Torched: A Thriller

by Daniel Powell

  There was a simple stone bench near the well, and she pushed him down on it.

  She stepped away from him and slowly, methodically, she removed her blouse. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and hitched it down over her panties, then kicked out of her sandals. She stood there, barefoot in the sandy clearing, and rendered the former mortgage trader motionless with her beauty. She undid her bra and shrugged it off, then stepped out of her panties.

  She strode to where he sat, placed her hands on his thighs and spread his legs wide.

  “Hey, Vivian, I…”

  “Shhh,” she said, unzipping his blue jeans. She took him in her hands and then her mouth, staring up at him in the darkness as waves of pleasure wracked through him.

  She eased him down onto his back on the bench, then stood and straddled him—brushing herself against him until he had to close his eyes to maintain his composure.

  She worked herself down on him, moaning as they fell into a rhythm. They panted together in the dark, sliding into a furious pace—slamming together until they were both covered in sweat.

  Miguel pulled her to his chest and stood. He pushed her back up against the well. Standing, their hearts straining, they climaxed together in a frantic crescendo that felt like finally scratching a persistent itch that was always out of reach. When they were finished, he returned her gently to the bench, kissing the salty moisture that beaded there on her flat belly. He kissed the inside of her thigh, her hip bones, her nipples.

  He kissed her neck and her lips and her eyelids and her earlobes.

  “Listen,” she said, after catching her breath. “Do you hear that?”

  He paused, then shook his head. “What?”

  “That’s just it. There’s nothing. All the creatures, I mean. They just…stopped. Mike, they were listening to us!”

  Sure enough, the jungle around them had grown perfectly silent. There were no cicadas chirping, no frogs barking, no mourning doves cooing on the night air.

  He grinned at her, and Vivian stood and went to the well. She was beautiful, her skin luminous against the silver granite.

  “Is it safe to drink?” she said.

  “It is. Lots of locals still come here every day.”

  She retrieved the bucket and dipped a small amount in her hand. It was cold and tasted good, and they drank their fill.

  When they were satiated, they put their clothes back on. Gradually, the jungle purred back into life. Cicadas buzzed in the trees and bats chased mosquitoes; an owl’s cry carried, low and haunting, from some nearby perch.

  “It’s paradise, isn’t it?” Miguel said. He took her hand and brushed a clutch of hair behind her ear. “We’ve got everything we need, Vi. We’ve got it all right here.”

  She frowned. “That’s what makes me worried, Mike. I’ve…I’ve been comfortable before, only to have everything taken away from me. I,” she shrugged, looking away. “I just…every time I feel good, like I’ve got some room to take a breath—something bad seems to happen.”

  He cupped her jaw, turning her cheek up in the moonlight. “Hey, now. Hey, Vivian? It’s going to be okay, honey. Just trust me. Okay?”

  She smiled and pushed up onto her toes to kiss him. “Thanks.” Her hand found the front of his jeans. “You, uh…you still got a little gas in the tank, partner?”

  “You know it.”

  “Good, because I’ve still got plans for you.”

  “Oh yeah? What are we talking about here?”

  “I told you—I wanted to see you looking over my shoulder. Let’s get home, okay? I’ll show you just what I’m talking about.”

  Grinning, he took her hand and led her back into the jungle. “Sheesh, Vivian. I was just joking, but you really are a succubus, aren’t you? Good God, girl…”

  SEVEN

  Terri opened her eyes one minute before the alarm on her watch began to chime. She lay there in bed, thinking about the day ahead of her, until it dinged on the nightstand. She switched it off, said a quick prayer for her family, and ducked into the bathroom for a cold shower. She relished the icy blast—the pain and the focus that it brought to her morning routine. She’d started the cold showers on the morning of Sheldon’s funeral, not only as a means of gaining clarity, but also as a way to turn the page.

  She hadn’t started a day without one since.

  It was 4:55 a.m., but the Pinkertons were waiting for her in the kitchen. Blaine poured her a cup of coffee and Bo fixed a plate of eggs and wheat toast for her.

  “Thanks,” she said. The coffee was strong, and she drained it quickly. Blaine refilled her mug and Bo grinned while she wolfed her food down.

  “Got some place to be, don’t you Ms. James?” he said.

  Terri flashed an embarrassed smile, then dabbed a bit of egg from the corner of her mouth. “Sorry. Yes, Bo—I’m anxious to get going. Sooner begun, sooner done.”

  “Fair enough,” he replied. “I’ll go get the horses saddled. Just come on out to the barn when you’re all set.”

  Terri nodded and went to the sink to rinse her dish. Blaine eased his lanky frame down into a chair at the kitchen table, and Penny followed suit.

  “You got that look about you, Terri,” he said. He wore a wry smile—not an ounce of humor in it. His eyes never blinked.

  “What look is that?”

  Blaine just shook his head, grinning. It was an unpleasant expression, and she felt the skin on the back of her neck dimple. She raised her eyebrows.

  Penny sighed. “He means you look like a killer, Terri.”

  Terri scoffed. She looked away. “Oh yeah? With all due respect, Penny, just how do you know that?”

  “Because I’ve seen that look before. Used to see it quite often, as a matter of fact. Right there on my husband’s face.”

  Terri studied them. Blaine’s grin had vanished, but he held her eyes with his own. There was a warning there, but she ignored it and looked right through him—right through him and into a time when her little girl’s hand had been whole and her son could sleep through the night without wetting the bed or shrieking in his sleep.

  “Look, I appreciate your hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. Pinkerton. I sincerely do. I would be honored to repay it if you’re ever in Colorado.

  “But I’m going to collect my things now. I’ll leave the money on the nightstand, and I’ll be back for my car in six days—eight at the outside. If I’m not back by sunset on the eighth day, you have every right to dispose of it. I understand.”

  She left them there. The Pinkertons exchanged a glance, then Blaine stood and took his wife’s coffee cup to the sink, where he ditched the dregs from both and rinsed them.

  He peered out the window to the eastern horizon, where a thin band of orange was just beginning to light the morning.

  ***

  Terri had forgotten how comfortable she was in the saddle. Before they’d had children, she and Sheldon had spent many weekends at the Westgate River Ranch in Lake Wales. They’d spent their mornings exploring the area’s horse trails, and their nights exploring each other.

  She banished the memory, turning her gaze to the sky. Texas was made for the edges of the day; the sunrises and sunsets were breathtaking. Pinks and blues and yellows brought the sage to life, and their horses clopped steadily toward a dense thicket of trees in the distance.

  The border fence pulled back into view, looming a few miles off to the west.

  “You guys get much immigrant traffic on your property?” she asked. Bo had been content to ride in silence, occasionally spitting tobacco juice on the dusty ground.

  He shrugged. “Some. This way I’m taking you—it’s definitely a two-way street.”

  “What do you do? I mean…how do you respond if you run into somebody on your property?”

  “Well, we usually let well enough alone. No cause to do anything otherwise. We’re so far south that they’re all just passing through. Nobody takes up much around here.”

  Terri nodded. “It’s
got to be a strange dynamic, the way everyone lives so close to the edges down here. Does it ever bother you?”

  Bo laughed. “Naw. We spend our fair share of time down in Mexico as well.” He squinted at Terri. “Benny didn’t tell you much about my dad, did he?”

  Terri shook her head. “Why?”

  Bo’s lip curled in a wry grin. “Let’s just say, people find their way to America in all sorts of ways. I’ll leave it at that. I was born here, but my old man surely wasn’t.

  “Come on now, Terri. Let’s let these fellows open it up some. I can feel ol’ Curtis here just itching to run. You up for it?”

  “Absolutely!”

  They slapped reins and the horses shot forward, and it wasn’t long until they were in the woods. They backed the animals back down to an amble, the trail thin and bisected by gnarled tree roots and slippery shale. A few miles in, Bo pulled Curtis to a stop in a tiny, nondescript meadow.

  He swung out of his saddle and took the duffle bag from Terri’s shoulders before helping her dismount.

  “This is it?” she said, incredulous.

  “What, you thought you had to climb a fence?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Sort of.”

  He laughed. “Sorry. Nothing that dramatic. But you know what? I saved a life here once.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded. “Little girl. She collapsed. When we found her, she was unconscious. Poor girl was out here all by herself, sick half to death with dehydration. Her folks had either left her behind, or they were captured and deported; maybe they went for help and they just never quite made it back.”

  “You saved her?”

  Bo spat a streamer of tobacco. “I did. Brought her home at a full gallop. We got some fluids into her, and my old man called in a doctor.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Bo smiled. “She’s fine. Healthy as a horse, actually. She’s my little sister—name’s Esmeralda. You didn’t meet her because she attends a private school back in Brownsville. Spends her weekends and summers with us at the ranch.”

  Terri mulled it over for a moment. “Why are you telling me this, Bo?”

  He sighed, looking away. “Dad told me where you’re headed. I, uh…I don’t much like putting my oar in, but I just wanted to say it. Mercy and forgiveness, Terri—those’re Godly qualities. Just,” he shrugged, “I just wanted to say it. And I did, and now I’m done.”

  She scowled. First Benny, then these people! Jesus, what were they trying to do? “Thanks, Bo. I’ll keep it in mind. This path, then?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. It’ll take you straight through to the Rio Grande. Chaco will help you out from there. Good luck.”

  He swung into the saddle, took the reins of her horse, turned the animals on the trail and, without sparing so much as a glance over his shoulder, headed back toward the ranch.

  Terri breathed deeply. She turned, studying the narrow, meandering path cutting through the woods.

  Mexico.

  Right there, that was the way to Mexico.

  She swallowed thickly and started down the path.

  EIGHT

  Terri pushed forward, sensing the river growing nearer with each step. The morning bloomed in full—hot and humid—and she stripped down to a tank top, pausing from time to time to mop the sweat from her forehead and drink from her canteen.

  The further she pushed, the more the landscape shifted. The vegetation thinned, the larch and pine trees yielding to yucca and scotch broom. The soil grew sandy.

  The trail cut a steep angle up an enormous dune, a few hundred feet or more in altitude, and she plodded up it, her duffle growing heavy on her shoulders for the first time since leaving the ranch. When she crested it, her breath caught in her chest.

  There it was—the Rio Grande.

  It spread beneath her like a length of muddy ribbon, the banks surprisingly close in places where the river narrowed. No wonder so many hopeful immigrants swam for it.

  It stood before her—that final barrier to Mexico—just a few hundred yards away! Her heart raced. It was her last chance to turn back, her last chance to turn around and return to a life that was consistent and solid and safe back in Colorado.

  It was a good life, being at home with her children. In time, Erin and Mike would get better. In time, they would put the things that Vivian had done to them in the past.

  She turned and started back toward the Pinkertons’ ranch. Christ…what had she been thinking? She was halfway down the dune when she stopped. A large part of her wanted to keep going, to walk all the way back to the Subaru and the embrace of her children, but she simply couldn’t summon the will.

  Her eyes flooded and she clamped them shut against the tears, gulping the moist air deep into her lungs to quell the sobs rising in her chest. She pictured Sheldon’s remains (what little the searchers had been able to find), collected there in that pitiful pile at the morgue.

  She thought again about Erin and Mike, and all the troubles they’d had in the last few months.

  “Shit,” she whispered. She opened her eyes, her mouth set in a grimace.

  “Shit!” she screamed.

  She turned and charged back to the top of the dune, where she paused for an instant before catching a glint of sunlight on glass. A man, just a speck on the banks from her vantage point, stepped out from behind a bush and waved a red bandana.

  “You have to do this, Terri,” she muttered. “No backing out now.”

  She plunged forward, making a steep descent to the floor of the sandy basin created by the mighty river. A man, dark-skinned and grinning, wiped his hands on the bandana as he walked over to meet her. “Ms. James?”

  “That’s right. You must be Chaco?”

  He offered his hand and she shook it. “One and the same,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “You too. Thanks for being here.”

  “No problem. You ready?”

  She nodded and he took her duffle and began to head west, up the river. She followed and, after about a quarter mile, she saw the little aluminum johnboat tied up on the banks of the river.

  “It’s a fine day to cross. Go ahead—grab a seat.”

  She climbed in. The boat was empty—no life jackets. Nothing else at all, it seemed.

  Chaco smiled at her. “Payment?”

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” Terri replied. She began to unzip the duffle, and that’s when she noticed the pistol balanced on the man’s knee. His grin was hard, his eyes flat—the brown irises the same color as the water in the river.

  “Don’t do that, Ms. James. You’re going to Mexico, my dear. Payment is always due after services are rendered. Not until then.”

  Her mouth fell open, her heart hammering in her chest.

  He put the gun away, the lesson delivered.

  “But you could just…you could have just taken it. Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because it’s clear to me that you’re out of your element, Ms. James.” He splashed a boot in the water, pushing the johnboat away from the bank. He pulled the cord on the outboard, and it sputtered to life in a cloud of blue exhaust. “I’m trying to give you an outside chance to make it back here alive,” he shouted. “You know you’re a target, right?”

  She sighed, shoulders slumped. “I suppose. I mean, yes, of course I know it. But I can’t…I can’t not do what I came here to do.”

  Chaco nodded as he throttled down and the little engine settled into a quiet purr. “You’re on a mission, aren’t you?”

  “You could call it that.”

  He swung the outboard and the boat squirted out into the current. The water pushed them rapidly toward the Gulf of Mexico, and Chaco was content to let it carry them in that direction. “Lesson one, then. Pay after—not before.”

  He throttled up, the noise effectively ending their discussion, and fixed his gaze on the far banks. True to his word, the passage was smooth. Fifteen minutes later, he was tying the boat to a gnarled clutch of jun
iper root. Terry watched him expectantly, her pulse pounding.

  He was handsome. He wore cargo shorts and scuffed work boots and a threadbare Texas Rangers tee-shirt. He had thick black hair and a boyish grin; she thought he was probably in his thirties—maybe a few years her junior.

  When the boat was secured, he motioned for her to follow him. They disappeared beneath a tropical canopy. On the Mexican side, the brush was much thicker. It pushed right to the edge of the riverbank.

  “So,” he said, “tell me—were we observed just now?”

  Terri shook her head. “I don’t think so. I…I didn’t see anybody.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t believe that for a second, Ms. James. There are eyes all around us. I can assure you, our presence was noted. Are you prepared now to go out on your own?”

  Terri bit her lip. “I have a taser. Pepper spray. I…” She shrugged. “I’m as ready as I can be, I guess.”

  “Wow!” he smirked. “Look out! Got a lady with a taser over here!”

  His eyes narrowed and the smirk vanished. “Be careful, Ms. James. Keep your eyes open and your head on a swivel. Slide through. That’s your goal—just slide through.”

  They stared at each other, a host of unsaid things suspended in the space between them.

  “Okay, then. Our business is finished. Good luck to you.” He held out his hand, and she went to shake it. He laughed. “No, Ms. James. You can pay me now. Then, we shake.”

  She smiled and gave him the envelope, and they did indeed shake. He held her hand for a long moment, eyes fixed on hers, and then let it go.

  “Goodbye. I hope you find the person you’re looking for.”

  He turned and started back toward the boat.

  “Thank you!” she called after him. Without turning, he put a hand in the air. A minute later, he was gone, standing tall in the boat as it angled back toward Texas.

  Terri studied the woods. It was similar to the trail she’d followed on the Texas side.

  She started as an iguana scrambled through the branches overhead. A few leaves fluttered to the ground at her feet. “Jesus, Terri! It’s just a lizard. Get a grip, girl.”