Chapter Thirty-Four

The men hurried into their rooms and began throwing clothes, combs, socks and razors into their bags. Joe finished first and went to get Brent. "Aren't you done yet?"

Brent looked up from putting his computer in its case. "I've got more than you, remember?"

Joe dropped his duffel bag in the middle of the floor. "Just hurry, okay? I want to get out of here before Cece decides to call the cops on us, or comes up with some new excuse why we have to stay."

"I've just about got it," Brent said. He zipped his laptop case and returned to his leather overnight bag. He frowned, then went to the closet and began removing slacks, shirts and sweaters from hangers. A few of these he put into the bag, others he folded neatly and laid on the bed. There was one sweater, though, that he didn't appear to know what to do with. "Do you think it would be unethical to take this cashmere sweater Cece gave me? I'm leaving all the other stuff, but I really like this one, and she did keep us here under false pretenses."

"In case you haven't noticed, ethics isn't your strong suit. Or hers, either. If you want it, take it. Take the whole goddamn room if you want to. But whatever you do, don't just stand there rationalizing."

Brent put the sweater in his bag along with his other clothes. Noticing that Joe was looking the other direction, he threw a few more items of clothing in there as well. After one last look around, he slung both bags over his shoulder in a single fluid motion and headed out the door.

At the bottom of the stairs Lupe ran up to them. "Are you leaving now?"

"Yes," Joe said. "We've stayed too long already."

The maid cast a nervous glance toward the kitchen. "Cece says to wait a minute."

"We can't wait," Brent told her.

Just then Petra and Cece burst out of the kitchen and hurried toward them, loaded down with bags, thermoses and a small cooler. "You can't leave without provisions," Cece said.

Joe and Brent exchanged incredulous looks. "Thank you," Joe told her cautiously, "But we really don't need anything else from you."

"You'll get hungry."

"We're not going into the wilderness," Brent pointed out.

"But..." Cece looked helplessly from Joe to Brent and back again.

"Oh, all right," Joe said. He pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket. "I'm not going to do battle with you over this. If this is what it takes, fine."

"I really do feel bad about what happened," Cece said, following them to the truck with Petra in tow. "I want to do something."

"There's not much you can do at this point," Joe told her. "You've probably ruined whatever small chance we had. Feeding us isn't going to fix a damn thing."

Brent stood aside while Petra crammed a season harvest's worth of bags and coolers into the space behind the seat and on the floor of the passenger side of the cab. "You've done more than enough," he added, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"There is one thing I didn't mention before that might help," Cece said hesitantly. "This girl Lamia, she doesn't do professional dance any more. Or I guess you could say she does, but not that kind. She works as a dancer at someplace called Sirens. I don't know where the place is, or what shifts she works, or anything, but if you can't find her at the Mariner apartments, you might find her there."

"That's very helpful," Joe said. "Thanks."

"You know you're always welcome here, if you change your mind. I'm not mad at you, and I meant what I said earlier. If you don't find Elise, or even if you do, you can always consider this place home."

"I'll keep that in mind," Joe said. He glanced at Brent. "Ready?

Brent got into the truck, not bothering to say goodbye as he slammed the door.

Joe climbed in and started the engine. As they pulled out of the circular driveway, Joe looked in his rearview mirror, watching as the image of Cece and her maids got smaller and smaller. She lifted a hand and waved, but Joe merely shook his head and punched the gas.