by James, Leigh
“Sorry,” I mumbled, as John slid in next to me. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You’re going to have to tell me everything that happened,” John said.
“After a shower. And a steak,” I said. My stomach roared at the thought.
John managed to smile when he heard my stomach. “Yes,” he said. “After a shower and a steak. Not necessarily in that order.”
I never thought food eaten in the back of a van, eaten with plastic silverware from a styrofoam container, could taste this good. I’d gone into the back with Catherine. I asked John to stay up front, so he wouldn’t watch me shovel food into my mouth like an animal.
“Liberty, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said.
“I’m gonna try to get her to eat, too,” I said, jerking my head towards the back. She’d been staring out the tinted back window since he’d cuffed her. Her mouth was still taped and she was sitting at an awkward angle because her foot was propped up, but she seemed to be more calm. Maybe she was just taking a timeout to plot her revenge.
“Hey,” I said, sliding along the metal floor of the van towards her. I had my open container of food in front of me — well-done filet mignon, baked potato with sour cream, and asparagus. I’d only eaten about a quarter of it, and I wasn’t sure I could hold down anymore, at least right now. My stomach had probably shrunk to the size of a tennis ball over the past month. It was going to take time adjusting to real food again.
I closed the cover of my container and slid Catherine’s meal over to her. It was identical to mine.
She looked down and me and glared. Her beautiful clothes were muddy and torn from all the fighting and her escape attempts.
“You want your food? It’s good,” I said, trying to extend her more courtesy then she’d ever shown me.
She shook her head and went back to staring out the window.
“You know, if you want to try to escape again, you’re gonna need to keep your strength up,” I said lightly, kneeling up and grabbing the edge of the masking tape. “No yelling or it goes back on. With a slap,” I added, under my breath, as I ripped the tape off.
“Ow,” Catherine said. I just raised an eyebrow and looked at her. Really, Catherine? Really? I have cigarette burns up and down my arms and you’re complaining that I just pulled the tape off too roughly?
We just contemplated each other for a second. At least she had the decency to not scream.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said, “but I really don’t want to talk to him.” She cocked her head towards her father. “His ‘good daddy’ routine is getting on my nerves.”
I shook my head: okay. I wanted to spare him the pain, not her. My desire to protect him was greater than my desire to irk her. For now.
“I guess I’ll have some steak,” she said.
“Good girl,” I said. She gave me another dirty look but I ignored her. I cut up a small piece and put it into her mouth.
“This is like Freaky Friday,” she said as she chewed. “Now you’re me and I’m you.”
“I’ll never be you,” I said and smiled at her sweetly. You bitch. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see John watching us. This must be bizarre for him — his young, dirty girlfriend feeding his slightly older, slightly less dirty, bleeding, handcuffed daughter a steak.
“Can I help?” he asked. I knew he wanted to. I knew he wanted to be the one back here, feeding her and talking to her. But I had to get somewhere with her. I was the one who’d found her; she was my cross to bear. She clearly wanted nothing to do with John. I had to fix that.
I turned and smiled at him. “We’re good,” I said. I turned back to Catherine and she was scowling at me.
“Really? You think we’re good?” she asked quietly.“Just don’t expect me to start calling you Mommy anytime soon.”
“Don’t even think about it,” I said to her, and roughly shoved another piece of steak into her mouth.
It was starting to get dark again. “We’re stopping soon,” John called back to us. He’d told me they wanted to get as far from the border as possible. I’d fallen asleep with his coat in the back, near Catherine. She was asleep, too, her head hanging at an odd angle, like she was a rag doll.
I sat up and tried to wake her. “Catherine. We’re almost to the hotel,” I said. She woke up quickly, squinting at me like I was a bad dream.
“We need to take her cuffs off,” I said to John. I wasn’t sure how this was going to work. “Where are we?”
“Austin,” John said. “I’ll send the guys up first. Then we’ll go up through the side door, or something.”
I looked down at myself and winced. “I’d like to go through the side door,” I said. “I’ll scare everyone in the lobby.”
John came into the back. “You need to rest,” he said, and kissed me lightly on the forehead. He turned and saw Catherine watching us with mild interest. “So do you, honey,” he said gently, looking at her.
“Don’t ‘honey’ me, John. Don’t you ever get tired of all the platitudes?” she asked, and yawned. “I know mom sure did.”
I watched his whole body tense. “Your mother misses you,” John said, ignoring her snub. “Not that you’ve asked.”
“Your girlfriend already filled me in. I’m sure Mom’s fine — always is,” she said, sounding bored. “Are we getting out of here? Because I really need to pee. I need to wash my bleeding foot. And I desperately need a cigarette.”
“What?” asked John horrified. Out of everything, this is what he was going to freak out over — the fact that she smoked. He’d never sounded like such a dad to me before.
Catherine let out an exasperated sigh. “I am twenty-four years old,” she said. “I smoke. I swear. I actually really want some vodka, too, once I take a shower.”
John just stared at her. Oh honey, you don’t know the worst of it, I thought. What was he thinking? If the drinking and smoking bothered him, he was in for the nastiest surprise of his life. She’d put out cigarettes on me for fun.
Did he think this could still be his little girl, after years of violence?
Someone rapped on the side of the van and I jumped. Matthew opened the door. “Must be a slow night because I got three rooms, all adjacent,” he told John. He handed him the card keys. “You want me to do some shopping?” he asked.
“Yes,” said John. “Are you up for it?”
“I’m fine,” said Matthew, looking at the three of us. “I’m pretty sure I’m doing better than you guys.”
“I need clothes for the girls,” John said. “Mediums and smalls. Pajamas, clothes, shoes. Toiletries. Deodorant.” I laughed when he said that. “Get poor Liberty some pretzels, candy bars, and a book or a magazine. And Catherine would like a pack of cigarettes.”
“Actually, I’d like a carton of cigarettes. And a bottle of good vodka,” Catherine snapped.
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thanks Matthew. Call me if you need me.”
“D’you want me to send one of the guys back down?” Matthew asked, eying Catherine.
“I got it,” John said. He didn’t stop pinching the bridge of his nose, though.
“Maybe get some Ibuprofen, too,” I told Matthew. He looked at John.
“I have a headache,” I said, defensively.
I’d never had a shower feel so good in my whole life. I washed my hair four times. When I ran out of shampoo, I called for John. He brought more from the guy’s room. I shaved, for the first time in many weeks, and ran my hands down my legs when I was done. They were so smooth they were like new.
I noticed I was still shaky when I got out of the shower. The mirror was covered in steam, so I used a towel so I could see myself. I inhaled sharply when I saw my reflection. My cheekbones protruded painfully from my face. My collarbones jutted out from my chest; even my neck looked painfully thin, breakable. My head looked too big for my body now. Even my breasts looked small.
I’d managed to hold down half of my
meal, but I had a long way to go. I kept drinking cold bottled water and I shivered every time I did — I’d never take clean water for granted again. I made myself look long and hard at myself in the mirror. Let’s try to move past the stupid part of life, I thought. Going to Mexico was stupid. Risking my life to find Catherine was stupid. John would have been completely ruined if I’d died down there. Then he would have lost both of us.
I nodded at myself in the mirror: no more stupid. But part of me, a small part, felt triumphant. I had done it, after all. Even though Catherine was a disaster, it was worth it. It was my choice. I did it for John. I did it for me. And I made it back.
I made it back. Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn’t believe how incredibly freaking lucky I was.
John came in then, in a tee shirt and sweats, his hair tousled and wild above his head. He must’ve been laying down, watching sports or the news while I’d been in here.
“Hey honey,” he said. “You look like you feel a whole lot better.”
I hugged him to my damp body and let the inevitable tears run down my face. “Oh my god, John, I’m so sorry,” I said, sniffling. “I love you so much. I thought I was never going to see you again.”
He crushed me to him, rocking me back and forth. “I love you, babe. I didn’t want to be any more emotional than I already was in front of the guys — but you have to know. You’re my whole life. I would have died if I lost you.” He kissed my wet hair and wrapped his arms around me.
He stood back a little, taking me in. “You’re so thin,” he said, running his hands down my body. “I can’t stand to feel your body like this. It makes me want to hurt somebody.” He held my hands out and ran his eyes down me — like he was taking inventory of my hurts. The burn marks. Oh good lord, the burn marks.
He stood back for a second, clenching his hands into fists. Then he reached for both my wrists, taking hold of them gently. He flipped my arms over and gently ran his hands down my inner arms, next to the marks. “Burns,” he said, as he touched me oh so gently. “Burns from cigarettes. She did this to you.” He looked up at me, levelly.
“It was a guard,” I said. “I don’t know his name —”
“Don’t lie to me. Not to protect her,” he said.
“I’m trying to protect you,” I said.
“Don’t. I don’t deserve it,” he said, releasing me. “I did this to her. I left her there.”
I took the pink pajamas John had brought in and put them on. I watched him as he winced looking at my naked body. He ran his hands down my torso, touching every rib. “What else did they do to you?” he asked. I could hear the absolute fury in his voice. “Did they touch you? Did anyone —”
“No, baby, no” I said, understanding his worst fear. I made sure my clothes were on so he couldn’t see any more trauma. “Nobody touched me. I swear.”
“Still,” he said, smiling at me sadly, “I’m going back to kill them all.”
I looked at him, but decided to save the lecture about how he was never killing anyone ever again for later. I stroked his face. “I’m here, baby, I’m alive. Let’s go to bed and you can tell me how you saved me.”
I started heading out of the bathroom then stopped short. “Wait — are we still alone?” I asked. He shook his head yes and grabbed my hand, leading me to the enormous bed. I felt so bad for him right now. I knew how much he wanted to be with Catherine, but she seemed to want nothing to do with him. It must be horrible, especially after so much time. She was his daughter. Probably the most important person in the world to him.
“Catherine is having her chilled vodka and chain smoking next to the window in her room. The doctor’s already been here and checked her foot. He put in some stitches and gave her crutches, which she swears she won’t use. He gave her antibiotics and a painkiller, so at least she’ll be okay. Sean’s having an espresso and keeping an eye on her. The other guys are sleeping.”
“Are you okay with that?” I asked. “Don’t you want to be with her?”
“Of course I do,” he said quickly. Then looked up at me sadly. “But she obviously doesn’t want to be with me right now, which is okay. Because it’s just me and you.” He flopped down onto the bed and pulled me next to him. I snuggled into his chest, feeling the powerful muscles underneath his tee shirt. I never thought that another person’s body could feel like home, but here I was. Home.
“I love you,” I whispered again. “Now tell me how you saved me, you badass.”
“Well, once upon a time, there was a very naughty young lady named Liberty,” John said, and we both laughed again. “And I don’t mean naughty in a fun way. I mean that she was headstrong, she had ideas of her own, and that she failed, on a regular basis, to follow my instructions. The most important of which was: to let me protect her. To stay close to me. But oh no, she had to have ideas all her own.
“After we caught Ray, and sent him packing up to Canada — without any actual luggage — you were going to take a shower and lie down, if I remember correctly. I came back and you were gone. By the way, Ray hasn’t made it back into the country, not yet,” he said.” He squeezed my hand and leaned over, stroking my hair.
“After you left, I just kept texting you. And you never responded. So I didn’t know if you left because you didn’t want to be with me anymore, or if there was something else to it.”
I sat up and looked at him. “You know — you had to know — that I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you. Always,” I said, and my eyes filled with tears again.
“I hoped that was true,” John said, pulling me back down to his chest. “I sent Matthew after you either way. And then Eva told me that you’d come out there. She told me what you were planning. My dad also heard from the attorney for your father’s estate. He said you’d called, trying to get some of your inheritance.”
“The lawyer said they couldn’t disburse anything without a paternity test,” I said. “So I had to get money somewhere else. Eva gave me some, and so did Sasha.” I looked down when I said this. I was still not ready to deal with Sasha.
“I know. I talked to them both. I already paid them both back. I knew it would be bothering you,” he said.
I took a deep breath. “Thank you,” I finally said. I would have told him that I would repay him, but there was no point in starting that argument right now. I would have some money coming to me, based on what the lawyer said. I wanted everything to be paid for — nothing for free. The rent John had been paying for me in Vegas; the money he’d given to Eva and Sasha. I wanted him to understand that I could, and I would, take care of myself.
“So, once I knew you were going to Mexico, I had Matthew follow you. And made him text me about ten thousand times a day.”
“How did he know where I was, though? How did he do that?” I asked.
“Your phone, babe,” John said. “It had a tracker in it. It was in there since I gave it to you in that backpack.”
“So he — you — knew where I was the whole time?” I asked. Now I felt less brave than I had back in the bathroom. I’d had a babysitter in Mexico. No wonder I’d never gotten kidnapped or robbed. Or worse.
“It’s not the safest country right now,” John said. “I wouldn’t even let you vacation there, let alone go looking for criminals. Which, even with us following you, was a whole new level of ridiculous.”
The idea that he’d known where I was made my heart ache. He’d been so close, and I’d missed him so much. My body had craved to be near him, every second. But it also made me inexplicably angry. I was a grown woman. Clearly, I’d been out of my element down there, but I didn’t need a nanny.
“Were you there the whole time?” I asked, trying to hide my annoyance.
He shook his head, no. “Matthew followed you in Cabo. But when you went to Matamoros, I came down. It’s so dangerous, it still makes me crazy to think about it.”
“Well, apparently it wasn’t as risky as I thought — I had babysitters,” I said, pouting.
&nb
sp; He shook his head and smiled at me. “I knew you would be pissed about that. But you shouldn’t be — you still managed to get into plenty of trouble.” I had to laugh at that, and my anger slipped away, replaced by the warm feeling of being close to him, him holding me.
“When they tossed your phone, I thought I was going to have a heart attack,” John said.
“Me too,” I said, snuggling deeper into his chest. I shivered — with pleasure, because I was so close to his gorgeous body, but also because there were too many men with machine guns in that memory.
And then, of course, there was Catherine.
“Did you know she was there?” John asked. “I keep trying to figure that out.”
“No,” I said. “I had a pretty lame ‘plan,’ if you could even call it that. I met a bartender in Cabo who told me that any girls who’d been kidnapped that long ago were probably dead.” I felt him tense up and mentally slapped myself for being so blunt. “Sorry,” I said, and hugged him closer, kissing his chest through his tee shirt. “But then he told me that sometimes girls like that get kept, the pretty ones. But not in Cabo. They get brought to where the cartels are in charge. So that’s why I went to Matamoros. I was just starting there. I’d read about the Los Morales cartel when I was in Los Angeles, about all the violence near the border…when I got to there, I just started asking people where I could find them.”
“Please tell me that’s not true,” he said, clamping his eyes shut.
I laughed. “No, I really am that stupid. Or that crazy. Whatever. I walked around asking people and they looked at me like I had three heads. One lady told me to run for my life. She was right — I got picked up by those guys the same day.”
“The cartel has an incredible network,” John said. “I can’t believe how locked down it is there. Matthew and I almost got picked up more times than I can count. We had to stay hidden — as in invisible — the whole time.”
“All those poor people,” I said. I couldn’t imagine living like that. I thought of the people who paid to try to swim across the Rio to try to find a better life. I’d read all about it in The L.A. Times. They rarely made it. If they did, they had to pay to have people meet them, take them in groups on foot or in an old truck. They rarely had any food or water. And they had to pay for it, all of it, even if they didn’t make it into the U.S. safely. Because otherwise the cartels would kill them, or kidnap them and ask their families for ransom.