

Toiletries and gun are left, she answered before reluctantly adding, and handcuffs, I suppose. She knew if we caught one of Lord Trinity’s men, rope was less reliable. She swung her bag onto the bathroom’s counter and started throwing things in as I grabbed a holster and a jacket from my bag.

I quickly retrieved my gun and began to release the remaining cuff from the bed as Rachael threw on a blonde wig and tucked her hair under. She grabbed my long, brown-haired wig with a pony tail and threw it to me just as the fire alarm sounded. Rachael and I froze, staring at each other.

What do we do? Rachael asked before swallowing nervously.

The question had an obvious answer. Being so high up on the ‘Wanted’ list, I had to avoid the police at all costs. We evacuate before the cops arrive. I can handle one or two of Lord Trinity’s men easier than a police force or SWAT team. I quickly shoved the gun into my holster and covered it with my jacket, then placed the wig on my head.

Time to ditch yet another car. Someone was certain to review the hotel’s parking lot surveillance tapes, looking for cars leaving in a hurry. Potential bomber.

As we rushed into the hall with our bags slung over our shoulders, I laughed to myself. I wouldn’t put it past Lord Trinity to somehow tie me to all the bombs exploding that morning. Maybe I would be called the ‘hotel bomber’ now.

What’s so funny? Rachael asked, noticing the look on my face as we hurried down the hall to the stairs.

Believe me...absolutely nothing, I replied, shaking my head.

More and more doors opened as curious occupants peered out to see if it was a false alarm. I slipped my hand under my jacket and took hold of my gun as we descended the interior stairs with about twelve others who were still in their pajamas. Three couples had kids with them, so my attention was focused on the others.

Stay close, I whispered to Rachael as we approached the ground floor exit. Keep your eyes open for men who appear they are searching.

She nodded as I pushed the exit door open. Let them go first, I said politely, nodding toward a family behind us with two young boys.

We stood on each side of the door and let the parents and boys pass, then walked closely behind them, appearing as though we were part of the family...though we were already dressed and packed, unlike the others.

I spotted a large man in the neighboring fast food restaurant’s parking lot, leaning against the hood of the car, watching the commotion. It was too dark to make out any features of the man, but I could tell his eyes were focused on us as we walked to our cheap red sedan and opened the doors.

You see anyone? I asked Rachael as I turned the key to start the car.

Man leaning against a hood in the parking lot behind us.

Yep. Rachael’s senses had sharpened ever since she was on the run. She was now as paranoid as I was. Anyone else?

She shook her head. No one I can see, but the lot seems too crowded for such an early hour.

Keep an eye on our man as we drive onto the street.

I turned on our headlights and backed out slowly, parting the crowd that was congregating, then I placed the car in drive. What’s he doing?

Rachael was straining her neck to see in the darkness. He looks like he’s talking on a cell phone.

I held my breath for a moment. Watch the other cars. Are any pulling out?

I waited anxiously for her answer as I slowly weaved my way through the pedestrians fleeing the building.

An SUV, three cars away from him.

I nodded. I’m guessing the one with the phone determines which couples get followed. There are probably a few more drivers in the lot, waiting for a job.

Rachael turned forward, and I could hear a subtle fear in her voice when she spoke. The SUV…I can’t tell what color it is or see the license plate.

Just keep an eye on it. See if it follows us. Maybe our imagination is just getting the best of us.

She flipped open the glove box and pulled out a hand mirror, then lifted it to see behind us. Where are we going to go?

Poor neighborhood.

She glanced at me curiously. Not the highway.

I shook my head with a smirk. They’re all over the highway, bombing hotels.

So what’s in a poor neighborhood?

Cars that smell like marijuana.

She smiled. Ah...memories.

I laughed as she readjusted her mirror. She tossed her wig hair to the side as if she was fixing it. I was finally at the parking lot’s exit, but two police cars were coming up the road with their lights flashing. I turned in the opposite direction, then pulled over to the side of the road as if I was an innocent driver trying to get out of the way. The tension in the car was thick as we watched the approaching cars in silence. Turn, I repeated inside my head. The possibility was real that they might keep us there for questioning. I noticed the SUV pull out from the parking lot behind us, then pull over to let the police pass. The cops paid him no notice.

The first cop car pulled into the hotel parking lot, but the second pulled up directly behind us and placed their spotlight on us. I swallowed nervously and readjusted my jacket so that my gun didn’t show while Rachael lowered the mirror to her lap.

You don’t shoot cops, right? Rachael asked without looking at me. She glanced in her side-view mirror as the officer in the car behind us opened the door and got out of his car.

I will if I have to, I answered quietly.

Avoid it, she whispered. "Please."

I nodded. Of course.

This was why I was in so much love with Rachael. When it came to matters of the soul, she was genuinely good inside and out, just like her mother, Sharon. Both Rachael and Sharon saved me from the evil thoughts that wanted to devour me. Rachael did it as I contemplated shooting an innocent cop; Sharon did it when I was growing up. I spent considerable time at Sharon’s house in the village, where she was ranked number ten by Lord Trinity...the least favored of his ten women. I especially loved to listen to her sing to her baby daughter (tattooed with a 9 because Lady Seven had a miscarriage and all the babies from Seven to Ten were moved down a number, giving one of my twin sisters the honor of being Ten). Sharon and I would talk as she helped me take care of my two younger sisters. It was because of her that I learned to distinguish right from wrong. Perhaps that’s why I was so different from Lancaster. I had a moral teacher; he did not.

I relaxed my arms as the officer approached Rachael’s window and tapped. There was no reason to shoot the man when I could simply drive off, I decided.

Rachael rolled down the window. Yes, Officer? May I help you? She sounded amazingly calm. It was a proud moment.

His small flashlight drifted from her face, to mine, back to hers.

Is my taillight out again? I asked curiously. I switched the bulb out last weekend, but now I’m beginning to think there’s a problem with the wires.

His flashlight returned to my face. Taillight’s fine. Where you headed?

To an interview, I answered. There’s a position open in the U of A Fine Arts Department and they’re treating us to an early breakfast before the interview. Fine arts...I looked the part with the long-haired wig.

He nodded. May I see your driver’s license?

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet, then inconspicuously sifted through two or three licenses until I found the one with me wearing my long brown wig. I handed it over to him.

Dr. Brandt, he read. He looked behind him at the hotel, then returned his attention to us. We need you to move your car. We have a situation.

They’re evacuating the hotel, Rachael said innocently, looking past the officer. Is there a fire?

No, ma’am. Just a bomb threat. Probably nothing, but the fire trucks need to park here.

Yes, sir, I answered. I hope everything works out.

Good luck with the interview, he said in parting before turning and walking toward the hotel. His car remained parked as a blockade to keep the others from entering or leaving the parking lot. I could see several more emergency vehicles pull onto the road from the street corner behind us with lights flashing.

As I pulled back onto the street, my eyes watched the SUV in the rearview mirror. It quickly pulled out from the curb, cutting off a fire engine. We’re definitely being followed, I said, feeling a familiar hatred and anger surge inside me. Only three and a half weeks had passed since Rachael had been cut on the altar, and already we were on the run again.

I saw, Rachael said, her voice quiet with worry. They just cut in front of a fire engine. Her hands drifted to her abdomen where she now had a fresh scar, four inches long.

Don’t worry, I said, determined. They’re not taking you away from me again. I turned onto Second Street, which led through the university.

Where are you going?

Haven’t you heard? I’ve got an interview with the Fine Arts Department. Her eyes narrowed at me, confused, so I felt the need to explain. Our follower is still not sure who we are. How could they know? And they saw that the police didn’t take an interest in us, so we’ve got that going for us.

Rachael nodded, looking slightly relieved. But the university buildings will be closed this early.

We’ll try the student center. Maybe something will be open where we can grab a breakfast.

Her hand drifted over to my upper leg and she rubbed it affectionately. I couldn’t help but smile at her.

You know where you’re going? she asked.

Yeah. I can get us close. I had memorized a map of U of A from the hotel phonebook, as well as major roadways through Tucson. I felt fairly comfortable getting around, despite missing the morning traffic report.

Have you been here before?

No. I wanted to laugh at her expression, but I held it back. She was always extremely impressed with my mysterious knowledge-out-of-nowhere, so I wasn’t going to clue her in on the phonebook maps unless she asked. Let her think I’m more than what I am for a little while, because someday she’ll learn the truth and lose interest.

I turned into a parking garage and slowly drove to the far side where I parked. Not too far in front of us was the student union, not very crowded, but still well-lit. Two students walked out the front door with a coffee, giving me a sense of relief. At least we weren’t trapped in a parking lot, surrounded by dark, empty buildings. Got anything in your bag other than clothes and toiletries?

Not really.

Then leave it, I said. It’ll look suspicious enough with me hauling my big bag around.

We left the car as the SUV lingered alongside a curb just outside the parking garage. Over one shoulder, I threw my bag. I swung my other arm over Rachael’s shoulder, being careful not to spread my jacket enough for my gun to show. Rachael placed her arm around me and occasionally rested her head on my shoulder as we walked, like a carefree, young couple in love. Every once in a while she would giggle, like we were flirting.

I rubbed her arm up and down. Did you take drama in high school?

Eighth grade. I was terrible at memorizing lines, but I did fairly well at improvisation. Do I appear happy and carefree?

You’re amazing.

She lifted herself and kissed me on the cheek. Thanks.

We walked inside the student center and found the coffee shop. After purchasing two coffees and two muffins, I spotted a display with several flyers, so I grabbed a few before we sat down at a table fairly close to the coffee counter. I wanted the hot coffee available for backup, in case I needed to throw it in someone’s face. I stirred sugar in my coffee cup while I looked intently toward the door. A light just outside the entrance was going to allow me to easily see who was following us. Rachael sat so that her back was toward the door, face somewhat hidden as she draped her wig hair forward and kept her head down.

She tore open a packet of sugar for her coffee. Did I ever tell you I generally avoid coffee?

Oh? I answered, glaring toward the door. You should have said something.

It makes me jittery, and I can’t sleep at night.

I looked at her quizzically. Since we’ve been in Tucson, you’ve downed a cola every day.

It doesn’t affect me the same.

My eyebrows briefly raised, and I returned my attention toward the door. Depending on what happens in the next few minutes, it might be good that you have coffee.

She took a sip. So it might be a very long day.

Yes, it might, I said, already sounding exhausted.

I stared hard at the door, wishing it was brighter outside. Was he searching our car? Or had he already walked up to the student center? I sipped my coffee slowly, never looking away from the glass only twenty yards away.

He didn’t hesitate. Dressed in jeans and a black rugby shirt, he walked up to the glass doors and swung them open, looking afraid that he was going to lose us. He had thin, dark hair, about two inches long on all sides, jutting out in all directions. He was older than me by about five years...younger than most of Lord Trinity’s followers, which meant he was probably hired. His nose was large and arched, and his eyebrows nearly connected in the middle.

His stature rose about three inches higher than mine, but no wider. And how should I say this? He simply looked rich. Maybe it was the way he walked or held his head. I’m not sure. Perhaps it was the soft leather briefcase hanging from his shoulder.

Head down. Read the flyers, I said quickly.

The man hurried in, his eyes rolling past us before turning to the coffee counter. I looked down at the stack of flyers and found a parking lot map, then pointed. Rachael lowered her head even farther, looking captivated.

We have to walk a short ways to the Fine Arts building, I said, trying to raise the pitch of my voice and make it less recognizable, in case he was there when Rachael was tied to the altar and I was battling it out with DeMarvis.

Twelve ounce coffee, breakfast blend, the man ordered at the counter in an unusual croaky voice. Rachael instantly jolted and tensed. I held my breath, wanting to tell her to relax, hoping her reaction wasn’t noticed. She kept her head down, but her eyes shot toward the coffee counter where the man was ordering. I could tell her face had grown quite pale. She knew him.

I had to presume the worst – that he also knew her. If he got a good look at Rachael’s face, even with her wig on, I had to assume he would recognize her.

Let’s look around the Art department before the interview, I said, stacking the flyers. Maybe someone is there and can give us a tour of where I need to go today. Then we’ll find the library and bookstore so you have a place to wait while I’m busy.

Rachael nodded without lifting her head, and I could tell she was having a hard time breathing normally.

I rushed to Rachael’s side to block the man’s view of her, then politely pulled back her chair as I held her arm. She was shaking. I have a good feeling about today, I said. I’m going to get that job.

Rachael made some mumbling form of agreement, and we walked slowly in the opposite direction that we came in...away from the coffee shop.

Breathe, I said under my breath when we had distanced ourselves enough.

Can’t, she said in a high whimper.

Who is he?

Trey Hinson. The one who jumped from the helicopter and pinned me.

I nodded my head, torn between disappearing into oblivion so Hinson had nothing to report but a young couple on campus for an interview, or turning and ripping his throat out. It was his fault she was caught and nearly murdered...so he could get a hundred thousand dollar bonus. Now I was shaking; forcing myself to keep walking forward instead of turning around.

Rachael must have sensed my anger. Don’t, she whispered without looking at me. There are too many of them in Tucson. We’ll never get out of this city if he finds out who we are.

I could kill him before he found out. Problem was, they’d come looking for him.

In the reflection of the doors in front of us, I could see him walking with his coffee in our direction. If only I knew why Trinity’s men were in Tucson, looking for us. If it was a certainty – if they had no doubt Rachael and I were in Tucson – I could mangle Trey Hinson with minor consequences, and I would enjoy doing it.

Chapter Two

Sharon wrapped a bandage around my two fingers as they rested on her large, pregnant tummy. I’ve always wanted to be a nurse, so when I was eleven, I enrolled in a first aide class at the library, she said to me, smiling. That was four years ago, so I hope I’m doing this right.

I’m four years old!

That means that when I was taking this class, you were being born, she said, touching my nose playfully.

Sharon laughed and nodded, then looked at me in a strange, thoughtful way. Do you remember your dad? she whispered.

Lord Trinity?

Her eyes darted toward the window, then back to me. No. Your daddy. Lord Trinity is just who your mother loves right now, but she used to love someone else.

I looked at her, puzzled, not understanding.

Think back, she whispered. Was there no one?

I looked out the window and saw my dinosaurs still in the sand. Can I go play with my dinosaurs again?

She sat back in her chair with a sigh and placed her hands over her unborn baby. On one condition.

What?

You come back and visit me again. I like to talk to you.

I was stunned. I wasn’t used to hearing things like that. Okay. I can come back.

We can have many, many secret talks, just you and me. They’ll just be ours.

I smiled real big. Okay.

I ran out the door, happy as I’d ever been. Sharon liked to talk to me. I’d never heard a big person say something like that before.

$ $ $

When we’re out the door, turn left. Past an administration building is a modern language building with plenty of crooks and crannies, I told Rachael.

She said nothing, but I knew her mind was tossing questions around. We casually walked through the doors, then took an immediate left onto the grass surrounding the building. Are we going to hide? she asked.

He’s not going to be happy until he gets a good look at your face. Do you think he’ll recognize you?

Rachael nodded, her eyes still aimed downward so that her hair hid her well.

Then we’re as good as found, I said. We’re kidnapping Hinson.

What? she asked, looking up at me.

I want to find out how they found us.

He’s bigger than you.

Don’t worry. I’ll take him.

Hinson opened the door to the union and hesitated. It would be obvious that he was following us if he took our same route. I quickly turned my eyes away from him and listened to his footsteps as we rounded the corner of the student center. He was staying on the sidewalk leading to the main mall, determined not to look conspicuous.

This is a bad plan, Rachael protested under her breath.

"We need to find out how they found us...how they knew we were in Tucson. Do we need to ditch the car, a source of income...a person? Did I make a stupid mistake that I can’t risk repeating? Do they have