Altercation (13 page)

T
hey traveled in silence in the nondescript dark-green Ford, Megan fretting about her parents. Adrenaline surged through her at the sight of every police car.

At some point she must’ve drifted off to sleep. When she opened her eyes, she realized they weren’t moving. Seth slept against the door, huddled in a ball. They were parked at a rest stop.

Megan yawned and stretched, shivering at the chill that crept into the car. What time was it? Shaking her wrist, she managed to get her jangly watch into position. Seven-fifteen.

Seth stirred and jerked into an upright position, grabbing the steering wheel and blinking forcefully. “What happened?”

Megan stared at him. “What happened?” she echoed. “Did someone have to tow us to the rest area?”

He exhaled and relaxed his grip. “No. I was groggy, so I pulled in here. You were already asleep.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I figured. What time did you pull off?”

He shrugged and turned the key in the ignition. “Sometime around three
am
.”

“Well, at least you noticed you were tired.” She thought she was being complimentary, but he shot a glare at her.

“I’m sure
you
could’ve gone all night.” He hit the gas.

“No, I meant—”

“Just drop it.”

Megan kept her eyes on the road. “So, um, where are we?”

“What, you mean you didn’t figure that out already? There was a sign back there.”

“Um.” She plucked at her jeans, looking for lint, a string, anything. “No.”

“Just outside Rawlins, Wyoming.”

Wyoming. The land of beautiful green pastures and blue lakes and not much else. “How much longer?”

“Well, I don’t know. Am I supposed to know everything?”

You’re the mastermind!
Megan wanted to scream at him. She chewed on her tongue.
Maybe he doesn’t do well on so little sleep.
She pulled her mascara wand out of her satchel. Opening the visor, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and carefully layered on the mascara. Without it, her pale eyelashes vanished into her skin, leaving her eyes naked and vulnerable.

They rode in a non-companionable silence until just after nine.

Seth tapped the steering wheel. “I need gas.”

Megan focused on the gauges, noticing the red needle hovering below half a tank. “How are you going to pay for it?”

“I have a visa.”

She leaned her head against the seat and groaned. “Seth. Everyone will find us if you use it.”

He froze. And then he banged his hands on the wheel and let out a string of swear words.

Megan tried to figure out what to say in the silence that followed.

“How much cash you have?” Seth’s voice came out way too calm for someone who had just had an explosive breakdown.

Maybe he was schizophrenic. Not a great thought, since she was traveling alone with him. “I’ve got twenty dollars.”

“That’ll buy us maybe half a tank.”

“Yeah.”

Seth took the next exit. He turned the car around and got back on the interstate, heading west again.

Megan sat up straighter. “Are we going back?” She had to admit she felt relieved.

He frowned. “No.”

Idiot.
He didn’t add the word, but Megan heard it. “What are we doing?”

He didn’t respond.

Two hours later Seth took the Victoria Way exit. The speed limit on the southerly highway slowed to fifty miles per hour as they passed through vacant pastures. Tiny farmhouses dotted the horizon in the distance.

Megan glanced again at the gas gauge. Below a quarter of a tank. No yellow light yet. She persuaded herself not to ask any questions like, why on earth were they looking for a gas station way out here?

The light came on twenty minutes later. Megan hadn’t seen a gas station in quite some time.

Just as she began to worry, there was one. While Seth filled up on gas, Megan perused the books on the rack in the convenience store. She needed something to keep herself entertained.

“Hey.”

She turned around. Seth’s eyes ran over the book in her hand and she blushed. The cover had a woman leaning against a brick wall with her dress ripped open to the navel.

“How old are you?”

Megan cleared her throat and furrowed her brow. “What?”

He rolled his eyes and leaned against the book rack. “How old are you? Age?
Cuantos años tienes
?
”

Was he making fun of her? “I’m eighteen.” She tried to make her tone seem haughty, but it came out meek.

“Call your dad.” He pulled out eight quarters and slapped them into the palm of her hand. “Payphone’s outside. Tell him you ran away with me and we’re getting married in Vegas.”

Megan felt her jaw drop. “My parents will be furious. They’ll kill us both. I can’t break their hearts like that.”

“Megan.” Seth narrowed his eyes. “It’s a lie. We’re not getting married.”

She knew her skin turned pink all the way down to her toes. Of course. She hadn’t thought he was serious.

“Besides, they’ll feel better knowing where you are. It’ll buy us time. They’ll know we were here. I just used my Visa.”

He made some good points. But she didn’t know if she could do it. “You call them and tell them.”

“No.” Seth shook his head. “They’ll think I kidnapped you. You have to do this.”

Megan took a deep breath. How could she deceive her parents this way? Swallowing, she headed for the door.

“Was there a book you wanted?”

She turned around. “Um. I think so. But I haven’t chosen yet.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t say anything else, and Megan took that as her cue to leave. Finding the payphone, she dropped the coins in and dialed her father’s cell phone. Maybe he wouldn’t answer. Her heart began to slow down by the third ring. She could lie to his answering machine.

“Reynolds.”

Megan’s heart started its warrior dance all over again. “Um. Daddy?”

“Megan! Where are you? What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

She swallowed hard, clutching the phone. “No, I’m fine. Listen. Listen to me, Daddy.”

“What is it, baby? Tell me. Where are you? Do you need a ride? Are you in trouble?”

She exhaled loudly. “I’m with Seth. Seth Rivera. We’re fine. Better than fine. We’re—we’re on our way to Vegas. I’m in love with him and we’re getting married.”

“What?” Her father exploded with a barrage of words, some of them pleading, some of them angry. Megan tuned them out.

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you. I know it’s not what you wanted for me. I love you guys. I’ll call you later.” Megan banged the phone down, an awful guilt heavy on her chest. It might not be true, but her parents wouldn’t know that. They’d mourn and agonize and wonder where they went wrong. She’d always been such a good girl.

She whirled around at the sound behind her. Seth stood there, his dark green polo shirt contrasting with his tanned complexion.

“Did you do it?”

Megan nodded, wanting to glare at him but dropping her head instead. “Yes.”

“Did he buy it?”

“I think so. Yes.”

“Good. Here.” He held out a plastic bag.

She took it and peeked inside. There was a ham and cheese sandwich and three paperback books. Including the one with the embarrassing cover.

Megan contented herself with the silence in the car, eating her sandwich and watching the view of the Routt National Forest, as a green sign on the side of the road indicated. Then she selected one of the books and started reading. Seth turned on the radio. At least now she felt slightly more comfortable. Maybe because they were supposedly running away together.

The idea was so silly—yet so romantic—that she laughed.

Seth looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He turned the radio down. “No, really.”

“I just thought what a ridiculous idea. You and me running off together to get married.”

He snorted. “Yeah. But your parents won’t know better. They’ll believe it.”

What did he mean by that? Megan frowned.

His fingers reached for the radio again, and Megan spoke up. “I heard you say something about your father yesterday. Did something happen to him?”

He put his hand back on the steering wheel. “I guess I can tell you. You might know something anyway. My father disappeared a few weeks ago.”

Megan gasped. “Like, kidnapped?”

Seth’s upper lip curled. “Uh, no. He’s pretty sure this was a voluntary disappearance.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “Who is?”

“Detective Hamilton. He’s on the case. My father lied about everything. His job, his education, his business trips. Even his name. We don’t even know who he is. He could have several names. A different wife. Another family. Obviously has a career, because the money came every month.” Seth’s eyes blazed and he clenched his jaw. “It was all a lie.”

“Wow.” Megan mouthed the word, though she wasn’t sure any sound left her lips. “That’s crazy.”

“Yeah. My mom keeps telling me I need to learn about forgiveness. Not me. This isn’t about forgiveness.”

“Maybe it’s about family.”

“Don’t get smart with me,” he snapped. “Our family ceased to exist when my father walked out on us. I’ve pretty much lost my faith in families.”

“But not in yourself.”

“You know what? I really don’t like your tone. You think you’re better than me. You think you know something. Well, Ms. Superior, you just wait. Your turn’s coming.”

Megan stared out the passenger window. Her tone?

She opened her book again and resolved not to say anything more for the rest of the trip.

S
o much darkness.

Jaci blinked several times, trying to ignore the throbbing of her head. A sliver of light peered from under the door. It must be morning. Her legs and back hurt from sitting in a ball. Jaci arched her shoulders, brushing against the drywall behind her. Where was Amanda? She touched a leg, and Amanda moved.

“I’m here, Jaci.”

“I know. Where else would you be?” Yet she couldn’t deny the fear that she would wake and Amanda would be gone. Just like Sara. The door rattled a split second before it opened, and then the Creep leered down at them.

“Mornin’.” He pulled a cigarette from his yellowed teeth. “Bathroom break. One at a time, just like yesterday. Up.” He grabbed Jaci’s forearm and yanked her to her feet.

Same routine, only this time she went first. Jaci drew in a deep breath, feeling his fingers bruise her skin. He moved her out of the room so fast that she stumbled.

The stench of the bathroom reached her before they arrived. The utilities were off, and there was no running water to flush the waste. She suppressed a shudder as he shoved her into the small cubicle. She knew better than to shut the door. She tried that yesterday, and he had pulled her out and slammed her onto the concrete floor hard enough to give her a concussion.

She kept her eyes on the floor and held her breath. Spiders and dead black bugs littered the ground. Her chin trembled and she swallowed back tears.

He didn’t touch her other than to grab her arm and shove her back into the closet. Jaci breathed a sigh of relief when he shoved her back inside. He took Amanda next. Jaci sat in numb silence in the closet, counting the minutes. Then the door opened and he threw Amanda inside.

Jaci blinked in the darkness. “Did he . . . ?”

“No. You?”

“No.” Same as the day before. A trip to the bathroom without any touchy fingers. Jaci exhaled in relief, though her head still pounded from the anxiety.

“They didn’t catch Sara,” Amanda said.

“No. Or she’d be here.”

“Unless she’s with him.”

The Hand. “No,” Jaci said. “She got away. Maybe she called the police.”

Amanda laughed derisively. “She won’t call the police. She’s too scared.”

Who would she call besides the police? The FBI? Did Sara trust anyone? Jaci looked up, her hand shooting to the back pocket of her jeans. “What about that detective?” The business card was still there. She fingered it.

“Yeah. Maybe she’ll call him.”

Jaci shuddered. “We need to get rid of these.”

“I don’t think he’s going to ask us to empty our pockets, Jaci.”

He should have
, Jaci thought. What if they had happened to have a cell phone on them? Why
didn’t
they have cell phones on them? Pagers? GPS embedded into their arms? “They can still search us.”

“They’ll find more than just business cards, then.”

Jaci’s stomach tightened. Amanda still had the necklace. “You didn’t give it to the FBI?”

Amanda gave a soft laugh. “Irony. I was waiting until we arrived at our final location. But it might be a good bargaining chip now.”

“Yeah, if they don’t realize it’s on you.”

“Maybe I’ll eat it.”

“No! What if they figured it out? They’d cut you open to get it!”

“We shouldn’t talk about it.” Her voice became softer. “Someone might hear.”

Jaci went rigid, straining her ears to hear outside the closet.

Amanda had given her an idea, though. Jaci took the business card from her pocket and laid it by the sliver of light coming in under the door. She could just make out Detective Hamilton’s cell phone number. She mouthed the numbers to herself over and over again until they were seared into her mind. She closed her eyes, seeing the numbers imprinted on her eyelids. Then she ripped the card up and stuck the pieces in her mouth.

“That hungry?”

“No.” Jaci swallowed the fibrous lumps of paper. “Getting rid of evidence.”

Amanda didn’t say anything, but a moment later she pulled out her business card and chewed off the corners, then ate the whole thing. “Not bad. Kind of salty.”

The light under the door faded with the approach of evening. Just as Jaci’s hope for food began to disappear, she felt the vibrations on the solid concrete floor.

Different steps. She sat up straighter and poked Amanda with her foot.

“I hear it,” Amanda whispered.

Voices drew nearer. The closet door opened.

Jaci blinked in the gray twilight coming through the window. “The Hand.” The words left her mouth in a hushed whisper.

The Hand’s sharp blue eyes surveyed her and Amanda. The confidence in his eyes had been replaced by a cold wildness that bordered desperation.

His lip twisted up in a fake smile. “Yes, it’s me. Unfortunate for you that we meet again. Come on.”

The Creep stepped forward to grab them, but The Hand interrupted.

“They’ll come. You don’t have to drag them.”

Jaci took a deep breath and pushed herself to her feet. They really didn’t have any other choice. If she sat on the ground and refused to move, the creepy guy would be forced to lay hands on her.

The Hand walked out of the room. The Creep leered at them.

The same navy blue SUV sat in the middle of the warehouse. The Hand opened the door to the back seat. “Get in.”

Jaci climbed up and hesitated when she spotted the thick bulky man inside, leaning against the other door. She couldn’t even think of him as big; he was bigger than big.
Not grande, but g
randón,
she thought.
She
was pretty sure he had been blond before, but now he had shaved his head. Hatred flashed in his eyes, and he clenched his fists.

“Go,” The Hand said, a note of impatience in his voice.

She pulled herself up, trembling a little.

Amanda crawled in next. “Where are we going?”

“Heads down,” he replied.

Heads down? Before she could question the order, the
Grandón
grabbed her head and shoved it between her legs. She yelped and pushed his hands off. “Okay, I got it! I’ll keep my head down.” His hand only squeezed her skull tighter.

Nobody said a word as they drove. Jaci spun the possibilities around in her mind. Were they being driven to Canada again? Heading for Mexico?

Twenty minutes later the car stopped.

The Hand opened the door. He gripped Amanda’s wrist and guided her out. “No funny business.”

The muscleman next to Jaci pulled her out on his side.

They were behind a night club. Evening had faded into black skies, the neon lights flickering over the bare parking lot. Wind and gentle white snow flurries whipped around Jaci’s long hair. Her stomach knotted up. Last time The Hand had made a deal to sell them into the sex trade. Was this the realization of that deal?

They climbed up the steps by a stinky green dumpster. The Creep pushed open the door with the bright exit sign over it.

A purple-haired woman in a mini skirt and button-up vest bustled over to them, her ruby red stilettos reflecting the dull overhead lights. She raked her brown eyes over Jaci and Amanda. “Come in. I’ve gotta room ready for the little ladies. With me, girls.”

The
Grandón
released his hold on Jaci. Still, she just stood there. They were in a night club. Couldn’t she just scream and run for help?

The
Grandón
reached a hand out and smacked Jaci’s face. She gasped and grabbed a stool next to her. “Move, girl,” he growled. He poked something hard into her back, moved it down her spine. “You’ll be dead before you can get two words out.”

A few sullen faces glanced toward them, but there wasn’t even a glimmer of interest. Trembling, she stepped to Amanda and took her hand. They went behind the bar and followed the woman up a staircase.

“Come in here,” she said, her tone as clipped as her heels on the hardwood floor. She led them into a room with a bathroom and a bed. Velvety curtains billowed from the open window. She locked the door and crossed the room in two steps. Closing the window, she turned around to face them. The heavy makeup on her face looked thick and powdery in the yellow lighting. “Strip.”

Jaci froze. She wrapped her arms around her body, feeling incredibly transparent. “No.”

The woman rolled her eyes and tossed her burgundy hair. “Chill. Nothin’s gonna happen to you. I’m checkin’ you out. Have to report to the boss.”

A shiver ran through Jaci.

“If you won’t strip for me, honey, I’ll get one of them guys up here. They’ll get you out of those clothes in a hurry.” There was no kindness in her words, only an impatient condescension.

That was enough for Jaci. She unzipped her navy blue jacket and pulled her shirt over her head.
Don’t think, don’t think. Just do.

Amanda hadn’t moved. Jaci paused for a moment and looked at her. Amanda inclined her head slightly, widening her eyes.

The necklace.

Ever so quickly, Jaci looked toward the bathroom and then went back to peeling off her clothing.

“Can I use the restroom first?” Amanda’s voice was meek and soft. “I’m just so nervous. And we haven’t gone in hours. I’m afraid I might wet myself.”

Their hostess rolled her eyes. “Yeah, go.”

Amanda slipped in and closed the door. The rest of Jaci’s clothes hit the floor around her ankles, and she wrapped her arms around her bare body.

The woman stepped closer and circled her, eyes moving up and down. “All right. Put ya clothes back on.”

The toilet flushed. A twinge in her bladder made Jaci realize she needed the restroom too. Amanda stepped out, still fully clothed.

“My turn.” Jaci met Amanda’s eyes for a moment and hurried inside. Sitting on the toilet, she put her head in her hands. They were about to be sold into the sex trade. She was certain of it.
Don’t cry. Oh God! What’s to become of us?
She tried to imagine what their lives would be like.

She still had to pee. A glance around the small room didn’t reveal the necklace. Amanda had hidden it well.

When she stepped out, Amanda was pulling her top back on. She straightened out her sweater and Jaci joined her.

“Back to the bathroom.” The woman shoved them forward. “Time for a new hairstyle.”

“Are you a hairstylist?” Amanda’s voice held a cynical tone.

“I do hair all the time, yeah.”

Jaci surveyed the purple hair doubtfully. Anyone could open a box. She attempted a smile. “Do you have a name?”

The woman cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm. They said not to tell ya. But whatcha gonna do, call my ex?” She guffawed. “Call me Smoky.”

Smoky didn’t see Amanda behind her, mouthing, “Smoky?” and rolling her eyes.

Jaci worked hard to keep her face impassive. “Okay. Hi.”

Smoky reached out and touched the black hair that went to Jaci’s shoulder blades. “This ain’t gonna be easy. We’ll hafta bleach it.” She opened the cupboard and began pulling out chemicals and boxes. “Put your head in the sink.”

Jaci watched from the sink bowl as Smoky opened a bag of powder and dumped it into a bottle. Closing the lid, she shook it for several minutes.

Amanda leaned against the back of the toilet. “What are they going to do to us?”

Smoky snapped a pair of gloves on her hands and began pouring the mixture over Jaci’s head. “I dunno. Got my guesses, though.”

Jaci opened her mouth to speak and had to cough first. Awful. “And that’s okay with you?”

“What’s it matter to me?” She yanked on Jaci’s hair. “None of my business. Done with you. Sit. You, come here.” She beckoned to Amanda.

“You look great, Jaci. Really awesome.” Amanda put her head in the sink.

“Shut up,” Jaci growled.

Smoky glanced back at Jaci. “Your eyebrows.” Dabbing her finger in the bleach, she brushed them over Jaci’s brows.

Jaci felt a moment of panic. If that got in her eyes, it could blind her. She closed her eyes and waited till she felt certain it wouldn’t drip before opening them.

Smoky opened a box of chestnut dye and mixed up the color. She applied the brown over Amanda’s auburn locks. “All right, switch.”

Once again Jaci leaned over the sink. Smoky turned on the water and rinsed the bleach from her hair. Jaci stole a glance at a strand that fell over her shoulder. “My hair is orange.”

“No, it’s not,” Smoky snapped. “It’s blond.”

Amanda coughed.

“Now be still.” Smoky stood her up and got out some scissors. Starting at Jaci’s chin, she began chopping the long hair.

Jaci stared at her reflection. Orangish-white eyebrows framed her large brown eyes. Smoky cut a fringe of bangs, making Jaci’s forehead disappear. The Hand should have done this disguise thing a long time ago. No one would recognize her.

“Switch.”

Jaci sat on the toilet, reaching up and feeling the short, orange hair, coarse and dry from the recent bleach job.

Smoky rinsed the brown dye from Amanda’s hair, and then pulled a blow dryer from the medicine cabinet. Jaci flinched every time she opened a new cupboard. She kept expecting her to find that necklace.

As soon as Amanda’s hair was dry, Smoky put together a few more chemicals and massaged them through the chestnut curls. Jaci wrinkled her nose at the burning smell.

Amanda shifted over the sink. “My hair’s going to fall out.”

“Only if you don’t shut up,” Smoky growled. She pulled on the strands of hair, holding them straight. She didn’t wait too long before rinsing this mixture out as well. Then she went to work with the scissors, cutting the wavy brown hair to Amanda’s shoulders. The jagged cut lacked any shape or style, and Jaci imagined her hair looked just as wilted.

“You’re done.” Smoky stepped back and surveyed the girls. With a nod, she put away her supplies. “Back down you go.”

Jaci forced herself to breathe. Her legs trembled. She pushed up from the toilet seat and used the door frame to steady herself.

“Walk in front of me,” Smoky said, unlocking the bedroom door. “I don’t trust you girls.”

Jaci glanced at the window. She could be out the window before anyone could stop her. If she wasn’t injured from the jump, she could run, call Detective Hamilton, the police.

Too much time thinking about it and not enough action. Smoky shoved her in the back. “Move, girl.”

Jaci pushed everything from her mind and put one foot in front of the other.