“Track the flight of birds. They’ll lead us to water or to plants that could provide sustenance. The screwbean mesquite blooms from May to August. Its fruit isn’t as sweet as other varieties of mesquite, but the pods are fairly nutritious. Coyotes thrive on them.”
She shook her head. “I thought coyotes were carnivores.”
“They’re opportunists. Animals that learn to adapt to their environment live longer. That’s what we’re going to do, too.”
She put her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes and scanned the area for birds. “Food sounds good—even screwball mesquite pods.”
His muffled laugh warmed her. They were in a perilous position, but David wasn’t giving up, and neither was she.
But the mention of food had sent her hunger urges over the top. She even checked to see if what she’d thought were stale French fries were still edible. The lumps turned out to be wadded up twists of tissue—a product of Reezira’s nervous habit.
“Aren’t there other plants we can eat?” she asked. “Dad used to say certain cacti could keep a man from dehydration.”
He nodded but didn’t look up from his work. “If this hole doesn’t pan out, we’ll go foraging. But look, the soil is damp and I’m only six inches down.”
She scooted closer for a look. Sure enough the walls of the hole were turning a darker shade of pewter, but that was a long way from something to drink. Just thinking of the word, made her mouth crave moisture.
“What else should I do? I haven’t even seen a lizard, yet.”
“Because I’m making too much of a ruckus. Um…what color underwear do you have on?”
She nearly fell off her perch. “Red panties. White bra.”
“Take them off. You don’t need the layers during the day and even a small patch of red might help a search plane spot us.”
Somehow she doubted her bikini briefs would be much help, but she quickly complied. The relative coolness of the morning felt good on her skin. She had a feeling she was going to be hating her jeans before long, but according to David, keeping your skin protected was imperative.
He looked up when she held the two pieces of lingerie out to him. “Good. Maybe you can use the bra as a hat.”
Liz started to laugh. “I’m afraid you have me mixed up with my sister Alexa. She’s the bosomy one. Well, she used to be—until she got sick. But even underweight she’s still got me beat.”
He wiped his hands on his pants and walked to her side. “It’s vital to protect your head from the sun. As we become stressed for water, you’ll also need to breathe through your nose and keep your mouth closed. And not talk. Or laugh.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “Our last, until we’re rescued.”
“Do you think that will happen? I mean, maybe we need to think about walking out.”
“We’ll start walking this evening, just after sunset, if no search planes show up. To walk in the heat of the day would be suicide.”
He took the bra from her and cleverly fashioned an odd-shaped, lumpy hat of sorts that he perched atop her head. “Now, find a long stick to attach our new flag to, but move slowly and deliberately. No wasted motions. And keep looking for signs of trails. Javelinas and burros know where to find water. They can lead us to it, if we’re observant.”
David watched her move off toward the grouping of rocks near where they’d been dropped off. He’d climbed to the top of the outcropping before she woke up to get a sense of where they were. In the middle of freaking nowhere, he’d decided. He’d marked the position of the sun as it peeked over the horizon in the far distance to get his bearings.
They would follow Ray’s tracks for as long as they had light, but without water, they wouldn’t make it far, regardless of the time of day. So he picked up his donated tennis shoe again—a lucky break that Liz’s new brother-in-law bought durable, expensive footwear and wore the same size as David did.
He turned the shoe length-wise and resumed digging. The padded insole helped protect his fingers from the course soil. He’d never have broken through the rock-hard topsoil if he’d been digging anywhere but the riverbed. Once he cracked the outer crust, he’d found the going easier.
He focused on his task the same way he’d focused on the miracles he’d witnessed under his microscope. Worlds shifted, collided, bonded and metamorphosed while he watched. He’d missed that part of his life, he realized.
A noise of some sort made him look up some time later. He blinked to get his bearings. And when he saw Liz, his heart did a funny little lift and fall. She was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, eyes closed in a meditative pose. Her misshapen bra hat tilted rakishly on her head. Directly behind her, on the highest part of the embankment, a small red flag atop what appeared to be a creosote branch fluttered in the breeze.
His feelings for her were so powerful he was afraid his heart might explode. He respected her, admired her and, above all, loved her. And he damn well would keep her alive.
He cleared his throat, which was dry and coated in dust.
Swallowing was getting harder. The back of his neck felt blistered and his arms were probably bright red under the layer of dirt he’d accumulated. “Liz,” he croaked.
She opened her eyes and smiled.
“I need your hat…um, bra.”
She pulled if off her head and leaned over to hand it to him. “What for? I’ve grown rather fond of it. Could be the new rage, you know?”
He inverted it, doubling the cups to make one. “Perfect,” he said. Then he dipped the soft, slightly padded saucer into the well of off-gray water that had accumulated in the hole he’d dug. “Ambrosia, my dear.”
Liz scrambled closer and didn’t hesitate. After checking the supply, she slurped down a few ounces. “Yuck,” she exclaimed, choking slightly. “That’s really bad.”
“But your body needs it. Don’t spit.”
She made a face and stuck out her tongue, like a cat choking back a hairball, but eventually she stopped gagging. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Not really. But it’s better than dehydration. We could try filtering it. Maybe through my sock.”
He sat back and started to pull of his other shoe, until Liz’s laugh stopped him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I’ll stick with the plain, unfiltered kind. Sweaty-sock water just doesn’t have the same appeal, you know?”
He chuckled and took the bra/cup from her. He choked down two gulps, and had to agree. It was bad. Wet, but alkaline-tasting and gritty. “Nice job on the flag,” he said. “Did you see any more creosote around? It burns nice and smoky if can get a fire going.”
“We don’t have any matches.”
He slowly stood up. “Matches? We don’t need no stinking matches.”
Her brow arched wryly. “Pathetic, but I give you credit for trying. You need me to gather wood, I take it.”
“Anything flammable. Reeds. Thistles. Little plastic thingees. We’ll stoke this before we start walking, and the glow, if it’s big enough might help us chart a course so we don’t wander around in circles. Hopefully, we’ll be able to follow the tracks your car tires made, but it won’t be easy in the dark.”
“Did I tell you that Zeke put a GPS tracking device in my car?”
David stopped abruptly. “No, you didn’t. Why’d he do that?”
“Precautionary, I guess. Just in case your bad guy came looking. Smart, huh? I should have mentioned it earlier, but since he hasn’t shown up…” He got her point. “I don’t know how GPS works, do you?”
“In theory, but I’ve never used one.” He sighed. “But even with GPS, this is a big damn desert. If Zeke’s looking for us, we need to send up a sign. So look for wood.”
It took longer than he’d anticipated to construct the bow and drill. He’d practiced this skill off and on ever since he arrived in Vegas—just for such a circumstance. He found a little depression in the rock and mounded some bits and pieces of dried foliage in a pile beside him. The sound o
f the friction as wood and rock created heat was pretty much drowned out by the wind, which had continued to rise all afternoon. He sheltered his work with his body, only paying attention to his task.
“Oh, my God, smoke,” Liz exclaimed. “You really are a Boy Scout.”
Not really. His grandmother hadn’t wanted to take him to regular weekly meetings. He hadn’t argued or pleaded. So instead of interacting with a group, he’d become a nerd who liked science. A loner. When Ray visited colleges looking for bright young chemistry students, his first criterion had been social outcasts with a limited social life. People like Paul.
Liz suddenly materialized at his side. She carefully fed the flame and blew on it. Within seconds they had a small fire going.
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
David felt good about his accomplishment, too. He waited until he had a bed of coals then popped one plastic strip on the pile. The black smoke twirled upward, but was quickly dispersed by the breeze.
Oh, well, he thought. We have several more hours of daylight. We can try again.
He did…until all four pieces were gone.
Hope was disappearing, too, but he didn’t tell Liz that. Their tiny sips of grayish water weren’t going to do much to rehydrate their bodies. They needed help. Soon. Or Ray would win, and David couldn’t let that happen.
Ray was an abomination, a clever manipulator who survived through sheer perseverance. If even a fraction of the tales he’d shared about his youth were true, his mere survival was a bit of a miracle. He’d grown up so poor, he’d scrounged for food from local restaurants in Tijuana while his prostitute mother worked the streets. He’d never known his father. His mother disappeared when Ray was ten. David once thought that their histories—both being orphans—made them closer and more alike, but he’d been wrong.
As an idealistic chemist, David had wanted to make the world a better place; Ray wanted to make the world pay for his misfortunes.
Chapter 17
Their rescue, when it happened just before dusk, was a surreal combination of miracle and anticlimax, Liz thought. She and David had rested in the shade of a makeshift lean-to he’d constructed against the rock where they’d slept the night before. The heat had at times felt like a mean child tormenting them with the occasional stinging wisp of wind-driven sand. Liz had done her best to remain still, conserve energy and nurse her dwindling supply of hope. She’d even concentrated very hard on sending her mother a directional signal of sorts.
No helicopters or spotter planes gave them any warning. Just the low roar of two unmarked black SUVs with tinted windows. FBI, she later learned.
“Your smoke signal really helped,” Zeke, who was the first to exit from one of the cars, said. “Smart move.”
David took the praise with a bare nod of acknowledgment, greedily guzzling from the bottle of water one of the three agents who were with Zeke had handed him. Liz had choked down two or three swallows before her mind even registered the relief.
“Thank God you stayed put,” Zeke said. “We didn’t know what the hell we were going to do if you’d left these coordinates.”
Neither Liz nor David could talk right away, but, fortunately, Zeke had plenty to say once he helped them into the backseat of one of the vehicles.
In response to David’s barely croaked “How…?” Zeke answered, “Liz’s mother called me about midnight and said you two were in trouble. I didn’t ask how she knew—she’s Yetta, right?”
Liz nodded.
“First, I checked to see if there was any action on your car. Sure enough, it was moving slowly in an odd meandering motion way the hell out in the middle of nowhere. Not your typical driving pattern.”
He was facing them from the front seat, as the driver, a sober-looking fellow with reflective sunglasses and a black ball cap, drove.
“He was going to leave my car,” Liz said in a hoarse whisper, “at the airport so you’d think we’d run off together.”
David gave her a funny look and Liz realized he’d been unconscious during that part of his ex-boss’s conversation.
“Yeah, well, that didn’t happen,” Zeke said.
He and the driver exchanged a look. Liz’s intuition told her something bad was coming. She reached out and took David’s hand in hers.
“Let me back up,” Zeke said. “Yesterday, the arson team made a breakthrough in their investigation. Mark Gaylord called me and said they’d found part of the trigger device and when they entered it into the computer, the match rang all kinds of bells higher up.”
He looked at David and said, “Apparently, your ex-boss had made a hobby out of lighting fires. Might have been where he made his money starting out. After you blew the whistle on him, he went underground, had some cosmetic surgery done, then he started exacting revenge. His first incendiary device destroyed the federal courthouse in Virginia where he’d been brought up on charges. Two agents and a judge died. That’s why the Bureau is here.”
“So, you caught him?” Liz asked.
Zeke hesitated. “Two units intercepted him when he reached the feeder road. There was another car waiting for him. Several helicopters and some county boys got in on the chase. We had no way of knowing whether Cross was behind the wheel of Liz’s car or the other one.”
“What happened?”
“We threw tire spikes in his path. He swerved to miss them and crashed over an embankment. He died at the scene.”
“Ray’s dead?” David asked.
Zeke let out a sigh and nodded.
David appeared too stunned to react. Liz was relieved to the point of tears, but the reservoirs of her tear ducts must not have filled up, yet. The madman was dead. David was free to start his life over. Together, they’d beaten the odds and made it out of the desert.
She looked at Zeke, who was staring at her as if gauging her emotional stability. There was something he wasn’t telling her.
She took a deep breath. “What else?”
Zeke turned away, facing front. “Nothing. Your mother’s at your house. Your roommates are back. We’re going there, first. Baines, I need you to come with me to Metro, if you’re up for it. We want to get a statement. And Cross’s accomplice is still at large.”
Liz looked at David. His brow was crinkled, but she could tell by the set of his jaw he was prepared to do whatever was necessary to tie up all the loose ends. He nodded. “Will you be okay?”
No. She knew she would be, but delayed shock was setting in. A shiver passed through her body and her teeth started to chatter.
“I think Liz should be checked out by a doctor,” David said, in a tone that made both men in the front seat look back at them.
Zeke shrugged. “Good idea. Maybe you both should.”
Liz didn’t have the energy to argue. She was suddenly exhausted. She pulled the jacket someone had handed her up around her neck and snuggled down as far as the safety belt would allow her. David leaned inward to offer his shoulder and in seconds she was asleep.
“HOW DOES IT FEEL to be a free man?” the younger of the FBI agents asked.
How does it feel? David thought a moment, but no glib answer came to mind. He was alive—thanks to Liz and Zeke. The threat that had been hanging over his head for four years was gone. Truly and completely. Ray had no children to avenge their father’s death, no friends or partners who gave a damn about him. Instead of finding comfort in the thought, though, David had to fight back a wince. How is my life any different?
“I’m still trying to get used to the idea,” he responded, to be friendly. He’d spent too long on the fringe—both as a scientist holed up in his lab and as a fugitive. Did he have the social skills he needed to fit into society again? He wasn’t sure.
“Are we done here?” he asked. Exhaustion was lurking just under his consciousness. Sleeping for a week sounded like a great idea, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He had less than a thousand dollars to his name, no car, no house and a few straggly cacti that he needed to find ho
mes for.
Zeke, who’d left the room to take a call, returned. He spoke to the agents before motioning for David to follow him. David stood up. Someone at the E.R. had handed him a pair of scrubs to put on after he’d taken a much-needed shower. And paper slippers to replace his ruined tennis shoes. The tile floor was cold but life-affirming.
He nodded his thanks to the three agents who’d been involved in the rescue then shuffled after Zeke. What he needed more than anything was to see Liz. Alexa had been waiting at the hospital when they’d arrived. The two sisters had embraced with tears and hugs of joy. After a quick once-over by the attending physician, Liz had been free to leave. She and David really hadn’t had a chance to talk.
“I know you’re ready to close the book on this,” Zeke said, leading David to his office at the end of the hallway, “but there’s one more thing we need to talk about—Liz.”
A hint of foreboding in Zeke’s tone made David wary. He ignored the hustle and bustle around him. “Is she okay?”
She’d seemed fine at the hospital. Exhausted and disheveled, but still on top of things, refusing the IV the doctor had recommended. “I’ll pick up a couple of bottles of Gatorade to replace my electrolytes,” she’d told the man. “A shower and nap are my number-one priorities at the moment.”
“What’s going on? Is something wrong?” David asked as he sat down across from the silver-haired detective.
Zeke’s nod was ambivalent at best. “Yetta just called. She was at Liz’s place while we were looking for you two. I guess having Liz’s things around helped her pick up her daughter’s Rom ESP frequency or something.”
His tone was dry but not denigrating. David had a feeling Zeke put more stock in those ESP messages than he wanted people to know. “And…”
“Some lady from India called while Yetta was there. Do you know anything about a baby Liz wanted to adopt?”
David nodded. “Her name is Prisha. She’s an orphan living at the ashram where Liz volunteered. She’s been sick recently. Liz was worried about her. Oh, God, no…”
“Whoa, son, slow down. You’re jumping to the wrong conclusion,” Zeke said. “I don’t know the whole story, but apparently when the mother found out that Liz wanted to adopt the baby, she changed her mind and came rushing back into the picture. I don’t know exactly what that means to Liz’s plans, but Yetta is going to break the news to Liz as soon as she wakes up. She thinks maybe you should be there.”
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