Hard Trauma

by Franklin Horton

  “Just kill me!” Ty begged. “Just kill me!”

  The men tending to him spoke but he couldn’t understand their words. Another man, wearing a tactical vest and eye protection, came out of nowhere. He said something to one of the medics Ty couldn’t hear. The man walked toward the Suburban and stood in the passenger door. When he slid his goggles up Ty saw it was Cliff Mathis. He reached inside the vehicle.

  Ty screamed again and tried to get up but the men held him down. Then Cliff was standing over him with the girl in his arms. She had a hand up to her mouth now, tugging on her lip. Cliff was using a wipe to clean blood from her face. Ty could see now that it was only blood splatter from the driver he’d shot. It wasn’t her blood. She wasn’t dead.

  “Is it her?” Ty asked through tears. “Is it Gretchen?”

  Cliff nodded. “They cut her hair and I think they’ve drugged her. She’s got some needle marks. She should be fine.”

  Ty barely heard the words. All that mattered was Gretchen was alive. He’d found her.

  Beyond that, he only remembered bits and pieces. There were sirens and a few scattered gunshots coming from the main house. At some point, he was loaded into an ambulance. They tried to load Gretchen into a second vehicle but she begged to ride with Ty. Cliff Mathis convinced them to allow it.

  The last thing Ty remembered was the large, dark eyes of a child he didn’t know, staring at him between the bodies of the EMTs working on him. He wondered if she was aware how far he’d chased her.

  49

  Four hours later, Ty was in a hospital room. He’d been in and out of consciousness, the edges of his world fuzzy due to the pain medication in his IV. He saw lots of bandages on his body and a splint on his left hand. His skin pulled in an odd way when he tried to move. He remembered that feeling. There had to be stitches somewhere.

  “How are you?” a nurse asked, typing something into a laptop.

  He hadn’t even noticed her, too engrossed in taking inventory of his condition. Ty shifted in the bed, wincing at the surge of pain that fought to overpower the medication. “What the hell happened to me?”

  “You don’t remember?” she asked, stopping her typing and flashing him a concerned look.

  “No, I remember how I ended up here. I mean, what’s the damage? What’s wrong with me?”

  “Three broken fingers on your left hand, a spiral fracture of your left arm near the wrist, and nineteen stitches underneath your left arm from a bullet wound. You have a mild concussion, a broken collarbone, and some nasty road rash from bodysurfing on gravel. A little blood, some fluids, some rest, and you’ll be good as new in no time.”

  Doubtful, Ty raised an eyebrow. Even beneath the pain meds he could feel the dull throb of his injuries. It was like someone punching him really hard through a pillow. “If you say so.”

  “How is your pain level?” the nurse asked. “Are you experiencing double vision?”

  She continued through a checklist of symptoms, all of which Ty responded to.

  “How long am I going to be in here?” he asked when she was done.

  “You’ll have to ask the doctor,” she replied. “He’ll be coming around shortly. In the meantime, you have some insistent visitors outside. Do you feel like company or should I tell them you’re asleep?”

  “Who is it?”

  “Two FBI agents. There’s a woman with them who looks like a cop.”

  Ty sighed. He couldn’t avoid this any longer. He assumed the cop was Whitt, ready to lock him up. “You can send them in. Do you know anything about the girl I came in with?”

  The nurse smiled and patted his arm. “Why don’t we let the agents fill you in on everything? They don’t have to follow the same privacy policies that I do.”

  Ty nodded, flinching again at the undercurrent of pain stirred by moving his head. He gritted his teeth. “Good enough.”

  “You take it easy, Mr. Stone. No moving around. If you need anything, push the call button.”

  The nurse rolled her cart with its laptop and medications out of the room, spoke to someone in the hallway, and then the door opened. Agents Esposito and Cornell entered. Whitt tagged along behind them, looking a little uncomfortable.

  Ty started to nod a greeting but caught himself. He’d learned his lesson. He needed to keep his head still. “The girl?” he asked. “Is it Gretchen?”

  “It’s her,” Esposito said. “Her mother had her fingerprinted once as part of a child safety event at her school. Gretchen told us who she was but those prints confirmed it.”

  Ty was uncertain what he felt. It was a mixture of redemption, satisfaction, and accomplishment, although there was no happiness in the cocktail of feelings. He’d assumed there would be. Instead, a void remained in the space his obsession with the mission had occupied. “Where is she now?”

  “She’s here in the hospital,” Esposito said. “Fidelia Mendoza was injecting her with drugs to keep her compliant. She’s a little dehydrated but in good shape overall. They want to monitor her for a few days to make sure there aren't any complications.”

  “Is her mother here?”

  “Not yet,” Whitt said. “She should be soon. Someone gave up their seat on a flight to let her squeeze in. She doesn’t know the whole story, but I did let her know that you were the one who found Gretchen. She told me to thank you, but I’m sure she’ll want to express that herself when she gets here.”

  “I guess you’re here so you can arrest me, Lieutenant Whitt? You going to cuff me to the bed so I can’t sneak off again?” Ty made no effort to hide his sarcasm.

  “I’m sorry about that whole mess, Mr. Stone. I’ve spoken to the Commonwealth Attorney in Washington County and they’ve dismissed the warrant. They spoke with the man you allegedly assaulted and, considering the circumstances, he agreed to drop the complaint.”

  “Well, I guess that’s good news,” Ty said.

  “I took the liberty of calling your sister,” Whitt added. “I hope you don’t mind. She booked a flight and should be here tonight. I also have a message from your niece.”

  Ty frowned. It irked him that Whitt was acting like she was being helpful. He’d liked her when they first met, but she’d quickly gone from wanting to help him to wanting to arrest him. That tended to sour their relationship. “What’s the message?”

  “She said to toughen up, butthead.”

  Ty almost laughed but even the thought made him hurt. However, he did crack a smile. He missed that kid and she obviously missed him too.

  “I need to ask you something,” Esposito said. “Did you see Fidelia Mendoza at the ranch when you were there?”

  Concern flashed across Ty’s face. “Yes. She was in the house, in Luis’s office, when I left. She tried to shoot me with that pocket gun so I clocked her in the head. She was laying there when I saw the Suburban leaving with Gretchen. I assumed Mathis’s men found her.”

  Esposito scratched at his forehead with a crooked finger. “We went over that house with a fine-toothed comb and couldn’t find her. We even brought in tracking dogs. We found the man you left cuffed in the barn, which we also have a few questions about. We arrested several of Luis’s crew for outstanding warrants and weapons charges. There was no Mendoza.”

  Ty exhaled hard. He gritted his teeth, enraged. “I should have fucking killed her. I should have put a bullet in her head in Luis’s office. I could have ended this.”

  “Your head was in the right place,” Cornell assured him. “You were focused on the missing girl. If you’d let Gretchen out of your sight, who knows if she’d have ever been seen again?”

  “Besides,” Esposito chimed in, “people have a right to a trial. You can’t simply execute people because that’s what you want to do. And as long as we’re on the topic of rogue behavior, the same goes for torture. You should have called us the minute you were able to.”

  Esposito was referring to Ramon, of course, and the knife wounds in his legs, but Ty had no regrets. He’d done what he had to
do. He wasn’t law enforcement, and therefore wasn’t bound by their rules. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  From the raised eyebrows around the room no one was buying that story.

  “At any point in your contact with these people, did you ever overhear why they took Gretchen?” Whitt asked. “We’re still unclear on motive.”

  “No idea,” said Ty. “Luis seemed to be in the dark about the whole thing. I got the impression it was Tia’s work and not his. I don’t know what happened between them, but when I found her in Luis’s office, she was praying over his body with a little statue in her hands. I didn’t understand everything she said, but she was gesturing at Luis like she was offering him up to the saint or something.”

  “That would be consistent with what we found at the altar in her home,” Cornell said. “She was not above blood sacrifice. We’ve confirmed the infant skeleton was related to her.”

  “Maybe the saint helped Tia escape,” Ty mused.

  “I think you’ve had too much pain medication,” Cornell said. “That Santa Muerte stuff is bullshit.”

  “She got away somehow,” Ty pointed out.

  “These are cartel people,” Esposito said. “Who knows what escape plans they had in place? They could have caves or tunnels, or she could have even headed out into the desert on a horse.”

  “Are you still looking for her?” Ty asked.

  “Definitely,” Cornell replied. “She’s got warrants. This is a national story now. We’ve got her photograph in the facial recognition databases. She’ll turn up.”

  “What about the guy I fought on the road? The guy who had Gretchen?”

  “His name is Antonio Alvarez,” answered Esposito. “He used to be an enforcer for Tia back in the day, but started working for Luis when Tia got shut down by the cartel. We’re hoping we can press some information out of him, but these guys are tight-lipped. If he talks, he knows they’ll kill him in prison.”

  “Let me talk to him,” Ty said.

  Everyone in the room got a laugh out of that and Ty looked at them curiously. He didn’t get the joke.

  “By the way, we found your truck at a rest area on the interstate. We’ll need you to review an inventory to make sure nothing was stolen. I’m guessing everything is there since they left some pretty nice gear behind,” Cornell said.

  “What was your plan anyway?” Esposito asked. “We found a suppressed bullpup rifle in there. What were you going to do with that?”

  “My plan was to find Gretchen and bring her home,” Ty said. “Whatever it took.”

  Esposito shrugged. “Mission accomplished, my friend.”

  50

  When Tia heard the approaching chopper, she knew it was all over. The cops were coming. She struggled up from the office floor, reeling from the blow to her head. She steadied herself against the desk for a moment, then hurried to her bedroom, Crocs scuffing on the concrete floor. She grabbed her suitcase and purse, then headed for the basement. She flicked on the light switch and carefully negotiated the steps.

  The large house required a substantial heating and cooling system. Tia looked for the filter panel that Luis had once shown her, proud of his planning and foresight. She located the panel and swung the steel door upward, where it locked into position. Beneath it was a large HVAC filter. She removed the filter and set it to the side.

  She placed her suitcase and purse in the opening, then shoved them as far back as she could reach. She groped around on top of the unit for the flashlight Luis kept there. She turned it on, shoved it inside with her belongings, awkwardly crawled inside the passage, then pulled the filter in with her. This was no easy task. Her body was a lot stiffer than it used to be and crawling was not part of her regular routine. Reaching out, she closed the steel door behind her, then slid the filter back in place. If anyone checked, nothing would appear amiss.

  She put the flashlight in her mouth while she got herself situated. The ductwork was cramped and it was hard to move. She shoved her suitcase and purse further down the tunnel. After a few feet, the duct made a sweep to the right. Just beyond the bend, a sheet metal door was on the left side of the ductwork. Tia opened the door, shoved her belongings inside, then negotiated her own bulk through the opening. When she was inside, she closed the steel door behind her.

  Just beyond it, the tunnel changed from ductwork to a larger corrugated steel drainpipe. There was not enough room for her to fully stand up, but she could walk if she remained hunched over. She waited for a moment, catching her breath. This was more exertion than she was used to. When she recovered, she took her purse in the hand with the flashlight and used the other to tow her suitcase. She ambled off like a troll packing up for greener pastures.

  She couldn’t remember that Luis had ever told her exactly where the tunnel came out. Wherever it was, it had to be better than sticking around the house waiting for the cops to arrest her. She advanced slowly, keeping a careful eye out for rattlesnakes, scorpions, and spiders. She had to stop multiple times due to her back cramping. When she finally got to a safe place, she planned on chasing a couple of pain pills with a stout tequila. She was too old for this shit, but not old enough that she’d give up without a fight. If the cops wanted her, they were going to have to earn it.

  When she reached the end of the tunnel, she found a backpack hanging on a hook by the exit door. She wasn’t ready to make a break for it yet, so she stopped and sat down, afraid a chopper or tracking dogs might find her if she headed out in the daylight. She figured she was safe in the tunnel until it got dark enough to flee. They were unlikely to find the entrance in the basement without some thorough searching, and she assumed Luis had camouflaged the exit as well as the entrance.

  She dug into the backpack and found it contained another flashlight, some food, water, a handgun, and ammunition. There was a sleeping bag, a jacket, and five thousand dollars in cash. She smiled. Luis had figured this was what he’d need to escape if the cops raided his ranch. She decided to eat some of his food and drink his water. He wasn’t going to need it.

  There was no way she could carry the backpack, so she added his cash to the pile in her suitcase. She also took the gun since hers had been taken by the brute who hit her. With nothing to do for the next couple of hours, she fished around in her purse and found a pill bottle. She took a Lortab and washed it down with a swig of tequila, rolled out the sleeping bag, and laid down for a nap, using the backpack as a pillow.

  When she awoke, she checked her watch. It should be dark by now. Her plan was to cut across the ranch and intersect the highway. From there, she would make a call on her cell phone and have someone come pick her up. She had money to buy a safe bed for the night. Tomorrow, she would probably take Luis’s advice and disappear across the border. She could find a place to lay low until people forgot about this story.

  Tia unlatched the welded steel door covering the end of the escape tunnel. When the door wouldn’t freely swing open, she kicked it with both legs until it broke loose. Dirt spilled around the opening and a cloud of red dust engulfed her. She lay there for a moment, coughing and catching her breath from the exertion.

  She shined her light out of the opening and found she was in a ravine, hidden on all sides. The location would be concealed enough that she could use the flashlight while she got herself together and figured out which direction she needed to go in. Once she headed out, she was traveling in the dark, just in case cops were still at the house. With a little moonlight to help her, she should be fine. Being a city girl, however, she wasn’t excited about the creatures that crawled around the desert at night.

  She staggered out of the tunnel and stretched her back. Despite the pain pill, her back was stiff and her legs sore. She took a sip of tequila from the bottle in her purse. She had water now but who drank water when you had tequila? She carefully climbed to the lip of the ravine and located the ranch house in the distance. Now that she had her bearings, she knew which way to walk.

 
Gathering her gear, she turned the flashlight off, and clipped it onto the collar of her sweatshirt. She made certain Luis’s gun was loaded and had a round in the chamber, then put it in her purse. While she was in there, she removed the little effigy of Santa Muerte.

  “You helped me escape, Holy Death. Please help me find my way to safety tonight. Please bless me for my offering.”

  She replaced the statue in her purse and let out a deep sigh. She grabbed the handle of her rolling suitcase, took up her large purse in the other hand, and ambled off into the night.

  51

  “Badger for Cliff, Badger for Cliff.”

  “Go for Cliff.”

  “I’ve got a two-legged heat signature traveling east from the ranch house. It’s about three hundred yards out. Figure appears to be short and overweight, pulling a suitcase. Not moving too fast.”

  “Roger that, Badger. Everyone stand by.”

  Cliff had a small team scattered in a large perimeter around the ranch house. The cops had pulled out already, planning to resume the search in the morning. Cliff wasn’t done.

  Each man was using a thermal optic to scan the terrain for any targets. So far, they’d seen a lot of rabbits, a few coyotes, some burros, and a couple of birds, but there was only one target they were interested in. This was the first human signature they’d come across and it was moving in the right direction. Hopefully, this was the person they were looking for. Cliff pulled his cell phone from his pocket and made a call.

  In less than a minute, he was back on the radio addressing his team. “FBI says to make the intercept. They’ve got men on the way. If we can detain the target, they’ll pick us up with ATVs to haul her in.”

  “You sure it’s her?” John asked.

  “Negative,” Cliff said. “I don’t have a visual from my position. It’s somebody, though.”

  “It’s her,” Badger said. “Either her or Humpty Dumpty, judging by the shape. Too short for a sasquatch.”