by Keith Taylor
She’d even watched Parsons send out what looked like a search party, and she could only guess they were looking for her. Fortunately he’d only managed to muster a few men at such an early hour, and in the cold, dark night their hearts hadn’t seemed to be in the hunt. Once they’d swept the motel grounds, checked the street and ventured a few steps into the forest they’d quickly thrown up their hands and wandered off in the direction of the houses to the south, in search of a warm bed.
That had been around five hours ago, and since then Cathy had barely moved a muscle from her hiding place in the trees. She knew she was concealed well enough among the ponderosas – they’d made a perfect hiding spot in the darkness – but now that the sun was high in the sky she knew that an eagle-eyed observer might spot her through the fronds if she tried to make a move. She didn’t even dare light up a cigarette for fear that the smell might drift down to the parking lot and give away her location.
Hell, it had been a cigarette that got her into this mess in the first place.
She stared down at the truck parked in front of her room, sorely tempted to make a dash for it, but she knew it would be a bad idea. Even if she could reach the truck without being seen it was almost certain that it wouldn’t move an inch. Parsons had been screwing with it in the night, and while she wasn't sure what he’d done she was pretty damned certain he hadn’t given it a tune up. And even if he hadn’t disabled the truck she knew it was almost out of gas. She wouldn’t make it more than a few miles out of town before she ground to a halt, and then Parsons or one of his goons would have no problem picking her up.
She’d almost run when she saw Doug wander out of his room about an hour after dawn. He’d sauntered across the parking lot without a care in the world, Boomer happily trailing along behind him, and then an hour or so later Jack followed, still tugging on his shirt, hurrying across to the blue house on the other side of the parking lot.
That’s when she’d figured it out. They still didn’t know anything was wrong.
The realization had hit her like a half brick to the face. For hours she’d waited, shivering, for the guys to wake up and figure out what was happening. She’d expected them to cotton on quickly when they discovered she wasn’t in her room. She’d assumed they’d find her truck, the keys still hanging from the ignition, and then find her room empty. Surely then it would be obvious that something bad was going down.
But no. From Cathy’s vantage point in the forest she could see straight through the kitchen window of the blue house, and even though they were tiny at this distance she was sure she could make out Doug and Jack enjoying breakfast with the sheriff and his wife, as if nothing was wrong.
How the hell had Parsons explained her absence? Had Doug and Jack not heard the ruckus in the night? Had they not heard the people coming and going at all hours?
God, they must be dumb.
A little while after Jack entered the blue house Cathy watched as Parsons left with another man, one of the guys from the pre-dawn search party. They climbed back into the sheriff’s cruiser and drove once again in the direction of the church.
That’s when she thought about heading down there. As far as she could tell there was only the sheriff’s wife still in the house with Jack and Doug, and she couldn’t imagine a chubby housewife in an apron would put up much of a fight. They could tie her up if they had to, then figure out what Parsons had done to the truck, then get the hell out of Dodge before anyone knew what was going on.
And then Cathy had noticed the maid. She had no idea what part she played in all of this, if any, but she seemed to be the only member of staff working at the motel today. Surely she must be in the loop. She’d been there last night as they checked in, and she’d probably been there when Parsons sent his boys searching for Cathy.
She was almost certainly in on it, and unfortunately she looked a little more feisty than the sheriff’s wife. Cathy hadn’t so much as thrown a punch in ten years, and she didn’t want to go toe to toe with a woman who might know how to handle herself. It was just too risky.
So now she sat, her jacket wrapped tight around her as the confusing drama unfolded on the streets below, like watching a foreign movie without subtitles. In the distance she could see people moving on foot towards the church. And now here came Jack, once again crossing the parking lot back to his room.
“Figure it out, jackass,” she whispered. “These people aren’t your friends.”
She’d almost given up hope. She knew Jack was walking into a trap but he couldn’t seem to see it, and if he didn’t work it out soon she’d have to… what? Go down there and kick some ass? Hell, she didn’t even have her gun. She’d dropped it by the bed when she’d reached her room, and she was in such a hurry to escape she hadn’t even remembered the single most valuable thing she owned when she’d run.
“Stupid,” she whispered to herself. “What were you thinking, Cathy?”
A movement down below drew her eye back to the parking lot. It was Jack again, emerging from his room and looking… different, somehow. On edge. He almost jumped out of his skin as the maid emerged from her little supply closet and turned around the corner.
She watched with growing interest as Jack… flirted with the maid? That couldn’t be right. From up here he seemed to be sending all the usual flirtatious signals, but she figured she must be getting the wrong end of the stick as he started waving toilet paper around like an idiot.
But then…
“Yes!” She punched the air when she saw him lift the set of keys from the maid’s cart, and her excitement only grew as he ran to her room and slipped inside. “Not so dumb after all, Jack. Good boy, you’re figuring it out.”
Cathy watched the motel like a hawk, counting the seconds since Jack entered her room, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the maid reappear from the room next door much sooner than she'd expected, dropping her mop and bucket back into the cart. “You’ve only been cleaning a couple minutes, woman,” she hissed. “It’s no wonder this place looks like a crap hole.”
She pushed herself off the ground and started running between the trees as the maid pushed her cart towards Cathy’s room. She had no idea what she was planning to do, but if the maid was part of this she couldn’t let her discover Jack. She’d have to… well, if it came to it she’d have to do whatever was necessary to keep her quiet. If that meant knocking the bitch out with a mop handle then she could make her peace with it.
Cathy ran down the hill as fast as she could, almost skating along the loose dirt and slippery layer of fallen pine needles, but even as she sprinted out of control down the slope it was becoming clear she wouldn’t make it in time. She was still more than fifty yards away when the maid found the right key and slipped it in the door, frowning as she realized it was already unlocked.
Cathy opened her mouth to let out a yell. She had no better ideas. If she could just distract the maid long enough for Jack to slip out the door she might—
Wait.
Just as she reached the foot of the hill Cathy saw movement in the narrow alley at the back of the building. She stopped in her tracks, still hidden among the last of the trees as she saw Jack tumble awkwardly out the bathroom window and start to run towards her, slipping across the loose gravel. He rounded the corner at the very moment the maid poked her head through the window. A fraction of a second sooner and she'd have seen him bolt around the corner, but instead she just stared out at the empty alleyway, confused, and then ducked her head back inside and closed the bathroom window.
Jack was breathing hard, obviously scared, pressed up against the wall as if he was trying to blend in with the brickwork.
And in his hand he was holding Cathy’s gun.
She waved frantically to grab his attention, biting her lip to keep herself from yelling out to him, and when he finally noticed her hiding behind the treeline he froze for a moment, mouth agape, before his body finally took over from his confused brain and sent his feet running in her dire
ction. He bolted into the forest, following Cathy as she began to climb once more to her secret spot in the pines.
“Wait!” he hissed, panting, a dozen steps behind her. “Stop, damn it! What the hell’s going on?”
Cathy didn’t have the breath to answer. She pushed on another hundred yards up the hill before she finally stopped climbing, safely hidden among the ponderosas, and she collapsed to the ground and sucked in air while Jack caught up with her. He fell down at her side in the leaf litter, still clutching the gun in his fist.
“Will you please tell me what’s happening?” he gasped. “Why did you run? What do they want with you?”
Cathy shook her head, still fighting for air. She felt dizzy. Pinpricks of color exploded in her eyes as her heart raced.
“They don’t want anything with me,” she finally managed. “It’s not me they want.”
“Then what the hell’s going on? Why are we running?”
She looked down to the motel where the maid was emerging from Cathy’s room. She tossed her mop to the ground, reached into her cart and pulled out a two way radio, hissing a few words into the set as her eyes darted across the parking lot.
“Jack,” she said, staring at the maid with a mixture of hatred and fear, “don’t you get it?”
“Get what? I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
Cathy nodded towards the house, where the sheriff’s wife emerged from the kitchen and waved over to the maid. Mrs. Parsons stepped away from the door as Gabriela arrived, ensuring she was out of Doug’s earshot before they started whispering back and forth. The maid jabbed a finger towards Cathy’s door.
“They want you, Jack. They’re not going to let you leave.”
΅
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TIP YOUR DRIVER
FOR TWO HOURS Karen drove slowly north, avoiding the highway and sticking to the cracked and potholed county routes that ran arrow straight between endless acres of patchwork farmland. The road seemed to stretch out forever ahead of the car, broken only by the occasional deserted village or isolated suburb, and as Karen stared out at the road ahead she was left with nothing to occupy her but her thoughts.
The rumble of the road had quickly lulled Emily back into a deep slumber. She lay curled up on the rear seat, her knees tucked against her belly, warm and cozy in a set of pajamas Ramos had found for her at the pharmacy. Every so often she muttered in her sleep, unconsciously scratching at the ointment-slathered pink rash at her neck, but she didn’t appear to be in any discomfort.
Ramos, on the other hand, looked about as uncomfortable as it was possible to be, staring blankly out the window without really seeing anything that passed by. He’d barely spoken a word since Karen had pulled out of the Rite Aid parking lot, and after a few attempts to get him to talk about what had happened Karen had stopped trying. He clearly wasn’t interested in a heart to heart.
If she was honest Karen had to admit that she was happy with his silence. She couldn’t imagine what the Doc was going through, and even if he’d been willing to talk she wouldn’t have the first clue what to say. The last thing she wanted to do was have an honest discussion about whether it would have been right to inject a dying man with enough sedative to kill him. That… well, that just didn’t sit well with her.
She'd always made it a rule to steer well clear of the big ethical debates of the day. When she picked up the paper she jumped straight to the lifestyle section where she knew she wouldn’t have to deal with anything that would give her a throbbing headache, and when her friends tried to drag her into a fight over whatever was blowing up on social media she was always the first to look for the nearest exit.
It wasn’t that she didn’t care. Far from it. It was just that she already had more than enough on her plate without worrying about questions with no clear right and wrong answers. She was a single mother trying to hold down a full time job in a city that kept getting more and more expensive by the year, and she knew it was a waste of time to try to set the world to rights. She’d happily leave that job to politicians, activists, idealistic college students and others who didn’t have to get up in two hours to do a load of laundry and pack a lunch before eight hours at the office.
Mercy killing, though?
She just didn’t know how to feel about what Ramos had almost done. She’d read her Bible from cover to cover, and she’d listened to people make good points on both sides of the argument, but still she’d never been able to decide if it really was a mercy, or just a killing.
All she knew was that she was thankful it hadn’t been her holding the syringe, asked to make that impossible choice. She’d seen the man. She didn’t need a medical degree to know that the rest of his short life would be filled with nothing but agony. She just didn’t know if she’d be able to find the strength to push that plunger, knowing that his blood would be on her hands.
Karen played out the same arguments over and over in her head as she drove, going back and forth without ever coming close to an answer that satisfied her. As she struggled over the question she barely paid any attention to the flat, featureless landscape ahead, which made it all the more surprising when Ramos, without any warning at all, finally broke his two hour silence with a question.
“What’s a city bus doing all the way out here?”
Karen snapped out of her reverie, just as surprised to hear Ramos speak at all as she was at what he’d said. “Sorry, what was that?” she asked, certain she’d misheard him.
“That bus we just passed,” he replied, pointing a thumb at the road behind them. “You didn’t see the people waving us down?”
Karen slowed the Prius and twisted in her seat to look out the back window, half expecting to see nothing but empty road back there, but Ramos was right. About a hundred yards behind them, here on a single lane country road running from nowhere to nowhere at least a hundred miles from the city, a San Francisco city bus sat by the side of the road. Standing beside it a couple of figures jumped up and down, waving frantically in their direction.
“Huh. Well there’s something you don’t see every day. What do you think we should do?” Karen asked. She prayed he’d tell her to drive on, but she didn’t want to be the first to say it.
“I don’t know. Looks like they could be in trouble.” Ramos scratched his stubble, squinting back at the bus, deep in thought. “I think…” He fell silent for a moment, as if there was some internal struggle going on. “I think we need to go back and help. Scratch that. I think I need us to go back and help.” He gave Karen a weak smile. “I could use the karma, know what I’m saying?”
“OK, Doc,” Karen nodded, reluctantly steering the car onto the dusty verge to make a U-turn. She could see the pain in Ramos’ eyes, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to shake off the guilt of leaving that man to a painful death until he’d done an honest, simple, unambiguous good deed.
Saving a bunch of folks stranded at the side of the road? Well, it didn’t get much simpler than that.
Karen slowed as she pulled the Prius alongside the bus, ready to step on the gas if she saw any signs of danger, but as far as she could tell there was nothing to suggest they were driving into an ambush. A few passengers sat hiding from the sun in the shade of the bus, weakly cheering as she pulled to a stop beside them. She rolled down her window and peered up at the sign on the side of the bus. “The 28 to Nineteenth Avenue?” she called out with a smile. “Someone should tell the driver he’s strayed a little off his route. You guys having trouble?”
A slim, attractive black woman of around forty stepped down from the bus, her short hair flecked with the same shade of gray as her Muni bus driver’s uniform.
“Wait, you’re telling me this isn’t Golden Gate Heights? Damn it, I’m gonna get my pay docked again.” She broke into a grin. “Thank you so much for stopping. We’ve been stuck out here for about three hours now, and everyone else just shot straight by.”
“Happy to help,” Karen replied, reaching out to
shake the driver’s hand. “I’m Karen, and this is Emily asleep in the back.”
The woman took a look through the window and smiled. “Aww, ain’t she a cutie?”
“And this,” Karen said, “is Doctor Ramos.”
Ramos leaned over Karen to make himself visible. “Nice to meet you. Now what’s the… Valerie?”
The driver ducked down to look through the window, and her smile spread even wider. “Hey, Cesar!” She slapped her thighs and let out a raucous laugh. “Of all the gin joints in all the world.”
“You two know each other?” Karen asked as Ramos hopped out of the Prius.
“Damn right we know each other,” Valerie beamed. “Cesar rode my bus every Tuesday and Friday like clockwork for the last five years.” It was too quick to be certain, but Karen would have sworn she gave him a sly wink. “Baked me cookies last Christmas, too.”
Ramos began to blush as Karen stared at him with surprise. “Well, you gotta tip your bus driver at Christmas. How else do you get the good seats?” He hurried around the car and gave Valerie a hug, smiling for the first time in hours. “How you doing, Val? What do you need?” As he pulled away from the hug Karen noticed he kept hold of her hands.
“Oh, we’re OK,” Valerie replied, “but I think all this sun is aging me.” She tilted back her head and showed him her neck. “What do you think, Cesar? Am I getting wrinkles?”
Karen climbed out of the car and lifted Emily from the back seat as Ramos grinned at Valerie. “I swear you get younger every time I see you.”
“Oh, you old tease,” she laughed, slapping him playfully on the shoulder. “You always tell the best lies.”
Karen gave a polite cough. “Nuclear attack, you guys,” she reminded them. “Maybe we can save the… whatever this is until later? Why don’t you tell us how we can help?”
Ramos quickly let go of Valerie’s hand, and they both suddenly looked like a couple of school kids being lectured by their teacher.