Three Fates

part.’ ”
    “Oh. We haven’t talked about it. I imagine he’s anxious to get home, to get back to the family business, to figure out what to do with his share of things. Maybe after . . . maybe in time he’ll feel more settled and we’ll talk about it.”
    “Time’s part of it, isn’t it?” Cleo lifted Clotho. “Seems to me for all the fate and destiny stuff, sometimes you have to do the job yourself. Why don’t you ask him?”
    “Him to what? To . . . to marry me? I couldn’t. He’s supposed to ask me.”
    “Why?”
    “Because he’s the man.”
    “Yeah, yeah. So what? You love him, you want him, so you ask him. Then we can plan a triple wedding. Strikes me like that’s how all this was meant to shake down.”
    “Ask him?” The idea rolled around in Tia’s brain before she shook her head. “I’d never have the nerve.”
    When the phone rang, she carried empty boxes into the kitchen and picked up the nested portable on the counter. “Hello?”
    “Doing research, you bitch?”
    A whipsnap of ice slapped up Tia’s spine. “Excuse me?”
    “What did he promise you? True love? Devotion? You won’t get it.”
    “I don’t understand.” She walked quickly back into the living room, signaled Cleo. “Is this Anita?”
    “Don’t play dumb with me. Game’s over. I want the Fates.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tipped the phone so Cleo could bump heads with her and listen.
    “If you don’t, it’s going to be very sad about your mother.”
    “My mother?” Tia jolted up straight, instinctively gripping Cleo’s hand. “What about my mother?”
    “She’s not feeling well, not well at all. Are you, Alma?”
    “Tia.” The voice was weak, and thick with tears. “Tia, what’s happening?”
    “Tell her what I’m doing right now, Alma dear.”
    “She’s . . . Tia, she’s holding a gun to my head. I think, I think she shot Tilly. Oh God, my God, I can’t breathe.”
    “Anita! Don’t hurt her. She doesn’t know anything. She’s not involved in this.”
    “Everyone’s involved. Is he there with you?”
    “No, Malachi’s not here. I swear to you, he’s not here. I’m alone.”
    “Then come, alone, to your mommy’s house. We’ll have a nice cozy chat. You’ve got five minutes, so you’d better run. Five minutes, Tia, or I shoot her.”
    “Don’t, please. I’ll do anything you want.”
    “You’re wasting time, and she doesn’t have much.”
    Even as the phone clicked in her ear, Tia was tossing it aside. “I have to go now. I have to hurry.”
    “Jesus Christ, Tia, you can’t go over there. You can’t go by yourself.”
    “I have to. There’s no time.”
    “We’ll call Gideon, Malachi. We’ll call Jack.” Cleo muscled Tia away from the door. “Think, damn it. Think. You can’t go rushing over there. We need the cops.”
    “I have to. She’s my mother. She’s terrified, maybe already hurt. Five minutes. I only have five minutes. She’s my mother,” Tia repeated, pushing Cleo aside.
    “Stall her.” Cleo rushed out the door behind Tia. “Stall her, I’ll get help.”
    Tia called out her mother’s address and ran. She hadn’t known she could run that fast, that she could streak through the rain like a snake through water. Drenched, terrified and chilled to the bone, she hurled herself up the steps to her parents’ door and, desperate, lifted a hand to beat on the wood. Her fist pounding, she pushed the door, already slightly ajar, open.
    “Mother!”
    “We’re up here, Tia.” Anita’s voice floated downstairs. “Close and lock the door behind you. You just made it, you know. Thirty seconds to spare.”
    “Mother.” She hesitated at the base of the stairs. “Are you all right?”
    “She struck me.” Alma began to weep. “My face. Tia, don’t come up. Don’t come upstairs! Run!”
    “Don’t hurt her again. I’m coming.” Tia gripped the banister hard and started up the steps.
    At the top, she turned and saw Tilly lying in the hallway, blood seeping into the rug beneath her. “Oh God, no!” She rushed forward, threw herself down to check for a pulse.
    Alive, she thought, nearly weeping. Still alive, but for how long? If she stalled Anita long enough for help to come, Tilly might bleed to death.
    You’re on your own. She ordered herself to get to her feet. And you will do whatever needs to be done.
    “Tilly is badly hurt.”
    “Then your father will just have to call the agency and find another