Around the corner were angled parking places, all empty. When she turned down the alley, a parking alcove immediately came into view. Room for three vehicles but only one in it, a big silver Cadillac with oversize chrome wheels. He had probably been parked back here, and that meant he must have had some deal going with this shop. Another time, this could be a good place to find him.
* * *
ANGEL THREADED HER WAY through crowded sidewalks along Main, back toward the plaza. Families laughed and teased each other beside parked cars. Women teamed up with children and girlfriends, shopping from store to store. Busy, happy, they hardly gave her a second look. Angel shared their mood. She was pleased with herself. She’d been right! Scotty was here.
Her fears returned as she neared the Imperial Club and began wondering about the package Scotty had delivered. What was he doing with the pawnshop? Maybe her guess had been wrong. Maybe he was already back in business. Were there other guesses she’d been wrong about? Would he take her right away? She didn’t think so, but it looked like he’d found a woman quicker than she’d estimated. She ignored the doubts. What difference did it make now? She was so close. He was practically in her sights.
Preoccupied, she was unaware that the observer had become the observed. A vehicle had been cruising Main Street, looking for her.
* * *
AS SHE PASSED the Imperial Club from the other side of the street she glimpsed the skateboarder sitting in the shade between parked cars and crossed to him.
“What’s your name?” she asked as he looked up.
“What’s the deal with that guy you gave me his picture?” the kid countered.
“He’s looking for me, so I’m looking for him first.”
The cruising vehicle had no place to park and didn’t want to call attention by double-parking, so it rolled on until it could make a U-turn.
“I got to show you something,” the boy said, pushing to his feet. “Come on.” At the edge of the bar he kicked down a narrow concrete path to the alley behind the buildings and wheeled left, back toward the pawnshop.
Angel had to trot to keep up.
By the time the cruising vehicle returned to the bar, she and the boy were nowhere to be seen.
The skateboarder finally stopped after crossing a street and winding up next to the parking alcove where Angel had been a few minutes before. The fancy Caddy was still sitting there. When Angel reached him, he pointed at the corner of the building just before the alcove.
“What?”
“You see that?” the boy asked.
There was nothing to see. Dirty brick, rough blacktop, a tuft of stunted grass, broken pieces of plastic and bits of metal, empty cigarette box.
Angel didn’t get it.
“Know what that is on the ground?” the boy asked, obviously upset.
Angel shook her head.
The boy used his toe to flip over the largest plastic shard, revealing a tiny dial with tinier numbers. “Nick’s watch.”
His words made her cold.
* * *
THEY TOOK THE ALLEY WEST all the way to the mission parking lot and crossed Main into the plaza. Angel had to use the restroom. Bad. When she’d finished, they sat on the bandstand.
“Tolan,” the boy said. “Weird, huh? Guys call me ‘Kicks.’ I shortened it.” He showed her his arm. “Kix” was inked below his elbow in broad blue-black letters. “So who is this guy? What’d he do to Nick?”
Angel didn’t know what she should say. “He hurt my mom. Really hurt her. I don’t know what he did to Nick.”
“Hell, call the cops. You need to jam. Split.” He looked at her to see how she was taking his advice and seemed to realize she’d already thought of that. He changed the subject. “What’s yours?”
“Angel. Hey, is the mission the only place to spend the night?”
“You can’t stay at my house. My mom’d have a cow.”
“Yeah, so is there any place else?”
He shook his head.
“I wanted to call you,” she said, “but I didn’t have your number.”
He shook his head and looked at her like she was a moron.
“Hit ‘menu,’” he said.
She didn’t understand.
“Where’s your phone?” he asked.
When she dug it out of the tote he showed where the calls were recorded. “Anyone ever calls you, you got their number,” he told her.
“Is this Nick’s number?” she asked him, pointing.
Tolan nodded. “It won’t work,” he said, looking away. “He doesn’t answer.”
After a minute where they each sat with their thoughts, she asked if there was any place she could earn some money.
“Keep selling weed.”
“I don’t have any more.”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
He looked at her. Shook his head. “How old?” he asked again.
Angel didn’t want to say fourteen. Changed the subject. “You keep looking? Call me if you see him?”
“Your guy?” he said. “From a distance.”
“Either him or Nick.”
Kix snorted. “Right.”
“You know Trev?” she asked.
“Yeah. He don’t come in town all that often.”
“Anybody else help me look?”
He bit his lip. “Like I’d give up another friend?”
* * *
ANGEL STAYED IN THE PARK until her phone said 5:00 p.m. and she thought it was time to try the mission again. She didn’t trust Snaggletooth, but maybe the woman wouldn’t be there. Plus, if the suit was a social worker, she might not hang around past five. Angel was hungry and didn’t want to sleep in the bushes again. She decided to sneak to the edge of the mission parking lot, and if she didn’t see either woman, she’d get in line.
But she didn’t find those women. She found another instead. A slender, muscular black-haired woman looking over the parking lot, standing patiently on the sidewalk in front of the mission door.
Rita.
It had been so hard, the whole thing. Angel couldn’t help herself. She ran toward the woman, laughing and crying. Snot-nosed kid.
27
Rita heard her coming, caught her, and swung her around to absorb the momentum. “I’m glad to see you, too.”
Angel was beside herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean … I don’t want—” She couldn’t think of anything to say to make it right.
Rita held her tight. Didn’t speak. Didn’t let go until Angel settled. “I want to hear how it’s going, but not here. Let’s go home.”
Angel allowed herself to be led to Rita’s old Toyota. In the car, Rita turned to face her. “We have to deal with your bag.”
Angel didn’t understand.
“You still carrying?”
Angel looked around to see if anyone was watching. Satisfied, she took the pistol out of the tote.
Rita handed her a paper towel that she’d dampened with something. “Wipe it off, really well.”
When Angel was finished, Rita took the gun and stuck it in the back of her jeans, pulled her shirt over it. “Good thing we don’t have to drive too far.” She scooched around to get a little more comfortable before turning to Angel again. “You still got the dope?”
Angel raised her eyebrows pretending she didn’t know what Rita was talking about.
“Momo told me before he left for home.”
Angel could feel her face coloring. “I didn’t want to get him in trouble.”
Rita kept looking at her.
“No. I gave it to a kid to help me look for Scotty.”
“You keep it in there?” Rita said, pointing to the tote.
Angel nodded.
“Throw it away.”
Angel stared at her.
“The dogs. The drug stops on the way home? The dogs will smell it and we’ll be in trouble. They’ll search the car, find the pistol, probably arrest us both. Don’t reach in it again. J
ust take the whole thing and toss it over there.”
“I have to get my charger.”
Rita frowned, handed Angel the paper towel again. It smelled like solvent. “Wipe it off good and throw everything else in that trash can.”
When Angel got back in the car, Rita handed her another damp paper towel. “Don’t touch anything else until I get you some place to wash up.”
* * *
RITA PULLED INTO THE GAS/CONVENIENCE mart two blocks west. When Angel returned from the restroom, Rita lifted the gas pump nozzle and both of them rubbed the end of it to kill any remaining scent.
Angel looked at Rita like she was crazy.
“You wouldn’t believe those dogs,” Rita said, getting back in the car. When Angel joined her, Rita extracted a thin ham sandwich and an orange from the center console. “This’ll hold you till dinner.”
The first part of the drive, Angel and Rita were nervous about the approaching checkpoint. Said little. Angel asked to see the motel parking lots in Westmorland. Rita nodded. Nothing caught their eye. In a few miles they encountered the line of crawling traffic. Armed men in blue uniforms let Anglos in nice cars pass right through. Rita, Hispanic, in an old Toyota, got a much closer examination.
A man led a dog on a leash all around the car, another man with a mirror on a stick checked the wheel wells and under the bumpers. Rita had to get out and open the trunk. Angel tried to ignore the perspiration tickling her neck, running down her ribs. Let the gun stay tucked.
The inspection probably took only a minute or two but it felt endless. By the time the lawman waved them on, Angel’s hair was wet. They were silent a while more, letting the anxiousness ebb. Rita sighed and began to fill Angel in on the latest news. She said that TJ was on his way to the site of the trailer fire to check Angel’s story; going up there with casts of the tire prints.
Angel told Rita she’d found Scotty. Said it looked like he was doing some business in Brawley at the pawnshop a couple of blocks past the plaza. Told her she hadn’t seen what he was driving yet, or found out where he was staying.
Rita gave her a long look, said, “You’re something, girl.”
Was that a compliment?
When they neared the glittery casino on their left, Angel again asked Rita to make a tour of the parking area. No Scotty. She hadn’t really thought there would be.
Waiting to reenter the divided highway, Rita pulled the gun out. “You know you have to return this,” Rita said, handing Vincente’s pistol to Angel.
The gun was heavier than she remembered.
“You can’t steal from people who treat you right.”
“But then I have no chance,” Angel said. “Scotty’ll take me and do me and I can’t stop him.”
“I’m working on that,” Rita said.
“How?” Angel asked.
“Don’t worry about where Scotty’s staying,” Rita told her.
“Why not?”
“You met Abuela?” Rita glanced at Angel to confirm. “She’s like a curandera. A wise woman. She told me: ‘¿Atrapar a una pantera? Hay que atar a una cabra … en tu hogar, no suya.’”
Angel looked at her. Atrapar sounded like a trap. She thought hogar was home. A pantera? She had no idea. Gave up. “What does that mean?” she asked.
“Basically,” Rita said, “it goes: To catch a panther, tether a goat. But do it at your place, not the panther’s.”
Angel thought about that. Grimaced. “Make Scotty come here?” Shook her head. “That’s crazy. He’s already coming here. He might already be here.”
“We’ll see,” Rita said.
Angel couldn’t believe what she was thinking now … If you’re going to die, might as well die with friends.
* * *
THE LARGE DARK GREEN PICKUP that had been cruising Main Street earlier had left its spot at the corner of the plaza and followed the Toyota at a distance, stopping well back whenever they stopped. The driver watched them go through the motel parking lots in Westmorland, stayed a few cars behind when they went through the drug inspection, watched them check out the trucks in the huge casino blacktop area. Kept an even greater distance when they turned off the highway onto the Salt Shores entrance road, kept them in sight while Rita made the left onto her own street and let Angel out at the blue house on the corner. Watched Angel unlock the door. That was good enough. A U-turn put it back on the highway.
* * *
FIRST THING, Angel went out back to see about the dog. It was long gone. She called its name, walked out front, walked around the house. She whistled and called some more but it had clearly moved on. She knew that was only fair. She just hoped Xena found someone who would treat her well. Did most people treat dogs better than children?
Rita had told her to come for dinner and Angel went the back way, hoping she might spot the dog. No deal. She crept around the side of the house to the front, hoping she might see Momo’s red pickup. No deal. She looked for Vincente’s truck but didn’t see that either. Maybe he wasn’t home yet, so she could slip the gun back without him knowing. Had Rita told him?
There was a dusty maroon crew cab across the street, looked familiar but she couldn’t place it. It didn’t frighten her. Maybe it belonged to another house. Once inside she remembered. Ramón.
He stood as she entered. “Angel,” he said. “You look tired.”
Why was he here? He had protected her, literally given her his shirt. He’d arranged her ride down here … and she’d repaid him by putting Momo in danger. But he didn’t sound angry. Did he come here to help Vincente safeguard Rita? Did he come here for me?
Angel was so very glad to see him but couldn’t think what to say. “Hi” and a smile was all she could muster. “I … I’ll be right back.”
She rushed to the bathroom and got the box of bullets from behind the towels, ran to Rita’s bedroom, pulled the pistol out of her pocket and emptied it. She made herself slow down to stick the bullets back in their round holes in the foam packing of the cartridge box and hurriedly stuck the box in the back of Vincente’s top dresser drawer. She wiped the pistol one more time using the inside of her T-shirt and took the canvas bag down from the closet. Vincente had kept the gun in a thin oily handkerchief and she wrapped the gun in it, stuffed it all in the bag, and set it back on the shelf. She heard a sound behind her and spun around. Rita. In the doorway. Rita turned and left without speaking.
Angel went to the bathroom then and stood holding on to the sink until her heart stopped pounding. She hoped she had done the right thing. She really wasn’t sure. This could cost her life.
When she returned to the living room there was another surprise. Abuela. Angel didn’t know what to do this time either. Abuela looked thinner than Angel remembered. And older. Deeper lines across the forehead and around the mouth. Had sorrow done this?
Angel’s rush of feelings made her dizzy. Could she run before Abuela saw her? Escape the guilt? Had the old woman come to punish her for Matteo? She remembered how Abuela had washed her face after Scotty almost caught her, how she had helped Angel escape at the church. She owed this woman her life. Angel forced herself to keep walking. The closer she got, the more she wanted Abuela to hold her and make everything all right.
The old woman heard her and turned in her direction, nodded. “Bien,” she said.
Angel felt like she could breathe again. She stopped a couple of feet away, unsure what to say or do.
“Okay,” Abuela said, holding up a finger, like “wait a minute.” “Ramón.” She looked toward the kitchen. “Ven aquí y traduzca.”
Angel could get that. Come here and translate.
Abuela extended her hand.
Angel reached for it and allowed herself to be drawn close. Yet she hardly knew this woman. What has happened to me?
28
Vincente arrived in time for dinner the next night, Saturday, and they all spent the evening talking through a plan. Angel convinced them that they probably had a couple more weeks before Sco
tty got serious. He would wait, she told them, until it would look like Angel had run away on her own. They agreed with her reasoning and decided to spring their trap right away. Goad him into action.
They would spend the weekend making the blue house as safe as possible: nailing windows shut, reinforcing doors, drilling peepholes, putting a ladder to the roof crawl space, and bulletproofing part of the attic floor with a heavy metal plate that Ramón had brought.
They would also make a hundred copies of Scotty’s picture and Tuesday morning Ramón would drop them all over Brawley with Angel’s cell phone number on them. They believed Scotty would call Angel, and when he did, she would taunt him, saying she was looking for him, coming after him. That he could run but he couldn’t hide. She’d say she was ready to meet him in the plaza and shoot him. Tuesday afternoon late. After the local families had gone back to their homes.
At dusk, she’d meet him at the bandstand. Angel would be there with Ramón and several of his and Rita’s friends from this area. They’d be ready and waiting. But they were sure that Scotty wouldn’t show. He’d know it was a trap.
What would he do? He’d watch. From some place near. He’d see them challenge him and laugh at him … and finally give up on him and go back to their homes. And he’d follow Angel back … to the blue house. He’d finally see where she was holing up. He wouldn’t know that when Angel came home from the mock showdown, she’d hide in the attic. He wouldn’t realize that Ramón and Vincente had returned to the blue house earlier and set up with their weapons.
Scotty would wait till the middle of the night, till everything was quiet, till the neighborhood was asleep, and then he’d sneak into the house. But at that point, Ramón and Vincente would either disarm him or shoot him. And then call the sheriff. They would have Scotty where they wanted him, on their own territory. And they would take care of him, for good if necessary.
Desert Angel Page 15
