Page 69 of Ice King


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A man chopping vegetables at the kitchen island stares at me with wide eyes.

I stare back, freezing. I’m stuck between running and lying down and dying. I don’t recognize him, but he’s dressed in catering clothes, and he’s got ingredients for a big breakfast spread out around him. I’m guessing Dad hired him to cook for Magnus and William and me, something nice while we discuss trapping me in a loveless marriage for their own business gain. The terror of being forced to get back with William, the humiliation that would follow, and the banal mundanity of eating omelets nearly breaks me.

Instead, I slowly raise a finger to my lips. Please, I mouth to the guy.

He frowns and shrugs and goes back to chopping.

I take that as my signal. I hurry through the kitchen and to the back door. I pause, listening in case anyone’s outside, then slip through the back yard, around the side, and onto the driveway. The Crawford driver is leaning against the bumper, smoking a cigarette, and I have to take the long way around the garage and along the tree line before looping back to the driveway and following it to the road.

Once there, I stand and stare from one direction to the next, wondering what the hell I’m going to do.

Slowly, I take out my phone, and raise it to my ear. It rings and rings and finally, Baby answers.

“Hey, Marie, are you okay?”

“When did Baptist leave?”

She hesitates. “Uh, a few minutes ago. Why?”

“Can you get him for me? I want to talk.”

“Look, Marie, sweetie, if this is about Ansell—”

“Please, Baby. Just let him know I want to talk. Tell him to meet me out front of Eastern State Penitentiary.”

“The old prison on Fairmount? Why there?”

“I’m feeling symbolic. Can you do it?”

“Sure, Marie, I’ll do it. But why don’t you call Ansell? Baptist seemed to think you two need to talk.”

“I’ll talk to Ansell when I’m ready. Thanks for being such a good friend, Baby.” I hang up the phone and start walking, my head racing.

Magnus doesn’t think Ansell had anything to do with the pictures and he even mentioned Baptist by name. Apparently, Baptist has a direct connection to Magnus and has reason to dislike the family, personal reasons that have nothing to do with Ansell.

Could I have been wrong? This whole time, could I have been totally wrong?

I’m trying to come to grips with what that might mean.

If Ansell had nothing to do with the emails then I ran out on him for no reason and everything he said was true. He’s starting to feel again, and it’s all because of me.

But I can’t be sure. Right now, all I have is the word of that awful man Magnus and the sneering laughter of his equally terrible son echoing in my brain. I need to talk to Baptist first, before I talk to Ansell, because I’m not sure what I’ll do if I see Ansell again.

I might give in and do whatever he wants, but I have to be sure first.

Once I’m far enough away from home, I order an Uber and ignore the increasingly frantic calls and texts from my father.

Chapter 26

Marie

Eastern State Penitentiary is an old prison right in the heart of the Fairmount section of Philadelphia. It’s several blocks long and several blocks deep, with huge, pitted, ancient stone walls, like a fortress from medieval times. Back when it was still in use, Fairmount was the furthest edges of the city, but now it’s been swallowed by the urban sprawl. The prison’s shut down these days. It’s most famous for housing Al Capone, and the tours on Halloween are supposed to be fantastic.

Baptist is there before I arrive. He’s leaning against the walls with his arms crossed, frowning around the area as tourists wander past, gawking up at the prison. It really is a sight, and for a second I slow down and look at the guard towers, at the stones, and wonder how many men moved through that place, how many lived their last days locked up inside. I let out a breath—I really am getting melancholy.

Time to put myself back together.

I approach and wave as I get near. Baptist nods at me and pushes off the wall, standing with his arms crossed over his chest, looking uncertain.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, head tilted. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Where have you been? Ansell’s worried, you know. Baby told me you know about the emails.”

I grimace, but of course she did. I didn’t ask her to keep that to herself. “I went home with my dad.”

He seems taken aback. “Why would you do that? After everything Ansell did to keep you from him?”

“It was stupid and emotional, okay? I don’t need a lecture from you of all people.”

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