Blood Always Tells by Hilary Davidson (always you kirsty moseley .TXT) 📗

“How?”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.” Val smiled at her, but there was no warmth in it. “Don’t I always take care of you, little sister?”

“What are you going to do?”

“The less you know, the better.” The was Val’s standard line. “I’m going to make a couple of calls. Then I’m going to talk to Max. You’re going to wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” He pulled on his black leather jacket and started out the door before stopping suddenly and swiveling around. “Here. Take one of these.”

He watched her put the pill into her mouth. She swallowed it without water, and for a blissful time, she was floating in a warm, tender sea without a care in the world.

Chapter 52

Polly knew she was being followed on Thursday morning. She pretended not to see the tall Black man across Forty-Second Street as she talked on her phone. She was wearing a quilted black coat Val had bought for her and her black cap, but her blond hair fanned around her face, and the man recognized her from the night before. He did a double take and stopped in his tracks. She watched him in the glass, and when she was sure she’d been spotted, she turned down Park Avenue, looking as agitated and frantic as she could.

Since she was ten years old, her family had impressed upon her what a dangerous place the world was. Nowhere was safe, and there was no one you could trust, not outside of your family. The traditional Russian folk stories about Koschei the Deathless, who abducted many a good girl from her home, became cautionary tales. When she came into Manhattan, with its noise and sirens and catcalling men, she was always on edge. Her way of dealing with it was to will herself invisible; sometimes, she even believed it worked. Keep your eyes down, and your hair in front of your face, and people didn’t quite see you. They were so wrapped up in their own lives that unless you immediately caught their eye or got in their way, you were only so much background scenery to them.

But she wasn’t invisible to this man. She knew she was in his sights, and it was only a matter of time until he caught up with her.

She watched his reflection in shop windows, and she sped up her pace. She walked south, turning east on Thirty-Seventh Street. The man was just behind her, not even trying to hide the fact he was following. By that point, he had to know where she was going.

How bad was he? She’d asked Val this last night, when he came back to the room and told her what she had to do. He’s an evil man, and if he gets the chance, he’ll murder Max, Val had said.

She would do anything for Max.

Polly got to Tom Klepper’s brownstone apartment, fumbling for her key in front of the door. There were bits and pieces of yellow police tape loitering around the doorframe. Val must have run out of time to remove it.

“Polly.”

She turned at the sound of Desmond Edgars’s voice, and she cringed against the door as she pretended to suddenly recognize him. “You.”

“What are you doing at Tom Klepper’s house?”

“I… I…” She tried to remember her words. Val had gone over them with her last night, and again that morning, but her mind was suddenly a blank.

“What the hell happened to you?” He seemed stunned. Polly had almost forgotten her black eye. Val had given it to her when he’d come in late at night.

We need to make sure he’s off guard, Val had said.

Okay, she’d answered.

He’s the kind of man that will respond to a damsel in distress.

Okay.

So, when he sees you’ve been brutalized, he’ll be sympathetic.

O—

Val had punched her in the face before she’d gotten the second syllable out.

“Nothing,” Polly stammered.

“Somebody punched you in the face?” His raspy voice rose, as if he really were concerned.

“I’m fine.” She tried to put her key in the door, but she dropped it on the ground and had to stoop to pick it up.

“No, you’re not.” The man was right behind her, his hand on her arm. He wasn’t pulling at her, as he had the night before. He was trying to gently coax her.

“Look, I need to go inside. Please go. Just forget you ever saw me.”

“I can’t do that, Polly.”

She started to turn the key. “Well, then—”

“What are you people doing!” shouted a man with a heavy accent. It wasn’t a question so much as a shrill accusation. Polly looked up and saw a furious man glaring down at them. She recognized him as Tom’s superintendent.

“I call police NOW,” he yelled. “You get away from that door.”

“But I—,” Polly started to say. She looked around, now genuinely frantic. It was her job to get Desmond Edgars inside Tom Klepper’s apartment. If she failed, Val really would want to kill her. The next time he hit her, it wouldn’t just be for effect.

“We’re going,” the man said. “Come on, Polly.” He tugged her arm.

“But I have to—”

“Police!” yelled the angry little man.

“This way. Come on.” The man dragged her back toward Park Avenue. Polly looked back at Tom’s apartment, wondering if Val had heard the commotion. He was waiting inside, and she knew exactly how furious he’d be when he realized she’d screwed up yet again.

Chapter 53

We need to talk,” the man said. “Look, there’s a Starbucks across Park. Come on.”

Polly didn’t try to resist as they crossed Park Avenue. What could she do, anyway?

“You’d better not run off again, before you hear what I have to say,” the man warned her. “If you do, I’ll come after you and I won’t stop until you’ve heard me out.”

“I won’t run.” She was resigned. Maybe after they talked, she could get him to come back with her to Tom Klepper’s apartment. Then Val could deal with him. If