The sun makes the car hot…and me sleepy. I am so groggy…as if I’ve been drugged. I just need some rest. My eyes feel as if someone taped lead weights to them…I can no longer keep them open. But I try to focus on the faded yellow lines going down the center of the road. I try to aim the car to the right of them. I have no idea how fast I’m driving. I don’t think I care anymore. What difference does it make?
I’ve lost track of the mileage numbers. I can’t even remember the last sign I saw. Was it Albuquerque? And how long ago was that? I tried to maintain my bearings earlier on, hoping for an opportunity to escape this madman. At one point I actually had it all planned out. Now I’m so tired I can’t even remember what the plan was…or why I’m here.
I glance over to the passenger seat now, hoping against hope that maybe he’s fallen asleep, that maybe I can pull over and grab my purse from the backseat and jump out and run. But he’s wide awake. Studying the map. The gun still in his hand. I glance out at the terrain now. Where would I run to anyway? It’s so barren, with nothing but rocks and sagebrush and hills and brown dust. No place to hide.
I notice a sign ahead, and I slow down as I try to focus my eyes to read the words. Like so many of the other signs, it seems to be in Spanish. Las Cruces 28 miles. I wonder what that means. Is it a town? Are we in Mexico? And then I no longer care.
“Pull over!” Steven says suddenly.
“What?” I turn and look at him. There’s nothing out here.”
He sort of laughs as he tosses the map to the floor of my car, but then he turns serious as he waves the handgun close to my face. “That’s the point, Beth. Pull over.”
So I pull over to the side of the road, but I don’t turn off the car. I just sit there and ponder my fate. With startling clarity, almost as if someone just threw a bucket of cold water over my head, I know exactly what he’s going to do next. First, he’ll make me get out of the car. Then he’ll tell me to walk a ways out, maybe a hundred feet or more, but far enough from the road that a passerby won’t spot me.
Not that there are any other cars on this desolate stretch of road. I can’t even remember when I last saw a car. Finally, after I’m far enough out, he’ll shoot me, probably in the back…maybe the head. And I will fall into the sun-baked dust, and he will leave me there for the vultures and coyotes to pick my bones clean. Perhaps I deserve this sort of ending. Perhaps it’s my own fault for being so unbelievably stupid. But what about my children? My kids. Samantha…Zachery…I am so sorry. So, so sorry …
I sit up and gasp for breath, disoriented and confused, and look around to see where I am. But instead of the scorched desert highway, I find myself in a cool, comfortable room with soothing ocean colors. I realize I am safe in Ebony’s guest room. But the dream I had was painfully real—and frightening. I leap out of bed and run down the hallway. “I know where Mom is!” I scream. “Ebony! Ebony! I had a dream!”
Tears are streaming down my cheeks when she finds me in the living room. I’m just standing in the center of the room, having what feels like a complete meltdown. I’m shaking and crying, and it feels like I’m going to be sick to my stomach or maybe pass out.
“Sit down,” Ebony commands me, leading me to the couch where she eases me down. “Put your head between your knees, Sam. Take some slow, deep breaths.” She gently pats my back. “Now just try to relax. Breathe deeply, and when you’re ready, you can tell me about your dream.”
I do as she says, praying as I take shallow breaths at first and finally deeper ones. I’m surprised to find that I’m not praying in my head, like I often do, but I’m praying out loud. And then I realize that Ebony is praying too. We both pray for Mom, and eventually I feel calm enough to describe my dream. Ebony’s ready with a tablet and pen, taking careful notes as I try to remember every single detail.
“Is Albuquerque in Arizona?” I ask when I think I’m about finished.
“New Mexico.”
“And the sign—Las Cruces. What is that?”
“A town by the Mexican border. Las Cruces means the crosses.”
“Oh…” I nod, trying to absorb this.
“I’m calling the FBI.” Ebony is already dialing the numbers. I try to listen to her, but my mind is still racing, still trying to determine if I missed some small but important detail. Is there more to my dream than I can consciously recall?
I can hear her relaying the information I just gave her. “No, I don’t know which highway it is,” she says for the second time, as if trying to make herself clear. She glances at her notes again. “But as I said, there is a sign that says ‘Las Cruces 28 miles.’” She pauses. “No, I don’t know which direction that would be.” She tosses a questioning look at me, and I try to remember.
“The sun was shining in through the passenger’s side window,” I say quickly.
Her brow creases as she considers this. “South,” she states. “We think Las Cruces was twenty-eight miles south of the site that we want checked. And keep in mind, we’re talking about a very desolate road. Not a major highway. There wouldn’t be much traffic.” She pauses again. “Yes, definitely. Yes, we’ll be right here.” Then she hangs up.
“Are they looking for her now?” I ask desperately.
“The FBI is on top of it. Sounds like they’ll be sending out state troopers immediately. Naturally they’re not sure which road it is, and the dispatcher said it might be helpful if they can call back to ask you for more details. Are you comfortable with that, Samantha?”
“Of course.” I rack my brain to remember more. There were yellow lines in the center of the highway, pretty faded. And I think there were some potholes, like it wasn’t a well-maintained road.”
Ebony is furiously writing this down. “This is good, Samantha. It’ll be helpful. Keep going if you can.”
“The low hills were to the right of the road. It seemed more flat on the left side.”
“That sounds like the hills were to the west then, if the car was going south like we’re assuming.”
“Yes, based on the sun’s direction, that would be right. But that’s only if I was in the same time zone…you know in the dream. Like real time. But suppose what I saw happened hours ago? What if it was morning and the sun was on the east side? They’d be going north.”
“Considering how far away Las Cruces is and how long they must’ve been driving, it seems unlikely they’d have been there in the morning. And even if that was somehow the case, why would they be driving north if Greg is trying to get away?”
“Mom seemed exhausted. I think she’d done all the driving.”
“Poor Beth.” Ebony shook her head. “For now, let’s assume that your dream was in real time.”
I nod. “It did seem more like afternoon than morning. Something about the light… or the heat…I’m not even sure.”
“How about the road when you—I mean, your mom — pulled over? How did it look right there?”
“There was hardly any shoulder on the road, just dirt, and it sort of dropped down, like a foot or so. The car couldn’t get completely off the highway, but there wasn’t traffic, so it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“How about the gun, Samantha? Do you remember what it looked like?”
“Not very big and dark colored. It almost seemed like a toy gun, but I suspect it was real.”
“I’ll show you some photos,” she says. “Maybe you can pick it out. It will be important to identify the weapon.” She stands and goes to her bookcase.
“You mean if Mom’s been shot?”
She turns and looks at me with concerned eyes. “To identify Greg, or Steven. He got that gun somewhere. It will be part of his trail.” She returns with a gun book, and after a few minutes I find one that seems similar.
“That’s a Glock,” she says with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not positive, but it looks like it.”
“That’s a serious gun.”
“What gun isn’t serious?”
“G
ood point. How about Greg—or Steven? What was he wearing? Do you recall?”
I struggle to remember. “Dark pants, like they were probably suit pants. Not black, but maybe charcoal gray And a light blue shirt that was partially buttoned and not tucked in. Kind of sloppy looking, but it seemed like a dress shirt, like he’d been dressed for a business meeting.”
She’s writing this down. “And your mom…Do you recall what she had on?”
I try to remember. “Blue jeans…but I’m not sure which top. Although I think it had short sleeves…because her forearms were bare. And I could see her watch—the silver one that’s like a bracelet.”
“Did you see what time it was?”
I close my eyes and strain my brain to remember. I definitely recall seeing the watch’s face, but where were the hands pointing? “On the right side of the dial,” I say suddenly. I look up at the clock in Ebony’s kitchen. “Like two fifteen…or three fifteen.”
“And it’s nearly five now,” Ebony says. “And even though they’re an hour ahead, let’s assume it was before four our time when they stopped.”
“Do you think she’s okay?”
Just then the phone rings, and Ebony answers and immediately tells whoever is on the other end the new information I just gave her. I’m relieved I don’t have to talk to anyone else just yet. I bow my head and pray some more. I try not to remember the chill of my mother’s fear…or her prediction of what Steven was about to do.
When Ebony hangs up, I ask if they’ve found the road.
“Not yet. Apparently there are a number of roads in that area. They’re trying to narrow it down and will soon have a helicopter out looking.”
“Would it help if we went down there,” I say suddenly, “like we did with Kayla in Arizona?”
“I’m hoping they’ll find her much sooner than that,” says Ebony in a serious tone. The best bet is for them to get there…and get there fast.”
“I know…” I choke back a sob. “I just can’t stand this…this waiting and not knowing. Why does God show me these things when there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it?”
“Oh, Samantha.” She sits beside me and puts an arm around me. “You are not doing absolutely nothing. What we’ve just given the FBI is a really big something. It’s enough for them to find your mom—and to arrest him.”
“But this waiting…”
“Let’s just pray, Samantha. That’s really all we can do now.”
And so we pray. We take turns, but Ebony prays the most. And her words wash over me like a smooth, cool blanket of comfort, and just as I’m beginning to feel hopeful that Mom will be found alive and okay, my phone rings.
I quickly answer, hoping beyond hope that it will be Mom’s voice on the other end, but it’s my brother. “Oh, Zach!”
“What’s up, Sam? Is something wrong?”
So I tell him the whole ugly story of how Mom is missing, how Steven is involved, and finally my vision in New Mexico, although I leave out the part about the gun. Somehow I don’t think Zach needs to hear that just yet. I don’t want to upset him too much.
“So what’s next?” he demands. “How do we help her?”
I explain that they’re already looking for her. “I’m at Ebony’s now. I’ll stay with her until Mom gets home.” Even as I say this, I feel my faith shrinking slightly. What if she never comes home? Still, I need to be strong—for Zach’s sake.
“So you think she’s okay?” I hear the fear in my brother’s voice.
“Oh, sure,” I say, trying to sound light and easy. “I think Steven just wanted a quick ride out of town, and he decided that Mom’s car would make a good shuttle service. He wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Poor Mom.”
Yeah…”
We talk awhile longer, and I try to reassure him. Zach already has a lot on his plate…As much as I want to tell him everything, I don’t want to give him any reason to mess up his rehab time. I know Mom wouldn’t want that either.
“Well, keep me posted,” he says. “I’ll let them know that you’ll be calling here and that it’s a family emergency.”
“Give them Ebony’s name and number if they need verification.”
“Okay.”
“And remember, Zach,” I finally say, “the best thing we can do right now is to pray.”
“I’ll definitely be doing that.”
“I love you, Zach.”
“I love you too, Sam. And”—his voice cracks—“I want to be a better brother to you. And a better son to Mom too. This time I’m gonna do it right. You guys will see. We’ll be a family again. With God’s help, I promise, we will.”
I try to hold on to that promise as we say good-bye and hang up. We’re going to be a family again. Mom and Zach and me. A family. With God’s help…we will.
But as the minutes slowly tick by, doubts creep in. I try to keep praying, and then, to distract ourselves, Ebony and I make chili. It was her mom’s recipe, and as she talks about her mom and what a great cook she was, all I can think about is my own mom. She might not be the best cook, but I love her. Will I ever see her again?
Twelve
Ebony and I are both fairly quiet during dinner. At times like this, there is only so much small talk a person can make. Fortunately, Ebony seems to understand this. I try to act like I’m enjoying the homemade chili, but the truth is, my stomach feels like I’ve already swallowed a brick. We’re just cleaning up the dinner things when Olivia calls me on my cell phone. I quickly tell her the latest news.
“Oh, Sam,” she exclaims. “I’m so sorry. That’s horrible. You must be totally freaking.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” I glance at the clock. It’s nearly six thirty now, and we haven’t heard anything for close to an hour. “And maybe I should keep my phone line clear,” I say suddenly. “In case Mom tries to call me.”
“Definitely. I’ll be praying, Sam. Keep me posted.”
After I hang up, I turn to Ebony. “Do you think it would hurt to call the FBI again? Just in case…I mean, maybe they found her but forgot to call us.”
“I don’t think it’d hurt anything,” she says, reaching for her phone-.
Barely breathing, I listen as Ebony makes an inquiry. “But you think maybe you’ve located the road?” She pauses. ‘Yes, that sounds right. A search party? Good. What time does the sun set down there? Oh…” She nods as if processing this. “Please let us know as soon as you find out anything…Yes. We appreciate it.” Then she hangs up. “What?” I demand.
“They think they located the road, and they found a sign that fits your description.”
“And?”
“They sent out a search party to comb that area just beyond the Las Cruces road sign you saw. They hope to find her before dark.”
“When does it get dark in New Mexico?”
She frowns. “They say the sun sets around 6:45 this time of year.”
“That’s in minutes!”
“Actually, it was an hour ago. Remember, New Mexico is a different time zone. It’s 7:40 right now.”
“Did they quit looking when it got dark?”
“I don’t know. But it probably didn’t get dark right when the sun set. I’m sure there was at least an hour of dusk…maybe more.”
“I wish I could go down there.”
“I know you do, Samantha. But by the time we got a flight, if we could even get one tonight, and by the time we got down there, probably not until morning, your mom could be on her way home.”
“I hope you’re right…”
“We just need to be patient…and keep praying.”
“I know.” I look out the window, out over the river where I can still see the sun through the trees. “It looks like the sun won’t be going down here for a While,” I point out. “Why does it set so early in New Mexico?”
“Remember, living up here in the north, we get more daylight hours this time of year.”
“Oh…”
I think this has been the lo
ngest day of my life. By eight o’clock, I am frantic. I beg Ebony to call again. “Just see if they have an update.”
She agrees, and I listen as she grills them. I can’t detect a thing from her vague responses. Still, she doesn’t seem pleased with what she finds out. Her forehead is deeply creased by the time she hangs up the phone.
“What?” I demand impatiently.
“The good news is that the search is continuing after dark.”
“Is there bad news?”
“They feel certain they’ve located the site…and they’ve collected some evidence.”
“Evidence?”
She nods, putting a hand on my shoulder. “A shell casing…”
“From the Glock?”
“Most likely.”
I take in a sharp breath. “Anything else?”
“And some blood.”
Tears are coming now. “My mom’s blood?”
“They can’t be sure.”
“But where is she?”
“They don’t know, but right now someone is on the way with dogs…to track her. If she’s out there, they should find her very soon.”
I sink into a chair by the window and attempt to assimilate this information. My mother has possibly been shot. She’s out in the desert. Dogs will be tracking her. “What about Steven?” I ask. “And the car?”
“They think he’s made it into Mexico. But all the local authorities have been notified down there. Hopefully someone will pick him up soon.”
I feel like I hate that man, like I could kill him if I needed to. But I know that’s not a Christian attitude. Still, I’m not sure I care.
“How could they find blood,” I persist, “but not find Mom?”
Ebony nods. “I was wondering the same thing. My first guess is that she’s been wounded, but not too badly, and that she was able to get away…or…” Then she stops.
“Or what?”
“Or…maybe he forced her back into the car.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I’m not sure…To be honest, it wouldn’t make much sense. But it doesn’t make sense that the searchers wouldn’t have found her either. If that was her blood.”
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