“I’m driving,” Ruth announced.
Ruth gripped Emma’s arm and hustled her to the car. She tossed her bag into the backseat and slid behind the wheel. Emma pulled her door shut with difficulty. Ruth could hear her panting from the effort. She struggled not to fuss over Emma’s condition as she drove away from the house and back toward the city.
“I don’t suppose we can stop by my house for some supplies?”
“No,” Emma answered quickly. “We can’t go back to my office either. There’s no telling who else is involved in this. Head east. Once we get out of Los Angeles, I’ll give you directions to another place I know of.”
“Another safe house? Emma, you need a hospital.”
“A hospital won’t do me any good if I’m dead. Please, Ruth, I know you’re worried about me and I appreciate it. I promise to take care of myself once we get where we’re going.”
When Ruth looked into Emma’s eyes, she couldn’t deny her. Ruth’s track record hadn’t been good in the trust department lately, but Emma had taken a bullet for her. In her book that went a long way for generating loyalty.
“What are we going to do for money? We’re going to need supplies.”
“How much cash do you have on you?”
Ruth kept one hand on the wheel while she dug into her front pocket with the other. “I have about two hundred dollars...and my credit card.”
“No cards, they’ll be able to trace us. I’ve got some money, too. It’ll be enough for a few days, but we’re going to need another car. They’ll know what this one looks like.”
Ruth considered going by the golf course to pick up the Jaguar, but quickly realized that wouldn’t work either. “What do you recommend?”
“Head to the mall.”
Unable to imagine why Emma wanted to go shopping at a time like this, Ruth nevertheless obeyed. Twenty minutes later, she drove into the South Coast Plaza parking lot. By far one of L.A.’s largest shopping malls, the structure covered over one hundred twenty-eight acres. Ruth instinctively stayed away from the outdoor areas and toward the rear of the parking lot. As she checked to make sure no one stood nearby, she noticed a tour bus across the way at the main entrance.
“Over there.” Emma sounded tired and her hand trembled as she pointed to an old beat up truck.
Ruth complied, stopping beside the clunker. To her surprise, Emma opened her door and headed for the pickup. Over her shoulder, Emma said, “Grab our things.”
The knowledge of what they were about to do hit her and Ruth furtively ensured no one stood near enough to raise an alarm. She didn’t know how Emma did it, but before Ruth had time to collect their bags the deed was done. Emma had opened the truck’s presumably locked door and hot-wired the engine.
Emma met her eyes. “I don’t like it either, but there might be a tracking device on the Ford.”
“I understand. Carlotti probably has a pretty good description of it anyway.”
After tossing their bags into the bed, Ruth walked over to the driver’s side. Emma had already sat down and prepared to close the door, but Ruth stopped her. “No way. I’m driving. You’re hurt and you’ll fall asleep. I don’t intend to be in a major crash.”
“Fine, whatever.”
Seconds later, they were on their way. Ruth pulled onto Bristol Street headed toward the 405 freeway. After only a few seconds, she realized they had a problem. The pickup had barely a quarter of a tank of gas.
“Damn it. We just can’t get a break. We need to stop for gas.”
Emma didn’t reply and Ruth discovered she was already asleep or unconscious. Several attempts to awaken Emma proved useless and Ruth felt panic eating away at the edges of her control. She took several deep breaths, realizing they didn’t have time for her to freak out. Both of their lives depended upon what she would do next.
Okay, they needed gas and then to get out of the city. She could do that. Emma had told her to head east, but hadn’t given any clear direction after that. It was up to Ruth to choose their destination until Emma woke up. She prayed that Emma was merely sleeping and recovering her strength.
The 405 traveled roughly north/south, but Ruth could make it to I80 East in about an hour. Depending on traffic. She prayed they had enough time for that. Carlotti’s men couldn’t be that far behind them and he had the resources to use corrupt police officers and others she would never dream of.
That idea almost caused her to panic again, so Ruth pushed thoughts of Carlotti away to focus on immediate needs. She stopped at a Gas-n-Go and pulled up to the nearest pump before she realized she had another decision to make. Emma had told her not to use a credit card because it could be traced, but they needed to hold onto whatever cash they had. Ruth decided to use her card here because Carlotti already knew they were in the city. She could fill up and be gone before anyone ever made a computer trace. He would never find her after they left L.A.
Chapter Sixteen
THE LITTLE CHEVY barely had enough horsepower to make it up the incline. Ruth had figured out pretty fast that it wasn’t exactly designed for mountain terrain, but as long as the truck held out long enough for them to make it to her aunt’s house she would be happy. The night had been long, especially since Emma slept the whole time and their stolen vehicle didn’t have a radio. Ruth finally resorted to rolling down the window in the hopes that the chilly air blowing into the cab would keep her awake. Dawn had come and gone and her eyes felt like someone had poured sand into them.
At least the truck got pretty good gas mileage. Ruth had only stopped twice to refuel, but would need to do so again shortly. She hated it, but she needed a bathroom break, more gas and something to eat. Emma interrupted Ruth’s thoughts by making a groaning sound. Seconds later, her eyes opened and she slowly sat up. Emma gazed at Ruth with a soft expression that made her stomach flip. Then Emma blinked and seemed to wake up more fully.
“Where are we?” She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand before looking around.
“About an hour from Laramie. You’ve been asleep for about fourteen hours. How are you feeling?”
“Laramie? As in Wyoming? What in God’s name are we doing here?”
Relieved to hear the fire back in Emma’s voice, Ruth grinned and said. “Well, it’s not like you were in any condition to give directions so I headed to the only place I could think of. My aunt lives in Laramie.”
“Perfect. I guess it’s as good a place as any and I doubt anyone will be expecting this.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving and I could really use a bathroom break.”
“That’s good news,” Ruth said. “If you’re hungry, you must not be hurt too badly. I was really worried about you.”
“You’re sweet, but I think they’re just flesh wounds,” Emma pulled up the hem of her shirt, but the seatbelt seemed to be in the way. “Is there anywhere we can stop?”
“Yes, I was about to anyway. There’s an exit coming up in a couple of miles where we can get you cleaned up and get something to eat. I’d kill for a cup of coffee right now.”
Uttered without thought, the casual remark forced Ruth to think of Jordan. Her heart sank as she remembered their final encounter and it would be so easy to sink into a well of despair. For the first time in her life, Ruth refused to dwell on past recriminations. Emma was right when she said Ruth hadn’t a choice in her actions. She didn’t have to like how things turned out, but she was through beating herself up. Jordan had made her own choices that led to that particular outcome.
Ruth took the next exit. She went into a local Walmart to purchase a change of clothes for Emma and a first-aid kit. A quick run via a drive-through after that provided breakfast and coffee. Ruth kept a close eye on her dwindling funds as she finished up their chores by topping off the gas tank. She waited until they were back on the road to eat anything.
“What’s your aunt’s place like?”
Before answering, Ruth sipped at her coffee. She felt almost human
again when the warmth hit her stomach. “It’s small, only a house and one acre on this side of town. She lives alone and only has one close neighbor. My aunt’s told me that he’s a bit of a busybody, but pretty much stays to himself. We won’t have to worry about anyone spotting us.”
“That’s good. Do you think she’d let me use her phone? It’s long distance, but I can reverse the charges. I need to contact my boss.”
“I take it there’s some reason you can’t use your cell. Sorry, I’m not very good at this spy stuff.”
“Actually, I turned my phone off and removed the battery as soon as we left the safe house. Anyone with the proper clearance could turn it back on by remote and activate the GPS.”
“Oh no, can they do that with mine?” Ruth pulled the cell phone along with the case off of her waistband and handed the device to Emma.
Rather than respond, Emma disabled Ruth’s phone. She returned it and then stared out the window at the passing terrain. They had just begun their descent from Elk Mountain toward Laramie. Ruth noticed how worried Emma seemed and couldn’t imagine what she was thinking about. With her experience as a U.S. Marshal, Emma clearly had a much clearer picture of exactly how much trouble they were in. It was hard enough just for Ruth to get them out of Los Angeles and she hoped Emma kept the more disturbing details to herself.
They finished the ride in silence. Something Ruth couldn’t put her finger on nagged at the back of her mind. She felt sure she had screwed up their escape somehow, but couldn’t imagine when. Ruth remembered at the last second to take the exit toward her aunt’s home. The journey came to a halt at the end of a white rock road. Ruth let out a relieved sigh as she pulled into a paved driveway. It had been years since she’d been here, but nothing seemed to have changed.
The brick ranch-style house still had the same white shutters bracing the windows and the yard was perfectly manicured. Colorful flowers lined a stone walkway from the driveway to the front porch. At first, the silence led Ruth to think no one was home. Then a dour-faced woman in her late sixties stepped halfway through the screen door.
Ruth noticed that Terry’s hair was still jet black and assumed the color was artificial.
“Stay here. I’ll explain things.”
“Why can’t I come with you?”
“Are you serious?” Ruth asked incredulously. “Have you looked down at your clothes lately?”
While she’d bought Emma some new clothes, there hadn’t yet been a chance for her to change. Ruth could imagine her aunt’s reaction to seeing all that blood.
“I’ll stay here.”
“Good choice.”
As soon as she left the car, Ruth saw Terry’s expression turn from questioning to delighted. A huge smile creased her face and she came halfway down the steps to throw her arms around Ruth’s neck.
“What in the world brings you out here, Ruth?”
Ruth returned the hug, surprised to find tears stinging her eyes. “Can’t I just visit family?”
“Ha, I’m old, but I’m not stupid.” Terry pushed back, but kept hold of Ruth’s arms. “Since when do you drive an old rattle-trap like that? And who’s your friend?”
Leave it to Terry to drive straight to the heart of the matter. Her demeanor reminded Ruth so much of her mother. She swallowed hard and decided to cut to the chase. Emma’s injuries still needed treated and Ruth had heard gunshot wounds were easily infected.
“We’re in trouble. We need a place to stay, but you can’t tell anyone that we’re here. No one, Aunt Terry.”
The smile left Terry’s face and she released her hold on Ruth. “What’s this about?”
“I promise to tell you everything, but right now I have to help Emma. She’s been hurt.”
The alteration of Terry’s demeanor was startling. She became all business and took charge without hesitation, leading the way toward the car. “Why in the world didn’t you say so? I’ll help your friend while you get your things. Meet me in the guestroom.”
Ruth felt a little jealous that she hadn’t responded to their situation with the same calm resolve as her aunt. Instead, Ruth was terrified much of the time and indecisive in a moment of crisis. She knew Terry would have a lot of questions, but at the moment she was happy to let someone else make the decisions. Ruth retrieved both of their carryalls as well as the Walmart bags. Terry already had Emma out of the car with one arm braced around her waist as she assisted her into the house. Despite Emma’s reassurances that her injuries were only “flesh wounds.” Ruth noticed how heavily she leaned on Terry as they climbed the steps.
Noticing very little about the home’s décor, Ruth followed the duo into the downstairs guestroom. She vaguely remembered the gold metal headboard on the queen bed from years ago. Pillows were piled at the head of the bed atop of what appeared to be a homemade patchwork quilt. Ruth placed their belongings against a wall while Terry helped Emma to the bed.
“I’m fine, really. They’re only scratches.”
Terry harrumphed loudly. “With all that blood, I’d say it’s more than a scratch. Ruth, go fill the tub. Make sure the water isn’t too hot.” Then to Emma, “Do you need help getting those things off? You’ll need to scrub those wounds good.”
A door in the corner of the room led to a small bathroom. Ruth crossed the room toward it, but kept a careful eye on her aunt. She was concerned how Terry would react if she discovered Emma’s wounds were caused by gunfire. Sure enough, as soon as Emma started to remove her jacket, Terry spotted the gun in the shoulder holster. Her eyes went wide and her jaw tightened. Ruth waited for an explosion of questions.
“Let me have that gun.”
Pale blue eyes darted toward Ruth before Emma spoke to Terry. “I don’t think you understand. I’m not a criminal.”
“Honey, I may be old, but I’m not stupid. You have nothing to worry about. Fine, just leave it on the nightstand. I promise you, it’ll be here when you come out of the bath...unless you’d like to take it in with you.”
Terry looked offended, but she didn’t sound angry. Ruth took comfort from that and realized her aunt was made of stronger stuff than she’d given her credit for.
“Don’t you find this shocking?” Ruth asked, attempting to ensure Terry was truly okay with the situation. She didn’t know what she’d do if that turned out not to be the case. They had nowhere else to go.
Stepping closer to Emma in what she admitted was a protective gesture, Ruth placed a hand on her shoulder. Emma started slightly, highlighting the fact that Ruth had never instigated any contact between them. Considering what they’d been through together, it was only natural that Ruth would warm up to her.
Terry shrugged with one shoulder. “I recognize a female police officer when I see one. I’m assuming those are bullet wounds you’re carrying around?”
“I’m a U.S. Marshal actually, Emma Blake. And yes ma’am, they’re from gunshots.”
“Well, we’ll get you all taken care of. Ruth’s Uncle Dean was in Vietnam so I know how to treat you and keep those injuries from getting infected.” Without waiting for a response, Terry turned to Ruth. “How long are you staying?”
“Uh, I’m not sure really. I didn’t know where else to go. A few days?”
“Right, you can fill me in later.”
“Can I use your phone?” Emma interrupted.
Ruth could see exhaustion on her face as well as black circles under Emma’s eyes. She’d slept for a long time in the car and she already looked like she could use a nap.
“Yes, but that’ll have to wait. Right now you need to clean up and get some rest. Ruth will help you and when you’re ready, I’ll dress your wounds. The two of you can share this room. Sorry, but I don’t have a lot of rooms prepared for unexpected company.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Ruth rushed to assure her. “Thank you so much for helping us.”
“What, you didn’t think I would? You’re family. I’ll go start dinner.”
Terry left the room,
waddling slightly from side to side. She wasn’t an overly heavy woman, but Ruth remembered she had arthritis in her feet and hips.
“Wow, she’s a real dynamo.”
“Yeah, I’d forgotten how independent she is. Nothing fazes her.”
Emma nodded in appreciation. “I like her.”
She began tugging at the hem of her jacket again and Ruth noticed her grimace of pain. Emma had done a good job of concealing her discomfort while Terry was in the room and Ruth felt like an ass for not realizing how much she had to be hurting.
“Here, let me.”
As she eased the blazer from Emma’s shoulders, Ruth tried to move carefully. The bloodstain on the front of Emma’s shirt hadn’t grown, leaving her to suspect that the wounds had closed up. The last thing Ruth wanted to do was reopen them. Blood had also soaked into the side of the jacket, leaving the material stiff where it had dried.
“What do you want me to do with this?”
Emma chuckled. “Is there a trash can around? I think these clothes are ruined.”
Removing the rest of her garments proved a challenge. The shirt had stuck to Emma’s wound and by the time they got it free, the injury began to seep again. The same held true with Emma’s trousers. Ruth tried to keep a stoic expression on her face, but the sight of the wounds disturbed her. Emma’s skin around the injuries was red and inflamed. Where the bullets had grazed her skin, the wounds reminded Ruth of skid marks on a road. The rounds had cauterized the flesh, blackening it in their wake.
All of Emma’s outerwear went into the small waste can Ruth discovered in the corner. The shoulder rig and pistol rested on the nightstand, just as Terry had suggested. When she was down to her underwear, Ruth darted into the bathroom and returned with a towel.
“I’ll let you take care of the rest while I run the bathwater. Give a shout when you’re ready for me to help you into the bathroom.”
Illusive Witness Page 19