When his cell phone woke him at seven thirty the next morning, he was under a blanket, and Maria must have wedged a pillow under his head. Jess stared at the number, cleared his brain, and then recognized it. He sat up and hit the talk button on the phone.
“Cisco. What did you find out?”
His contact had worked his magic and gotten his hands on Tracy James’s credit cards. It showed only one item purchased in the past forty-eight hours.
A one-way ticket for an airplane flight, two nights ago.
The night before Clark James said he had lunch with his daughter.
The ticket was for Puerto Vallarta in Mexico.
TRACY BEFORE
Planning the surprise party proved to be more difficult than Tracy could have ever imagined. The first problem was she had been spending practically every waking moment (and a whole lot of sleeping ones) with Jess since they got together in the near calamity on Palm Canyon Drive. They had gotten used to knowing exactly what the other was doing when they were apart, making it difficult for Tracy to make the necessary calls to pull the thing off. More than once she resorted to sitting in the bathroom, whispering to a caterer or tracking down a high school friend’s address.
The second issue was where to throw the party. She had hoped it would be at one of their two houses, both of which were built for entertaining large groups, but neither Clark James nor Jess’s parents offered up their places. She felt that both families were conspiring to keep the two of them apart—or at least weren’t supportive of the relationship. Clark James wrote it off as just a passing dalliance until Tracy returned to Dartmouth for her senior year. She hadn’t had the nerve to tell him that Jess was going to accompany her. Kate Stark was lovely, but completely dominated by a husband who was a self-absorbed asshole. Tracy knew Walter was constantly trashing her as Hollywood garbage and Jess had already had a few run-ins with his father about seeing her. Tracy was counting the days till summer ended and they could escape the Springs and, specifically, Walter’s toxicity.
She finally settled on a nice Mexican restaurant in downtown Palm Springs. Multicolored decorations and table settings, a mariachi band, a giant ice sculpture in the shape of a margarita glass pouring an endless stream of tequila, and a donkey piñata made for a festive setting to celebrate Jess’s twenty-second birthday. He was completely floored (or at least acted like it) when she escorted him through the door for a supposed quiet celebratory dinner for two and saw fifty partiers screaming “Surprise!” at the top of their lungs.
Tracy was gratified that Jess was so happy to see the high school classmates she had located. His good friend Benji Lutz had been unbelievably helpful providing names and numbers, and she gave him a big hug of thanks after sharing a twirl on the dance floor. Jess spent a good amount of time with the football coaches and his former Desert Chapel teammates, reliving past glories that led to a healthy assault on the piñata by the former Triple A high school champs.
Clark James had agreed to bless them with his presence and spent most of the party holding court in a corner talking about the movies he had made. Sarah tethered herself to the ice sculpture and was completely sloshed by the time the cake arrived. She sang louder than anyone else and was dreadfully off-key, but Tracy was thankful she didn’t make more of a scene. Eight-year-old Harry took turns dancing with Lena and her exquisite teenage daughter, Maria. Kate Stark sat at a table with a couple of her friends that Tracy had invited to make sure Jess’s mother had someone she could talk to during the evening. Tracy kept checking on her, but Kate insisted it was a lovely party; she was having a very nice time and more than once apologized profusely for Walter’s tardiness.
As the evening progressed, it became clear Jess’s father wasn’t just late. He was a purposeful no-show. Tracy got angrier the later it got. Her heart broke every time she saw Jess’s glance toward the door waiting to see if his father would miraculously appear, or when he would look over at his mother’s table to check if Walter had snuck in when he wasn’t looking. Jess was such a fantastic guy and it irritated Tracy to no end that his father couldn’t see or refused to acknowledge it. The fact Jess still sought his father’s approval made her even crazier.
As they lay in bed that night recounting the events of the party, she finally asked if he felt badly his father hadn’t shown up.
“Fuck him,” Jess replied. But he smiled as he said it, kissed her deeply, and thanked her for arranging one of the best nights of his life. He drifted off to sleep quickly afterwards.
Tracy remained wide awake. As the wee hours slipped away, she grew increasingly pissed at Walter Stark.
She decided it was time to confront the prick and put this to rest once and for all.
13
When Maria first suggested she accompany him to Mexico, Jess wouldn’t hear of it. He had no idea what was down there, but was certain it was dangerous; the last thing he needed was Lena Flores’s eternal wrath foisted on him should anything happen to her precious daughter. That argument was immediately dismissed by Maria. She was over twenty-one and able to make her own decisions.
“You’re forgetting that I have to allow you to come with me,” countered Jess.
“And how do you plan on getting there? The police are looking everywhere for your SUV. Especially at the border if they’re convinced you’re on the run.”
It was all over the morning news: radio and television, print to follow. Edward Rice, prominent Palm Springs physician and entrepreneur, discovered by his fiancée, Sarah Stark, found brutally murdered in his home. The police had released a statement that they were looking for Sarah’s brother, Jessie Michael Stark, for questioning related to the crime.
“You’re already harboring a fugitive.”
“So, I’m already screwed. In for an ounce, in for a pound. Besides, I know you’re not running—you’re going there to get answers.”
That was true, thought Jess. Everything that had unfolded in Palm Springs over the past few days seemed to have roots in Mexico. Fifty miles east of Puerto Vallarta, deep in the jungle, lay the tiny town of Santa Alvarado. It was where Lena had been raised in the shadow of the Civatateo. It was where disaster had befallen Clark James’s movie and most likely unleashed an ancient evil.
Now, five years later, that malevolence had found its way to the California desert.
The fact that Tracy James had not reported Jess missing after the attack beside the pool had bothered him since he had escaped his desert burial ground. Her father lying about lunch the previous day was troubling, and Tracy rushing off without telling anyone even more so. Now that Jess knew she had fled directly for Civatateo Ground Zero, he was certain it wasn’t a coincidence. What Tracy might find there, the answers Maria mentioned, filled him with absolute dread.
“It could be extremely dangerous, Maria.”
“I know what I’m getting into. Remember, I’ve known about this a lot longer than you.”
“Still…”
She let out a string of Spanish sentences that caught Jess off guard.
“What the hell was that?”
“Exactly.”
“Excuse me, but I don’t speak Spanish.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he understood—that was the point. “Oh.”
“It’s bad enough being a gringo who’s poking around trying to find a beautiful girl in a village where no one speaks English. Even if they understand you, they won’t let on. They’ll just hassle you. If you don’t handle things right, the Civatateo will be the least of your problems.”
Reluctantly, Jess recognized a valid argument when it was presented. He began to relent. “Why are you doing this, Maria?”
She casually flicked back a few strands of hair, revealing the entirety of her exquisite golden face. “Your family has been good to my mother, Jessie. She would have…”
Maria broke off; her deep dark eyes filled with heartfelt emotion as she corrected herself. “We would have been deported years ago if it weren’t for them. We wou
ldn’t have had a life. I never would have gone to high school, let alone college, if your family hadn’t stood by us.”
She took his hand. “I know you battled with your father when he was alive. But now he’s struggling with something unimaginable and it’s threatening to tear your family—my family—apart. The least I can do is offer to help. So please, please let me take you to Mexico.”
Jess let his hand linger in her soft palm. It was hard to fathom this was the same girl who used to hide behind her mother’s starched uniformed skirts. Jess couldn’t believe Maria had escaped his notice all those years. But here she was all grown up, and he found it next to impossible to deny this alluring woman anything.
“You’ll have to tell your mother.”
Maria let go of his hand and practically yelped. “Are you crazy? She’d kill you! No, Jess. We’re not telling a soul.”
Jess saw something in Maria he hadn’t seen up to this point. Get-the-fuck-out-of-my-way determination.
“We’re going to Mexico,” she said. “And we’re going to send whatever that thing is back to the hell it came from.”
And that, Jess thought, was that.
Maria lowered the garage door and used a key to lock the SUV inside it. Jess was behind the wheel of Maria’s car, a baseball cap low on his forehead. Maria had called in sick to the Oasis and had the next few days off, so no one would notice her dropping out of sight for a while. The first stop was a drugstore where she went inside to pick up a few provisions along with a pair of sunglasses for Jess.
They took off for the interstate and drove in silence for about an hour until they reached I-15. Maria was surprised when Jess started to head north instead of south, but he told her to trust him. He took the first turnoff and pulled onto the frontage road. He parked and asked Maria to give him a few minutes.
He got out of the car and walked over to a barbed wire fence that bordered a cornfield. Jess pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. It rang only once before Harry answered on the other end.
“Where the fuck are you, Jess?” his brother whispered frantically.
Jess could hear commotion in the background. Sounded like the Starks had breakfast guests in police uniforms. “I think you know I can’t answer that.”
“Hold on a second.”
Jess heard Harry make some kind of excuse and open a door as his younger brother obviously stepped outside the house. “The place is crawling with cops.”
“Big surprise.” Jess glanced at the car where Maria was watching him. He held up a couple of fingers to signify he wouldn’t be long, and then turned his attention back to Harry. “I just wanted to call and tell you I didn’t kill Edward Rice.”
“I know that.”
“Really.”
“The guy was a total prick. Probably deserved it. But you don’t have it in you.”
Jess was comforted by Harry’s belief in him. He might not have been so automatically trusting if the shoe had been on the other foot. “I’m sure the cops feel differently.”
“They’re ready to hang you. So is Sarah, but she’ll get over it—soon as the next loser guy comes along.”
Jess realized again he had been gone from home forever. Housekeeper’s daughters had blossomed into ethereal beauties and baby brothers had grown wise beyond their years.
“You’re going to hear a lot of stuff about me the next few days. You’ve probably gotten quite an earful already. Most of it isn’t true. Anything I’ve done since being back has been for you, Mom, and, believe it or not, Sarah. Maybe one day she’ll see that.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Harry chuckled and Jess cracked a smile. But an awkward silence followed and Jess could sense his brother getting more serious, which pained him to no end.
“Am I going to see you again, Jess?”
“Of course you will, Harry.”
“You have to promise me.”
“I do.”
He heard a sigh of relief, and then someone yelling in the background. “They’re looking for me. I gotta go.”
“You can’t let them know I called.”
“I won’t.”
Jess was about to hang up when suddenly words flew out of his mouth he didn’t expect. “Love you, kiddo.”
“Me too.” Then Harry was gone.
Jess clicked off the phone and stared at it for a moment. Then he hurled it into the cornfield and walked back to the car. Maria was shaking her head as he strapped his seat belt.
“What did you do that for?”
“Cops decide to trace the phone, they’ll find it off the I-15 headed north. Might make them think we’re headed to Vegas.”
“Not bad.”
“We can pick up a disposable before we hit the border.” He swung the car around and headed for the southbound ramp.
“So, who were you talking to?” she asked after they had driven a few miles down I-15.
“Does it really matter?”
“Yes. Everything matters. We do this, Jess, no secrets.”
There was no wiggle room in her tone. So, he told her every single bit, including the tender sign-off with Harry.
She smiled. “Maybe you’ll work out this family thing after all.”
Jess didn’t respond. But maybe, just maybe, Maria had gotten to the heart of the whole goddamned thing.
The ride south was pretty much a control for what played on the iPod. Jess was happy to see she had plenty of Springsteen. But after a half dozen tunes, Maria pointed out that there were other artists in the world besides the Boss. Jess feigned mock horror and demanded she back her outrageous claim. He put on the cruise control to settle non-obtrusively into the traffic flow and leaned back to see if Maria could prove her point.
He was impressed by her eclectic taste of pop, hip-hop, and alternative music. But what particularly moved him were the emerging Latino artists she exposed him to—soothing yet vibrant melodies, vocals, and arrangements that felt contemporary but from a culture much older and more storied than a two-centuries-old America.
For a while, Jess forgot about the past few days. Thoughts of fang-bearing fathers, crooked cops, and dishonest dead doctors gave way to the pleasure of being on a road trip with a beautiful girl. Maria told him a little about her studies at San Luis Obispo and he amused her with anecdotes about running a service business in the City of Angels. Mostly they just enjoyed each other’s company. Jess couldn’t help glancing at her in the passenger seat. She appeared perfect without a trace of makeup and wore a blouse and skirt that was considerably distractive. He wished for a simpler time and place with Maria traveling by his side.
It was only when they would pass a highway patrol car or Maria would pop into a convenience store to grab drinks while he hid in the seat that Jess was reminded of the deep shit he was in and how many people were looking for him.
When they were about twenty miles from the border, Maria suggested they pull off the road and make the switch. Jess wasn’t positive the search for him had extended to the border, but they couldn’t take any chances. He found it ironic he was actually sneaking into Mexico when hundreds of thousands had risked their lives trying to do the exact opposite over the past few decades.
At least this time, when he got into the trunk of a car, it was of his own volition.
14
Once again, the wait inside the car trunk had seemed interminable. As maddening as the drive through the midnight desert had been, at least they’d been in constant motion. Fifteen minutes after he crawled inside Maria’s trunk, the car slowed down—and went through fits and starts for over an hour. Jess knew they must have reached the line to cross the border. Even though Maria had kept a steady prattle going from the driver’s seat with updates, the lurches and revving made him feel like he was in eternity’s squeeze box.
The last ten minutes became a countdown—“seven cars… six more… five…”—and he held his breath when at last Maria called out, “one more.” Jess didn’t let it out when she floored the ac
celerator and sped off; he waited at least a half minute for a siren barrage that would come when the border guards realized their mistake. Finally, Maria yelled they were clear and Jess gulped in air like he had been underwater for a month.
She kept the car rolling for a good fifteen miles before pulling off the road. They had planned to drive at least half an hour before letting Jess out, both aware the Border Patrol probably had strategically placed agents waiting to pounce on overconfident traffickers. But Jess couldn’t stand it any longer and was willing to take his chances.
He got in the passenger seat and let Maria keep driving. Jess hadn’t been south of the border in over a decade and Maria was familiar with the landscape; she had been coming to Ensenada with high school friends from the time they were old enough to belly up to the Hussong’s bar. As they rejoined the main road, Jess noticed how different things already looked even though they were only a few miles south of the USA. Abject poverty was prominent. Beggars were on practically every street corner. But the brighter-than-bright colors on the shops and buildings—majestic purples, vivid salmon oranges, blood-red scarlets, and cotton candy pinks—provided quite the contrast. The combination of darkness and hope was Mexico’s lure. Jess could understand the romanticism of going there to lose one’s self.
They headed for the small airport in Ensenada and stashed Maria’s car in an out-of-the-way parking garage. She did the talking as they approached three different charter services to engage a flight to Puerto Vallarta. They had previously agreed not to run up charges on Jess’s credit cards lest they be traced. No one knew Maria was with him and he promised the Starks would make good on paying her back any monies spent.
They settled on a four-seater and the flight almost made Jess yearn for the friendly confines of the car trunk. Maria sat up front with a pilot old enough to have fought alongside Montezuma, and Jess was sure they hit every damned burst of turbulence and wind shear between Ensenada and Puerto Vallarta.
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