Page 105 of Líadan's Code

“Because I killed a lot of people to ensure you wouldn’t be,” I say, telling her the truth. Mickey sounds like he just swallowed his tongue, but I couldn’t give two shits. “I wasn’t part of the bad things that happened, but I can help piece together a life worth living.”

“I would say you’re too pretty to kill people, but I know better now,” she says, opening a door to a large room.

It’s packed full of people, and Jana walks over to me with wide eyes.

“They were starting to get a little antsy,” she says under her breath.

“Have you been able to talk to anyone? See what their circumstances are?” I ask, my gaze moving over the large room. The warmer weather today is keeping this room comfortable.

Holding up a clipboard, Jana nods. “I know who wants to be returned to their homes, who doesn't, and a variety of other information,” she says. “We’re ready for you.”

“Can you handle this?” I ask, turning to Laura. She’s looking at me with a fuck ton more respect, and I hate that it takes knowing that I went on a murder spree to protect these people for it to happen.

“Yes,” she says softly. “I can.”

The next hour, we walk through the room separately, gathering stories, concerns, and answering questions. A lot of them were worried about what this means for them, that they’re stepping into another trap.

It’s hard to trust when you’ve been fucked over so badly.

Faster than I would have thought possible, Mickey has a small army parked in the lot. Families are here to meet the children to offer them a place to stay, with Laura at the forefront to facilitate it all.

The men and women who are told over and over that they’re free to do whatever they want, they simply need to make a choice.

“What if I choose wrong?” a woman named Kila asks. Her blonde hair is dull as she fidgets with it, her fingers twitching with nerves. She was walking home from work when she was kidnapped.

Trila had people employed whose only job was to provide her with inventory, by any means necessary. Kila lived alone, and had no one to notice when she disappeared except her boss.

“Give yourself a moment to breathe, and take a job in Chicago,” I suggest. Glancing around for Mickey, I wave him over to me. “Tell me about what you’re good at? If this was normal and I was offering you a job, what would you want it to be for?”

“I was a bookkeeper,” she says immediately. “I can waitress, bartend, but I would be willing to clean toilets if it meant that I can walk away from all of this.”

“I know someone who is looking for a receptionist for his tattoo parlor,” Mickey says. I swear, this man knows fucking everyone. “There’s an apartment above the place that you can live in as part of your wages. Do you want it?”

“Yes,” she says without hesitation. Mickey grins at her excitement.

“He can’t find anyone willing to deal with his surly ass. You’ll be doing him a favor,” he says. “You’ll start immediately, and I’ll drive you to the place.”

Working through everything takes the better part of the day, helping people get train tickets or flights home particularly takes a while until the warehouse is empty and I’m looking out the window as the last of the cars leave.

We used Trila’s money to pay for everything.

Seemed fitting, and there’s so much of it. I hope she’s incredibly uncomfortable in the afterlife right now.

“I can’t believe you were able to get so much done,” Laura says behind me. I don’t take my eyes off the sun going down for a moment before turning to face her.

“I don’t have any red tape to cut through,” I say, shrugging. “Social services will never be called to overrule the families Mickey and I placed these kids with, they’ll have entirely new identities. I had a practically unlimited amount of money at my disposal to pay for people to get back to their homes that wanted it.”

“Are you going to accept a compliment or not?” she huffs.

“Eh, probably not,” I say. “I’m terrible at accepting them, and this was a group effort. My presence is more to ensure everything went smoothly. If I didn’t see it happen, did it actually happen?”

“Your paranoia is showing, Lía,” Brendan says, alerting me to the fact that he came back inside.

“I think my hanger is as well,” I mutter. “Save me.”

“Thank you for your help today,” Brendan tells her, extracting me from the conversation elegantly. “Do you think you could help find us a good therapist for them all? I know your job keeps you busy and it’s probably against some kind of rules.”

“I have a private practice outside of the police station,” she says, recognizing the out for what it was and refusing to take it. “I need pro bono hours to keep my license. I’d like to continue to see the children, and as many of the adults that would like my services.”

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