Once I'd told Jason what had happened with Mr. Sutherland, he'd taken Hallam's gun from me and left the house. He'd been angry. He hadn't said anything, but I could tell from the way he walked.
I'd begged him not to leave. I didn't want him trying to tangle with Mr. Sutherland. I didn't want Jason to get hurt. And I didn't like the look in Jason's eyes. It scared me. It reminded me too much of the look Mr. Sutherland had gotten in his eyes when he'd described strangling that girl named Linda. Jason had swept out of the house, fierce determination written all over his face. And . . . something else. He looked . . . I don't know. Insane.
Lilith had been frightened too. "Jason's kind of intense, isn't he?" she'd said in a small voice.
Hallam got back soon after Jason did. I feverishly filled him in on what had happened. He wasn't happy with me.
"Azazel, if I'd thought there was a chance in hell that you'd go to see that man, I would have contacted you sooner," he said. "Liam Sutherland is a wanted criminal in seven different countries. He's a rapist and murderer, and he has powerful friends. How stupid could you be?"
"I know," I said. "I'm sorry."
When I told him that Jason had gone after Mr. Sutherland, Hallam got nearly as frantic as I was. "How could you let him go?" he demanded.
"We tried to stop him," said Lilith.
"We have to find him," Hallam said.
The three of us piled into the car. We went to Mr. Sutherland's house. Hallam made us stay in the car, because he didn't have a gun. (I'd lost one in Mr. Sutherland's apartment, and Jason had the other one.) When he returned, he told us that the apartment had been broken into and searched, but that there was no sign of Jason or Mr. Sutherland.
"Mr. Sutherland probably went on the run after I left," I said. "He knew that I knew where he lived."
We checked the airport, to see if Mr. Sutherland was there. The airline personnel wouldn't disclose the names of passengers, and we weren't sure that Mr. Sutherland would even be travelling under his own name. Hallam bought a ticket for a plane, but he had to go through security to search the airport. It didn't take him too long. The Sarasota-Bradenton airport was not that large, and it didn't take too long to get through security. But they weren't there. Then we had to wait for Hallam to get a refund on his ticket.
By this time, it was getting pretty late. We checked some bus stations, but couldn't find anything.
"He might have just driven out of town, anyway," Hallam said. "Or maybe he went to Tampa to get a flight out."
"Well, Jason probably didn't find him, did he?" I asked.
Hallam didn't know. "Jason had a head start. Maybe he pulled him out of the airport. I don't know."
Finally, we went back home. It was after midnight. Hallam and Lilith were both exhausted and went to bed. Hallam told me that I should do the same. I tried. I put on my pajamas and lay awake in the dark. But I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop worrying about Jason. Just because I'd been able to get away from Mr. Sutherland didn't mean that he would. I'd mostly been lucky. A few good shots. And Mr. Sutherland had underestimated me. He'd thought I was an easy mark. I didn't know how much of a match he'd be for Jason.
And even if Jason didn't get hurt, what if he . . . ?
I didn't know why it bothered me so much. But the wild look in Jason's eyes when he'd left the apartment was just scary. I didn't know why Jason got like that. Why he felt that he had to protect me so much. Why he felt the need to punish anyone who hurt me.
The hours crawled by. It was dark outside. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, squeezing my eyes shut every time an image of Jason broken and bleeding appeared in my head. But it didn't work, because I could see the images even with my eyes closed. Nothing worked.
At around four in the morning, I heard the door to the apartment open. I jumped out of bed and raced into the living room. Jason stood in the living room in the darkness. He dropped his keys on the floor.
Lilith was sleeping on the couch, and she stirred faintly, mumbling something incoherent.
I didn't want to wake her up.
I took Jason's hands to lead him out of the living room. They were wet, but not with water. It was too thick for that. Too warm.
It was blood. I knew it.
Jason was bleeding. My worst fears realized, I led him to the bathroom. I closed the door after us and flicked on the light.
Jason's hair was plastered to his forehead with blood and sweat. There were red streaks on his cheeks and chin. His clothes were spattered with it. And his hands . . .
His hands were covered in blood.
Jason looked up at me from under his stringy, matted hair. His eyes were dull. He looked through me.