Letty, who had avoided carnal entanglements in high school—“I don’t want to be the girl that the jocks practice on,” she’d told a friend—had decided that Now Was the Time. Bazile had benefited greatly from the decision, but Letty’s interest was beginning to wane.
In contemplating the ceiling, a telephone by her hand, she thought perhaps she’d cut Gary off a little too abruptly a few minutes earlier. “Gotta put my baby sister to bed,” she’d lied. When her phone rang again, she picked it up, willing herself to be kind to him: but the screen said the call was coming from Unknown, in an unfamiliar area code, 605. California? She didn’t get many solicitation calls, because she’d listed her number on the “do not call” registry.
She punched
Answer
and said, “Hello?”
“Is this Letty?” A woman’s voice, rough, vaguely familiar.
“Yes, this is Letty.”
“Letty, this is Skye, do you remember me? From San Francisco, me and Henry were singing on the square? You bought us dinner at McDonald’s?”
“Hey, Skye,” Letty said, swinging her feet down to the floor. “How are you? Where are you? In town?”
“Rapid City. Man, the devil got Henry. They cut his heart out.”
“What? What? Henry?”
“They cut his heart out.” Skye began to sob into the phone. “That’s what Pilot’s girlfriend told me, and she was laughing. She said Pilot keeps it in a Mason jar. She said they’re going to get mine, next. Man, I am in some serious shit out here and they cut Henry’s heart out.”
“Where are you, exactly?” Letty asked.
“Rapid City . . . I got dropped off by this guy,” Skye said.
“Are you safe? For right now?”
“For right now. I’m in the bus station. It’s the only public phone I could find.”
“Okay, slow down. Now, tell me,” Letty said.
“The devil was in Sturgis—”
“When you say ‘the devil’—”
“Pilot. Pilot. We told you about Pilot. Pilot was in Sturgis with his disciples. They were camping out there and they were pretending to be bikers and some of the women were turning tricks out of their RV. I told Henry to stay away, but he disappeared. We were supposed to meet, and he didn’t show up. We had a backup meet, and he never showed there, either. All the bikers left, and the town was almost empty. I spent three days walking around, looking for him, and he’s not there. Then I was in a grocery store and the blond bitch came in and when I went out, she came out at the same time, she said that they killed Henry and they ate part of him and Pilot put his heart in a Mason jar. He said Pilot made some guy roast Henry’s dick over a fire and eat it.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Letty said.
“I’m calling because you said your old man was a cop, and because . . . you’re the only friend I got,” Skye said.
Letty was on her feet now, pacing. “Let me call and charge a bus ticket for you, to get you here, where we can figure something out. Stay in the station until you’re on the bus.”
“I got money for a bus, but I didn’t know where to go. Then I thought about you. What about Henry? What if they killed him?”
“They’re probably trying to freak you out, but I’ll get you with my dad, and he can check around,” Letty said. “The main thing is, to get you somewhere safe. How much money do you have?”
“Two hundred dollars. It’s left over . . . we got lucky. Two hundred dollars.”
“Can you buy a ticket to Minneapolis?”
“Wait a minute.”
Letty heard some talk in the background, and then said, “Yes, it’s a hundred dollars.”
“Then do it. I’ll give you the money back, no problem,” Letty said. “Call and tell me when you’ll get here.”
“It’s the Jefferson Lines, I can get a ticket now. Wait a minute, let me ask this guy.” She was gone for a minute, and Letty could hear some talk in the background. Skye came back to the phone and said, “The bus leaves here at midnight and arrives in Minneapolis