Payback (12 page)

“I overheard Mom talking to Paula about them going out like vigilantes, you know, and making Steven sorry for what he’d done.”

“Do you think your mom might’ve done that on her own?”

“It seems unlikely I mean, she
did
go to work yesterday morning. Marco saw her there. And then he saw her leave with someone who fits Steven’s description. It sounds to me like he came looking for her.” I take a quick breath. The more we talk about this, the more pieces we put together, the scarier it feels.

Ebony nods soberly “Yes, and that reminds me, Samantha. One of the calls I made before we left was to verify whether your mom’s car is at the park-district building or not.”

“Is it?”

“No.”

“Do you think that means they could be in her car?”

“I think it’s a possibility. I asked the guys to keep a lookout for Steven’s car as well. My guess is that it’s somewhere nearby. I also found out he had put the minimum down and made only a few payments, so the car’s not even close to being paid off. I’ll bet that Steven planned on ditching it. Especially if he suspects we’re onto him. He’ll know we have the description and license number now, and he’ll want to get rid of it, like he’s done in the past.” Ebony lets out a long sigh.

“So if he’s with Mom,” I begin carefully, “in her car…what do you think he intends to do with her?” I study Ebony closely, trying to determine if she’s as worried as I am.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” She lays a tip on the table, and we both stand.

“Is that why you wanted to know my impressions of him? You wanted to determine whether or not he’s dangerous?

“Yes.”

“Does he have a history of harming anyone? I mean, besides conning people. That’s bad enough. But tell me, Ebony—has he ever been violent?”

“There’s no record of if. But I’ll be honest. We don’t know everything about him. There are some gaps. He’s used a lot of phony names…it’s impossible to track everything. But be assured, we haven’t uncovered anything to suggest he’s physically harmed anyone.”

I let out a deep sigh. I want to feel relieved. I want to believe that Mom’s okay. Even so, I can’t help but think Steven is up to no good. Especially if he’s holding Mom against her will. And isn’t that considered kidnapping? And that really seems to be the only explanation. Otherwise she would’ve called me. I know she would’ve called. No way would she be gone for twenty-four hours without checking on me, without letting me know what’s up. Something is wrong. Very, very wrong. For Ebony’s sake, I try to appear brave. But inside I’m having a meltdown. Mom is in danger—I just know it! I feel it deep within me. But besides praying and waiting, what can I do?

E
bony cruises around town, occasionally taking a radio call, occasionally talking on her cell. But so far no one has uncovered a thing. Not even Steven’s car, which makes me feel slightly hopeful. Is it possible they’re not together after all? But then if they’re not together, where is Mom? Why hasn’t she called? We even stop by the house just to see if it looks like she’s been home. But everything is exactly the same, and there are no messages from Mom on the landline.

“Anything here that you need?” Ebony asks as we head for the front door.

I look around at what seems a strangely empty house. I mean, all the furniture and things are still here, and it looks pretty much the same as always. But it feels like the people have all abandoned it. Or maybe they’ve simply abandoned me.

“No,” I tell Ebony “Nothing here that I need.” But what I don’t admit is that I need my mom. I need my brother. I need my family There’s a deep ache inside me now, a frightening feeling that nothing is ever going to be right again, like it’s all spinning out of control. And I can barely hold back the tears.

“It seems futile to keep driving around,” Ebony says as we get back in her car. “Maybe we should take a break…wait for someone to call.”

I nod. “Yeah…probably so.”

So she drives us back to her condo, and without speaking much, we go off to our separate spaces. She goes to her room, and I go to the guest room, where I lie down on the bed and just cry. And when I’m done crying, I pray.

Dear God
, I plead,
please keep Mom safe. Please get her safely home. And although I’m not trying to make a deal with You, I promise to be a much better daughter from now on. I promise that when Mom gets back, I will love her just as she is, God. I’m so sorry I tried to make her into something that she’s not ready to become yet. I know Your timing is perfect, God. I trust You to work things out with Mom. And I promise to simply love her. Help me to love her the way You do, God—unconditionally. Amen.
And then I drift into a restless sleep.

The sun makes the car hot…and me sleepy. I am so groggy…as if I’ve been drugged. I just need some rest. My eyes feel as if someone taped lead weights to them…I can no longer keep them open. But I try to focus on the faded yellow lines going down the center of the road. I try to aim the car to the right of them. I have no idea how fast I’m driving. I don’t think I care anymore. What difference does it make?

I’ve lost track of the mileage numbers. I can’t even remember the last sign I saw. Was it Albuquerque? And how long ago was that? I tried to maintain my bearings earlier on, hoping for
an opportunity to escape this madman. At one point I actually had it all planned out. Now I’m so tired I can’t even remember what the plan was…or why I’m here.

I glance over to the passenger seat now, hoping against hope that maybe he’s fallen asleep, that maybe I can pull over and grab my purse from the backseat and jump out and run. But he’s wide awake. Studying the map. The gun still in his hand. I glance out at the terrain now. Where would I run to anyway? It’s so barren, with nothing but rocks and sagebrush and hills and brown dust. No place to hide.

I notice a sign ahead, and I slow down as I try to focus my eyes to read the words. Like so many of the other signs, it seems to be in Spanish.
Las Cruces 28 miles.
I wonder what that means. Is it a town? Are we in Mexico? And then I no longer care.

“Pull over!” Steven says suddenly.

“What?” I turn and look at him. There’s nothing out here.”

He sort of laughs as he tosses the map to the floor of my car, but then he turns serious as he waves the handgun close to my face. “That’s the point, Beth. Pull over.”

So I pull over to the side of the road, but I don’t turn off the car. I just sit there and ponder my fate. With startling clarity, almost as if someone just threw a bucket of cold water over my head, I know exactly what he’s going to do next. First, he’ll make me get out of the car. Then he’ll tell me to walk a ways out, maybe a hundred feet or more, but far enough from the road that a passerby won’t spot me.

Not that there are any other cars on this desolate stretch of road. I can’t even remember when I last saw a car. Finally, after I’m far enough out, he’ll shoot me, probably in the back…maybe
the head. And I will fall into the sun-baked dust, and he will leave me there for the vultures and coyotes to pick my bones clean. Perhaps I deserve this sort of ending. Perhaps it’s my own fault for being so unbelievably stupid. But what about my children? My kids. Samantha…Zachery…I am so sorry. So, so sorry …

I sit up and gasp for breath, disoriented and confused, and look around to see where I am. But instead of the scorched desert highway, I find myself in a cool, comfortable room with soothing ocean colors. I realize I am safe in Ebony’s guest room. But the dream I had was painfully real—and frightening. I leap out of bed and run down the hallway. “I know where Mom is!” I scream. “Ebony! Ebony! I had a dream!”

Tears are streaming down my cheeks when she finds me in the living room. I’m just standing in the center of the room, having what feels like a complete meltdown. I’m shaking and crying, and it feels like I’m going to be sick to my stomach or maybe pass out.

“Sit down,” Ebony commands me, leading me to the couch where she eases me down. “Put your head between your knees, Sam. Take some slow, deep breaths.” She gently pats my back. “Now just try to relax. Breathe deeply, and when you’re ready, you can tell me about your dream.”

I do as she says, praying as I take shallow breaths at first and finally deeper ones. I’m surprised to find that I’m not praying in my head, like I often do, but I’m praying out loud. And then I realize that Ebony is praying too. We both pray for Mom,
and eventually I feel calm enough to describe my dream. Ebony’s ready with a tablet and pen, taking careful notes as I try to remember every single detail.

“Is Albuquerque in Arizona?” I ask when I think I’m about finished.

“New Mexico.”

“And the sign—
Las Cruces.
What is that?”

“A town by the Mexican border. Las Cruces means the crosses.”

“Oh…” I nod, trying to absorb this.

“I’m calling the FBI.” Ebony is already dialing the numbers. I try to listen to her, but my mind is still racing, still trying to determine if I missed some small but important detail. Is there more to my dream than I can consciously recall?

I can hear her relaying the information I just gave her. “No, I don’t know which highway it is,” she says for the second time, as if trying to make herself clear. She glances at her notes again. “But as I said, there is a sign that says ‘Las Cruces 28 miles.’” She pauses. “No, I don’t know which direction that would be.” She tosses a questioning look at me, and I try to remember.

“The sun was shining in through the passenger’s side window,” I say quickly.

Her brow creases as she considers this. “South,” she states. “We think Las Cruces was twenty-eight miles
south
of the site that we want checked. And keep in mind, we’re talking about a very desolate road. Not a major highway. There wouldn’t be much traffic.” She pauses again. “Yes, definitely. Yes, we’ll be right here.” Then she hangs up.

“Are they looking for her now?” I ask desperately.

“The FBI is on top of it. Sounds like they’ll be sending out state troopers immediately. Naturally they’re not sure which road it is, and the dispatcher said it might be helpful if they can call back to ask you for more details. Are you comfortable with that, Samantha?”

“Of course.” I rack my brain to remember more. There were yellow lines in the center of the highway, pretty faded. And I think there were some potholes, like it wasn’t a well-maintained road.”

Ebony is furiously writing this down. “This is good, Samantha. It’ll be helpful. Keep going if you can.”

“The low hills were to the right of the road. It seemed more flat on the left side.”

“That sounds like the hills were to the west then, if the car was going south like we’re assuming.”

“Yes, based on the sun’s direction, that would be right. But that’s only if I was in the same time zone…you know in the dream. Like real time. But suppose what I saw happened hours ago? What if it was morning and the sun was on the east side? They’d be going north.”

“Considering how far away Las Cruces is and how long they must’ve been driving, it seems unlikely they’d have been there in the morning. And even if that was somehow the case, why would they be driving north if Greg is trying to get away?”

“Mom seemed exhausted. I think she’d done all the driving.”

“Poor Beth.” Ebony shook her head. “For now, let’s assume that your dream was in real time.”

I nod. “It did seem more like afternoon than morning. Something about the light… or the heat…I’m not even sure.”

“How about the road when you—I mean, your mom — pulled over? How did it look right there?”

“There was hardly any shoulder on the road, just dirt, and it sort of dropped down, like a foot or so. The car couldn’t get completely off the highway, but there wasn’t traffic, so it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“How about the gun, Samantha? Do you remember what it looked like?”

“Not very big and dark colored. It almost seemed like a toy gun, but I suspect it was real.”

“I’ll show you some photos,” she says. “Maybe you can pick it out. It will be important to identify the weapon.” She stands and goes to her bookcase.

“You mean if Mom’s been shot?”

She turns and looks at me with concerned eyes. “To identify Greg, or Steven. He got that gun somewhere. It will be part of his trail.” She returns with a gun book, and after a few minutes I find one that seems similar.

“That’s a Glock,” she says with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not positive, but it looks like it.”

“That’s a serious gun.”

“What gun isn’t serious?”

“Good point. How about Greg—or Steven? What was he wearing? Do you recall?”

I struggle to remember. “Dark pants, like they were probably suit pants. Not black, but maybe charcoal gray And a light blue shirt that was partially buttoned and not tucked in. Kind of sloppy looking, but it seemed like a dress shirt, like he’d been dressed for a business meeting.”

She’s writing this down. “And your mom…Do you recall what she had on?”

I try to remember. “Blue jeans…but I’m not sure which top. Although I think it had short sleeves…because her forearms were bare. And I could see her watch—the silver one that’s like a bracelet.”

“Did you see what time it was?”

I close my eyes and strain my brain to remember. I definitely recall seeing the watch’s face, but where were the hands pointing? “On the right side of the dial,” I say suddenly. I look up at the clock in Ebony’s kitchen. “Like two fifteen…or three fifteen.”

“And it’s nearly five now,” Ebony says. “And even though they’re an hour ahead, let’s assume it was before four our time when they stopped.”

“Do you think she’s okay?”

Just then the phone rings, and Ebony answers and immediately tells whoever is on the other end the new information I just gave her. I’m relieved I don’t have to talk to anyone else just yet. I bow my head and pray some more. I try not to remember the chill of my mother’s fear…or her prediction of what Steven was about to do.

When Ebony hangs up, I ask if they’ve found the road.

“Not yet. Apparently there are a number of roads in that area. They’re trying to narrow it down and will soon have a helicopter out looking.”