by Brenda Novak
“Okay,” she said, and whipped off to do his bidding. Preston didn’t see her again until she took his credit card at the register.
Happily shoving the receipt into the bag, she handed him his purchases. “Thank you and come again.”
For nearly six hundred dollars, he’d expected a heavier bag—but he knew better than to look inside. Already, he couldn’t get rid of the visions he’d created since walking into this store.
He started to leave, then turned back. “Do you know anything about lip gloss?”
She closed the register and put the pen he’d used to sign the charge slip in a cup. “I go on break in fifteen minutes. If you can wait that long, I’ll walk over to Nordstrom with you and we’ll get whatever you want.” She winked at him. “Maybe even some expensive jewelry.”
Because Emma had lost everything, he could justify buying her a small bottle of perfume. Expensive jewelry was another matter.
“No jewelry,” he said.
The salesgirl arched her eyebrows. “I’ll bet I can get you to buy her a little something.”
He slung the bag over his shoulder. “What makes you think so?”
Her smile widened. “Because you already want to.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WHERE WAS PRESTON?
Emma reorganized Max’s tester kit for probably the tenth time. They’d been ready and waiting for more than an hour. If Preston didn’t hurry, she’d have to order room service for lunch. Max needed to eat again soon.
She checked the parking lot through the window. No sign of the van. But she knew Preston was coming back. He’d left his computer, his cell phone and his duffel bag. Thank goodness. She didn’t feel like facing the same problem she had yesterday, trying to buy a car on trade. Especially with Max getting antsy and complaining.
He was already bored, and they had space to themselves and a television here.
She should buy him some more toys, she decided. She hadn’t thought of that when Preston left this morning. She’d been too busy feeling embarrassed about pirating his toothbrush and too worried about the trouble they were causing him to ask for anything extra. He’d agreed to take them to Iowa, and they were finally on amiable terms. She didn’t want to jeopardize that.
“Mommy, when are we leaving?”
She abandoned the window to sit on the couch again. “Soon.”
“How soon?”
“I don’t know, Max—”
“You’re supposed to call me Beast, remember?”
Briefly, Emma thought how much Manuel would hate his son’s having such a nickname. It was too informal, too…playful for Manuel, who’d insisted Dominick was the perfect name for their son because it couldn’t be shortened into something ending in a “y” sound. Manuel’s world was a very serious place. Everything seemed to hold hidden meaning and have far-reaching consequences.
It was those far-reaching consequences that worried her.
Shuddering at the oppressiveness of the house she’d left when she fled San Diego and Manuel’s control, she reached over and pulled Juanita’s list of names and numbers out of her purse. Since she hadn’t been able to reach Rosa, she’d spent the morning wondering if she should call Manuel on his cell. She felt responsible for whatever had happened to Juanita. She needed to do something to help her.
“Mommy?”
“What?” She kept her eyes on the list. Justin Shepard…Jesus Barraza…Raymond Midon. What do these names mean?
“Look!”
Emma glanced up to see her son flexing his biceps.
“Do you think I have big muscles?” he asked.
Hiding a smile, she waved him closer. “I don’t know. Let me feel.”
He retained his pose as he moved toward her.
“Oh, yes,” she said, gently squeezing his arm. “You definitely have big muscles, especially for a five-year-old.”
“Do you think they’ll be as big as Preston’s someday?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Do you think Preston’s are bigger than Daddy’s?”
Preston was a little taller, had broader shoulders and a slightly more rugged build. Emma had certainly noticed the physical differences, as well as other things, like Preston’s casual acceptance of his looks compared to Manuel’s preoccupation with grooming, lifting weights and buying designer suits. But she refused to be drawn into a discussion of Preston’s attributes when she was trying so hard to ignore them. “Maybe.”
Max dropped his arms. “When are we going to leave?” he asked again.
“Soon,” she repeated.
Fortunately, a show came on television that caught his interest. He pretended to be a bunny and hopped away as Emma continued to worry about her mysterious list. She had to stop putting it off and call Manuel. But first she wanted to try Rosa one more time. Maybe Juanita had returned. Maybe she was fine….
She dialed, but the phone rang and rang, like last night. Then the answering machine picked up.
“Hola. This is Rosa. Leave your name and number and—”
Emma disconnected. “That’s it,” she said. “I have to do it.”
Max glanced back at her. “Do what, Mommy?”
“Come on.”
“We’re leaving without Preston?”
“Just for a few minutes.”
“Where are we going?”
“Down the street.”
“Why?”
“To use the pay phone.”
“Can’t you use that phone?” he asked, pointing.
“No.”
“Why not?”
She didn’t want the hotel number or Preston’s cell-phone number to come up on Manuel’s caller ID. “It’s not the best phone to use for what I need to do.”
Max was so eager to get out of the room he didn’t question her again. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, and darted off ahead of her.
She jotted Preston a quick note, in case he returned in their absence, and took the extra key to their room. At the last minute she saw Preston’s cell phone sitting on the counter charging, and slipped it into her purse. Maybe he wouldn’t be pleased about waiting for them should he get back before they did, but he wouldn’t want to head to Iowa without his phone. Emma knew it was small insurance. But she felt better having it with her than leaving it behind.
The midday sun was warm but not uncomfortable as she and Max hurried down the street. She could smell the petunias planted in the flower beds, hear the click of heels on the sidewalk all around her. She liked Salt Lake City. It was clean and well maintained, and the mountains rose majestically around her.
Max chased pigeons as they walked, squealing in excitement when he nearly caught one. Emma smiled at his fun, wishing they could have a few days that were free and slow and all their own. Especially when she spotted the phone booth that was her destination. In the next few minutes, she had to confront Manuel. She’d once wanted to marry him. But her fear of him had grown from a few misgivings after Max was born into something large and dark and often suffocating.
Now she could almost feel his hands reaching out from some alley to latch on to her neck, could see the thick-lidded expression that told her it was time to go into the bedroom, where he’d do things he knew she hated just to make her feel powerless.
A cold shiver ran down her spine. She turned, her worried eyes passing over a medley of people.
They were all strangers.
He wasn’t here, of course. How could he be?
Still, when Max called out, pointing to another pigeon, Emma couldn’t help telling him to lower his voice as they hurried on.
Graffiti covered the phone booth that sat outside the gas station and mini-mart. It had definitely seen better days, but there was a sign that read “This pay phone does not accept incoming calls,” which was exactly what she needed.
“Sit right here,” she told Max, placing him on the curb near her feet. “If you don’t move, I’ll buy you a sucker from the mini-mart as part of your lun
ch, okay?”
“Okay!” He plopped down as though he had every intention of obeying, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief. The next few minutes were going to be difficult enough without worrying about Max running into the street or walking off with a stranger.
Gathering her nerve, she called Manuel’s cell. A mechanical voice told her how much to deposit for the long-distance call. She pumped the pay phone full of change, then closed her eyes and listened to her heartbeat while she waited for him to pick up.
“Hello?”
Revulsion made her clench her teeth. She’d grown to hate even the sound of his voice. “Manuel?”
“Vanessa. Thank God.”
She sensed his relief, knew it was authentic. As twisted as he was, he honestly believed he loved her—or needed her.
“I’m glad you called, querida. Are you okay?”
Querida. My beloved. She grimaced. “I’m fine.”
“And my hijito?”
“He’s fine, too.”
“Good.” There was a moment of silence. “Is it over, then? Are you ready to come home?”
She thought of Juanita and Rosa. It was far from over. “No.”
“Vanessa, make this simple and come back to me. You belong with me. You know that.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You’re not thinking. I’ve been good to you, given you everything. How can you be angry with me?”
“How can I be angry with you? Are you serious, Manuel?”
“Of course.”
Emma had meant to avoid personal attacks, but the deep resentments of the past six years rushed to her all at once. “You know how unhappy I’ve been. You’ve abused me and manipulated me and—”
“I’ve bought you a big house and a fancy car. I don’t call that abuse. Maybe you should see a doctor for some antidepressants. This is all in your head.”
The outrage felt like an alien inside her body, clawing to get out. “You make me sick,” she said.
When he paused, she knew the vehemence in her voice had surprised him. But at least he’d stopped pretending he was something he wasn’t. “You think I’m going to let you walk away with my son?” he snarled.
“Thankfully, you don’t have a choice.”
“You filthy whore! When I get my hands on you—”
She closed her eyes. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear any more, do you understand me? Not a word! Just shut up!”
Silence.
“Mommy?” Max said, looking frightened.
Emma blinked, scarcely able to believe she’d exploded. For a moment, it felt good, liberating. But then Manuel laughed softly.
“Querida, your defiance excites me. Hang on to that, will you? When I get you home tonight, we can have some fun with it.”
The thought of his kind of fun made Emma feel faint. “Go to hell.”
His voice dropped even further, and the amusement in it disappeared. “Feeling brave, are we? Amazing what a little false security will do.”
Emma’s confidence slipped, as he’d meant it to, but she quickly pulled herself together. He couldn’t touch her, couldn’t hurt her in front of Max, couldn’t take Max away from her. Not now that she was on her own. She’d gotten out of Ely. As far as he was concerned, she could be anywhere. “It’s not false security, it’s determination,” she said.
“I know you’re with someone, querida.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“Nowhere.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“What I do is none of your business.”
“Have you let him in your pants?”
A picture of Preston flashed before Emma’s eyes—Preston, with his long, streaky-blond hair blowing carelessly across his face as they drove with the windows down, his blue eyes watching her, his lips soft and full, surrounded by a perpetual five-o’clock shadow. “Quit being crude.”
“I’ll kill him, mi amor. You know I will.”
She remembered the craving she’d felt for Preston’s touch last night, a completely foreign emotion after being with Manuel for so long, and refused to believe he was in any kind of danger.
I’ll be with him for only two more days, just until we reach Iowa. Then we’ll part and never see each other again. Manuel will never find us. He’ll never know who helped me.
She held the phone against her shoulder and wiped her sweaty palms on her khaki shorts. “Stop trying to frighten me, Manuel. I have something to say you’re going to want to hear.”
“What is it?”
“I have proof.”
Silence.
“Mommy?” Max tapped her leg. “When will you be done? I want my sucker.”
Emma shook her head and gestured him back to his seat on the curb. The worst was still to come.
“You have proof?” Manuel finally repeated. “What are you talking about?”
A lump of fear sat heavy in her stomach. “I have information that can destroy you, your business, maybe even your family.”
Another stretch of silence, then, “You’re threatening me?”
She was shaking now. She felt like she’d just rattled the chain of a very big dog that was certain to come after her—a dog she’d never be able to outrun.
“Tell me what you’ve done with Juanita,” she said.
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to tear your two-timing heart out with my bare hands, you stupid bitch!”
“You’ll never touch me again. Ever. Do you hear? I’ll send what I’ve got to the DEA if Juanita isn’t home, safe and sound, within twenty-four hours.”
“You don’t want to start this battle with me,” he warned. “You’ll be sorry. You won’t win.”
“This time maybe I will,” she said, and hung up.
VANESSA HAD CALLED him from a pay phone that didn’t accept incoming calls.
Manuel threw his cell phone across the car seat and heard it bang against the opposite door. “That damn bitch. I’ll kill her!”
Why was she doing this? Who did she think she was? And, even more worrisome, what the hell did she have that she could send to the DEA?
He exited the freeway, following the directions he’d received earlier from the Hilton’s concierge. As he drove, he considered the possibilities. He’d always been careful about the calls he accepted at home, was cautious enough to lock his office. He would’ve known if Vanessa had picked the lock and gone snooping. A camera hidden in the bookshelves recorded everything. He’d already had José watch the tape. There was nothing unusual on it.
So where had he gone wrong?
He’d never dreamed this could happen—that was how, he realized. He’d thought Vanessa would never really leave him because of Dominick.
You’re too damn arrogant, his mother always said. It makes you reckless.
His mother was a bitch, too. He hated her and Vanessa, and he hated Juanita, as well. Juanita was to blame for everything. She was the one who’d made it possible for Vanessa to slip away. Juanita and Vanessa’s new boyfriend.
He’d crush this man, he promised himself. He’d make Vanessa so sorry, she’d beg him to let her have a life half as good as the one she’d known before.
Picturing her naked body writhing on the bed beneath him, crying out in pain and degradation, made him drive even faster. He’d reached Salt Lake in an hour and twenty-eight minutes, but it was already after noon, and she’d called him from somewhere besides the hotel, which meant she might have checked out.
If she hadn’t, he’d need a way to get her room number.
After stopping at a flower shop, he whipped into the Hilton’s parking lot, grabbed the bouquet he’d bought and jogged into the lobby. Even if Vanessa was already gone, maybe he could glean some clue about where she might be going. He had to find her. The idea that she’d been secretly laughing at him all along, that she’d somehow achieved the upper hand when he thought he had control made him livid.
He he
aded straight to the front desk. A woman with long black hair gave him a smile that brightened when her eyes moved to the flowers. “Hello, sir, how can I help you?”
Manuel set the vase on the counter. “Today is my sister’s birthday. I was hoping to surprise her with these.”
“She’s a guest here?”
“Yes.”
She turned to a computer. “What’s her name?”
“Vanessa Beacon.” It was a long shot, but he had to try it.
“I’m sorry, there’s no one registered by that name.”
He recalled the name Hector told him Vanessa had used at the motel in Ely. “What about Emma Wright?”
The woman’s eyebrows went up, but when he didn’t explain, she checked her computer and shook her head. “There’s no Emma Wright, either.”
“Maybe the room’s registered in her husband’s name.” It galled him to say it, but at this point, he was ready to say anything.
She looked at him expectantly. “And his name is…”
“Let me see….” Manuel snapped his fingers as though struggling to remember. “It’s on the tip of my tongue. I just…can’t…grasp it. I’ve never actually met him,” he confided, “but they’re traveling with my nephew, a blond boy about five years old. Maybe you’ve seen them?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” she said.
Manuel kept his face as pleasant as possible. “Do you know any way I can find her?”
“Not without a name.”
“Right. Well…maybe I’ll wait here for a bit and hope they come through the lobby.”
“That would probably be best,” she said. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
So was Manuel. Taking the flowers, he moved into the lobby, searching the face of each person who passed through. But after about ten minutes, he decided he was wasting his time. The lobby was nearly empty. Like most of the Hilton’s patrons, Vanessa had probably checked out. Maybe she was leaving Salt Lake right now while he was standing here holding a stupid bouquet of flowers—
The bell of the elevator drew his attention and he turned just in time to see a man waiting there—a man with a face he recognized.
