Upside Down

93

Faith Ann locked the doors of the Stratus, positioned the side-view mirror so she could see the fat man in coveralls holding the pistol and one of the unconscious woman's boots extending out over the side. Standing six feet away from the truck, the man with the gun seemed to be considering the woman lying in the debris-filled bed.

The notion that she had saved Winter's life warmed Faith Ann. Pushing aside her terror of Arturo and his murderous companion, she had crept from the car to take the fire extinguisher down from its place on the wall to help Winter. She wasn't sure what the chemicals would do to the woman, but Faith Ann knew that she was going to hurt him and she knew she couldn't let that happen.

She looked down at the soiled and battered envelope in her lap. Squeezing it, she felt the cassette tape inside and the sleeve containing the negatives.

She slipped out the tape and looked at the audio record of her mother's last minutes alive.

Faith Ann looked up, wondering how long it would be before Winter came back. The boat was heading for the Canal Street landing, the woman was locked up, and the man who'd killed her mother had to be arrested by now.

She thought about how many times since Friday morning she had believed it was all over, that she was going to die. But she wasn't dead.

Faith Ann put the envelope down in her lap, and looked at the mirror beside her. The fat man was still at his post, but he was looking at Faith Ann's reflection in the small side mirror-smiling and waving at her. She guessed being deputized by a U.S. marshal was a big deal for a scrap collector.

Faith Ann let her gaze drift to the side of the truck, expecting to see the woman's boot jutting out of the bed, but it was no longer in view.

She started to scream.

Before the man could turn, the woman moved in behind him and swung the steel bottle jack at him like it weighed nothing. The jack hit the man in the back of his head, creating a cloud of gore that spattered the rear window of the Dodge.

Faith Ann stopped screaming. She felt frozen in place as if some great weight was pressing her into the seat back. Her face twisted into a terrifying mask-the woman stood beside the door glaring in at Faith Ann. Faith Ann's fingers closed around the envelope on her lap. She watched the woman raise the jack. I'm going to die, Mama.

Faith Ann hit the horn, scrambled over the console, found the lock, and threw the door open. Mr. Massey was the only one who could keep her alive now.

Faith Ann was aware of something moving behind her, and then of being jerked off her feet. She hit the concrete hard, her left elbow cracking against the deck, sending a lightning bolt shooting up to her fingers. She realized that the woman had vaulted over the car to grab her. Before Faith Ann could do anything, the woman had Faith Ann back up on her feet, a leather-covered arm locked around her chest, squeezing.

“You gonna get wet,” the woman said.

Faith Ann flailed and kicked-she screamed-but it had no effect on the woman, who held the jack by its handle like a suitcase and laughed as she dragged her young captive toward the stern.