by H. L. Wegley
Sophia pulled alongside, stopped, and transferred two cardboard boxes to the back of Beth’s van, then she turned to walk to the driver's window.
Beth gave her the palms-out stop signal. “Sophia, I'm going to be gone on some job interviews for a while. You may read things about me in the newspaper, or see something on TV about a certain drug lord—”
“No! No! Beth, you must not follow in your father's—”
“I'm not. I'm just an accidental witness to something. But for you, all you know is that I left for job interviews.”
“Your life is in danger, is it not? Shouldn't you be under US Marshal’s protection?”
“I’ve got the best protection I can possibly have. Now go before anyone sees us together. Don't go straight home though. Run an errand or go to the grocery store. Okay?”
Sophia nodded and turned away, then turned back toward Beth. “I will be praying for you, Beth. May God be with you.”
“Yes. Please pray for us—uh, for me.”
Sophia's eyebrows raised. She nodded and then left.
Beth powered her window up and relaxed, hidden again behind the tinted glass.
“Beth,” Drew’s strained voice sounded as uncomfortable as he looked. “Give her two minutes, then we'll leave. We can't let anyone know we rendezvoused here.”
“No one could've seen us, unless they were already in the building or at the loading dock.”
“Good. Now, if I can just get out of the floorboard before my back muscles start spasming.” Drew crawled up onto the seat, turned around, and sat. “Sixty seconds more, then we get out of Dodge.”
“But we’re in a Toyota.”
“Yeah. Not quite a sneeze mobile.”
“A what?”
“It’s not a Subaru, Isuzu, or a Mitsubishi. You're not from around here, are you?” He grinned.
“You and your American friends have corrupted the King's English, Drew West.”
“You and your friends have corrupted the drug lords.”
Somehow the puns and jokes had degenerated into sharp barbs that jabbed the wounds on Beth's heart. Drew might not realize how much his words hurt. But she couldn't ignore the fact that they had, because Drew had joked about the very things her father gave his life trying to change.
It was quiet in the van for the next hour.
* * *
Suarez hadn't heard from Ramon in three hours. It was too long. There must be bad news.
He hit Ramon's entry in his contacts.
After five rings, Hector was ready to end the call, but Ramon answered.
“This is Ramon.”
“Did you locate them?”
“I'm working on that.”
“That is no answer, Ramon. You missed them, didn't you?”
“Let me call you back in five minutes. Perhaps I will have good news.”
“Five minutes, Ramon.” Suarez ended the call. “Or I may have some very bad news for you.”
Ramon had five seconds left of his five-minute limit when Hector's phone rang.
“El Capitan, here.”
“Hector, I think we have the license plate and the vehicle description.”
“What happened, Ramon? How did they lose you?”
“Let me explain. Ms. Sanchez's cousin made two stops after leaving her house. One was at a Goodwill store where she met Elizabeth Sanchez behind the store. I posed as an undercover policeman and asked the store manager to see the security video. I now have a positive ID on Ms. Sanchez. We saw her through the open window of the van. Mr. West was probably in the van with her. The windows were dark. We could not see inside. They are driving a black Toyota Sienna minivan with Texas license plate DBX-0998. It is a rented van, so we do not know how long they will have it.”
It was useful information. But only useful in keeping Ramon on the job. Maybe that was Ramon’s idea. There wasn't much Suarez could do about that except … keep Ramon on the job. “Find out which company the van belongs to and make sure you will be notified the minute it is turned in. I'm sure some employee of the car rental company thinks it's worth it to notify you if you paid them say … $50,000 for the information. Money is no object. Find them, Ramon!”
Chapter 8
“I’ve been thinking, Beth.”
“Maybe I should be worried.” She gave Drew her best attempt at a smirk.
“Seriously, what do you think would be the easiest way for Suarez to learn that we’re in this rental van?”
The tingling between her shoulder blades sent shivers through Beth’s upper body.
“I’m stopping right now and you’re driving.” She pulled off from Highway 6 onto a side road.
Drew powered his window down part way and looked at the road sign beside them. “Old Marlin Road?”
“Yes. The place where Drew West starts driving.”
“Beth, what’s gotten into you?”
“The easiest way for Suarez to spot us is if I’m driving and he spots me.”
“Texas is a big state. What are the odds that one of his stooges is standing at—uh, Old Marlin Road, outside of Waco, Texas, looking for Beth Sanchez to drive by?”
“Bigger than you might think.”
“What’s going on?”
She blew out a sharp sigh. “When you asked that question, I just got this creepy feeling that I shouldn’t be driving.”
“That I can understand. But to think Suarez might be standing here and—”
“Señor?” A man with swarthy skin rapped on Drew’s window. He had black hair and a Spanish accent.
“Go, Beth!”
She hit the accelerator and the van sprayed the man with gravel until the Sienna fishtailed out onto Highway 6.
Beth glanced at Drew. “See what I mean?”
“It was just a harmless old man. Probably wanted directions.”
“Hence ‘go, Beth’?” She glanced his way.
Drew didn’t reply.
If Suarez found them, that’s not how it would happen, but it still freaked her out as much as that Hispanic man had Drew. “You know, the most likely way Suarez would find us is to bribe a few car rental agents to search their database until he found your rental record for this van. Then he would know the van’s description, license plate number, and where and when you planned to turn it in. He could be waiting for us in Las Vegas.”
“You’re right, but it won’t be quite as easy as you described. Hunter rented the van.”
“Did he list you as an authorized driver? If he didn’t, I hope the police don’t stop us. They might think we stole the van.”
“I don’t know and it doesn’t really matter. You worry too much. But I can still drive if you want me to.”
“Please, will you, Drew?”
Drew fiddled with the GPS for a few seconds. “We’ll cross Lake Waco in a couple of miles. Take the first exit beyond the lake. There’s a gas station. We can fill up and, while I drive, you can find a place for us to spend the night.”
“Okay. I’ll look for a place in Clovis.”
“New Mexico?”
“Barely in New Mexico. Like you said, Texas is a big state. It takes all day to drive across it.”
“Basically, we’ll have done it twice since six o’clock this morning. Fort Stockton to College Station and back.”
“But not back to Fort Stockton. That’s almost three hundred miles south of Clovis and a lot farther from Oregon.”
“Since you know the state so well, maybe you should keep driving.”
“No. I can just tell you where to go, Drew.”
“I’ll bet you can. Your eyes have done that a couple of times since we met. Like when I was checking you out after you sprained your ankle.”
“That’s because you didn’t stop with my ankle.”
“What does this have to do with evading Suarez?”
“Nothing … everything—I don’t know.”
“Beth … you’re afraid you’re leading Suarez to Oregon, aren’t you?”
“Here’s the exit. You’re driving now.”
“Not talking about it doesn’t make it go away.”
She exited and slowed to turn in at the gas station.
“This is about you feeling guilty for—”
“Can we talk about something else?” She’d never told him she felt guilty, only that her family was killed.
“You are smart, educated, beautiful, and you’re a good woman. You’re not defective or guilty or …” He shook his head. “The only thing that surprises me is that some guy hasn’t already snatched you up.”
“Nobody can just snatch me up, Drew West.” She shot him a glaring glance.
“Then can I be nobody?”
“That’s who’s going to be riding with me if someone doesn’t respect my boundaries.” Drew never stopped pushing. Was it going to be like this for two thousand miles? She pulled up to the gas pump and stopped.
Drew grabbed the door handle. “Nobody, huh? I’ll gas up the car if you promise not to drive away without me.”
“With me, you just have to take your chances.”
“I have been, and I think it’s worked out pretty well, don’t you?”
“Do you know how to pump gas, or am I going to have to do it?” Drew couldn’t be that clueless. If she wasn’t ready to talk about something, he needed to respect her wishes.
“I’m just going to say this one time and then I’ll shut up.”
“Good. Then we can have two thousand miles of peace.”
Drew’s sigh blasted from his mouth. “Even if Suarez were to follow us to Oregon, it wouldn’t be your fault. It was my idea and it was a good one, considering our circumstances. If he finds us, I’m to blame and I’ll deal with it.”
“Are you finished?”
“Yeah. Completely.” Drew shoved the door open and closed it harder than necessary. Then he couldn’t find the gas tank.
Beth could see it from the driver’s sideview mirror. She powered down her window. “It’s on this side, Drew. Deal with it.”
He strode around the van, opened the gas tank, jammed the nozzle down its throat, gritted his teeth, and clamped hard on the handle.
Beth had never seen a tank filled that quickly.
So Drew had a temper too. But he was usually right on target when he analyzed her. Maybe she should apologize. But only if he would drop the subject of her guilt feelings about Suarez and the Laguna massacre.
She opened her door, circled around the front of the car and got in on the passenger’s side.
Drew closed the tank and climbed into the driver’s seat.
When his right hand reached for the ignition, she laid her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Drew. Really.”
He nodded, started the car, and pulled onto the street.
Was he going to be stubborn about his remark, just going to say this one time? That would be childish. And he had to know she didn’t want silence all the way to Oregon.
Beth studied his face as he stared down the road.
After Drew merged with the traffic on the highway, he glanced at her. “Just so you know, nobody’s in the car with you and he’s snatching you up, Beth Sanchez.” He gave her the silly grin that you see on a kid’s face when they chant that children’s taunting jingle.
Drew studied her eyes for a second or two. “Na nana nana na.”
Beth couldn’t hold in her laugh. It came out in a belly-shaking burst that worked wonders for her mood. But how had Drew known what she was thinking? For the third or fourth time, his ability to read her seemed uncanny, like one-way mental telepathy.
“Drew?” She put her hand on his arm.
“Yeah.” He glanced her way.
“If you’ll do that one more time, I’ll consider …”
“Consider letting me snatch you up. It’s a deal. Na nana nana na.”
That wasn’t what she had in mind, but Beth didn’t correct him. With the uncertain future they faced, they could both use a little fantasy.
Over five-hundred miles and eight hours after leaving College Station, Drew pulled into the Clovis Inn and Suites, a place Beth had found using his cell. Suites were only sixty-eight dollars a night. That seemed like a bargain.
After checking in, they carried their packs to the room. Drew unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Beth could see why the rate was cheap. “This isn’t going to work, Drew.”
A wall down the center of their suite divided the room into two halves. One half was the living room, the other a bedroom with two queen beds.
“We can make it work. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
After a fast-food dinner from a place across the street, Beth crawled into one of the queen-size beds. Fatigue claimed her body in seconds then, in a couple of minutes, took her consciousness too.
Familiar images scrolled across her field of vision. Smoke and the nauseating odor of death choked her. Flames still licked at the remains of her house, as they did at buildings throughout the town of Laguna.
No policemen. No authorities of any kind. No people. They were either dead or had fled the violence. Out of the flames a figure approached her. A second figure followed. Rafael Sanchez, her father, reached out a hand and beckoned Beth to follow.
Beth gasped and sat up in her bed. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room looking for anything to remove the images from her mind.
“Beth?” A tall, shadowy form appeared at the far end of the wall. “You yelled something. Are you okay?”
“No.” She wasn’t okay. She would never be okay. And she couldn’t help but reach out for Drew.
She stood and he wrapped her up in his arms.
“Hey. Whatever it was, was only a dream. Dreams aren’t reality, but they can sure seem like it. You’re safe, Beth, and I intend to keep you that way.”
He released her and led her around the wall into the living room.
They sat on the couch.
“Do you want to talk about it, or talk about something else?”
Drew would discover it all sooner or later. The way he read her, probably sooner. And he needed to know about her strengths, her weaknesses, especially her fears. It could be important if they were in danger.
“I have dreams sometimes. The dreams stopped two years ago, about the time I started graduate school. But after the incident with Suarez at the river, they’re back.”
“How do they make you feel?”
“They frighten me. Make me relive horrifying events and memories. Then each dream ends with Papa, uh, my father, motioning for me to follow him and Mama. To join them in death. It’s what I deserve.” Tears came. She couldn’t stop them.
Drew pulled her head against his chest and held her while she cried. No words this time. No pushing or forcing anything. He simply stroked her head and held her until she cried her fear and pain away.
After a few minutes, Beth sat up and swiped at her wet cheeks. “I need a tissue.”
He went into the bathroom and returned with a handful.
She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and then looked up at Drew.
It was kind of him to start with asking about her feelings. But eventually, he needed to hear the whole story. Not just suspect that she felt guilty, but to know why she was guilty. He needed to know what she had done.
“You heard part of the story from that Border Patrol guy, Coy. But there’s more to it.”
“Yeah. I figured there was.”
“You heard about the Laguna massacre. What Suarez did. But no description can capture the awfulness of it. The sickening odor of burned bodies and …” She needed to get on to the issues. Not dwell on the horror.
“About my father, Rafael Sanchez … you need to know that I admired him, loved him, and he loved me. Called me his precioso tesoro, precious treasure. But after Suarez retaliated for my father’s militia driving the cartel out of the region, I was torn between admiring him and thinking of him as a fool.”
“I can understand that. But if you fight for what’s righ
t, Beth, you’re never a fool. Maybe he could have been wiser, but a good heart doesn’t make any man a fool. But then my thoughts are not the issue. And I’m thinking this isn’t really the source of your guilt. Right?”
“I don’t know how you do that, Drew. And I don’t know whether to be afraid of you seeing everything about me or to be glad that you do.”
“We’re getting off track here. But, Beth, I will never use what I learn about you to hurt you. Never. If that ever happens, it’s not my intent. So, if you want to tell me more …”
Maybe not tomorrow or even later tonight, but right now, she trusted Drew. And she needed to tell him before she closed all the windows and locked all the doors to that place of shame and guilt that resided where the real Beth Sanchez lived and existed.
“The day before the attack, my two best friends, Maria and Alejandra, asked me to go to a young people’s dance club about thirty miles away in another town. It wasn’t a bad place, but it wasn’t one my parents approved of. They had forbidden me to go there. But I snuck away after dinner that evening. Told my parents I was spending the night with Maria, but we went to the club and stayed there until nearly one o’clock in the morning. We only had fun. We didn’t do anything wrong, except that I had lied to my mother and my father. I should have been at home. I should have been killed with them. But I lied and I’m alive. I have to live with that every day.”
“So you believe you should be dead?”
“If I were a good daughter, I would be dead.”
“None of us are perfect. And didn’t God tell us he numbered the hairs on our head. He didn’t count them. He numbered them … just like he did with the days of our lives. For those of us who trust Him, we leave our life in His hands. I can’t explain the sovereignty of God to you. I can’t understand it myself. I’m finite and He is infinite. The finite me can only understand that part of the infinite God that He explains to me. But I believe He is sovereign over our lives. That means He has reasons for Beth Sanchez being alive. There’s a purpose behind it. And I’m glad He wants you alive, or I would never have known you. Who knows, maybe there’s a purpose in that too.”
Drew hadn’t told her anything she didn’t already know. He had simply reminded her of things she needed to hear. And, in doing that, he had done it again. It seemed he had read her heart and spoken directly to its need.