“But nothing. Her name is Amy. Look at all the ‘A’ names. Then look for mommy or something like that. She might have it hidden in there.”
“Auntie?” one of the girls mewed softly. “Mommy has…”
“Quiet, Koemi!” June said sharply.
“But mommy…”
“Koemi! Quiet, now!” June had to think how she could keep her niece quiet from drawing attention to herself. All she could think of was a threat. “Keep quiet or there’s no ice cream later!”
June set her eyes on Reagan, ignoring Georgie working with the phone in front of her and Clinton at her side. Mostly, she did her best to ignore the hard metal pistol muzzle pressed against her nieces’ heads. But the imagery of a bullet spiraling down the muzzle before crashing through two young skulls dominated her mind anyway. Nerves were getting stretched thin.
Scrolling through numbers one at a time for several minutes, Georgie said, “There’s nothing here with her name.”
“Try the first one again.”
Georgie found ‘sis’ and dialed.
June stared down at the phone as it rang a dozen more times.
“She went out of town for the weekend,” June lied. She knew if the men found out Amy was home right then, they might go straight there for their second home invasion of the day. But she was as confused as they were why Amy wasn’t answering her calls. It wasn’t like her sister to pass on answering a call from her, especially if the kids were staying with her. “She probably turned her phone off.”
“Why isn’t it going to voice mail?” Reagan asked.
“I have no idea. Maybe she saw my number and just doesn’t want to talk to me?” June asked. “I mean, there are more interesting people to talk to than me.”
Reagan was obviously pissed that the call hadn’t gone though. His neck had broken into a full sweat and he tugged at the edges of the rubber mask. He dropped his cigarette to the hardwood floor and stepped his toe on it. “If you’re screwing with us…”
“What? What can I be doing? I’m tied up with a gun to my head, you have my phone, George found the number and called. What could I possibly be doing?”
That’s when she remembered the last thing Amy said to her, that she had got a new phone and number, and that she wrote it on a slip of paper at the desk. Amy even mentioned that both girls already had it memorized. The number George had found under ‘sis’ was the old number, and June hadn’t taken the time yet to correct it. The correct number in the phone was labeled only as ‘new’.
Mostly she was ambivalent if she wanted to help the three men with the sudden recall, or just let them flounder for a while. If they got frustrated enough, there was the chance they would just give up and leave. She couldn’t allow them to go to Amy’s house when she was there, but she was also putting her nieces at risk by not divulging the new phone number. Either way, she had the growing dread deep inside that the afternoon was going to end poorly.
Reagan tapped one of the girls’ heads with the muzzle of his gun. “Hey brat, what’s your mother’s name?”
“Hey! Leave her alone!” June shouted.
Reagan aimed the gun at June for a moment. “You were saying?” He turned the gun back to Koemi’s head. “I asked you, what’s your mother’s name?”
“Mommy…” the girl mewed softly.
Reagan sighed. “Georgie, look for mommy in the phone.”
“Auntie…” one of the girls began to say.
“Be quiet, please, Ruka.”
The little girl turned her head a bit to look in June’s direction. “But mommy has…”
“You’re making me very angry, Ruka!” June said, barely holding her temper.
“Not to interrupt the soap opera, but could the two of you shut the hell up?” Reagan said. His gun hand shook, the one that held the pistol to the side of the girls’ heads.
June turned her sights back on him. “Don’t even think of hurting them,” she said with as much control as she could muster.
Both girls burst into tears.
Reagan shoved the butt of his pistol into a girl’s head, nudging it to the side.
“God damn you…” June muttered.
She got a backhand across her face from Clinton.
“I told you to shut up!” bellowed Reagan. “I won’t put up with this hysterical female shit!”
Georgie had his gun in his hand again, aimed then at June’s chest from point blank range, the phone call forgotten. He began to grunt, stress noise.
They all remained that way for some time, the girls whimpering, Reagan’s gun hand shaking, Clinton pressing his pistol against June’s head, Georgie grunting, and June fighting swirling numbness in her mind. She could taste blood in her mouth from being backhanded by Clinton.