The Feeder Read Free

with terror. “Fuck NO! And you can’t! Please promise me you won’t call the cops!”
    “I can’t promise that.”
    “You have to.”
    “Why?”
    She ducked her chin and stared at the floor in the corner of the room.
    “Because he is the police.”
    “What? Are you shitting me?”
    She shook her head sadly. “He’ll find me eventually. This is just a little vacation from frustration. But he’ll find me. He always does.”
    I took her chin in my hand and lifted her face to mine. “Look. I’m here now, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. He won’t get you, I promise. I will deal with this asshole.”
    Camille shook her head frantically. “Sammie, you have to go home. I don’t want you involved in this. You have no idea what you’re dealing with. They’re all dirty, every last one of them.”
    “Who? The police?” I wasn’t completely surprised, but I got the feeling my sister was over dramatizing the whole thing.
    “You can’t trust the cops. They’re like the mob. If you mess with them, they’ll fuckin’ kill you.”
    I sighed. I recognized drug-induced paranoia when I saw it. Getting Camille clean was going to be a long haul but first I had to get her out of there. I picked up Camille’s hand and stroked it, noticing a purple bruise on her knuckles. I hoped she’d given the bastard a black eye before she left.
    “I’m going home,” I said, “but not without you. I’m getting you out of here.”
    I was shocked when Camille nodded in agreement. I’d thought I was going to have a fight on my hands.
    “Okay,” she said, “but I’ll need something else to wear. You soaked my only clothes, dickhead.”
    It hadn’t even occurred to me to pack a bag when I left. I was so concerned with getting my ass to LA that I had traveled with nothing but the clothes on my back.
    “I’ll go find you something. I saw a surf shop up the block. They should have some clothes there. You get yourself cleaned up and then we’ll get the hell out of here.”
    Camille stepped into the shower, under warm water this time. I slipped her room key into my pocket and ran up the street to the Board Members surf shop I had seen on my way in. I searched the racks of brightly patterned board shorts until I found a pair in Camille’s size with a blue and pink floral pattern that wasn’t too gaudy. I selected a fuchsia T-shirt to match and also found a long-sleeved gray and pink hoodie that would fit her. Camille would approve. She liked pink. I wanted to conceal her bruises and the track marks on her arms as much as possible before trying to put her on a flight. I hoped she had some makeup with her at the motel.
    I returned to the motel room with the bag of clothes in one hand and a steaming latte in the other and let myself in with the key. The shower was still running, so I sat down to wait while calling the airline from my cell phone to find a flight for us. After I hung up the phone, the shower was still running. I knocked on the bathroom door.
    “Hey, hurry up. I got us a flight but we need to get outta here now. Got you some clothes.” There was no answer, so I went inside and slid the frosted glass door aside. The shower was empty.
     

~ Chapter 3 ~
    The Odie-Hole
     
    Camille was gone.
    Her soaking wet clothes were still on the bathroom floor where she had tossed them when she undressed. I ran back into the bedroom. The small bag of heroin still lay on the nightstand beside the spoon and syringe. I knew no junkie would leave voluntarily without her precious dope. Someone had taken my sister against her will.
    “Camille!” I yelled, running out the door. I ran to the street and looked one way, then the next for signs of my sister’s abductor. The motel parking lot was deserted except for two vehicles that had been parked outside other rooms when I arrived. The street was empty.
    I burst into the motel office. El Bitcho was still on duty behind the desk.
    “Did you see anyone go to 102 while I was