The Fury

29

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clarence said, but the tremor in his voice belied that statement. I looked around. This apartment was too small. There was nowhere for her to hide. She had to be somewhere else.

But if Helen Gaines was hiding, if she'd left Blue

Mountain Lake because somebody was trying to kill her, she wasn't out and about in New York City, sight seeing and having her caricature drawn in Times

Square. If she'd come to Butch Willingham's son for help, chances are he knew where she was at this moment. She had to be somewhere close. In his office, perhaps. Or somewhere nobody would expect. The office might be out. Where…

I could hear Clarence screaming at me, trying to push me out of his apartment. My body didn't respond.

She couldn't be at his office. She'd be somewhere nobody would know about. Somewhere…

Then I remembered my bag. Bernita. Clarence's words.

Anytime you have something you need stored safely,

Bernita's your woman.

I bolted out of Clarence's apartment, the diamond earring still in my hand. The footsteps behind me said that Clarence was right on my heels. And I didn't think he was going to argue with me anymore.

The stairs disappeared under me two at a time, and

I used the railing on each landing to swing onto the next set, trying desperately to keep ahead of Clarence. I didn't know how we'd fare in a fight, but I was sure that if we made enough noise one of the tenants surely would call the cops. And I didn't have time for that. I needed to know. Needed to see.

Safely stored.

As I hit the first-floor landing, I felt Clarence's fist grab a chunk of my shirt. I pulled away, but not before it ripped a sizable hole in the collar. I turned around, saw

Clarence behind me and shoved him as hard as I could.

It wasn't meant to hurt him, merely to buy me some time, and to that extent it worked. Clarence fell back about eight feet, tripping over the foot of the stairwell and falling to the ground. Cursing like a maniac, I was sprinting down the corridor before he could get himself up.

I found Bernita's door. Knocked twice fast. I said,

"Bernita, it's Henry. You have my bag."

I saw Clarence on his feet, running toward me. I only had seconds.

Then the door opened in front of me, and Bernita was there in her pink bathrobe, the cigarette still in her mouth. She was holding my bag in one hand, out stretched, expecting me to take it then leave. When she saw the rip in my shirt and Clarence barreling down the hall, her eyes grew wide. She immediately tried to slam the door shut. Instead, I wriggled past her into the apart ment, the door slamming shut where I'd just been standing.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" she screamed, slapping at me with both her hands, the cigarette still miraculously dangling from her lip.

Then I heard a small, frightened voice from the farthest room down the corridor.

"Bernita, is everything okay?"

I stared at Bernita for a second, then sprinted down the hall. It was the last door on the right. Without hesi tating, I barged in, the door swinging open and smacking against the wall where it hit a doorstop and swung back at me. I stopped it with my foot, then stood there.

I heard two people breathing behind me. Bernita and

Clarence. But I didn't care about them; all I cared about was the woman sitting on the bed mere feet from me.

Her hands were on her knees. Back ramrod straight.

Her eyes were wide, terrified, as though she'd been ex pecting this moment for a long time and knew she could only avoid it for so long. Then that terrified look turned to anger, then confusion.

"Who…who are you?" she asked.

"Ms. Gaines," I said. "My name is Henry Parker. I'm

James Parker's other son."