“Dover Richards?” Ginny nodded. Was Tonia looking scared now? The woman walked away from the sofa, agitated and frowning hard. “Jesus Christ, girl! Dover Richards isn't a cop. He isn't even a tagger. I reckon he's the bastard who killed my brother. Tell me what he said.”
She made Ginny remember word-for-word her two conversations with the phony cop, while she listened, shaking her head in angry disbelief. When she was sure she'd got as much as she could from Ginny, Tonia made her recite her full name, her QNet address, and her home address. She wrote them down using a pencil in a little notebook with paper pages. “That's so I can find you again if you ever tell the cops anything,” she said. “Now get out of here and if Dover Richards calls you again, just keep pretending you're a dumb fuck who knows bugger all. That way he might let you live.”
Ginny didn't need telling a second time. She struggled up from the sofa and made for the door, trying not even to look at Tonia.
“It's not Ellie,” Tonia called after her. She stopped in the doorway and turned, not daring to upset this strange and volatile woman by ignoring her. “It's the letters, L. E.. Stands for lotos eaters. That's what you are. Now fuck off.”
-oOo-
Ginny mounted the bicycle and pedalled away in a hurry. She had to dismount just a couple of streets farther on because she was trembling and crying too much to keep going. She kicked the bike away from her and sat down on the kerb with her head in her hands. She felt sick and angry and relieved and terrified. She might have died. That crazy bitch might have shot her. She had been so scared. She ran over in her mind the stupid things she had done and said, the countless ways she had put herself into danger.
Perhaps worse, she felt so ashamed of herself for being such a coward – a physical coward and a moral one. She had let herself be driven entirely by fear. The woman, Tonia, had bullied her and threatened her, and she had been craven and pathetic in the face of it. But what could she have done? A man was dead in the house. Tonia had a gun. These were vicious criminal types, without compassion or conscience. She couldn't have fought against an armed woman. She couldn't have stood up to her and challenged her. Every time she said anything, it seemed, she had only made things worse.
That pig, Cal, had done this to her. He'd sent her into that house of horrors for whatever miserable criminal purposes he had. He had used her and endangered her, and she hoped he burned in Hell for it. Whatever she had walked into back there was some criminal conspiracy that had gone horribly wrong. They were killing each other and hiding from each other and it served them all right. She just wished now that she hadn't given that woman her real name and address. But she had been so scared and flustered, she didn't even think of making up something false.
The crying slowly stopped and the shaking gradually died down, so she got back on the bike and rode it home. She saw a builder, working with a flock of robots, fixing up a derelict house on a scruffy lot. He pushed back his hat and stared at her in astonishment as she wobbled past him.
Chapter 4
She tried to immerse herself in her work. She climbed into her tank and went straight to her studio. She loved her office and could always lose herself in there. It was set in a clearing in a forest on the slope of a high mountain. Displays and musical instruments dotted the clearing. The sky was always blue and, where the slope fell steeply away, there was a view across broad valleys and low hills to distant snow-capped mountains. Steps carved into the mountainside led down to a little auditorium on a rocky promontory far below. There people could visit and listen to performances of her work but they could not climb up to the studio where she enjoyed silence and serenity and total privacy. There was no-one in the auditorium that day. Ginny was not a popular
She made Ginny remember word-for-word her two conversations with the phony cop, while she listened, shaking her head in angry disbelief. When she was sure she'd got as much as she could from Ginny, Tonia made her recite her full name, her QNet address, and her home address. She wrote them down using a pencil in a little notebook with paper pages. “That's so I can find you again if you ever tell the cops anything,” she said. “Now get out of here and if Dover Richards calls you again, just keep pretending you're a dumb fuck who knows bugger all. That way he might let you live.”
Ginny didn't need telling a second time. She struggled up from the sofa and made for the door, trying not even to look at Tonia.
“It's not Ellie,” Tonia called after her. She stopped in the doorway and turned, not daring to upset this strange and volatile woman by ignoring her. “It's the letters, L. E.. Stands for lotos eaters. That's what you are. Now fuck off.”
-oOo-
Ginny mounted the bicycle and pedalled away in a hurry. She had to dismount just a couple of streets farther on because she was trembling and crying too much to keep going. She kicked the bike away from her and sat down on the kerb with her head in her hands. She felt sick and angry and relieved and terrified. She might have died. That crazy bitch might have shot her. She had been so scared. She ran over in her mind the stupid things she had done and said, the countless ways she had put herself into danger.
Perhaps worse, she felt so ashamed of herself for being such a coward – a physical coward and a moral one. She had let herself be driven entirely by fear. The woman, Tonia, had bullied her and threatened her, and she had been craven and pathetic in the face of it. But what could she have done? A man was dead in the house. Tonia had a gun. These were vicious criminal types, without compassion or conscience. She couldn't have fought against an armed woman. She couldn't have stood up to her and challenged her. Every time she said anything, it seemed, she had only made things worse.
That pig, Cal, had done this to her. He'd sent her into that house of horrors for whatever miserable criminal purposes he had. He had used her and endangered her, and she hoped he burned in Hell for it. Whatever she had walked into back there was some criminal conspiracy that had gone horribly wrong. They were killing each other and hiding from each other and it served them all right. She just wished now that she hadn't given that woman her real name and address. But she had been so scared and flustered, she didn't even think of making up something false.
The crying slowly stopped and the shaking gradually died down, so she got back on the bike and rode it home. She saw a builder, working with a flock of robots, fixing up a derelict house on a scruffy lot. He pushed back his hat and stared at her in astonishment as she wobbled past him.
Chapter 4
She tried to immerse herself in her work. She climbed into her tank and went straight to her studio. She loved her office and could always lose herself in there. It was set in a clearing in a forest on the slope of a high mountain. Displays and musical instruments dotted the clearing. The sky was always blue and, where the slope fell steeply away, there was a view across broad valleys and low hills to distant snow-capped mountains. Steps carved into the mountainside led down to a little auditorium on a rocky promontory far below. There people could visit and listen to performances of her work but they could not climb up to the studio where she enjoyed silence and serenity and total privacy. There was no-one in the auditorium that day. Ginny was not a popular
Similar Books
The Great Disapurrance: BBW Shapeshifter Surprise Pregnancy Romance (Chicago Catastrophe)
Anya Nowlan, Rory Dale
