“Mara seems to have fallen off the grid,” Michaels said. “Tips are pouring in, but they just confirm Mara’s identity. I need to know where she’s hiding. I hope she’s trapped in the city without necessary funds to leave and that she’s too afraid to show her face. The interview and press conference did their job keeping this case in front of the public.”
Scott gave Wes a nod. He stood and started to pace while he picked up where Michaels left off. “In spite of that scare with the body that was discovered yesterday, I feel confident that Mara won’t injure Johnny.” He stopped and turned to the RPD chief. “Do we have any word on who the boy was?”
“His name was Noah Jensen. He was sixteen years old. According to our informant, a local dealer was trying to recruit him, but he resisted. Apparently, the dealer doesn’t take no for an answer. We collected enough evidence against our primary suspect to take him out when we catch him.”
“Good to know, Chief,” Wes said. “As far as Mara is concerned, even if she’s on the run, she can’t move easily or inconspicuously with Johnny in tow. We’ve got eyes on the airports, bus, and train stations. His medical issues also make traveling with him under the radar a challenge. According to the pharmacy, he’s running low on two medications, so we’ve red-flagged that as well. Does anyone have anything to add?”
Wes held his breath hoping someone would mention any scrap of a clue he’d overlooked, but blank stares were the only response he got. He didn’t fault them. He was the one failing Johnny and the Walkers.
“My team will revisit the rental house, the hotel, and the hospital to see if there’s anything we’ve missed. Let’s stay in touch and make today the day. Eyes wide open,” he said.
The group dispersed, and Cameron handed Wes the report with the latest tips. It would have to wait until after his shower. He glanced at the digital calendar on the wall as he left the conference room. It was Tuesday. Day eight. He was determined there wouldn’t be a day nine.
Sunlight blasted in through moth holes in Johnny’s curtains. I’ll have to cover those if my escape plan fails, he thought as he rolled over to face the wall. He ran his fingers over his bump. It was the same size, but he was glad it hadn’t gotten bigger. Between his pounding headache and the anxiety over discovering drugs in Mara’s backpack, he’d been awake most of the night. He didn’t dare ask for pain medicine since he had no idea where it had come from. He’d have to make do with Advil and Tylenol.
He laid quiet and tried to go back to sleep, but it was pointless. He gave up and went to see what Mara was doing banging around in the kitchen. She was in a terrible mood after the press conference, so he had no idea what he’d be facing. He used the bathroom and went to confront his kidnapper.
“It’s about time,” Mara said, without turning away from the fridge when he came into the kitchen. “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”
Johnny checked at the clock on the microwave. “It’s only quarter after nine.”
She carried the carton of OJ to the table and set it in front of him. “You’re usually up before this.” She put her hand under his chin and tipped his head back. “You look like hell.” She picked up her penlight and shined it in his eyes. “I don’t like your pupils. They’re sluggish. You should be showing signs of improvement today. How’s your headache?”
He lowered his head and locked his fingers behind his neck. “The same. Killing me. By the way, I can’t stand orange juice.”
Mara put her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me? I can buy other kinds of juice.”
Johnny raised his eyes. “I didn’t want to make you mad.”
“Why would that make me mad?”
“Never mind.”
Mara watched him for several seconds. "I think you should stay in bed all day. Go lie down and I’ll bring you breakfast before I leave for the store.”
Johnny went to his room without arguing. Mara’s concern over his eyes worried him. He knew what sluggish pupils meant. He should be in a hospital.
She brought him two cinnamon rolls and hard boiled eggs, along with a glass of milk and a sports drink. She watched him eat for a minute before asking what kind of juice he liked.
He swallowed a bite of the cinnamon roll. It tasted much better than the gluten-free garbage she’d given him the day before, and he perked up a little. “Grape or apple.”
“Easy enough.” She reached into her pocket and took out two pills. “Take these so you can sleep.”
He took them from her but didn’t put them in his mouth. “Where did you get these? I don’t have a prescription for pain meds.”
“Leftover from an ankle surgery I had. You didn’t care when I gave them to you yesterday. Why the questions?”
“Just wondered.” He set the tablets on the edge of his plate. “I’ll take them after I eat, so I don’t get a stomachache.”
“Fine. There’s a bottle of ibuprofen on the kitchen counter. Take four in two hours.”
“Two hours? Won’t you be here?”
“I don’t know how far away I’ll have to go shopping. I’ll look for an out of the way country store. It may take a while. Stay in bed and rest. No computer. It’ll make your headache worse. I’ll bring the TV in here. It’s fine if you listen to it.”
“Thanks,” he said and finished his roll.
“Your color is better. Maybe you just needed to eat.”
“That’s probably it.”
He lowered his eyes to his plate while he ate, hoping she’d go. She stared at him a few seconds before leaving to get the TV. She was back with it a minute later and had her electric hair clippers.
“What are you doing with those?” he asked, through a mouthful of egg.
“I’m going to shave your head.”
Johnny sat forward. “No, you’re not. Get away from me with those things. My hair’s short enough.”
“The video from your escapade at the hotel has been all over the media. We have to drastically alter your appearance. No one expects a bald head. You’ll look like a cancer patient and people won’t question you. It will be easier for me to keep an eye on that bump, too.”
Johnny didn’t have the strength to fight her, and he was too afraid of her to try. “Can I grow it out once we get to Portland?”
“Of course. Finish your breakfast.” She set up the TV and picked up his dirty clothes while he ate. “They have a laundry room in this complex, but it’s expensive. We’ll have to wear our clothes more than once, so try not to get too dirty.”
“I never leave my room. How am I supposed to get dirty?”
“Good point. Hurry up. I need to get going.” She went out and came back with a kitchen chair and a large trash bag. She put the chair on the bag. “Sit here.”
Johnny huffed but did what she ordered. His hair was already so short that it took no time to shave it. He cringed when she went over his bump with the clippers. She apologized and was more careful on the next pass. Johnny was relieved when the buzz of the clippers stopped. Mara was quiet after she examined his head.
“How does it look?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said softly.
Johnny turned and raised his eyebrows. “Bring me the mirror.”
She went to the bathroom without reminding him to say please. She handed him the mirror for him to inspect his new look. He barked out a laugh when he saw himself. He looked like a freak, especially with his black eyebrows.
“Like you said, it won’t take long to grow back, and it’ll be blond again. I’ll lighten your eyebrows when I get home from the store.”
She cleaned up the mess and handed him the remote. She stared at him with a strange look on her face. “I’ll get back as soon as I can.”
Johnny gave an exaggerated wave as she went out and fell back on his pillows. A few hours of freedom, he thought as she drove away, leaving him in peace.
Johnny flushed the pain meds down the toilet and took some ibuprofen and acetaminophen when he woke up from an hour nap.
He went back to bed and waited for the medicine to take effect, so he’d have the strength to execute the escape plan he’d come up with during the night.
He flipped through the TV channels while he waited but didn’t care about any of the shows that came in with an antenna. He wondered if that was what it was like in the old days before cable and internet. How boring, he thought and tried to find anything about his kidnapping on the news. All he saw was the tip-line number scrolling on the screen. He was already old news.
When the medicine kicked in, and his headache faded to a dull roar, he went to the front door to see if Mara had forgotten to lock it from the outside. He turned the knob and pulled hard, almost falling off his crutches. The door didn’t budge. He tried two more times with the same result, and his heart sank. It would have been so much easier if he could have walked out the door and been long gone by the time Mara came back.
He gave up on the door and turned to the windows next. Two had rusty old bars, and another was nailed shut, but a fourth at the back of the trailer opened with no trouble and didn’t even have a screen. It was higher up the wall than the others, but Johnny was sure he could manage it.
He went to his room and emptied his backpack before carrying it to the kitchen. He put the laptop and last two water bottles inside before adding a cinnamon roll and some packets of cheese crackers to be safe.
His dad had always told him to carry a knife and a flint or lighter when he went on an adventure. He was sure he wasn’t going to find a flint or lighter in that trailer, but he dug through the drawers and found a book of matches. He next took a dull carving knife from the silverware drawer. He would have preferred his pocketknife, but this would have to do.
The last thing he needed was to find some money. He searched the trailer for fifteen minutes but didn’t find so much as a penny. Mara had taken the cash he withdrew from the ATM at the hotel. He searched the backpack once more to be sure. He found two one-dollar bills and a dime stashed in an inside pocket, probably left from when he went to Charlottesville. He wouldn’t be able to buy much with that, but it was something.
He put the backpack on and went to the window. He considered throwing the backpack out first but decided against it in case he couldn’t climb out to retrieve it. Instead, he hung it on a bent piece of metal jutting from the trailer that he could reach from the ground. All that was left was to get his body through the window.
He leaned his torso against the sill and lifted himself by pushing his arms on the hand rests of his crutches. He was grateful for the upper body exercises Tony always made him do at PT. It was a tight fit in the window, and his shoulders kept getting stuck, but he was making progress. Once his body was high enough, he grabbed the top of the window frame and twisted sideways. Using every bit of muscle he possessed, he lifted the leg closest to the window through the opening. It wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Tony would have been proud. He took a minute to catch his breath before lifting his other leg through the opening with his free hand.
Getting that far had drained him, but he’d nearly reached his objective. He picked up his crutches and hung them on the same piece of metal as the backpack before looking down to see how far he’d have to fall. The sloping weedy lawn was farther down than he’d hoped. His only choice was to pitch himself forward and tuck into a ball before he hit the ground and pray that he didn’t break anything. After that, he’d have to use the siding on the trailer to raise himself up to grab his crutches.
Being so close to freedom gave him a burst of adrenalin and the energy he needed for the final step. He didn’t know how long Mara had been gone, but it had been long enough that he knew he needed to hurry. He scooted as far forward as possible without falling, then took a few deep breaths and crossed his arms over his chest. Just as he leaned out to launch himself through the window, he heard Mara’s car in the driveway.
In his panic, he toppled backward, and his head slammed into the floor right on the bump. A light flashed through his vision, and he lay on the floor in a daze. With the adrenalin still in his system, his head cleared quickly enough for him to drag himself to the couch. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he pulled himself across the floor in a military crawl. He heaved himself onto the couch and grabbed a textbook off the floor just as Mara came through the door.
She carried grocery bags to the table before turning to face him. “What are you doing out here? I told you to stay in bed.”
Without taking his eyes from the book, he said, “I got bored. It’s dark, and it stinks in my room.”
She stared at him before shaking her head. “Whatever. I have to get the rest of the groceries.”
Johnny’s gaze flew to the back of the trailer the instant she went outside. The window was wide open, letting in the cold. If Mara didn’t notice that, she would definitely notice Johnny didn’t have his crutches, but there was no way he could crawl to the window and walk back to the couch before she came in. If Mara realized he’d tried to escape, she’d give him more than a headache. His head and heart pounded so hard he was afraid he’d pass out.
She made two more trips to the car before closing the front door and putting away the groceries. Johnny tried not to look at the window while she chatted away about her adventure to buy food. At least she seemed to be in a good mood.
She came to the couch and checked his pupils after she finished in the kitchen. The pain was blinding when she shined her penlight in his eyes. She stepped back and bit her lip when she finished. The concern was clear in her eyes.
“I don’t like this. You should have stayed in bed.”
And you shouldn’t have punched me in the gut, Johnny thought but wished he had stayed in bed. Aside from his pain and panic, he could feel something was seriously wrong.
“I’ll go back to my room in a few minutes. Can you fix me something to eat? The cinnamon rolls didn’t fill me up.”
She went to the kitchen and came back with a sub sandwich. “Figured you’d be hungry. You always are, but I guess that’s a good sign.” She handed Johnny a paper plate and his sandwich. While he unwrapped it, she went back to the kitchen for his drink. “I need a nap. I didn’t sleep much last night. Do you need anything else before I go to my room?”
He said no, and she squeezed Johnny’s shoulder as she walked by the couch. She passed the window without a glance. His escape plan had failed, but he’d been damned lucky not to get caught. He ate his sandwich and waited thirty minutes before dragging himself to the window. He grabbed his stuff and quietly shut the window before taking his backpack to his room to wait for the next time Mara left him alone.
Mara woke with a start to the sound of shouting and a blaring car alarm. Her heart sank when she realized where she was. Still in this damned stinking trailer, she thought. She had planned to whisk Johnny back to Portland three days after nabbing him. Instead, they were stuck in Richmond after more than a week with no money. Her face was plastered all over the news and the FBI was hunting her like a dog.
She’d been foolish to believe she could take Johnny without anyone knowing where he’d gone. She’d considered ditching him more than once since everything blew up in her face. It would be simple to drop him at a hospital or street corner, disappear in the wind and start over in a new place. She’d done it before. She could do it again, but she’d have to cross into Canada like Rick had done. There wasn’t anywhere left in the U.S. for her to hide.
In the end, she had no choice but to see it through no matter the outcome. She’d agonized over the loss of Johnny in the years after Rick forced her to leave him and couldn’t go through that a second time. She’d devoted years and invested thousands of dollars in putting her plan into action. She wouldn’t abandon Johnny.
It would take a boatload of cash to set up a new life in Canada, and she only had one way to get it. She thought of the bags of drugs hiding in her backpack. The kind of people who’d buy her goods wouldn’t care about Johnny or what they’d heard on the news. They’d just be despera
te for their next hit. Mara just needed to figure out how to connect with buyers without getting caught.
She sat up and rubbed her face. The room was dark, and it felt late but must only be around two. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since early morning, but before she fixed lunch, she needed to check Johnny. She hadn’t liked the look of his pupils when she came home from the store. Two days had passed since he bumped his head on the toilet, but he was getting worse, not better. As a nurse, she knew odds were that he had a subdural hematoma or maybe a slow bleed, and his intracranial pressure was increasing. If she was right, he’d need the kind of medical care she wasn’t equipped to provide.
She went to Johnny’s room and found him in a deep sleep. His breathing was regular, and his forehead was cool and dry. She lifted his arm and pressed her fingers into his wrist. His pulse was strong and steady. The only red flag was that bump on his head. It felt bigger than it had been that morning.
Johnny didn’t stir while she examined him, so she left him to rest. She rolled the TV into the living room and turned on a craft show. The novelty of being famous had worn off, so she was glad there wouldn’t be any news on that time of day. She relaxed and learned how to make greeting cards while she ate her lunch.
She heard Johnny coming from the bathroom just as she finished eating. She put her plate down and stood as he approached. His left eye was swollen shut, and his cheek drooped. When he came into the light from the window, she saw that his face was ashen.
“Help me, Mara,” he said. “Something’s wrong.”
The last words came out in a slur as his legs gave out. He crumpled to the floor and began to seize. Mara shoved a pillow under his head and waited for the seizure to end, but it went on much longer than it should have. He didn’t open his eyes or respond when his body became still.
She picked up her phone to call 911 but debated whether it was worth the risk of exposing their location. She shoved her phone in her pocket without dialing and grabbed Johnny under his arms to drag him to the car. She didn’t worry about any of the trailer park residents reporting them. By the looks of most of them, the last thing they wanted was cops crawling around the area.
The Complete Arms of Grace Series Page 53