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But would it be in time to save Elyssa and the others? Determinedly, closing her eyes, clenching her teeth, she yanked hard on her right handcuff. Chapter Twenty-Two
Jeremy gazed around the room, holding his breath. Two days until Christmas and he was stuck here in this drunk tank with an old man who smelled like a brewery and looked really crazy. The way his eyes, when he was awake, stared wide behind those huge glasses gave Jeremy the creeps.
And the cell itself was gross. Cement floor, cement walls, painted an ugly gray, harsh overhead light with a metal cage around it, and metal benches bolted into the wall. No window, just the front doors of the cage, which were thick bars of dull steel.
“It’s all Crytor’s fault,” the old guy was mumbling again. “If that Reptilian son of a bitch hadn’t teleported me up to the mothership from Mesa Rock, and then did all those experiments on me, none of this would be happening now.”
None of what? Jeremy was tempted to ask, but he didn’t. Engaging the old coot was a mistake he’d already made once. For the next forty minutes, he’d 302
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heard Ivor-the-Nut-Case’s life story. For the love of God, the guy still wasn’t over his dead wife. Lily or Linda or . . . no, Lila, that’s what it was. One of the Kress girls who were all beautiful when they were young. So beautiful. She’d been dead for a really long time, it seemed, but Hicks still talked about her as if they’d been together just last week. He was weird, weird, weird. Someone to avoid. But there was nowhere for Jeremy to hide, and since they were the only two people in the drunk tank, he was stuck listening to Ivor’s stories. It would be different if he had his iPod or cell phone, but the undersheriff had confiscated both. God only knew how he’d handle Heidi when he got home.
Shit, what a mess.
“I saw a Yeti today,” Ivor said, then frowned.
“Maybe it was today. Thought it was a wraith, but it was a Yeti. It killed Brady Long.”
“Huh.” Jeremy hoped he would just stop talking.
“It was white. All white. With a long club.”
“I thought Yetis were brown and furry.”
“That’s a Sasquatch, not a Yeti!” He glared at Jeremy, who reminded himself again not to engage the old geezer. Ivor mumbled some more but Jeremy closed his eyes and ears. He tried to sleep and failed, so he walked around the perimeter of the cage, hearing voices of cops when the door to this end of the jail opened, and eyeing the drain in the middle of the sloped floor. He didn’t want to think what had gone down that hole with its dirty-looking cover.
“I bet they called my son,” Ivor suddenly said, sounding more of this world than he had since Jeremy had been thrown in with him. Jeremy squinted
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at the old man. Maybe he’d just needed to sober up.
“They always call him. They never believe me, and they always call him.”
“Well, maybe he’ll pick you up,” Jeremy said hopefully. Had anyone called his stepdad? Or, had the undersheriff put a stop to that before it happened?
“I don’t want to be a burden.” Ivor dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. “It’s not my fault. It’s Crytor’s. But nobody wants to believe me.”
The old guy
fell asleep just like that, snoring enough to make Jeremy go deaf. A burden. Well, yeah. He was a complete nutcase, so he was definitely a burden. Thoughts of his mother crept in though Jeremy tried to keep them at bay. He didn’t want to think about her. About what could be happening to her, if she wasn’t dead already.
Nobody was saying that Mom might be in the hands of that sicko killer. Nobody wanted to tell him that. But he knew that’s what they were thinking. God, he hoped they were wrong, but where was she? Where was she?
With an uncomfortable twinge of conscience, he reviewed his own actions the last few days. He’d been in police custody twice this damn week. And he’d been a jerk to everyone; his mother, for sure. If he could only take it back! He’d do everything different. He would. He would. He just needed a chance. Another chance. With a look to the snoring old man, Jeremy walked to the bars and wrapped his hands around them. He wanted to cry. Could feel the burn at the back of his eyes and moisture collect in his nose.
Mom . . .
Swallowing, he fought back his emotions. If he 304
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yelled, would someone come for him? He had to get out. Had to help his mom.
He was just getting ready to try when the locked door at the end of the hall clanked open and Mom’s partner walked through, looking drawn and determined.
