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Standing, she pulls on my hands to bring me to my feet. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk. Let’s go to our room and lock the door.”
I’m shaking as I stand, my knees feeling weak, like I’ve just run a marathon. “Okay.”
Once we’re settled in our room, I tell her everything. The moment I finish relaying the trouble from last night, Carol Ann returns, oddly stoic considering what she went through. She quickly gives us the rundown of what she had to do, how the mortician held the hem of the white sheet that covered the body, then asked her if she was ready. When she nodded, he pulled the sheet back, revealing the face of Calvin Smith, a local man and third cousin to Carol Ann, who had no reason for being in the center that night.
“Why are you two locked up in here?” she asks when she’s finished.
I tell the story over again, ending with, “I’ve got to go to the police station in town and report this. Can you two come with me? Carol Ann, can you drive us?” There’s a bus line that runs from our place to town. “I don’t think I’m up for a public bus ride right now.”
I look from Carol Ann to Fiona. What little color that was in their faces has drained away. They look anywhere but at my face. I wait for one of them to speak.
Fiona’s answer finally comes in a shaky whisper. “You cannae go. Absolutely not.”
Carol Ann grabs my hand and leans in so close I can smell her patchouli-scented perfume. “It’s not safe.”
“I know he said I had to stay quiet, but a man died! I can’t?—”
“Shh!” Fiona and Carol Ann look at one another, then Carol Ann shushes me again. “Shh! No one can hear this. No one can know.”
“Okay.” I lower my voice. “But what they did was wrong. I’m going straight to the police station and I’m going to tell them exactly what I saw.”
Fiona’s cold grip tightens. “No, you’re not.” Her hand feels icelike through the material of my long-sleeved tee. “Kitt, look at me.” I glance up, my gaze locking with hers. There’s a haunted look in her green eyes and her bottom lip trembles.
Fiona isn’t just scared.
The girl is terrified.
Ice travels down my arms, forming a frozen rock in the pit of my stomach.
I turn to Carol Ann, thinking I can talk some sense into her. “But your cousin was murdered.”
Carol Ann speaks slowly. “I think I know who stopped you on the road last night. You don’t know who you’re messing with. These are very, very bad men. If they told you to stay quiet, they will hurt you if you don’t listen.”
“What about the police. Can’t they protect me?” I think of crime movies I’ve seen. I know the issues the LAPD has had with corruption but still, I’d think they could keep a witness safe. “Can’t they put me in a safe place? Hide me somewhere till they’ve arrested the men?”
The girls exchange a knowing look.
“No.” Carol Ann gives a hard shake of her head. “That’s not how it works out here.”
“How does it work?” I ask.
“Out here, our men carry out their own form of justice. There are laws, laws of the land held up by the men who live here.”
“Then why does DI Collins even bother coming out here?”
“The police try, but they often don’t get far,” Carol Ann says.
“And the police department is staffed by locals. You’re not going to say a word, sweetheart,” Fiona says.
Carol Ann stands from the lower bunk where we three have squeezed. She talks as she paces the room on the soles of her white Doc Martens boots. “You’re going to forget what you saw.”
“How can I, Carol Ann? A man was?—”
She stops me, lifting her hand, open palm facing me.
“Like Men in Black.” She raises and lowers her hand in front of my face, making a buzzing sound. “See? I’m erasing your memory. Last night never happened. You never saw those men.” She’s a natural leader, and now she’s taking charge, planning. “We’re going to take long, hot showers, get cozy, zip our mouths, and watch old Sex and the City DVDs on the uncomfortable blue couch in the big room?—”
“And make daiquiris,” Fiona adds, her head bobbing with a decisive nod.
