Читать книгу Triple Trouble: A Cassidy Callahan Novel - Kelly Rysten - Страница 8

Chapter 2

Morning dawned, but it was overcast. I couldn’t see out a window but I could tell there was a blanket of clouds out there because the jets from the Air Force base were flying under the cloud cover. The room was dim. If I were free, I would rejoice in a cloudy day. I would use the break from the sunshine to do my outside work. Shadow and I would run the agility course and go to the park or hike in the mountains nearby. Today I knew I had a day of tense waiting. And watching. Maybe the watching would keep it from being boring. Maybe it wouldn’t be boring because I’d be fighting for my life. Watching came first; watching for a break, no matter how small. I’d built up some trust. Now I needed to make that trust work for me.

Shadow was out of sorts. He was used to sleeping in his crate and he had been loose last night. Now he wanted to go out but I was still all taped up. Sorry boy!

Manny didn’t wake up until close to eight o’clock. About 8:30 he cut the tape on my hands and legs and allowed me to do the morning routine minus a shower. I rushed through washing up, brushing teeth, brushing my hair. The bathroom had no windows, no way to escape.

I started breakfast and I only had two eggs left, then I was short on bread so I got out a sticky pad and started a list, more out of habit than anything else. Eggs, bread, toothpaste… He never yelled at me for writing so I filled the front page with bogus grocery items and turned to the second page and wrote, “Help me get out of here. Call the police. Have them seal the neighborhood. Send someone at 6:00 p.m. ARMED. No uniforms, pretend to be a neighbor with a question.” Extra insurance. Boy Scout motto “Always be prepared.” I tore off the list and the note and silently slid them into my pocket. Occasionally I would take the list out and add to it. One time with the list out I turned and quickly separated the two sheets of paper stuffing them in different pockets. I made sure the list was in my left pocket and the note was in my right pocket, the pocket that would be handy if I had to answer the door. I kept cooking, giving up my two eggs but silently celebrating the fact that I had the note. I wasn’t hungry anyway. I was too tense to be hungry.

Later in the morning the doorbell rang. I almost jumped out of my skin. I looked up. Manny gave a slight nod that I took as permission to answer. I knew the rule, just get rid of them. He stood behind me at the door out of sight. I opened it slightly, felt the gun against my side and looked out. I almost sank to my knees right then and there because at my door was a man with a badge. Not only that, he was the most handsome detective I ever saw, even on TV. I didn’t even think they grew them like that! He was dressed in jeans and a tweed sport coat but he would have made anything look good. His sandy hair was windblown and set off his blue eyes, serious at the moment, they held the promise of a quick smile. More importantly, I had to keep my head on straight here. Think Cass, think! I wasn’t thinking. I was only hoping. My heart was doing a hundred miles an hour and my hands were shaking and he hadn’t said a word yet. His eyes took me in and I think just my expression might have tipped him off that something was going on here.

I tried to speak, but a lump formed in my throat.

“I’m detective Rusty Michaels,” he said displaying his badge. His deep voice rumbled like soft thunder. He snapped his badge closed and dropped it in his shirt pocket. “I was wondering if you’ve seen this man.” He held up a piece of paper with Manny’s picture on it. Manuel Silva it said. Finally, I had a name.

I leaned in closer to the door pretending to look at the paper closely, but I was really blocking Silva’s view of my pocket.

“N-no”, I said shakily handing back the piece of paper, “I don’t know him and I haven’t seen him.”

“I have a witness that says your Jeep was leaving the High Desert Bank when a man fitting Silva’s description jumped into your vehicle and took off in a big hurry. The plate number and description match your Jeep.”

“Oh, um,” I stammered. Think, think! “That was my brother. I was there loading groceries at the store and John got hungry and said he was running over to McDonald’s. He went to McDonald’s, got a snack and I picked him up on my way out of the parking lot.” My hand slipped into my pocket and I silently stuck the note on the front of the door. Michaels glanced at the note and gently pulled it off the door. His expression grew serious. He knew Silva was here but didn’t want to leave me in this predicament. He didn’t know if others were involved or not. He didn’t know anything except that I had something in mind and it happened at 6:00 p.m. He ran his hand through his hair, thinking, trying not to act, trying to keep his cool. Hoo, boy.

“So, what was the big hurry leaving the parking lot?” he asked. We had to play this out now, even though he knew he had Silva cornered.

“I was really late for something and thought I wouldn’t get there in time. I didn’t realize I was going that fast. I was just rushed.”

“And you’ve never seen this man before?” I couldn’t help it, my eyes glanced left.

“No.”

“Here’s my card. Can you give me a call if you happen to think of anything that might help? This guy’s wanted for bank robbery and murder so we’re kind of in a rush to get him off the streets.” This last part didn’t seem to be information he’d pass on to a potential accessory. Of course, if I’d helped Manny with the getaway I’d probably know these things anyway.

He turned to go and I turned to close the door. It was very tempting to run for it right then but I felt the gun and I knew I could improve my chances at 6:00 p.m. I just prayed 6:00 got here before Oscar. When I turned around I saw anger, only anger. Silva knew the police were out there. This was a grim reminder.

“You were smart not to pull anything. Here’s what you can look forward to if you try anything. And I mean ANYTHING.” He hit me with a punch to my eye and another left punch to the stomach. I slumped forward and he brought his knee up cracking me in the jaw again. He then picked me up by the front of my shirt and tossed me across the room. I lay stunned and more determined than ever to beat this guy.

The day passed in a constant state of tension. I was fighting anxiety and at the same time trying to play up the little trust that Silva had in me. I’d stood up to the police once. He knew that. Actually the tension in the air made Silva think he had me scared and I guess in a way he was right. I wasn’t afraid of the pain. I’d felt pain in many ways before. It always goes away eventually. I was a little afraid of dying but I was too proud to think I’d let that happen. I was more afraid of failure. I didn’t want this guy to get away. In fact, I was determined to get Silva and Oscar both behind bars. It just seemed like a heavy responsibility.

When Shadow’s afternoon feeding came, I only pretended to feed him, dropping just enough kibble in his bowl to make noise. I got some thick, juicy steaks out of the freezer, defrosted them and put them in marinade. Seems like I marinade everything.

I baked potatoes. Four o’clock rolled around. Walking by the mirror I took a glance. I had a shiner of a black eye and a couple of lumps on my head from my airmail flight across the living room. Michaels would be sure to notice that if he came back at six. Nothing said it would be him that came, but I thought I could count on somebody. The clock seemed to stand still. I tried not to look at it too often.

At five o’clock I scooped the insides out of the baked potatoes, then mashed them up with some butter, sour cream, grated cheese, salt and pepper. I put the mess back in the potato skins and topped it all with cheese, then stuck the casserole dish with the two potatoes into the oven. I started the barbecue grill and heated it up. After scraping the chicken gunk off the rack I added the steaks. I prepared a salad and placed the bowl on the table. I was trying to stay busy so I wouldn’t panic. Panic was very close to the surface but I pushed it down. Shadow was following my every movement. He was hungry and I was counting on him to stay that way.

At ten till six I took up the steaks and set the food on the table. Five minutes later we sat down to eat. I could have sworn the clock died. Time stood still. Seconds felt like minutes and minutes felt like hours. Silva dug into his steak. I didn’t want him to finish eating before things started happening so I got up a few times to get things out of the fridge; steak sauce, then salad dressing. If he was tired of hot dogs and bologna, a good steak should keep his attention.

Shadow had his eye on the table. Good boy.

A few minutes after 6:00 p.m. the doorbell rang. I jumped. I looked at Silva for direction and he nodded, giving the okay. I walked to the door like a zombie. My legs wouldn’t work right. I had the shakes. Glancing behind me Silva was still at the table watching, his gun pointed in my direction. The doorbell rang again. I guess time was working faster on the other side. I opened the door and there was Michaels, this time wearing faded blue jeans and a t-shirt advertising outdoor gear. Just a neighbor here to ask a question.

“Hi, Cassidy,” he said brightly, “I was wondering if you could help me out with something. Wow, what happened to your eye?”

“Umm,” I stammered, “Don’t worry about it. What’s up?”

“My girlfriend bet me a six-pack that I couldn’t cook dinner, so now I need to come up with something she’ll like and I was wondering how to make meat loaf.”

Is he serious? I thought. Meatloaf?

“Meatloaf? Why meatloaf?” A glance at Silva. “Sure, I can tell you how to make meatloaf but that’s not exactly a meal that is going to impress a girl.

Meatloaf is what housewives make if they can’t think of anything else.” I glanced at Silva. He rolled his eyes and started eating his steak.

Michaels looked at me quizzically, like okay, what would impress a girl? Was he enjoying this? I felt like a jellyfish. My legs were all wobbly. I was barely thinking. I was watching for my break.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What would impress a girl?”

“You have to make something like she’d order at a restaurant. There’s easy ways to make dishes like that, too. When is she coming over?”

“Tomorrow.”

“That gives you some time. Go to the store and buy a bottle of Jamaica Mistake. It’s a marinade.” Gee, I guess I do marinade everything. “Get a package of boneless chicken breasts. Put the two in a big Ziploc bag and marinade it for a few hours. Cook the chicken on the grill and steam some vegetables to go on the side. You can cook rice to go with it.”

I stole another glance at Silva. He was getting impatient. Good, that was just what I wanted. He rose and stood at the door of the dining room. He caught the tablecloth on his way out and his plate scooted towards the edge of the table as he got up. Even better. Shadow stared at the plate. He really wanted that steak but he knew he had to get the code word first. His ears pricked, begging for the code word. He drooled a little.

“Chicken?” he said. “You think she’ll like chicken?”

“Better than hamburger. You can do the same thing with steak but I like it with chicken better.” Check out the dining room. I looked Michaels in the eye and slid the car keys out of my pocket pointing at the electric blue BMW Roadster parked on the street. A barely noticeable nod affirmed he got it.

Chatting with a neighbor was not the same thing as getting rid of them. Silva was debating between heading off something at the door and sitting down to his steak. This is what I was waiting for. I glanced at Shadow. He was so close to that plate all he needed was… “Okay,” I said, and then louder, “Get it!”

Shadow lunged for the steak. There was a clatter for silverware and china and Silva turned. He lunged for the dog. I hopped out the door, closing it behind me. I slid the key in the lock and heard the bolt slide in. I dashed for the car. There were a lot more cars on my street than usual. Men in uniform hunched behind them. My hands were shaking so bad I couldn’t find the keyhole. Stupid key! Come on! The curtains were thrust aside and a shot went wild over our heads shattering my front window. The key slid in. I heard the snap of the door locks disengaging and we jumped in. I turned the key, threw the car into gear and took off. Zero to sixty in 5 seconds. Thank you, Jack! I love this car. I screeched around the corner and took the left turn that led out of the neighborhood, then immediately had to brake to a stop at the police barricade.

“Whoa, little lady. You can stop here. This is the where the good guys hang out.” I pulled to a stop beside the group of police cars. A uniform walked up to Michaels, checking us out.

“Everybody okay? We heard a shot.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Michaels answered. “You okay?”

I got out of the car and sank to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the dirt. Too much. I was wound up too tight. I had to sit. But not in the car. The car oozed stress, too. Okay, just sit. It’ll be fine.

Michaels walked around the car and knelt down in front of me. All I could do was stare at the ground. He put his hands on my shoulders looked me in the eye. “Did Silva do this to you?” He touched my black eye gingerly.

A single nod, “Yeah, but that’s not what hurts.”

“I know,” he almost whispered and sat down on the ground with his shoulder against mine. I listened in stunned silence to the crackle of the police radios and the quiet talk in the background. Even with all the action and tension around me, it was relatively quiet compared to the noise of my mind for the past ten hours. The warmth felt good. Just the touch pulled some of the tension away. We sat that way while the cops closed in and did their thing.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“That’s cop talk for ‘we need the rest of the story so we can put this guy away for a long, long time.’”

“You’re right. But it’s also from someone who knows what it’s like to be kidnapped, and beaten, and shot at. It’ll help you to get the story out.”

A big sigh escaped, almost a sob, but I was determined not to cry. “He’s got my dog and my dinner. And I can’t go back. And you guys are going to have to watch my house for a few days.”

He grew grim again. Long pause.

“Why’s that?”

“Silva is expecting company in a day or so. That’s why I was determined to get out of there today. You’ll probably want to pick him up, too. Name’s Oscar. I think he might have met with more trouble than Silva did, so there will probably be some charges filed there, too. He’ll probably be driving a stolen car. Sounded like something sporty but big enough for two guys, a bag of loot and a hostage. Something fast.”

Michaels stood and spoke with one of the uniforms.

“Look, I need to get back and wrap things up. Will you wait here for me?”

I nodded numbly, “One more thing you should know.”

He knelt down in front of me. “Yeah, what’s that?”

“The master bedroom closet has two rifles and two pistols in it. Silva doesn’t know they are there, but if he hides back there he could discover it. He’d have ammo for a long stand off.”

“That might be good to know, thanks. You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded again, “I’ll be okay as soon as this is all over.”

Michaels spoke to another officer. She came over and sat with me, but it wasn’t the same. He jogged back to my house, disappearing behind the Wilson home.

A fire department rescue squad drove up and two paramedics jumped out and spoke to the officers standing around. One of them approached me.

“Let’s get you checked out.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “A little banged up but I’m not injured in any way.”

“A black eye and three lumps on your head and you’re not injured?”

I let him go through his routine exam and declined a ride to the hospital for further testing. All I really needed was a little peace and quiet and all the lumps and bruises would take care of themselves.

After a while it became apparent that things were not going well for the police. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Silva was trapped in my house. How could he not be caught? I thought this would be a simple matter of breaking the door down and storming the place, but time went on and I got the distinct impression that something was wrong. A helicopter came flying overhead circling the neighborhood. I was relieved no shots had been fired, but the silence was grating on me. I was getting impatient and antsy. I was just getting up to start pacing when Michaels jogged up.

“Silva’s not in there,” he stated. “The house is empty. There’s no sign of him in the house or the yard. That’s a good-sized fence in back and the lock is still on the gate. Any ideas where he might be?”

“Empty house and empty yard?”

“Yup.”

Then I remembered! Plan B! Silva had used my Plan B and jumped my back fence using the A-frame just like I was going to!

“I know where he is!” The two looked at me like I was nuts. “Well, I don’t know right now but I can find him.” I took off at a fast walk toward my house. I don’t know why I didn’t think to drive, maybe because you can’t track in a car and I was suddenly in tracking mode. I was only two short blocks from my street. Michaels dashed after me pulling me up.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not going back there.”

I spun around to face him. “I am and I know what I’m doing. You can come along if you stay behind me. I need to see where I’m going and what I’m doing. I won’t go too close. I promise.”

“Why? Why do you think you have to do this?”

“Because I can. I know I can. I know what he did to get away and I have tracked all my life. I’ve been watching him for two days. I know his walk and his mannerisms. It’s where my talent lies, in observation and tracking.” I let the determination show on my face. It’s a little hard to get my five foot four inch frame to stand up to a six-foot hunk of a guy, but I’d been doing it since I was old enough to walk and he backed off.

I walked into my neighborhood. It was spooky quiet. Did they evacuate it? My house was taped off and men walked back and forth through the front door. I passed up my street and went to the next one. I knocked on the door of the house directly behind mine. Michaels followed.

“What are we doing?” Michaels asked me.

“Plan B. We’re doing what I was planning on doing if you hadn’t showed up.”

Lorraine wasn’t answering her door. “Lorraine,” I shouted, “It’s Cass! I need to talk to you. The police are with me. It’s okay.” The door opened a crack, then opened wider.

“What the hell are you doing out. With all this ruckus, you should be locked in your house!”

“Been there, done that. I need to see your backyard. I think the guy the police are looking for came through here.” She blanched. She looked at Michaels, who showed her his badge.

“Okay.”

I walked around to her side gate. It was swinging open. Her backyard was still dirt for which I was very grateful. Michaels tried to go first but I held out my arm.

“I need to be able to read the signs. His footprints are right here so we know he left this place but we need to see what he did back here. It’ll tell us a lot about his frame of mind.”

I followed the clear footprints to a pile of junk by the back fence. I almost laughed. I was right, Silva had used the A-frame in my yard just as I’d planned to and jumped the fence. He crash landed on this pile of junk and rolled off. There were clear prints of his hands and knees in the dirt beside the pile. He had crouched beside the junk pile, probably listening for the police and checking out Lorraine’s house as a possible new hostage situation. He’d decided to run for it and his dash for the gate was plain. He was in a hurry, and he was pushing himself. His footprints were not the pattern of a seasoned runner. These footprints showed desperation. Then he had staggered off through the gate and into the neighborhood. I took mental notes on his footprints; big feet, the pattern of the tread, how he favored his right foot. The tread was more worn down on the left side of his left shoe. It all matched up to what I’d already observed while I’d been captive.

When I returned to the gate, I was back to guessing. I looked up and down the street. There had been a police cruiser stationed at the end of the cul de sac preventing him from jumping that wall. He had to go straight but how did the police miss seeing him? I put myself in Silva’s shoes and the large bushes directly across the street beckoned. I crossed the street and poked around behind the bushes. The footprints in the soft soil behind the bushes were plain. He’d crawled through the bushes and made his way from yard to yard taking advantage of the landscaping. When he’d gotten to the end of the street there was more cover, but I thought he would aim for the vacant lot at the end of Joshua Street. I jogged down to the end of the street and stopped at the curb of the pavement. The streets in my neighborhood all drain this way so there is always a big puddle at the end of Joshua Street. Silva didn’t know that.

The construction companies in these high desert communities tend to buy up several acres of land and plant a neighborhood smack dab in the middle of a large vacant lot so around the edges of Joshua Hills little four and five block neighborhoods dot the desert floor, all surrounded by desert sand, perfect for tracking. My neighborhood was no exception.

“Stay here,” I instructed, “I’m not going far.” I inched around the puddle. There was a scuff on the near side. He’d seen the puddle in time to avoid it. I needed to make certain it was Silva that came through here. Anyone could have made the scuff recently. Kids hunted tadpoles here all the time. On the far side, Silva’s clear print showed. He was running. I signaled Michaels that he could follow me again.

I was glad Silva didn’t expect to be followed on foot. He wasn’t being careful at all. His trail was clear, leading in a straight line through the vacant lot. He’d stumbled once on a loose rock and kept going. I didn’t see sign of a chase. He must have cleared out before the police saw him get away.

My thoughts ran on ahead as my feet and eyes followed the trail. He was going to get tired quick. This guy wasn’t used to running. He was going to look for cover real soon, and the cover up ahead wasn’t what I wanted him to go for.

There was a mobile home park to our right with a short wall. Inside it was all cement and pavement again. If he went in there, I’d probably lose him. I was hoping he would go for the other mobile home park across Elm Boulevard. It had dirt streets and the trailers were less populated. If I were Silva, I’d go for the older one. More chances of finding a hiding place there. Michaels was keeping up easily. I was walking fast, only verifying the sign. When I was looking for lost kids, I studied the trail, learning all I could about the person I was tracking. In this case, I knew as much as I wanted to know about Silva. I just wanted the trail to end. The signs continued past the fancy mobile homes. Like I thought, the skirted homes didn’t offer the cover he wanted. I headed for the next park.

Silva had stopped at Elm, probably waiting for traffic to clear. We had to wait, too. The light was failing. A police cruiser headed our way and Michaels flagged it down and asked for a flashlight.

“What are you doing out here?” The cop asked.

“We’re tracking Silva. We’ve followed his trail this far.”

“Are you shitting me? We’ve been looking all over. He just vanished.”

“You’ve been driving the streets,” I said, “Silva’s not out walking the streets. He’s looking for cover. His trail is very clear. He went that way.”

Traffic cleared and Michaels and I trotted across Elm.

“I don’t like the feeling I’m getting off this trailer park,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“I know. That’s what makes me think he’s in here.”

The black and white pulled into the park.

Silva’s trail got messier after he crossed the street. He’d stop and turn, presumably to check for occupants in the trailers. He’d stop outside a trailer, pause, then run on to the next one. All the trailers he stopped at had lights on. They were better off, too. Some had skirting around the bottoms. Silva’s trail turned when he got to an old silver trailer. It couldn’t be called a mobile home. The back of it was surrounded by sheds offering dark hidey-holes underneath. The windows were dark; the flimsy screen door hung ajar, not quite fitting right. It banged in the wind. Trees blocked the little light there was left, casting the tiny yard in shadow. I signaled Michaels to stay. I had to make sure this was the right one.

I examined the tracks. Silva had vaulted the three-foot wall surrounding the park and landed heavily on the other side. He’d paused, walked forward two steps, then paused again. He’d turned this way and that, listening. He’d crept to the side of the trailer and put his ear against it, his footprints shifting the soft sand. A little Bermuda grass grew here, but it was mostly just dirt. I noticed sandy handprints on the side of the trailer. The footprints went all the way around to the other side, where he’d peered in a window. He’d circled the trailer and entered. He was here and he was trapped.

I looked in the window and saw a trashed out interior. Food wrappers and dirty clothes covered the floor. Silva was rooting around in the junk, presumably looking for something useful. He didn’t know he’d been spotted yet. He thought he was in the clear. Another quiet hideout to hole up in till Oscar could pick him up.

I was turning to go back to the wall and find Michaels when two beady eyes appeared in the window.

“You!” he yelled. He pointed the gun at me and fired. I leapt to the side. Curses filled the air and the trailer started shaking as Silva fought his way through the trash and junk on the floor.

I rolled under the trailer and came out on the other side. I stood up and Silva filled the doorway of the trailer, gun in hand. Simultaneous explosions rocked the small yard. The smell of gunpowder stung my nose as I made a mad dash for the wall. Pain seared through my shoulder as I vaulted over. I sat on the other side, sheltered for a bit from the violence behind me.

Sirens filled the night and seconds later the flash of lights told me the police had closed in.

Michaels! Where was Michaels? I thought I had heard two shots. I assumed Silva’s shot was meant for me. But what if he’d seen Michaels? Silva wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him. He was in escape mode.

“Cassidy!” I heard, “Cassidy, where are you?”

I poked my head up over the wall and there he was, searching underneath the trailer, glancing around, afraid of what he might find.

“Over here,” I said standing.

He rushed over, the relief clear on his face.

“You’ve been hit!” he exclaimed as a bloodstain spread down the arm of my shirt.

“It’s just a scratch. Stupid trailer, I caught my shoulder on an old lawnmower blade down there.”

Following the police, paramedics came in and cleaned me up a bit. It was just a cut. It bled like crazy but didn’t need any treatment. Silva wasn’t as lucky. They took him away on a stretcher.

My part in this mess was over. I turned to leave, sadness and tension bubbling up inside of me. I heard footsteps approaching from behind and Michaels joined me. We walked quietly back to the Roadster still parked outside my neighborhood. I looked up into his eyes. I saw kindness coupled with worry and uncertainty, but there was something else, too.

“I heard the shot.” He swallowed hard.

“I know. Me too.”

“Look, you haven’t had any dinner. I haven’t had any dinner. You need some space from all this and I need a statement. Let’s go to the interrogation room and get a bite to eat.”

“The interrogation room?”

“Or Zeke’s, come on. You need some space.”

I looked at the Roadster. This was Jack’s car and I hadn’t driven it much. Driving it brought back too many memories, but I knew it could get me out of a jam and Jack would have been glad I used it. The keys dangled from my finger and I glanced around at all the police. My driver’s license was at the house. Michaels’ car was at the house. I held out the keys to Michaels.

“What’s this?”

“I left my driver’s license at home and I didn’t think I should drive off with a cop and not have it.”

“That’s the reason?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

No, I wasn’t sure. The car was just too much to deal with right now. The memories, the tension I felt driving it. But I just said, “Yeah.”

“Okay, but I wouldn’t give you a ticket.”

“Thanks.”

We got in the Roadster and it slid out of the parking spot and cruised down the road. This car was a perfect match for Jack. It flew. It even had vanity plates that said FLY LOW. That was Jack. Jack flew. My Jeep Wrangler suited me, too. I thought about all the fingerprints on the Jeep. It would be dusted when I got back. Everything would be dusted. I hoped it wouldn’t be busted. My mind was spinning in little bitty circles as we rode along. In a way, I was glad. It kept me from staring at Michaels. It also had me worried about Shadow. What had Silva done to him? Maybe the police crashed my door before Silva caught him. Shadow was fast and my house was set up in a way that made it impossible to catch him. We often played tag in the house and Shadow always won. Maybe Silva had given up on dinner and made a run for it.

“I hear the wheels turning in that brain of yours,” he said as he drove along.

“Just thinking,” I replied.

“About what’s behind us or what’s ahead of us?” He pulled into a parking lot and found a parking place. It was crowded.

“Pizza?”

“Sure. Nothing is better for taking your mind off stressful things than a nice busy, noisy pizza place and a big pizza with all your favorite toppings. Zeke makes the best pizza.”

“I left my pack at home, too. No money.”

He guided me in. Guess money wasn’t an issue.

“Look, I’ve been cooking, getting beat on, sat around without a shower with a gun pointed at me. I’ve been tied up, thrown across a room, sat in the dirt for an hour and rolled around under a dirty trailer. It’s possible I might need to go wash up.”

I found my way to the ladies room and had to wait in line. At least the crowd led me to believe the place might have good pizza. I was surprised I hadn’t been to this place before. I thought I had visited every restaurant in town. Cooking wasn’t my favorite thing to do.

I finally got in and looked in the mirror. Yikes, my hair was a tousled mess. I had red tape lines around my mouth. I looked at my wrists. Yep, tape marks there, too, and strips of tape residue. My eye was purple and green. At least it wasn’t very swollen. I dusted off my clothes, washed up, and did what I could with my hair. It wasn’t much. I didn’t have a hairbrush. If Michaels was worried about my appearance, he didn’t let on. I joined him in the foyer.

“Feel better?”

“Not after what I just saw in the mirror.”

“Don’t worry about it. If I ask you out for dinner and you have time to prepare, then you can worry about it. If I yank you out from in front of a firing squad, I don’t expect you to put on make up on the way.”

Some women would have taken offense to that, but having been in the firing squad position a number of times, it didn’t faze me. “I was going to play the video games but I didn’t think you’d like to be in the arcade with that shooting game going on.”

“Actually, I don’t mind being on the shooting end of a gun. Believe it or not, I can shoot. Silva didn’t know it when he locked all the bedroom doors, but he locked up four guns and plenty of ammo. He’d have been set for a stand off, but he locked it all up.”

I’d told him about the guns before, but it still drew a curious look.

The pizza place bustled with activity. Booths lined the outer walls and tables filled the open spaces. No tablecloths. Plenty of beer. I noticed they served pasta, too. A waitress seated us at a booth with a worn but polished wooden table. Menus stood at one end. Michaels ordered pizza. I added ice tea; he added Coke.

“You look like you’re feeling a little better.”

“I am. Thanks.”

“How bad was it?”

“It could have been worse.”

“It can always be worse.”

“The psychological stuff was the worst. The physical stuff I can take.”

He looked at my small frame and childlike face and seemed amused. I continued, “I was pathetic. I knew what was supposed to happen. But somehow, in real life, other factors crowd in and all the self-defense classes in the world can’t help you when instinct tells you not to use it.”

I was talking myself into a corner. Michaels was probably wondering just what kind of a girl he had here, and he wasn’t getting anywhere on the interrogation. He looked at me and his eyes softened. There was a gentle pause.

“Just tell me what happened.”

I started at the beginning, when Silva jumped into my Jeep, and went through the whole story. He winced when I told him about getting hit with the gun butt and the time when Silva had hit me after Michaels left.

“You don’t know how hard it was to turn my back and walk away. You can’t imagine it.”

“I know. But when you came this morning, I had a gun to my head. I knew I could improve my chances if I waited.”

“So, now we’re expecting this guy Oscar to show up. Do you have a place to stay? Your house is going to be watched and the investigation will go on for a few days. You can’t stay at home until we nab Oscar. Where will you go?”

I knew where I was heading, but I didn’t want to tell Michaels.

“I’ve got a place,” I said. A place far away that nobody else knew about. “I’ll check back in a few days. Oscar won’t show if the place is surrounded by crime scene tape and police cars.”

“We’ll try to get everything out of the way tonight. Where are you going? Is it safe? Does Silva know about it?”

“It’s in the mountains, just far enough away. No, Silva knows nothing about it. Yes, it’s safe enough for me.” This was my place. Not even Jack knew about it.

“If Silva thinks you’re too much of a risk he could call someone to eliminate you.”

I remembered my cell phone. Silva had it. “Will we be able to pick up a few things from the house first?”

“I think so. We’ll go see. Okay, on the lighter side, Jamaica Mistake?”

I laughed, “No, I thought I pulled it off pretty much as planned.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know what you meant. And, no, I wasn’t kidding. It’s great stuff. The story is on the bottle.”

“It took me a while to figure out what I could ask you about. I was going to tell you I had a computer problem, but I didn’t know if you even had one. Do you like to cook?”

“No, but it’s kind of a necessity of life. I grew up with lots of good food around and I hate eating alone in a restaurant. So that means I cook.”

Michaels was right, Zeke did make good pizza. I was sorry when the meal ended and it was time to go. Michaels paid the tab and we got in the car and drove to my house.

From the Jeep I pulled a daypack. I pushed the front door open with my foot in case they didn’t want more fingerprints. It would need to be replaced after being kicked in. Shadow came bounding around the corner, barreling into me. Relief flooded me. What a good dog. He even misbehaves when he’s supposed to. I filled a Ziploc bag with kibble and stuffed it in the daypack. I got a change of clothes and my other daypack and combined the contents of my hiking pack and my purse pack. I dug my camping box out from the garage and pulled out a few packets of backpacking food. I filled a plastic bottle with water.

“You’re going camping? After being through all this you can’t go into the hills alone.”

“Why not? It’s what I do when I need to get away. This seems like an excellent time to me.”

“You don’t have enough gear. Where’s your tent, your sleeping bag?”

“I’ve got that stuff in the Jeep.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay for three days?”

“I’m sure I won’t be in any danger.”

“I really wish you’d tell me where you’re going.”

“It doesn’t have an address.”

“I could follow you.”

“Not if I don’t want to be found. I’d lose you in five minutes. Like Crocodile Dundee. I’m there, and the next thing you know, I’m gone.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to be found? I’ve been at this for a while.”

I thought for a second before answering, “When I want to be found I’ll take you there, but right now you have work to do and I have to stay out of the way. I’ll be back. It’s the only place I have left, so there’s no point in worrying about where it is.”

I took a shower and changed into camouflage pants, a khaki t-shirt and moccasins. No fingerprint search in my bedroom. It had been locked. All the bedroom doors had been knocked in during the search for Silva.

Walking outside, I looked longingly at the Jeep. I’d rather take the Jeep than the Roadster. I wasn’t comfortable leaving Jack’s car in the woods.

Nobody touched the Jeep. It blended in. Just like me, my Jeep was at home in the woods. I didn’t have that assurance with the sports car. It begged to be stolen.

“Can I take the Jeep? I really would feel better if I had the Jeep.”

Michaels conferred with the team investigating my house. They checked a note pad. They knew it was the getaway car.

“Yeah, you can take the Jeep.”

“Silva gave Oscar two days to show. I’ll check back in three.”

Shadow jumped into the Jeep. I held up Michaels’ card, then stuck it in my pocket.

“You be careful,” he called as I drove away.