Visions of Evil

by J. E. Neiman

  Dan closed his laptop after an hour in flight. "So what exciting thing are you reading?"

  She felt relieved to talk to him about the case not only as a friend, but as a fellow FBI agent. "Pauly St. Claire. And symptoms of Down's syndrome."

  "I know you helped locate the little guy. I can't imagine what his parents are going through."

  "They're devastated." Allie saw Dan's lips move but she could not hear him. Instead, she heard two distinct voices. She tried to focus on Dan to avoid the uninvited conversation. It didn't help.

  "All we do is talk about him. Pauly this, Pauly that. We don't have a normal life anymore. We don't even screw the way we used to. 'We'll wake Pauly.'"

  "Please Dennis. Pauly needs to be involved in different kinds of experiences. The Larimer Square food festival will be a good experience─"

  "Good experience?" Dennis shouted. "To have people stare at him and act embarrassed or horrified. It's as if he has a sign on his forehead, 'Beware, I'm retarded.'"

  Pauly waddled from a swing set nearby. "I want to sing. I want to sing."

  "It's 'swing.' Say swing, Pauly," the mother said impatiently.

  A thin woman in her early forties with long brown hair reached for the boy. Her husband appeared younger. He had short black hair and a narrow moustache. The trio climbed into a white station wagon. Still upset, the boy licked at his tears as they drove off.

  Dan leaned over Allie and gazed out the airplane window. "Hey, look at the snow. Still white on the upper ski runs. Let's hit the slopes this winter." He glanced at Allie's face. Her eyes twitched under closed lids. She muttered words and appeared distressed. He touched her forehead. "Are you okay?"

  Allie opened her eyes. "I'm sorry. I tried to stop it but the voices. . . ."

  Dan rubbed her arm. "A vision?"

  "Yes, it was Pauly's parents. They were arguing." She paused. "You said something about skiing, didn't you? I would love to tag along sometime and watch."

  "That's a deal. But why not join me for some downhill runs?"

  "Remember, I'm from Nebraska. No skiing there." She smiled. "My dad used to say that anyone who could hypnotize people to slide down a mountain on bed slats in the freezing cold, deserved to become millionaires."

  A piercing, nasal voice filled the cabin. "Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the seatbelt signs. We are entering severe turbulence. Please remain in your seats during the remainder of the flight. Thank you for flying Southwest."

  A bolt of lightning streaked outside. A passenger sitting across the aisle who had required two seat belt extensions to cover his expansive belly leaned over to Dan and said, "Yep, they have micro bursts and tornado warnings for the whole front range. I've been listening to pilots radioing back and forth to the tower. The word is─" He stopped to pop a handful of pretzels in his mouth. "Flight may be diver. . ." Bits of food shot out of his mouth. "Sorry about that."

  Sudden turbulence lifted Allie off her seat as far as the belt allowed and slammed her back down. A baggage compartment fell open across from them and personal belongings spewed onto the obese man and the floor. Allie pushed her head back into the headrest and gripped the armrests, white-knuckled.

  Dan pried her fingers loose and held her hand. Allie released a breath of air she had not known she was holding. His touch, reassuring and comforting, helped her breathe normally. Tears rushed into her eyes. She had missed Dan and a truth she had long suspected rang true. We are each other's angels, without even knowing.

  "It's turbulence. Don't worry. We'll soon be standing on firm ground. For now, enjoy the experience," Dan said.

  "Experience?" Allie grabbed a tissue from her tote and dabbed at her eyes. "Did you say experience?"

  Dan looked at her as if she were delirious. "Yes, I did. What's wrong with that?"

  "In the vision, Pauly's mom emphasized the word experience. I'm not sure what it means."

  The captain announced they were on final approach and apologized for the rough ride. "Have a great day in Mexico."

  "Mexico?"

  Dan stared at her. "Why did you say Mexico?"

  "The pilot said it. Didn't he?"

  "No."

  Chapter 41

  Nuevo Laredo-Tamaulipas, Mexico

  After an eight-block walk, Rosie and Jake reached the crowded El Mercado shopping area in Nuevo Laredo. Tourists had gathered to buy from the local merchants and artists. Rosie listened to the festive Mariachi band as street vendors and beggars called out to her. The strong smells of sweet caramel flan and spicy tacos created hunger pangs.

  She found a vacant bench and sat with her tote on her lap. Colorful paper flowers purchased from a barefoot, pregnant and crippled woman brightened the top of Rosie's bag. Jake went to get tacos and was bombarded by a group of children selling Chiclets. He sneered and kicked dirt at them to shoo them away. Rosie motioned to the begging youth and bought four boxes of the gum.

  When Jake returned with tacos in paper wrappers, he scoffed. "What the hell you going to do with all that?"

  "I'll give it to other children to sell when I return in a few days."

  "Parents shouldn't allow begging brats on the streets. The Mexican government should sterilize these people."

  Rosie shook her head. "You have no heart. I will not discuss it with you."

  "Fine, eat this crap and let's go. I've had my fill of this place."

  After the snack, they walked toward the Rio Grande, known as Rio Bravo in Mexico. Maquiladoras, or Mexican-American plants, which were a hub for international trade, dwarfed the border area.

  Jake pointed at the big buildings. "What's that about?"

  "Good jobs for Mexican workers. Cheap pay for American companies. But this area is full of drug dealers and many Americans are kidnapped for ransom. Few are returned alive even when the money is paid. The police can be as corrupt as the criminals."

  They reached the bridge and entered the long line of pedestrians eager to cross the border. Rosie asked for her papers.

  Jake begrudgingly handed them to her after he retrieved both sets from his briefcase. "Be sure and check the date we supposedly entered Mexico. Oh, I forgot you're stupid and can't read English." He grabbed the tourist permit. "Okay, we entered Mexico fifteen days ago. Then we went to Monterrey by bus, which is about one hundred fifty miles from here. Got it?"

  "Yes," she whispered, "do not call attention to us. The cameras you see ahead on the poles record your face on an identification machine. Keep yours turned to the side."

  Jake put his arm around Rosie. She tried to pull away. "Remember bitch," he snarled in her ear. "We're Mr. and Mrs. Nix, a happy American couple returning from our lovely vacation. Act like it."

  The line moved quickly. As they neared the first checkpoint, a chubby Mexican border guard in a blue uniform, reached toward them. "Passports?"

  Jake and Rosie handed the Nixes’ passports.

  "Scot Nix?" The man glared at Jake. "Driver's license?"

  "Here." Jake handed her the card.

  The guard gave Rosie her passport back and motioned her to stay in line. He picked up a silver whistle hanging from his neck and blew a high-pitched tone. Two other border guards appeared within seconds. Rosie leaned forward and whispered to Jake. "El dinero. Slip each a twenty. That's what they want."

  Jake whispered back, "Fuck'em."

  Rosie followed the long line entering into the United States. She kept her face turned toward her 'husband,' playing the part as best she could. Looking back also prevented a straight-on shot by the cameras.

  Jake and the guards had disappeared behind a bridge beam a half-block away. German Shepherds with their handlers weaved through the procession. Rosie knew the dogs were trained to sniff out drugs or large quantities of cash. She prayed the animals would not sense her fear or call attention to Jake's rolls of currency in his briefcase. Rosie found it difficult to breathe. If this attempt to cross the border failed, her sister would surely die at the hands of the kidnappers.r />
  She entered the United States immigration building. Dozens of paths lead to high desks. Each lane separated by chains, hung in loose arcs braced over metal posts. She managed to smile when it was her turn.

  "What were you doing in Mexico, Rosemary Nix?" the agent asked in a crisp official voice.

  "Vacation." Rosie moved her sunglasses to the top of her head. "Had a great time."

  "Did you travel alone?"

  "My husband is with me. He's behind me somewhere." She nodded toward the back of the line. "He forgot to buy his mother a souvenir."

  "Hmmm…." The female border guard looked at Rosie's bright skirt and pink fabric belt. "Great outfit. Did you buy it in El Mercado?"

  "No, I purchased it yesterday at a tiny shop off the beaten path. I don't remember the name."

  "Okay, have a great day." The agent stamped her passport. "Next."

  Rosie nearly ran out of the complex. However, she knew cameras and eyes were on her. She changed her pace to a relaxed stroll and prayed Jake would not catch up. Without looking back, she slipped into a group of laughing tourists.

  * * *

  Piece of cake, Jake thought. When the assholes demanded money, I said, "Si, Senors." The three of us walked away from the line and out of the surveillance cameras views.

  "Mucho dinero, Senors. Por favor, allow me to retrieve a gift for you," I said, pulling a knife from my briefcase and slicing their throats. I pushed their limp bodies together behind a bridge beam and tossed the blade into the river over the wire fence.

  I grabbed my briefcase and walked to the head of the line, pausing only at the water fountain to wash my hands and to take a long, refreshing drink.

  "Passport and papers please."

  Reading the nametag on her badge, Jake said, "Sure, Ms. Tompkins. How are you?" He opened his briefcase and noticed a few stains of blood on his maroon shirt. They resembled water spots.

  "I'm fine, Mr. Nix." The agent smiled as if by habit, shuffling Jake's papers.

  "Me too, trying to catch up with my beautiful wife. Did Mrs. Nix come to your desk? She's wearing a red skirt and God awful sunglasses."

  "Sir, I can't help you on that. Try the supervisor's office behind me."

  "Naw, she's a big girl. I'll find her."

  The agent stamped his passport and Jake swaggered out of the complex to the United States side of the Rio Grande. He peered into the crowd for Rosie. He wanted to stop her from doing something stupid, like phoning the cops.

  Scratching his head, he murmured to himself, "What the hell. The sooner I get out of here the better.” He waved down an approaching taxi. "Hey."

  The vehicle pulled up beside him and Jake jumped in.

  "Where to?" the cabby asked.

  "San Antonio airport."

  "How's your day going?"

  Jake stretched his arms and yawned. "Everything's copacetic. Couldn't be better." Under his breath, he muttered, "I'm one lucky son-of-a-bitch."

  * * *

  Two hours later the taxi driver dropped him in front of the San Antonio airport. He purchased a Southwest Airline's ticket to Denver that would land thirty minutes before Allie's plane arrived. Jake stared at his hands, opening and closing. Soon they would be around her skinny neck.

  He grabbed one of the cell phones he'd stolen in Monterrey and texted. "FYI UR DEAD."

  Chapter 42

  1875-Georgetown, Colorado Territory

  We reached Georgetown, ten days later in a swirling snowstorm. It was Thanksgiving and my sixteenth birthday. Neither seemed important, but I felt much older than sixteen.

  Near the middle of the settlement, we found the McGregor's building that we held the deed. The abandoned clothing store had a small shed in back, which provided protection for our horses.

  We found living quarters upstairs consisting of two tiny bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen. The previous owner had left in a hurry, salt and pepper shakers sat amongst dirty dishes on the dining table. A few food staples in glass containers, stored on shelves, had survived the field mice that scurried around the rooms.

  The store had been ransacked. Only a few items remained on the shelves, including several bolts of material. It was depressing.

  We built a roaring fire in the chest-high wood stove on the main level and bundled up in layers of quilts.

  "Sonny, as soon as we get warm," I said, teeth chattering, "Lets, lets find a doctor." I gazed at Anna who lay limp in front of us, wrapped with blankets.

  Lulu tried to spoon water between her blue lips, but she wouldn't swallow. "She's skin and bones. Hasn't eaten or drank anything for two days. I'm scared."

  Outside, the wind howled against the building causing the walls to creak and shudder. After I wrapped my worn shoes with rags, Sonny and I prepared to leave.

  Lulu wound twine around Sonny's waist and mine, leaving a few feet between us. "This way . . . you won't get separated. Go to every building you see." Tears filled her eyes. "Find help." She handed me a lantern.

  "Let's go, Sonny," I said, pulling the door open. Blinding snow pelted my face.

  We knocked at each Georgetown business door on our side of the street. Wind gusts of blowing snow tossed Sonny and me against buildings and to the ground. At times, we couldn't see anything in front of us due to the blizzard. I was thankful that Lulu had tied us together, but we were still in danger of becoming lost and freezing to death. We needed to find help soon.

  My toes were numb and my hands ached from the cold. "Sonny," I yelled through the howling wind. "Have to go back."

  He didn't hear me. I braced myself against a building to stop him. It was then I saw a faint glow of yellow and blues creeping into the night. I rapped my fist against the window where the light glimmered. No response. I pounded, nearly breaking the glass. A large door opened nearby and strong hands yanked us inside.

  "My God, what are you doing out in this storm?"

  The man who spoke flicked snow from our faces. He pulled us near a hot stove. Neither Sonny nor I could speak.

  Finally, I managed to stutter, "Need . . . help." I pointed to the door we had just come through. Sonny began to sob. I put my arm around his shoulder. "I'm Pearl. This is Sonny."

  The man pushed two stools close to the fire. "Sit down. I'll pour you some hot coffee."

  I glanced around the room. It was divided into three sections, a desk sitting in each. A set of weights and brass scales sat atop one. Piles of documents covered the other two. I saw a loft above, which I presumed to be living quarters. A door at the back was closed. Could this person be trusted? Were we safe?

  When the stranger handed me a cup of the bitter liquid, I noticed his hands covered with thin blue veins, roping beneath the skin. He had an inch-long raised scar on his chin. The firelight illuminated facets of green gems in his dark-brown eyes. In them, I saw a vision of a young child running down a paved city street. A woman called out the name Levi. The love I observed between mother and son released some of my apprehension about this man.

  "I'm Levi Morelli," he said. "Get warm. Then tell me who you are and where you came from."

  After a few sips, I placed my coffee cup on the floor and searched my mind. What should I say? The vision had relaxed my uneasiness. Levi appeared kind and compassionate, having pulled us inside to offer the warmth of the fire. But the truth of who we were and what we had done couldn't be told to anyone. We had killed Mac and had stolen his belongings. Both were crimes punishable by hanging.

  Levi stared at us. Sonny stopped crying and blew his nose on his coat sleeve. Months ago, I would have gagged from this repulsive behavior. Now, it didn't matter.

  "My family holds the deed for McGregor's," I began, gazing into the fire. "Near Fort Wicked, several wagons in our train were ambushed. Some of us escaped." My thoughts went to my mama, grandma and brothers, lined up next to each other. Dead.

  Sonny touched my arm. "Pearl's . . . good," he said.

  "It's okay Sonny." I turned to Levi. "My cousin's still upset." />
  Levi gazed at Sonny and nodded.

  Looking back into the fire, I continued. "We just arrived in Georgetown and my sister's very ill." I stood. "She needs a doctor."

  Levi sighed and smoothed his dark-brown hair with his hands. "He's out of town. What's wrong with your sister?"

  "She's burning with fever. That's all I know."

  He walked back and forth. "Maybe I can help. I had two years of medical school before I came west. I'll get my coat."

  "Thank you." I pulled at Sonny to stand, put a finger to my lips and whispered into his ear. "Don't say a word."

  Chapter 43

  Denver, Colorado

  On final approach, Allie looked out the pocketsize window of the Boeing 737. She loved the way the mid-day sun beamed through thick cumulous clouds, creating patchwork patterns on plowed farm ground. Today's storm had blown away the veil of amber colored smog that had hung over the city and foothills for weeks. Looking to the northwest she saw Long's Peak, the tallest mountain in the Rocky Mountain National Park. It stood clear with its glacial top glistening.

  After a smooth landing, their plane halted abruptly before crossing an active runway. A long procession of commercial aircraft landed one by one in near perfect synchronicity, as their plane waited to cross. To Allie, the buildings in the distance looked like a mirage of gigantic circus tents clustered together. She nudged Dan. "The terminal looks magical."

  Dan followed her gaze then tapped her shoulder. "Allie, I need to talk to you before we reach the gate."

  She had witnessed Dan's serious expression a few times before, the last on the day he moved out of their apartment over a year ago. "Okay," she said. "You're making me nervous."

  Dan reached for her hands and held them tightly. "I didn't teach a training course at the University of Arizona. Nor did I merely happen to be on the same flight with you today."

  Allie eyes widened. "What?"

  "Please don't be angry. The FBI sent me to protect you."

  "That can’t be." She shook her head in disbelief. "If that's true, they would've let me know."