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Merry linked her arm in mine.

My throat closed then, and my eyes got hot. My one regret? Cassie. I would never see Careful Cassie again. I’d never steal her clothes or her truck again. I’d never sneak so much sugar into her coffee that she spit it out into the sink. I’d never belt out songs in the shower, extra loud because I knew it made her crazy.

I was about to die. I was glad I knew why—because I’d mouthed off to my jailer. I’d taken a swing at an enemy. It was so much better than not ever knowing, like Robin.

Ma, I miss you. I’ve always missed you.

Pa, I wish I’d said good-bye. Even if you couldn’t hear me.

Cassie, I’m sorry. You know I love you. I’ll miss you forever. You were always my favorite sister.

In the stadium I headed toward a guard, expecting him to grab me and haul me up onto the canvas, where a gurney was waiting.

“Sit down!” he yelled at me, and pointed to the bleachers with his club.

Diego, Merry, Vijay, and I exchanged puzzled looks, but I sat with them on the bench.

The lights dimmed and Strepp ducked through the ropes of the ring. Two assistants were there, checking the monitors and the IV machine. I sat on the edge of my bench, heart pounding and mouth dry, waiting to be called. I hoped I could die without crying. I would try hard.

Then… a guard brought Little Bit up to the ring! They’d wiped most of the blood off her brow, and the split was held together with a butterfly bandage. Even from here I could see the bruises I’d given her, could see how she limped from where I’d smashed her knee.

Until the assistant helped her up on the gurney and started to lock her in, I had no idea what was going on. No idea if she was there just to watch me die. But there was only one gurney on the canvas, and Little Bit was on it.

She was being executed.

I was going to live. At least for now.

Little Bit started crying when they hooked up the IV.

When the bright green blips on the monitor slowed and then flattened out, when Little Bit’s bruised face went slack, her eyes still open a slit, that was when it felt like someone had buried an axe in my chest.

It had been bad—really goddamn bad—when Robin died.

But I hadn’t killed her. She hadn’t died because I’d beaten her in a fight.

I didn’t look away, forced myself to acknowledge the small, hard life that I’d helped to take. And damn if it didn’t seem like Strepp was searching the crowd until her gaze caught mine. And damn if she didn’t smile at me, just a tiny bit.

51

CASSIE

ONCE THE LIGHT WASN’T IN my eyes, I could see where I was going. I had no idea who was after me, or how many of them there were. Taking a gamble that my moped was nimbler than whatever they had, I suddenly veered off road and headed out into the hard-packed wasteland that lay behind the trees.

It was dark out here, and I kept my headlight off. Motors revved behind me and then bright, arcing lights swept the scene. A sudden, shallow gully caught me off guard: the moped skidded, I braced myself with one foot, and then tore down the gully. It was too narrow for a car, too narrow for a truck. No idea where it led. Didn’t care much.

Of course, even gunned, the moped went—say it with me—twelve miles an hour. It took barely moments before a dark, non-electric car was roaring along on one side of the gully and a jacked-up all-wheeler was spewing dirt on the other side. Their headlights bounced as the vehicles crossed the rough terrain. I crouched over my handlebars, trying to stay out of the raking searchlights.

I just barely saw the fork to the left and wrenched my handlebars over without thinking. This wasn’t a gully; it was a deep, rough ditch, ridged with old roots from the trees that had reached this far. Time seemed to slow as the car, still heading straight, hovered right over my head. I saw the axle and the transmission column, and then there was a loud, metallic crunch as it plowed head-on into the far side of the ditch.

That was lucky, I thought, and winced as I hit another big root.

The all-wheeler had been on the other side of the gully, but it must have nosed down one side and up the other because it soon took the car’s place, easily

pacing me despite hitting tumbleweeds and having to avoid big rocks.

Praying for another unexpected fork, I gripped the handlebars as hard as I could. Roots twisted my front wheel left and right, and more than once I almost ran into the high, dirt sides.

“Cassie Greenfield! Stop your vehicle!”


Tags: James Patterson Crazy House Mystery