Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo

by Ronda Pauley

  “Just what I expected.”

  Mrs. Hightower studied the design, a grotesque leopard with a girl’s face peering out of its mouth, the fangs resembling bars of a prison.

  “They think they own you.”

  By now Tina was crying hard.

  “It’s OK now. You’re safe,” Mrs. Hightower assured her. “I see you have your journal. That’s a good starting point.”

  “But I’m not safe. There was a car today. A blue van. I think they knew me.”

  “That’s pretty unlikely. If you saw the license number or recognized a person, we could try to get some sort of identification. Anything?”

  “I heard a voice. It sounded like my boyfriend. They were arguing.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Miss Shoe said he wasn’t a boyfriend. He sold me.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I don’t really know his whole name. It’s Hispanic, I think, but I don’t remember. He just went by ‘Gopher’ and ‘Godfredo’.”

  Mrs. Hightower made notes on a little pad. Tina kept on eating, suddenly feeling thirsty.

  “Very soon, you’ll need to go to a healthcare facility and get all checked out. You may have picked up something. Here’s a good one that’s nearby, and your father should go with you.” She took a card out of a large manila envelope and handed it to Tina. It was the same as the one Miss Shoe gave her. Then she put the envelope on the table.

  “He won’t want to go.”

  “Maybe not, but he needs to. And soon. Have you had any drugs lately?”

  “Not for a few weeks. I told them to save their money. I didn’t want them. I hate what drugs do to people.”

  “Smart! So you weren’t addicted?”

  “I had some rough days, but I didn’t do that much. Did you bring anything to drink?” Tina asked.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot. You can have this bottle of water. I carry it in this bag, just in case I need it. It’s warm but I haven’t opened it.”

  “Thanks.” Tina reached for it and opened it quickly. Until then, she hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. She poured it in like she was trying to fill a bathtub. “Got any more of those?”

  “Don’t worry. I can get some for you. As a matter of fact, we can take a walk. I’ll help you get to know your new neighborhood. Want to walk?”

  “Can I eat some more first?”

  “Of course. What made you think he was your boyfriend?”

  “When I first saw him, he said I was so pretty! It was like he thought I was the prettiest thing he ever saw.”

  Tina was surprised that she could even talk about it. She certainly didn’t feel pretty now, but somehow it felt good to tell Mrs. Hightower what had happened. She continued.

  “The next time I saw him, he had a necklace for me, to ‘frame my beautiful face’, he said.”

  “And then what?”

  Tina put her head down. Suddenly talking didn’t feel as good.

  “I’d rather not talk about it anymore.”

  “That’s OK. How old is Gopher?”

  “Eighteen, I think.”

  “And you are?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Did he ask you for pictures or anything?”

  Tina’s eyes got wide, and she asked, “How’d you know that?”

  “Just a hunch. So, you emailed some from your phone?”

  “At first.”

  “Then, let me guess, he moved on to videos.”

  “Yeah, for the money.”

  “I see. Do you still have that necklace?”

  “Is that OK?”

  “Really, it would be better if you got rid of it. Would you mind if we try to lift the fingerprints from it?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Tina went to her bedroom closet and came back with the necklace and a keyring.

  “Here, take both of these.”

  “Thanks, Tina. Anything else?”

  “That’s it. Oh, he bought me some clothes.”

  Tina sat back down to eat some more but her appetite had gone away.

  “I’ll save some for Dad,” she said. “I’m ready to take that walk now. You must think I’m awful for what I did. He said he belonged to a church group. He made it sound really nice. I thought it was like a revival of the ancient Mayans. And he liked my name. Reminded him of the Virgin Mary, he said. It’s hard not to think of myself as ‘Maria’.”

  “I understand,” Mrs. Hightower said. “It hurts, but it gets easier. And no, I don’t think you’re awful.”

  “He didn’t really belong to a church group. Not at all. I feel so stupid! What will they do if they find me?”

  “They’re not going to find you.”

  “Can we go now? I have some money, and I’d like more to drink.”

  Tina put the leftover bucket of chicken in the cold, empty refrigerator and smiled at Mrs. Hightower who was picking up the pen she had put in the middle of the table.

  “Thanks for the food,” Tina said, noticing, wondering about that pen.

  “Thank YOU!” Mrs. Hightower said. “You need your father more than he knows, but counseling will help him see that. We can talk some more on our quick little walk. I’ll try not to ask anything too personal. My aim is two-fold--to take care of your well-being and to find Miss Shoe. Before we go, I need to make a couple of quick phone calls. And could I get a picture of that tattoo and how about those bruises?”

  TWENTY

  “Whoa! What happened here?” Tina’s father asked when he returned. “When I left I had a little girl with long dark hair like her mother.”

  “Mrs. Hightower was here,” said Tina who had a pair of scissors in one hand and a long lock of hair in the other. Piles of loose light chestnut hair with a reddish shine were scattered beneath her on the floor in long swirls. “She wanted to see you.”

  “Who?” Her father’s eyes seemed entranced by Tina’s renovation, the combined effect of a color change a few shades lighter than natural and her haircut-in-progress.

  “FBI. She helped us relocate. Remember the name?”

  “Are you sure that was her?”

  “Yes, Daddy. Anyway, we talked and we took a little walk. She bought me scissors and hair color but couldn’t stay for the haircut. Do you like this shade?”

  Her father’s mouth dropped open but no words came out.

  “Well?”

  “It’s going to take some getting used to, like everything else.”

  Tina gave her father a smile.

  “Whose idea was this anyway?” he asked. He seemed irritated.

  “Mine, Daddy. Don’t be upset. She agreed. She says they won’t find me, but this will help me become someone different and feel more secure, like I shouldn’t need to be scared all the time.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s different,” her father said, looking at her new haircolor and her blotched haircut. “I hope you’re not finished.”

  “DAD!” Tina said, laughing at him. She looked in her hand mirror. “We can handle this, Dad, but I need some help getting the back even. How do you think you’ll like the new job?”

  “The people are alright, but they’re different here. Maybe not as friendly. I don’t know. I wonder what they know about me, or you, in particular.” His words cut into her.

  “Probably not much. The FBI seems pretty good at keeping secrets.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’d like us to be able to live this down. This job will help, I guess.”

  Her father reached into his pocket and held something out in his hand for her to see.

  “You have your new nametag already. ‘Officer Benson’. That sounds nice,” Tina said. “Can you help me with the back of my hair, Officer Benson?”

  “Cutting hair isn’t something I do! It’s not in my new job description,” he said with a twisted smile. “I have to say, I wish you hadn’t started this.”

  “The haircut?”

  “That’s part of it,” he said. There was still an edge to his voice, like he’d
tasted something bad and needed to spit it out.

  Tina tried to lighten the situation, hoping to choose the right words to get along with him.

  “Well, we can’t very easily just leave my hair like this. Just this once, Daddy. Here.” She said in a lilting, child-like voice and handed him the scissors.

  “Do you see what I see? That’s not all it needs. It’s chopped.” He stood back, scissors in hand, a student artist examining his first shapeless lump of clay, not knowing where to begin his sculpture.

  “For now, just cut it straight across in back. That’s all. It’ll be OK. Right here below my shoulder.”

  “You’ll have to sit straight. Wait a minute. What’s…Oh.”

  He stopped speaking and pulled away the long hair that draped thickly over her shoulder.

  “What’s this?” he asked. “When did you get this? That looks painful!”

  His face made an awful contortion as he studied the detailed design. A leopard’s head, mouth open.

  “You’re right,” Tina said. “It wasn’t my idea.”

  She knew that if she went into detail, her father would escalate into a rant. She’d seen that happen before, with little things like forgetting to take out the trash. But this was no little thing.

  “And it’s, uh, is that a girl’s face looking out?” he asked. “That had to hurt!”

  “A lot of things hurt, Daddy.” She tried to be matter-of-fact, unemotional, to fall into the same numb trance she had put herself in during those months in the cantina so that she wouldn’t feel pain. In a monotone, she went on. “Don’t look at it. Just cut my hair. I didn’t know what they were doing to me. But I survived it. All of it. Some didn’t.”

  Suddenly her father started crying, big heavy man sobs, and he fell to his knees.

  “Oh, God!” he said. “Oh, God!”

  TWENTY-ONE

  When Mrs. Hightower returned to the Pelletiers’, Lowell greeted her at the door with three bags and his trumpet case.

  “Seriously?” she asked. “Good thing I didn’t book a flight for you.”

  “If you don’t have room in the car,” Lowell said, “I could cut back.”

  “I would suggest it,” Mrs. Hightower said. “That would be a good use of your time while the ladies and I have a chat. I should have given you a list, Lowell! Speaking of lists, how did you girls get along with yours? Keep in mind that you’re going to be flying.”

  Louise stood with her hands on her hips.

  “I just don’t get it,” she said. “Why does Abbi need rappelling gear?”

  “Like Girl Scouts, we want to be prepared. Knowing Abbi, as I do, I knew she’d have it here. She doesn’t go anywhere without it, like Lowell with his trumpet. And you, Miss Louise, what’s your vice?”

  Louise just shook her head, as if there was nothing.

  “I don’t rappel!” Louise said, as if she thought dropping over a cliff for fun should be considered a terrible vice. “Ugh!” She shivered at the thought.

  Abbi quietly unzipped a small piece of Louise’s luggage that was filled with chocolate.

  “Close that!” Louise said. “Why do we have to go?”

  Abbi closed it, but slowly enough that Mrs. Hightower noticed.

  “We all have one little vice, Louise. It’s human nature.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” said Louise, red-faced from having her chocolate exposed.

  “It’s a long story but you’re going to Washington, D.C., if Abbi can accept the mission. Your parents need you, Abbi, and I have a feeling you’re cut out for it.”

  “I understand. I’m in,” Abbi said with determination.

  “From there, who knows? I already assumed you both have a passport but, if not, I can pull some strings overnight if I have to.”

  The girls nodded.

  “Got it,” Abbi said, proudly displaying hers.

  “Why all this attention to Abbi? I do stuff too,” Louise asked. She seemed indignant.

  “The one who stands to lose the most also has the most to gain. This is high stakes. Abbi is willing to put her very life on the line. Do I read you correctly, Abeni?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Abbi said.

  Louise shook her head.

  “Then why pull me into this?”

  Mrs. Hightower sighed. She stared at Louise.

  “Louise, here’s what you need to know. You will soon be traveling with Abbi, starting in the morning. You’ll call for a taxi to get to the airport. Arrive early. You won’t get much sleep tonight. Here is your ticket information, some cash and a credit card. Take the shuttle to this hotel. Plans may suddenly change so keep communications open.”

  “You’re giving us cash?” Louise asked.

  “Some. Be frugal but always tip taxi drivers and wait staff. Stay with Abbi even closer than usual, as if the two of you were glued to each other. I don’t even want her going to the bathroom alone. Right now, Miss Louise, I am counting on you to be an extra set of eyes and ears for this young lady.”

  “But…”

  “Your father said you can handle it. Don’t disappoint him.”

  “You’re talking to me like this is my job. It’s not my job!” Louise said. She still had her hands on her hips, defying Mrs. Hightower.

  “Let me put this out there in terms you can understand. Abbi’s mother is in very serious danger. This group, the gang that kidnapped Abbi’s mother, plays for keeps. If they find out Abbi even exists, there’s nothing to stop them from finding her. It’s one of their ways of threatening people to do what they want, and they carry out their threats.”

  “But you would also be putting me in harm’s way. Not just Abbi. That’s not fair!”

  “Then you stay here and wait for the people in that blue mini-van to come knocking. That’s your choice.”

  “I just don’t believe this is the way the FBI operates,” Louise objected, shaking her head slowly. “Do they?”

  A cell phone rang. As usually happens, each one checked her phone.

  Mrs. Hightower excused herself.

  “Yes, this is Elizabeth Hightower. Right. My team was responsible for your daughter’s rescue and your relocation… I’m sorry you feel so strongly about Tina’s hair color, Officer Benson, but you have a very insecure and, I believe, a very sick little girl on your hands. And I will not take that tone from you. She’s a sweetheart but she has suffered untold abuse. She needs you more than you know. I impress upon you to get her the immediate medical care she needs.”

  Without allowing time for any response, she continued quickly.

  “Furthermore, I’ve set up counseling for the two of you. It’s a condition of your relocation. The color or cut of her hair should be the least of your worries. And I need to ask you, and this is critical, why weren’t you there today when I stopped by? In my mind, that is unconscionable…You put that job above your daughter’s very life? I will get back to you on these points, Officer Benson. In the meantime, embrace her and help her heal. She did what she had to in order to survive. I hold you personally responsible for her improved health and rehabilitation. Make that your priority! I left a packet of vouchers and phone numbers at your apartment. Use them today. It’s not too late, I hope. Get yourself some furniture, for Heaven’s sake. They’ll deliver…You’re welcome.”

  Mrs. Hightower turned off her phone.

  “Girls, excuse me. You didn’t hear what just transpired. I’ll explain it later if the need arises.” She turned to Louise. “Here’s my vice, young lady. I break a few rules, but I get the job done. I save lives. Get it?”

  Louise took a deep breath. Then she looked at Abbi and lowered her head.

  “I’m in too,” she said quietly. “I’m almost packed.”

  “Good. Then we see eye-to-eye.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  “Before I leave,” Mrs. Hightower said, “there are a few things that need tending. First, Abbi and Louise, doublecheck that list. Make sure there’s nothing you don’t have before Lowell an
d I take off.”

  Quickly the girls ran upstairs and finished throwing clothes and supplies into bags, checking off things on Mrs. Hightower’s list.

  “Why do we need ‘office attire’?” Louise asked.

  “No idea. Why do I need a leotard?” Abbi asked. “Do you have one I can borrow?”

  “I think I still have one from gymnastics,” Louise said.

  “You took gymnastics?”

  “Hey, don’t look so surprised. Let’s just say, I wasn’t Olympic grade.”

  The leotard was black and short in the torso, the legs, and the arms. Not something you’d wear in public.

  Abbi smiled and said, “OK?”

  When they managed to put the final items into their bags and they were able to zip the bags, they did a quick fist bump and carried their bags downstairs. Abbi also went to get her mother’s reports in the briefcase and her backpack full of rappelling gear and other odds and ends.

  “Mission completed,” Abbi said. “Here are some things of Mom’s I’ve been trying to make sense of. Maybe it will mean something to you. I can make you copies, if it’s OK with Louise.”

  “Sure,” Louise said in a rare moment of helpfulness. “I’d be glad to do it for you.”

  Abbi pulled out files and sorted through some papers from what she called the Mayan file and handed them to Louise.

  “I’m afraid we’ve only just begun,” Mrs. Hightower said. “Several people are working behind the scenes to pull this mission off. When you see us again, we will be well underway. And that’s where you come in, if it all works out! You’ll be helping out with our Project Safe Childhood initiative. We’re coordinating the efforts of all levels of law enforcement, state, local and the Mexican government. Your focus will be on Operation Shoe Drop, a critical part of locating and rescuing Miss Shoe. To complicate matters, at this point we believe she is still in Mexico.”

  Abbi felt her heart skip a beat. The excitement of being part of this was almost too much to bear.