Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo (5 page)

Abbi looked back
at the drawings on her computer. None of the drawings she found caught her
attention but she knew that somehow there was a connection. She had to figure
out what the drawings meant.

Louise came down the
stairs, looking very sleepy and carrying some laundry.

“Abbi, did anyone
tell you your grandmother called late late late last night? She wants you to
call her. The number’s there by the phone.”

“Did you tell her
I’m staying with you?”

“NO! Of course not!”

“Then how’d she
find me? I won’t talk to her. That woman hates me! Besides, Shoe Clerk said to
talk to no one.”

“I’m someone, the
someone you kept awake last night,” Louise said with a smirk. “No, of course I
didn’t tell her you were staying with us, and she doesn’t hate you, Abbi. Call
her.”

“Nope. Not doing
it.”

Abbi closed her
computer and looked on the fridge at the day’s TO-DO LIST.

“I’ll be outside with
yardwork today. It looks like I get to plant flowers. Then I’m going home to
gather the mail and take care of the chickies,” Abbi said in a sing-songy voice
as she tried to hide her preoccupation with these drawings and the visions she
kept getting.

There was a
connection. In the back of her mind, she knew she had to search her mother’s
office but she’d do that by herself rather than drag her friends into it.
First, she needed a plan. A few minutes of gardening and working up a sweat
would help her sort things out and come up with a strategy.

“Yep, yard work.
That’s on my list, too!” Lowell said. “Weezy, have fun with your laundry! Come
on, Abbi. Let’s grab something to eat and then get this work done.”

“Not really
hungry. Maybe some juice,” Abbi said and followed him into the kitchen like an
obedient puppy. Lowell must be nineteen or twenty now, Abbi thought. I can’t
let him know how much I like the changes he’s made or how nice his muscles look
on him or how much I’m looking forward to breakfast right now.

“Orange juice OK?”
Lowell asked as he handed it to her with a smile. “I’m willing to chauffeur you
to get your mail. Save you the walk. It’s gonna be a hot one today.”

“I’ll be fine,
Lowell,” Abbi said. She forced a simple smile rather than a big one. That was
nice of him, she thought. “Besides, I’m thinking about maybe going back home
until my parents get back.” Actually, she had a feeling they wouldn’t get back
without her intervention. Maybe she could confide in Lowell. “There are some
things I need to look into. I think my parents are in serious trouble.”

“Not a good idea
to go alone, or to move back home,” Lowell said. “Better not.”

“Look, if that
woman who says she’s my grandmother already thinks I’m here, maybe I’m better
off at home!”

“I think it’s your
grandmother,” Lowell said as he poured some cereal. “I talked to her.”

Abbi raised her
eyebrows at him and took a drink of juice, not really wanting to talk about it.

“M-my
grandmother’s dead,” she said with a sigh.

“Who told you
that?” Lowell asked, looking straight into her eyes. “For some reason, I think
someone told you wrong.”

His expression
said he knew more but he wasn’t saying. He quickly changed the subject and
offered to help Abbi plant the flowers.

Stop being so
nice
,
Abbi thought.

“I’ll do the
flowers and then maybe, if it’s not too inconvenient, I’ll let you drive me
over. Just drop me off. There are some things I have to do,” she said.

Abbi finished her
juice and cereal and followed Lowell out, again feeling like an adoring puppy.
She tried to dismiss the way she felt when she looked at Lowell. Not only did
he seem really considerate but he was more than pleasant to look at!

Staying here is
not going to work, she told herself. Not in the same house with Lowell.

She picked up
tools from the shed. The flowers were waiting for her at the back door. While the
lawnmower was running, Abbi found herself thinking about the Mayan designs. Maybe
it was a sixth sense, maybe some harkening back to ancient times, but something
seemed to tell her they held a direct connection, but what was it?

 Mindlessly, Abbi planted
small pinks along the front walk of the Pelletier’s home, according to a little
diagram Mrs. Pelletier had drawn for her.

Before long, Mrs.
Pelletier was up, dressed and ready for work. She poked her head out the front
door.

“Looks good, Abbi!
Maybe you can plant them a little farther apart. When they grow, they’ll be all
bunched up if they’re too close. And speaking of close, try to stay close to
the house today. My husband is already at work. Something came up.”

“I need to run
home to take care of the chickens,” Abbi said.

“Maybe Lowell can
do that for you,” Mrs. Pelletier said and poked her head back into the house.
“No need to put yourself out there! Now’s the time to keep a low profile.”

There was that
phrase again. It wasn’t far to Abbi’s house, and she’d always taken care of
things before, so why did that “low profile” thing keep cropping up? The idea made
her cringe. If she went home, she could get some answers from her mother’s
computer.

Mrs. Pelletier
left for work. As she was leaving, she stopped to look again at Abbi’s work.

“That’s going to
look good! I can hardly wait to see it tonight when I get home! And you, young
lady, take care of yourself. I don’t even want you on the computer. Internet
just isn’t safe anymore. Bye now!”

Abbi stood up to
watch Mrs. Pelletier leave and wondered what she knew. Everyone seemed to be
warning her, but the warnings that were most direct and the ones she heeded the
most came from a source that defied scientific explanation—from what she called
her spiritual guide. It was nudging her now to act, to delve into the meanings
of the drawings and their connection to her mother.

Suddenly Abbi
stiffened, jolted out of her thoughts. A car skidded almost to a stop and then
continued very slowly past the house. The face of a girl peered out curiously.
Something about that face! Abbi gathered the rest of the flowers up quickly,
and moved into the back yard. She started looking for a place that needed
flowers and settled for a spot next to the back steps.

While she planted,
she thought, Something’s not right. Determined, she began planting the flowers
quickly and mindlessly so that she could check on things at home.

Louise came out
while the washing machine hummed inside.

“Abbi, those
flowers don’t go there. They go in front,” Louise said. “Look at Mom’s design.”

“They go here now.
I’m going to finish up pretty fast, Louise,” Abbi said. “There are some things
I need to check out at home, on Mom’s computer. Did you notice the car that
just went by?”

“Not really,”
Louise said. “I heard the screech.”

Lowell had noticed
and shut off the mower.

“Who was that,
Abbi?” he yelled.

“I don’t know,”
Abbi said, “but I’m going to find out if I can. I’m going home.”

“I’m not sure you
should go alone,” Louise said. “Not exactly ‘laying low’.”

“Weezy’s right,
Abbi. Think about risk reduction. We should go there together. I’m stopping for
now. You can too. You’re not our slave, and it’s getting hot.”

He bent down to
help. Louise joined in.

“You know what?”
Abbi said. “I really don’t feel like planting flowers right now.”

“So it’s a plan?”
Lowell asked. “We’ll go with you?”

“Good thinking! Let’s
gather this stuff up,” Louise said. “We can do it later when it’s not so hot.”

Abbi hesitated.

“Thanks, but I
don’t really need your help. It might take time. There are some things I want
to check out. See if I can learn something.”

“We’ll talk about
it,” Lowell said.

Abbi didn’t want
to talk. She wanted action.

They quickly
gathered up the tools and took them to the shed. The flowers and mulch could
wait for another time. Lowell put the mower away while Abbi and Louise trudged
back into the house through the back door.

“Really, I’ll be
fine,” Abbi said, wiping away her sweat with a shop towel.

The message
machine was beeping.

While Louise played
the message, Abbi stayed in the mud room and took off her gloves, listening
intently. It sounded like a woman, possibly the woman who identified herself as
Abbi’s grandmother. She said she was coming to see her the next day and hoped
it wouldn’t be too inconvenient but that the “urgency of the matter” meant
acting immediately.

Abbi put the
gardening gloves into Lowell’s hand as he was coming in.

“If that’s my
grandmother, how did she even find me?” she asked. “No one invited her, and I
haven’t seen her since I was a little girl.”

Abbi rushed toward
the caller I.D.

Lowell said, “If
she could find you, who else can?”

“She says it’s
urgent,” Louise looked worried.

“Be cautious. It’s
probably fine but it could be a set-up, Weezy,” Lowell said.

            “What was that number?”
Abbi asked, and punched a button. Then she reached into her pocket and compared
that phone number to the number that Louise had given her. The numbers didn’t
match.

She listened to
the message again. Her grandmother had named her Abeni. The woman who called
sounded very young, maybe using a disguised voice, and mispronounced the name
to make it sound like the Spanish word for grandmother, abuela. No matter what
kind of person her grandmother was, she would not mispronounce the name she had
given Abbi! That meant only one thing.

“That’s no one I
know!” Abbi said.

“Maybe it’s your
other grandmother,” Louise suggested.

“She runs a
restaurant in Colorado, and is very business-like,” Abbi said. “I see her twice
a year and I know it’s not her. By the way, she also knows my name!”

Abbi shook her
head.

“Everything is
recorded,” Lowell said. “I’m calling back.”

Lowell picked up
the phone and placed the call.

A person, probably
a woman who was using a false voice, answered.

“Hello? Abueli?”

“The person you’re
trying to reach is not at this number,” Lowell said to the person on the other
end of the phone.

“Keep talking,
Lowell,” Abbi whispered.

“Are you trying to
reach your grandmother? Hello? Hello? Can I help you find someone? Hello?”

Abbi went to her
computer, got online and tracked the call. The number went to a private
messaging system, probably a cell phone, but no name was listed.

“No use. Whoever
that was hung up,” Lowell said.

Louise said, “At
least it’s been recorded. The FBI will have the voice and GPS tracking info.”

And, Abbi thought,
Lowell had successfully cancelled the visit.
Good job, Lowell!

Next Abbi called
Shoe Clerk, her “guardian agent”, to alert him as promised that someone had
found her. Someone was trying to get to her.

“And this car came
to a screeching halt, right in front of the Pelletiers’ house where I was
planting flowers!” Abbi said excitedly.

Shoe Clerk, her
secret agent, stayed cool.

“Apparently they
know where you are. Lock the house down, turn on the security system, stay
inside, and stay put,” he said. “Nobody can get in without our knowing it. I’ll
get on that call.”

“I’d be a sitting
duck. Bye!” she said.

Abbi thought about
the advice and then looked at both Lowell and Louise.

“I have a plan. You’re
both coming with me.”

Tina looked up to
see a security guard in position with his gun drawn. She wondered if he saw
what she had seen. The nice man who had come to the cantina to rescue her had
approached Miss Shoe’s car in the parking lot. Tina wondered if he was there to
help her get through the border patrol. Suddenly, before he could reach Miss
Shoe, he slumped to the pavement. Tina watched as Miss Shoe left her car and ran
to bend over him. That’s when this guard had pushed Tina down. When she tried again
to see what happened, the guard kept his hand on her head and said, “Stay
down!”

Whether he knew
who she was or not, that guard stayed right by her side. Someone said they
thought there must have been an attempted illegal re-entry. Tina heard more
shots.

Immediately,
someone called out, “A man is down! They kidnapped the woman and they’re
getting away! Alert ICE!”

After several
minutes of being on the floor, border officials seemed anxious to move people
through the line again. The small crowd was told both in English and in Spanish
that they could get up. Tina’s guard helped her pass through with minimal
questioning. No one seemed to connect her to the woman, and she wasn’t telling.
No one asked what she saw of the scene outside. No one questioned her lack of
luggage. And no one seemed to notice how uncontrollably her hands shook.

Amazingly, she
remembered both what to say and what not to say. She gave her new birthdate and
her fabricated reason for traveling. Feeling like a stand-in actress in a
B-movie, she just went through her lines.

            Tina approached a taxi,
gave the man her address and quickly made her lone escape, fighting back tears
for Miss Shoe and the nice man, aware of how much they had helped her and
feeling powerless. She could do nothing, yet, to help them or the girls she
left behind.

           
“This is getting
serious. Let’s get in the car,” Lowell said.

            “I need to grab
something first,” Abbi said, taking steps up to the bedroom two at a time. She
came back with her backpack, still heavy with rappelling gear.

Then Lowell,
Louise and Abbi rushed to the garage that was attached at the kitchen.
Suddenly, a thump on the garage door caught their attention.