by H. L. Wegley
McCheney whistled through his teeth. “You are a lucky man. An inch further in and that bullet could have ripped your arm off.”
“An inch lower and it would've hit Allie's head.”
After Jeff’s comment, McCheney’s face turned red and he blasted out a crude description of the cartel members and a place he’d like to send them. “I want these guys! This isn't Mexico! The law is in control here. Our laws are enforced, and it's—sorry, Jacobs.”
McCheney's rant ended. “Were any more shots fired at you?”
“They shot up my truck. Allie was leaning down in the seat, or the burst would have hit her in the head. Then they shot at us this morning on the mountain, just after we rolled that rock on—”
“So that's what squashed the short, scrawny perp.” McCheney rubbed his chin. “How big was that rock?”
Jeff pointed a thumb at his large refrigerator.
“Holy moly!” Nelson's eyes widened.
McCheney stared at the refrigerator, then looked at Jeff. “How did you move a boulder that size?”
Allie took Jeff's hand. “Rock 'n roll.”
Jeff grinned. “You know what they say about that old time rock and roll?”
“It didn’t soothe that thug’s soul. Too bad you didn’t squash a few more of them.” McCheney stood. “Nelson, assemble the team. We're flying south in five minutes. I'll coordinate with the San Francisco office while were en route.”
He turned to Wes. “Take good care of these two. When does your buddy arrive?”
“He'll be here before dark. Got it all covered, McCheney.”
Wes stepped outside the front door as the SWAT team hurried to the chopper.
Allie stood beside Jeff in the kitchen and curled an arm around his waist. “We need to pray for them Jeff, and for my family. I'd like to try … if you'll help me.”
“Pray, Allie. You'll do fine.”
Allie poured her heart out to the God she had refused to trust twenty-four hours ago, to her God.
Jeff's prayer added the few things she had missed.
By the time the chopper took off at three o’clock, they had covered all the bases with their prayers. It was now time for the cleanup men, the FBI, to hit a grand slam, finding her family alive and well.
Since they were confined to the house for the rest of the afternoon, Jeff fielded her questions about his family. He showed her some of his mom's things around the house, antiques, family pictures, and a big music collection. But he said little about himself as an adult. And he avoided a glass hutch with trophies and sports paraphernalia.
Jeff had secrets he was guarding. But he was a good man. What could there possibly be that he wasn’t willing to tell her? His mother died two months ago. Some of the memories might be too painful to talk about.
Shortly after five o’clock, Wes stepped outside to check the perimeter of the house. Jeff's phone rang a few seconds later.
He stared at the phone, as if reluctant to move toward it.
Allie nodded toward the phone. “Aren't you going to answer it, Jeff? It could be important news.”
He grabbed the phone and pressed a button. “Hello.” His eyes narrowed. “Alejandra? … Wait a minute, I'll have to get her.”
Jeff muted the receiver with his hand. Someone wants to talk to you, Allie, and they're trying really hard to speak good English, without an accent. I don't think you should—”
“Give me the phone, Jeff. No one can hurt me through a phone line.”
Jeff slowly pushed the phone at her. “Be careful. We'll need to tell Wes about this.”
She took the phone and walked a few steps from Jeff. “Hello.”
“Is this Alejandra?” A gravelly voice spoke with a heavy accent.
“Yes.”
“Does Alejandra wish to see her family with or without their heads?”
She gasped.
“I think that means with their heads. Come to the forest at the eastern edge of the field behind Jeff Jacobs' house at precisely 11:00 p.m. If you don’t, we will kill your family. Do not tell the police. Do not tell anyone about our conversation, including the man who answered. No tricks. As I speak, we have a knife to your little brother's throat. Remember you are being watched. Eleven o’clock at the eastern edge of the field, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
The man hung up.
“Allie, it was one of the cartel goons, wasn't it?”
Jeff knew, but she couldn't let him know everything. “It was them. They’re trying to frighten me, keep me from talking, or … or testifying. But I promised them nothing.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was deceit.
“We have to tell Wes about the call. They'll probably want to trace it, maybe bug the phone, or whatever they do in these cases.”
“I'll let Wes know when he comes back in.”
“Let me know what? About the phone call you just receive from some cartel thug?” Wes had entered through the back door.
“Wes, how did you know?” How much had he heard?
“It's my business to know if I'm going to keep you safe. We weren’t set up to record it, but we already traced the call. It went to a public phone. A deputy sheriff has been dispatched, but he won't find them when he gets there.”
She looked at Wes and shook her head, glad the FBI couldn't bug her brain. Allie replayed her words from the phone call. “Yes.” Then she had gasped followed by another “yes.” She hadn't given her plans away to anyone. But fooling Jeff wouldn't be easy. It wasn't something she wanted to do. If he knew, he would physically stop her from doing what she must do.
Between now and eleven o’clock, she had to look normal, raise no suspicions. But what she planned to do would hurt Jeff, hurt him deeply. That thought shredded her already aching heart. How could she soften the blow? If they found her body like the cartel would leave it—she couldn't let her mind go there. Nothing could soften that blow.
Maybe she shouldn’t soften any blows. That would only cause Jeff to follow her. Maybe the blow needed to be a knockout punch, one that took him out of her life. That might keep him safe, and it was a small price to pay for a woman who was probably about to die.
Just before nine o’clock, a knock sounded on the front door.
“It's my partner, Cliff,” Wes said.
Jeff stood beside the couch where he and Allie had been sitting. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s meet the rest of the team. We’re probably going to spend a lot of time with these two.”
A tall, muscular man in jeans and a sport coat entered. His gaze settled on Allie, and he smiled.
Wes glanced at Allie, then back to his partner. “Cliff, this is Allie Jacobs … whoops, I mean Allie Santiago.”
Allie gave Jeff a quick glance. Their gazes locked.
Jeff smiled.
Allie couldn't return it. Her heart had been ripped from her chest by thoughts of the price she must pay for her decision to go and the manner in which she must leave.
Cliff's hand reached out to greet her.
She took it, trying to look calm though her heart played a wild percussion solo in her chest.
“I'm Cliff Johnson. Glad to meet you, Allie.”
She nodded, afraid her voice might betray her.
Jeff reached out a hand. “Jeff Jacobs. How do you do, Cliff.”
There were two marshals now. More scrutiny. Could she pull this off?
Cliff and Wes excused themselves and walked into the den.
Allie plopped back onto the couch.
Jeff sat down beside her. “Something's wrong, Allie. You're … well, acting strange.”
This was much harder than she anticipated. “I'm worried because we haven't heard from McCheney, and it'll be dark soon.”
Her words were all deceit. And lying to the man who had captured her heart seemed to drown her in a sea of guilt. Allie hated what she was doing. But, if she loved Jeff, she had to steal her heart from him or he would die, too.
“Yeah. It’s a
lmost dark,” Jeff said. “I've been thinking about that too.” He took her hand.
She interlaced their fingers. The feeling of Jeff's strong hand intimately intertwined with hers brought tears to her eyes. She tried to blink them back. It was useless. The dam had been breached again, and the reservoir poured down her cheeks.
Jeff's free hand pulled her head snugly against his neck. “It's going to be okay, Allie. You'll see.”
It wouldn't be okay. It would never be okay. Her silent tears turn to sobs. She clung to Jeff for the last time.
After Allie's sobbing ended, she didn't want to let go. She pulled Jeff into a fierce hug.
Wes cleared his throat as he approached Jeff and Allie.
Allie sat up and released Jeff's hand, then wiped her cheeks.
“What did you do to her, Jeff? If you hurt this young lady, you'll answer to me.” Wes stood in front of them, hands on his hips.
Wes meant well, but she needed to set him straight. “Jeff was only trying to comfort me … about my mom, dad, and brother, Benjamin.”
“Oh. I wanted you to know, the guest bedroom, Allie's room, is off limits to us men. House rules.”
Jeff looked up at Wes, who was hardly ten years older than Jeff. “Yes, Dad.” He gave Wes a thin-lipped smile. “You keep Allie safe by doing your job, and I'll keep her safe by doing mine.”
“Touché.” Wes grinned. “Okay, let's get back to work, Cliff.”
Allie's heart sank as she thought about these people so dedicated to her safety. She was betraying them. Maybe she was betraying God. At that thought, her stomach roiled. She ran to the bathroom and retched. Once. Twice. It wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.
How could she do this to Jeff, the marshals, the FBI, to herself?
“Are you okay, Allie?” Jeff's voice came from just outside the door.
“I'm okay now. Just an upset stomach.”
She rinsed her mouth, washed her face, then glanced at the small bathroom wall clock. It said 10:20 p.m. Almost time. She opened the door and found Jeff waiting in the hallway.
“I'm not feeling well. I'm going to bed now.” She hugged Jeff and kissed his cheek but didn’t meet his gaze. “Good night, Jeff.”
“See you in the morning, Allie.”
“Yes, in the morning.” She lied again.
Chapter 11
Allie closed her bedroom door and sobs came, deep guttural groans, the sounds of a soul committing suicide. She curled up on the bed and buried her wet face in her pillow to mute the mourning of a heart broken beyond repair.
She had lied to Jeff. Deliberately deceived him. After what she had done, Jeff would never understand, would he? Maybe she could leave him a note and try to explain.
Allie wiped her eyes and surveyed the room. There was no desk, but the top drawer in the dresser by the bed contained some writing materials. She pulled out a notepad and a pen, then sat on the edge of the bed, seeking words to explain the unexplainable.
The words wouldn’t come, so Allie simply wrote the truth. Now her words flowed with ease. True words from a person’s heart were far more easily composed than cruel lies.
She finished the note to Jeff and re-read it.
Please forgive me, Jeff. I lied to you. It literally made me sick to do it, but I didn't know what else to do.
They said they would kill Benjamin if I didn't agree to meet them in the forest at 11:00 p.m. I know they won't let me or my family go, but I'm praying I can buy some time, so we have at least a small chance for the FBI to find us.
In case that doesn't happen, there are some things I need to tell you. These words can't possibly say it all, but I will try.
You are a good man, Jeff Jacobs. I love the way you gently pointed me toward God. I love the way you have protected me. I love the way you comfort me, especially the comfort of your arms. I love your soft kisses on my forehead. What I'm trying to say is love doesn't come from the time, but from the knowing. After what we've been through together, I know you, Jeff, and I love you.
Please pray for me.
Allie.
What was she thinking? Allie couldn’t give this to Jeff. After reading this message, no power on earth could stop him from following her. It would get him killed.
She ripped the page from the notepad, threw it beside her on the bed, and sought words that would end their relationship, words that would keep Jeff safe.
Tears blurred her vision while she struggled to write her cruel lies. When she read the new note. She wanted to tear it up, to run to Jeff and tell him everything.
Allie trembled as she tore the new note from the pad. Tears came as she placed it on the pillow.
You have to do this, girl.
Her body rebelled. It wouldn’t move from the bed.
Allie needed to leave now or she would start retching, again.
The alarm clock by the bed said 10:55 p.m. Out of time, Allie stood to leave and gasped. She’d almost left her first note on the bed. She grabbed it.
The room would be searched. There was no safe place here for the note. She stuffed it into the pocket of her shorts.
Allie walked softly to the door, opened it a crack, and peered out. No one in the hallway.
She opened the door farther and looked down the hallway to the living room.
Shadows moved across the floor. The marshals. But they stood near the window, not where they could see her.
Allie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm her volatile stomach. She tiptoed to the end of the hallway and slipped out the back door of the house.
She ran to the fence behind the house and stopped beside three strands of barbed wire. The enormity of her lies to Jeff ripped her conscience like the barbs on that fence would rip her skin if she wasn’t careful.
In the wake of her damaged conscience, a dark cloud settled over her. Nothing good lay in Alejandra Santiago’s future, now. Perhaps one bleak hope remained, that her future, and the pain in it, would be short.
Girl, you need to get a grip and get across that field before they hurt Benjamin.
The field directly behind the house was a pasture with short grass. The marshals might spot her crossing it. If so, they would stop her.
In the adjacent field to the north, the profuse growth of tall grass and weeds reached nearly to her waist. Allie walked along the fence to the northern field, slipped through the strands of wire, and crouched low as she scurried through the moonlit field toward the forest.
Halfway across the field, Allie looked back over her shoulder at the house. No lights flashed on in her bedroom, no loud voices. They didn't know she had left. But, if anyone came out of the house, she would drop to her knees in the tall grass.
Now beyond the reach of the house lights, Allie ran eastward toward the trees, holding her queasy stomach with her left hand while her right hand, pressed to her chest, held a broken heart. The deed had been done. Irreversible damage.
When Allie entered the forest she slowed and glanced around her. Had she misunderstood the man who called?
Beams of moonlight, filtered by the forest canopy, lit parts of the forest floor. She stopped and scanned the area around her. But there were no signs of—
A hand clamped over her mouth and sweaty arms pulled her against damp clothing. A foul breath blew against the back of her neck, causing her stomach to churn. “Be quiet or you will die on this spot.” A man's voice hissed the words.
She stiffened and fought the urge to drive her elbow into his stomach and run back to Jeff. She fought for control until a sharp prick stung her back. Allie gasped.
“Can you feel the knife against your back, pollita? Do not make a sound or this knife will sever your spine. Do you understand me?”
She nodded slowly. Her dipping head caused her lips to press against the disgusting hand.
“I am going to remove my hand and you are going to remain silent. Do we agree on this?”
Again she nodded.
The hand jerked from her mouth.<
br />
Another hand slapped a strip of duct tape over her mouth.
The tape pinched her lip against her teeth, cutting the soft tissue inside Allie’s lip. That brought the salty, metal taste of blood.
A powerful hand gripped her wrist.
She breathed furiously through her nose. Not enough air. With the tape over her mouth, she couldn’t catch her breath. She would suffocate.
Allie had to breathe, now. She reached for the tape.
“No, pollita.” The man yanked her arm down. He pulled her steadily toward something sitting in a dark spot under a tree. An ATV.
Choking, hurting, suffocating—Allie’s stomach roiled. Bile rose into her throat. She swallowed hard and tasted more blood, gagging on it.
A short, stocky man with long hair climbed onto the ATV seat.
The man holding Allie lifted her off the ground and set her on the seat behind short man.
“Hang on to Hector and do not try any tricks. I'm driving behind you and watching, you worthless little….” The man's vulgar names added to the contamination of touching his sweaty body.
The greasy tresses of the goon in front of her, Hector, turned Allie’s revulsion into full-fledged nausea.
She ripped the tape from her lips.
Hector’s filthy hair lashed her face and flew into her mouth.
Allie’s stomach erupted. Whatever was left of its contents splattered onto Hector's neck and back.
He bowed his shoulders and arched his back, crying out like he’d been stabbed. Hector swung a leg off the ATV, whirled, and slapped her face.
Allie ignored the sting of his slap and tried to catch her breath.
The foul-breathed thug from the other ATV approached and tried to slap another strip of tape over her mouth.
“No! I'll vomit and choke,” she managed between breaths.
“Shut up,” he hissed. “From now on you answer only by nodding. That is all you need to do, because the correct answer will always be yes. Do you understand?”
She nodded. With the threat of the tape gone, her breathing slowed.
He dropped the tape to the ground. “See how accommodating I am? But if you make a sound, I will peel your little brother alive in front of you, then your mother, and then the fun really begins. Have I convinced you to keep quiet?”