by Brian Shea
A twinkle showed in the man’s eyes at the prospect of the money. And she had a pretty good guess what he would spend it on.
He greedily took the slip of paper from the girl and walked slowly into the bus station ticketing area, stumbling only once on the lip of the curb. The drunken man was doing his best impression of a sober person. A tough role for him to play, but as far as bum actors go, he’d be in the running for an Oscar.
Mouse stood out of view from the glass doors of the ticket office. She bit the inside of her lip. A nervous habit that had become more frequent in recent months. She didn’t want anyone to see her exchange with the homeless man. Using him as her go-between had its potential for failure. She released the pressure on her lip when he returned a few minutes later.
“It’s gonna be hundered-sixy-one dullars. But ain’t gonna getcha as fur as ya want. Some place called Sag-in-naw,” the man said, smiling awkwardly at his success. The gesture displayed the gaps in between his few remaining stained teeth.
Mouse stepped back from the man and pulled out her map. It took her a moment of searching before she found Saginaw. Close enough. She’d figure a way to get to the water, to Pidgeon, once she was there. She returned the map to the pack’s interior.
“Deal,” Mouse said, turning away from the man as she reached into the zipper pocket.
She didn’t want him to see the wad of money. Or the black handgun resting at the bottom. Her hand pressed out toward the man. He took the cash and looked back at her.
“I put a little extra just in case. You can keep whatever bit of change is left over. I will give you your twenty when you come back,” Mouse said, assertively.
The man’s filthy fingers rubbed the bills together, calculating its value. Mouse could tell it had been a long time since this man had held so much. She worried that the man would try to run off with the cash, but she had a keen eye for people and saw some good in him. He didn’t want to initially help because he thought he might be contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Bad people don’t worry about stuff like that. And in a worst-case scenario, if she’d read him wrong, then it would be his loss. She would have no difficulty running him down and retrieving what was hers.
The man walked away with the crumpled cash in his right hand and disappeared into the station again. He moved a little faster this time. The pep in his step at the prospect of having twenty dollars in his pocket proved to be all the motivation he needed.
The money was replaced by the white gleam reflecting off the ticketing paperwork. She hadn’t noticed it before, but the man walked with a limp. He leaned to one side as he swiveled his hip forward with each step of his return. The movement was more pronounced due to the unbalance created by his intoxication. Mouse already had palmed the twenty-dollar bill. The exchange would be quick.
“I hope your gramma is okay,” the man said as he swapped the tickets for his wage.
“Umm. Yeah. Thanks.” Mouse glanced at the paperwork in her hand.
She walked away from the man. It took a few minutes to rid herself of the man’s odor. His stink had permeated her clothes. The breeze helped to wick away its remnants.
Mouse went back to her tree. Her temporary shelter. She sat and closely evaluated the itinerary. Damn. The bus didn’t leave until tomorrow morning at 4:30 am. She’d need to find a place for the night. The Holiday Inn located directly across the street from the bus depot would work. A lot better than under a tree.
“What did he say? No shit? Keep him there. I’m on the way,” Jones said.
He was animated, grabbing at his notepad and stuffing a couple pens into his breast pocket.
“What’ve we got?” Nick asked, startled by the detective’s sudden burst of energy.
“Patrol’s working a crash on I-35. A witness said there was a girl in the car. She disappeared before units arrived on scene,” Jones said, speaking in rapid-fire succession.
“Disappeared?” Anaya chimed in, grabbing a file from the top of her desk and slipping it under her arm. “Is it her?”
“Not sure. She’s nowhere to be found.” Concern laced every work Jones spoke. “They’re keeping the witness on location for us. I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
“Let’s move,” Nick said, already in stride for the door.
All in good time. Patience is the virtue that yields the biggest promise. Words from the Pastor. Teachings from the Master. He was closing in on the area of the red dot. The screen mapping his trip zoomed in as he lessened his position to within ten miles of the blip. Cain manipulated the map further with his fingers, trying to get his bearings. He hated technology. But the Pastor told him it was necessary and so he used it.
The Heathen was somewhere just off the interstate. He knew better than to drive directly to that location. He would find a place nearby and approach on foot. Best to observe before acting. From the information provided thus far, it appeared that the Heathen had managed to escape twice. Cain would not allow the same to happen to him. I’m the Right Hand. I carry God’s sword. And when directed, I swing it hard upon His enemy.
In the background, the Pastor ranted about the injustice of man’s indignation toward the will of God. His words kissed the ears of Cain and soothed his bubbling anguish. He longed to see the praise in the Pastor’s eyes after he completed the task. It was all the reward he needed. It was the only fuel that fed his soul.
23
“Show me exactly where she was last standing,” Jones said.
He was terser and his normally laidback mannerisms were gone. His worry for the girl’s well-being was spilling over. This is how so many cops lost the balance between the job and life. And right now, Jones could think of nothing else except finding this missing girl.
Anaya listened to the description given by the man in the Hawaiian shirt and was convinced that the girl from the crash was Mouse. She nervously scanned the area, hoping to spot her.
“Here. Right here,” the man said, using his arms to show the area where the girl last stood. He resembled an airline stewardess directing passengers to the emergency exits.
“This must be your guy. Got a county car pulling up now,” Nick called out, over the noise of the emergency crews.
“Damn, you’re fast,” Jones said, as Rusty Harrison stepped out of his Crown Victoria. He was wearing olive drab fatigue pants and a light tan t-shirt.
“I told you I live close and would be ready for your call,” Rusty said, smiling at the opportunity to help.
“All right then. Let me give you the rundown,” Jones said, throwing in a little twang to punctuate the sentence. “She was in that mangled sedan and then was last seen standing over there.”
Rusty’s eyes widened in disbelief, the shock of a seasoned lawman that had seen the resulting devastation of a crash like this. “She walked away from that?”
“Unbelievable, isn’t it? This girl has one hell of a guardian angel,” Nick said to the pair.
“You’ve got that right. Hopefully it will be enough to keep her safe until we find her,” Jones said, staring back at the wreckage.
Rusty looked over at Nick. “Do you want to run the track with me?”
“I’ll do my best to keep up,” Nick said, modestly.
“Anaya and I will follow in the Jetta. Windows up and air on,” Jones said, laughing at his own joke.
“Acclimate, my friend,” Nick retorted, as he broke into a light jog behind Rusty with Jasper at the helm.
Cain stood in front of the Gold’s Gym located along a small strip of businesses. He was not dressed in workout attire. The patrons entering and exiting the establishment wearing tank tops and shorts gave him wearisome glances as they passed.
His Range Rover was parked several rows away from where he stood. He wore rip-stop cargo pants and a lightweight button-up polo. The untucked shirt concealed his weaponry, but he wasn’t concerned if they were seen. This was Texas and the open-carry law enabled him to display a firearm without a second glance from
most of the citizenry.
He watched the Heathen as she meandered about the parking lot of the hotel. She was small. But evil comes in all sizes. In times like these he reminded himself to think of the snake in the Garden of Eden and how it forever changed man. And now, great men like the Pastor were forced to fix the devil’s doing.
The Heathen was ducked low between a couple of parked cars as if tying her shoe. She’d been holding in that position for several minutes. Cain watched intently, trying to understand what she was up to. Then it became clear.
A person passed by her wheeling a small suitcase. The guest slid his key into the slot by the door and went in through the side entrance of the Holiday Inn. The Heathen stood and followed, moving quickly to catch the door just before closing. Tricky girl.
The hallway of the Holiday Inn was thirty degrees cooler than outside. To Mouse, it was as if she’d walked into a meat locker. She shivered as her body adjusted to the variance. Tiny goosebumps prickled along her skin. The man whom she’d followed in never turned around. His indifference meant he didn’t notice her.
To be small is a gift. Use it to your advantage, her father had said to her.
She navigated the hallway until she saw her opportunity. A maid’s bin was parked outside a room on the right side of the hallway. It wasn’t long before a heavy-set dark-skinned woman strutted out of the propped open door. She wore a uniform shirt with the hotel’s moniker embroidered above her ample breasts. The uniform’s material worked hard to contain her large frame, like a dam holding back a reservoir’s water.
The worker grabbed two new trash bags and re-entered the room. Mouse moved quickly. She walked by the door and peered in as she passed. The maid was bent over in the corner with her large backside to the door. Mouse peeked in and noticed that all of the bathroom towels had been replaced and the area tidied. Confident that the maid had finished in the bathroom, Mouse slipped inside.
Mouse scampered into the modest bathroom, climbing into the white porcelain tub. The shower curtain was heavy and to her advantage, not transparent. Laying down, she slowly drew the curtain closed. The cheap plastic hooks slid across the metallic bar until she was satisfied her small frame was covered by the heavy plastic.
She waited. The heavy maid hummed a tune. The sound of it reminded Mouse of her mother when she used to hang the laundry from the line outside their small house, humming and smiling away the labors. Mouse closed her eyes and listened contentedly, allowing a momentary peace to replace the frantic morning.
The bathroom light clicked off. The door to the hallway closed, and with it so did the lyrical hum of the cleaning lady. Mouse slumped deeper into the tub, allowing the coolness of its surface to caress her hot skin.
In the cramped space of the tub, with her backpack still on, Mouse drifted off into the deepest sleep she’d had in weeks.
24
The door clicked, and a flicker of green indicated that the key card had disengaged the lock. The handle pressed down and the seal released with a suction sound. The room was dark, but the sunlight fought through the pulled blinds, providing enough light to guide his entry.
He moved heel-to-toe across the carpet into the bedroom. The sheets were undisturbed. Standing in the silence, a faint sound trickled out from the bathroom. Snoring? He moved quickly but carefully, ensuring that he would limit her surprise. No need for screams.
She hadn’t heard the door open, but something caused her to wake. How long was I out? Impossible to tell in the confines of the tub.
Someone was in the room. No doubt about it. No lights were turned on. Not a guest. Not a maid. Mouse exhaled slowly, adjusting her eyes to the dark. She needed to get the gun. It was still resting at the bottom of her backpack. She gingerly slipped free her shoulder, working hard not to bang against the tub. Every movement she made seemed to be amplified a thousand times by the tub’s porcelain basin.
Mouse’s lower lip quivered as she tugged at the zipper, moving its teeth down the side of the backpack a few grooves at a time. Her fingers trembled. She was mad at herself for falling asleep. She’d let her guard down and now she was at a disadvantage. The footsteps on the tile floor of the bathroom startled her.
Abandoning her effort to move silently, she yanked at the zipper and shoved her hand deep into the bag’s opening. Her small fingers finding purchase of the rough grip of the pistol as the curtain whipped away, exposing her curled figure.
“Mouse?” the tall man said, his voice firm but kind.
She looked up at him. Her right hand gripped around the butt of the gun, but she hesitated in removing it. The mention of her name had derailed her train of thought and her hand remained buried in the bag.
“Mouse? That’s what Anaya said to call you. Are you okay?” Nick asked.
He noted that she was aptly named. Half-tucked in the empty tub, she looked so small. Delicate. But her eyes were not. She stared at him intensely and he could tell that she was rapidly assessing him.
Mouse nodded. Hand still in the backpack, unflinching.
“Clear. She’s in here. In the bathroom,” Nick called out, turning his head slightly but not looking away from the girl, afraid that if he took his eyes off her for an instant that she would disappear.
“My goodness, you had me worried,” Anaya said, appearing behind Nick’s broad shoulders.
Mouse transitioned her focus to the social worker and released her grip, letting the gun settle back to the bottom of the sack submerged under the pile of PowerBars.
“Let me help you up,” Anaya Patel said, edging her way around the FBI agent’s chiseled frame.
She placed her left hand on the center of his back as she passed him. She felt the taut muscles of the agent and was distracted for a fleeting moment by the contact.
“I’ll step out and give you two a moment,” Nick said, knowing that most girls in Mouse’s circumstance did not usually take to interactions with adult males. No telling the trauma in her past and he didn’t want to add to it.
“Mouse, you had me so worried,” Anaya said. She didn’t admonish the child and continued without awaiting a response from the girl, “Why did you leave? I only want to help you.”
“You can’t.” Mouse’s tone was flat.
This is bad. The police have found the Heathen first. The Pastor would be angry at his failings. Hopefully, he would allow him the opportunity to redeem himself.
Cain pulled out a small folding pocket knife as he walked back to the Range Rover. The handle, made of a white bone, seemed brighter in the late afternoon sun. It was etched with the Pastor’s words, Only with God’s Hand can evil be cut out.
Cain rolled his sleeve past his elbow and dug the blade into his thick bicep. The release of blood gave him peace, and he could feel his pulse rate slow. The droplets rolled down the tanned flesh of his arm and fell to the dry earth at his feet. Cain squinted, casting an intense gaze as the small Heathen exited the hotel and entered the rear door of a Volkswagen.
They passed without ever looking in his direction. He remained unseen. The Pastor told Cain that he’d been given a shroud of invisibility. Heathens could not bear witness to the Hand of God.
Only in those moments of terror had he ever revealed himself. The Heathen’s time was coming and she would soon know his face.
25
“Hi,” Nick said, answering his phone. He couldn’t allow it to go unanswered again.
He slapped his hand against his head and rolled his eyes. After several months without speaking to her, Hi was all he could muster? Epic failure.
“It’s been a while. Everything all right?” Izzy asked. The impatience clearly etched in her voice stemmed from an equal combination of anger and worry.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” Nick mumbled. Oh, this is painful. Why can’t I talk to the one person I trusted above all others?
“How’s your mom? Is she adjusting to her new surroundings?”
“It’s touch and go. They moved her to a more isolated section due
to some recent outbursts,” Nick said.
He felt a lump in his throat. He hadn’t spoken about his mother to anyone lately. He didn’t have anyone out West that he felt close enough with to share that side of his life. Izzy had been that person and he’d effectively cut her out.
“Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry,” Izzy said.
Nick was silent. He knew that if he spoke he might fall apart. A man not comfortable with outwardly expressing his emotions, he fought back against the whirlwind of feelings. He hung back from the others, leaning against the trunk of his Jetta as Jones and Anaya accompanied the small girl through the doors of the Child Protective Services headquarters. The heat off the car’s black exterior caused him to pop up immediately. He drifted over to the shade provided by a cluster of small trees.
“What’s new with you?” Nick said, directing the conversation away from the emotional landmine of his mother’s condition.
“Not much. Same old stuff here.” There was a smile in her voice. “I saw Deck a while back. He’s good. I think he’s having fun kicking in doors and hunting bad guys.”
“It’s what he does best,” Nick said, with a chuckle.
“He told me that you two talked earlier,” Izzy said, pausing long enough to prepare for her next question, “What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean? I can’t just call an old friend and say hello?”
He knew he’d just opened himself up to an onslaught from Izzy, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.
“Call an old friend, huh? How about me, Nick? Ever think of picking up the damn phone and calling me?” Izzy snapped.
Normally she was the epitome of calm and so the anger in her voice caught him off guard. But he knew she had a right to feel that way. That night together in the hotel room still replayed in his dreams. Hearing her voice now, only tormented him further. It’d been the reason that he’d broken off communication months ago.