Chasing Freedom

by H. L. Wegley

  She tensed.

  But, when he brushed the tears from her cheeks, she collapsed against him. The tears returned, gushing from her deep, guttural sobs. “They're going to kill my family, Jeff. And I don't know what to do.”

  Chapter 3

  Family was all a person had on this planet, and abandoning hers, letting them down, was the worst thing Allie could possibly do. Several hours ago, it’s exactly what she had done. Though what she had faced was a horror worse than dying, it was no excuse.

  Allie would never abandon her family again. The only way she could hope to redeem herself was to save them. But she didn’t know how, and that shattered what was left of her heart.

  Her sobs wouldn't stop. She despised weakness and didn't consider herself a weak woman, but the physical and emotional trauma of the previous forty-eight hours, combined with her betrayal, had been too much for her to handle.

  Right now, Jeff's arms were the only source of comfort she had. Though she refused to dwell on that subject, they were comforting.

  “Allie?” His hand stroked the back of her head. “Can you talk now? Who wants to kill your parents, and where are they?”

  “The men at the marijuana plantation.” She sat up and wiped her cheeks. “They're part of the Sinaloa Cartel.”

  “Cartel? Then we need to go to the police now.”

  “No. The cartel will know it if we do. Then they'll have to kill my family. They're probably scouring this area looking for me.”

  “But you know that, ultimately, contacting law enforcement is the only way to stop them.” He pulled out his cell phone from his shorts pocket.

  Allie grabbed his arm. “You can't do that!” She reached for the phone.

  He deftly moved his hand out of her reach. “Whoa. Relax. I'm not going to call anybody right now.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket and raised both hands. “See? Obviously, I don't understand what's going on. Maybe you should start from beginning and tell me the whole story.”

  She couldn't risk going to the police and hadn't a clue what to do next. Like it or not, she needed this man's help and, as he said, he was willing. He had even complied with her request about the phone call.

  She studied his eyes, his face. He looked curious and concerned. There was much more to Jeff's looks. Her friends at school would be clamoring for a date with this man. But what she wanted from him was a plan to free her parents. That meant telling him enough of the story so he understood the extent of the problems … and the dangers.

  He had faced danger at least once when he saved her. Allie drew a deep breath, then took his hand, squeezed it, and peered into his bright blue eyes. They drew her in, calmed her. The look in his eyes was intense but not harsh. It spoke of strong character. “For whatever reason, Jeff Jacobs, I trust you. I won't smash your cell phone like …”

  He squeezed back. “I believe you meant that. But you've got a lot of emotions running around inside right now. Probably more than I can imagine.” His crooked smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “So the cell stays tucked away in my pocket for safekeeping until we agree on how to use it.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Where to begin? Like I mentioned, I'm a third-year student at Oregon State in their pharmacy program. I thought with a PharmD degree I could work in any city in Northern Mexico and earn enough to help my family out of their situation.”

  “What do you mean by their situation?”

  “When I left for school three years ago, the cartel controlling our area had just begun demanding protection money from the business owners. Each time I went home on break, the problem had grown until the cartel was demanding more than most businessmen could afford. A couple of months ago my father grew desperate. He tried to organize the business owners to protest or to bring in the law.”

  Jeff frowned. “Did your family have to leave after that?”

  “Yes, but I didn't know about it at the time. When the death threats started last month, Dad made plans for them to leave if matters got worse.”

  “I take it they got worse. Where's your family now?”

  “I'm getting there, Jeff.” She glanced down at their hands, still clasped, resting on Jeff's knee. Holding onto something solid in her dangerous, unstable world, helped her maintain what little of her sanity remained.

  “A few days ago, Papa … Dad called and said they had fled Nogales. He had found someone who could obtain work visas for them. It wasn't a permanent solution, but he said it was too dangerous to stay in Nogales. I knew what he meant. The cartel was going to kill him.”

  “I've heard that law enforcement is unreliable in northern Mexico, but could the cartel just—”

  “Yes. They can do anything they want. The police are either on the take or trying to stay alive by not interfering with them. Their leader, El Capitan, is the most feared man in all of Mexico. To some he’s a terrorist. To others he’s a folk hero.”

  Jeff motioned toward his living room window, facing the mountains to the south. “Your family is up in those mountains, isn't it?”

  Allie nodded. “Dad told me they were going to work in Northern California, farm work near Redding. Summer break was starting, so I said I'd meet them, and we set up a rendezvous. I drove down to Redding, but they didn't show. It was dark when I got there and some men grabbed me … I think they drugged me. I woke up at the marijuana plantation in the mountains. Dad, Mom, and my little brother, Benjamin, were there. No visas, just slave labor, growing and harvesting marijuana for, guess who, the Sinaloa Cartel.”

  “Why did they want you, Allie?”

  “Because they overheard Dad's phone call to me and didn't want anyone knowing my family's whereabouts, especially a concerned family member.”

  The terror of those first waking moments among the men at the marijuana grow site brought a shudder. “At first, I thought they might kill me. I heard them arguing about it. One man wanted…” she cleared her throat, “…to keep me and use me.” She stopped and took a drink of water.

  Anger, like a fire, blazed in Jeff's eyes, eyes which were now focused on the window facing the mountains.

  “Another man had a different idea. He suggested they sell me to one of the traffickers who might pay as much as $200,000 for someone like me. Unspoiled goods, he called me.” Her anger pulsed through her like a bolt of lightning and she squeezed Jeff's fingers.

  “Ouch! That's quite a grip you've got.” He blew out a sigh then met her gaze with contempt glaring in his eyes. “I can't imagine what it feels like to be considered subhuman, nothing but merchandise.”

  “I'll tell you how it feels. I wanted to kill them. To take one of their guns and turn it on them.”

  She took another swallow of water and set the glass on the coffee table.

  Jeff wrapped both of his big hands around hers. “How did you get away?”

  “Dad said I should try to escape that night, before they could take me away to sell me. He helped me, and I broke out of their makeshift jail. Dad fought one of the men, and I ran out of the camp while two of the men got on their ATVs to run me down.” Describing how she had abandoned her family brought the searing guilt to her mind and heart.

  Jeff's eyes widened. “So you outran two ATVs?”

  She looked up into his eyes, eyes that transitioned between anger, concern, and something else that she couldn't interpret. “I didn't outrun them; I just ran where they couldn't go. Actually where I hoped they couldn't go—through rocks, dense brush, up steep banks.”

  She paused as the terror of that chase and the periodic hiding during the night brought another shudder to her shoulders. “They eventually abandoned their ATVs and chased me on foot, yelling for me to stop or my whole family would be tortured to death, starting with my little brother.”

  She stopped and brushed away the tears that overflowed her eyes. “Before I escaped, Dad said I should keep running no matter what they threatened, no matter what I heard. So I ran and listened to their threats as they chased me.”

 
; She looked up at Jeff. Could he see the guilt in her eyes? Did he think she was a coward, too?

  There was no condemnation in his eyes. He simply nodded for her to continue.

  “I'm a strong runner. When they realized it wouldn't be easy to catch me, they changed their threats. They said if I went to the police to consider my family dead. Then, eventually, they were too tired to yell anything at all. But they didn't give up. The cartel leaders must have threatened to kill them if they lost me.”

  She looked up into his face and gave him a weak smile. “And then I ran into you and passed out.”

  He cupped her cheek, looked into her eyes, and shook his head. “That you did. If the grow site is where I’m thinking, I'd bet you ran twenty miles. You didn't have another step left in you, Allie. You were falling when I caught you.”

  “I was out by that time.” She shrugged. “Don't even remember you catching me.”

  He removed his hand from her cheek and rubbed his chin. “You know, there were shorter ways out of the mountains. But any one of them would've led you to, at best, a remote farm or ranch. Not to the police and not to a good place to hide.”

  “You mean a place like your home? You said this is your house, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.” Jeff slumped down on the couch. “It became mine two months ago, when Mom died.”

  “I'm so sorry, Jeff.”

  He looked up and gave her a tight-lipped smile. “We knew she was dying, so we were prepared.”

  “We? Is your father around?”

  “No. Dad died ten years ago. 'We' was just Mom and me. But you know something? I don't believe in coincidences.”

  “Call it what you will, I'm just glad I didn't try some other way out of the mountains. I wouldn't have made it, and I wouldn't have found you.”

  What did you mean by that line, girl?

  What did Jeff think? She met his intense gaze, then looked away. When she glanced back at his face, he wore a puzzled frown. Probably trying to attach some significance to her statement. She’d better clarify it before he got the wrong idea. “Jeff … thanks for saving my life.”

  “After what you just told me, I'm not sure I've done that yet. We need a plan that keeps you safe and gives us a good chance to free your family. This would be a good time to pray for some wisdom.”

  “We don't have any time to waste.”

  * * *

  Prayer a waste of time?

  Apparently Allie was an agnostic. When Jeff had a chance, he would probe deeper, find out what she really believed. In the meantime, she had given him another really important reason for keeping this beautiful, young woman alive. Agnosticism was hard to live with, long on doubt and short on hope. He had something much better to offer her.

  His eyes scanned Allie again. The few times she smiled, he'd noticed that she was more than just beautiful. She fit his picture of a Spanish rancheros' daughter, the one all the cowboys fought over, a stereotype he had formed from watching old Western movies. A very nice stereotype.

  “Jeff?”

  “Huh?”

  “Where did you wander off to? We really don't have any time to waste. Were you praying?”

  “No, just thinking.”

  “I like to be kept in the loop. Would you care to think out loud?”

  Not at the moment.

  When Allie slipped her hand from his, he realized he'd been holding it for the past twenty minutes. He realized he'd never sat beside a woman with this kind of beauty, and he realized he needed to get his head back in the game or he wouldn't like how the fourth quarter ended. Jeff prayed silently so it wouldn’t upset Allie. The gist of his prayer—that the game would end with Allie and him ahead and that it wouldn't go into sudden-death overtime.

  Chapter 4

  Allie had seen that look in men's eyes before. Jeff was thinking about her, about how she looked. Maybe she was wrong to place her trust him.

  Like I have a choice.

  She studied his face. Jeff appeared to be back from la la land, or wherever it was that a man's mind went when he gawked at an attractive woman. “Can the police force here protect us from three or four men with AK-47s, men bent on killing us?”

  “The quintessential question. No, Allie, I’m not sure they can even if they call in all their people. This is only a small town with a minimal force.”

  “It will be dark in another forty-five minutes. Can you sneak me out of here in your car and go to a larger town?”

  “Since we both believe they're watching the town. I don't think that would work.”

  “If you hide me, why not?”

  “They would probably recognize me.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  Jeff emptied his lungs with a long sigh, like he was struggling with a decision. Finally, he reached across to his left arm and slid his T-shirt sleeve up to his shoulder.

  She gasped when he uncovered a large bandage on his upper arm. The lower edge of the dressing had been painted dark red. The wound was still oozing a little blood.

  “Your head was cradled in that arm.” He pointed to the wounded limb. “Two inches lower and—”

  “That's enough, Jeff.” Her breathing turned to panting. Allie tried to breathe more slowly, but she couldn’t. Jeff’s wound was raw, real, and bloody, highlighting the reality of the danger and exposing how close Allie had come to death. She wasn't sure about God, but she was sure that she wasn't ready to face death or possibly Him. Allie had far too many unanswered questions and fears … and more guilt than she could possibly atone for.

  Shoving the guilt aside for the moment, one thing had become clear. If the cartel thug would shoot a bullet near her head, saving their marijuana crop was worth a lot more to them than capturing her. They weren't trying to capture her now, just kill her before she could talk.

  “Allie, I turned around to see if I could spot them. That's when one of them fired the burst at us. Fortunately, the guy wasn't a very good shot. He shredded everything in the area but us. But I am sure he got a good look at me.”

  “I'm sorry.” She shook her head. One failure after another. That seemed to be the story of Allie’s life. “I've brought you so much trouble. I should just—”

  “No, you shouldn't. I'm already in this, and we've got a better chance to save ourselves, and your family, by working together.”

  “Whatever we decide to do, we need to hurry and do it. If the cartel thinks they need to leave the plantation, they will probably kill my parents. Benjamin is only eleven. They'll sell him to the traffickers.”

  “Then we should pray for them, for God's protection.”

  “I told you what I think about that.”

  “Why are you so opposed to prayer?”

  “Where I grew up a lot of people went to church. But the reasons they went—it was all superstition, superstition used for centuries to control our people. They were afraid not to go to church. If they didn't perform their duties, it would bring bad luck.”

  “Maybe part of what you observed was true, but I doubt it represents the beliefs of all the people. Is that what you think about me?”

  She looked at Jeff's intense eyes and thought of all he had done since she met him. She wouldn't challenge him on this issue. It didn't apply to Jeff. But how should she classify him? “We don't have time for this. We've got to decide who to go to for help.”

  Jeff's stared at her for a moment then looked away.

  Was that pity in his eyes? She didn't want his pity.

  He stared across the room, out the window toward the mountains. “We've got two problems to solve. First, how to keep you and me safe, and second, how to free your family. Except for some Navy SEALs, there's only one organization I trust to do both.”

  “You must be talking about the FBI.”

  “Yeah. They are the people you call to handle human trafficking and organized crime. But that raises two more problems. How do we contact them, and then how do we convince them to come to O'Brien in the next few ho
urs?”

  She studied Jeff's face. He was deep in thought. “Jeff, where is the nearest FBI office?”

  “Medford, I think. But it's just a small office. Let's get online and see what we can find.” He stood and headed down a hallway.

  Allie followed him into a small study. An easy chair sat by the doorway and a computer desk with an office chair sat by the window at the far side of the room. She scanned the walls on the right and left sides of the room. They were lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. The shelves held books on philosophy, theology, Christian apologetics, and several on the subject of epistemology. One small section held English books, writing books, and several works of Shakespeare.

  She thought Jeff was just a jock. A handsome jock, but it surprised her that he was also a deep thinker. Arguing with this man about his beliefs, or her lack of them, was probably not wise.

  When Jeff sat down in the computer chair at the desk, Allie moved behind him to look over his shoulder.

  He launched his web browser and typed in the search terms “FBI field offices” and pushed the enter key. The first page of links quickly painted on the screen.

  “Look, Jeff. There's a by-state listing of all the field offices.”

  He had already selected that link and pulled up the Portland office, the only field office in Oregon. “Well, like all of the field offices they’ve got a SWAT team. And here's a 24-hour contact number. I hope it's not just a recording.”

  She pointed at the bottom of the screen. “But there's a satellite office in Medford. That’s closer.”

  He hovered over the Medford office information. “It's a link. Let's take a look before we try Portland.”

  She read the screen over his shoulder. “It says it's a resident agency. What's that?”

  “I'm not sure, but it's probably a small office with nobody manning it 24-7. We need a real FBI SWAT team.”

  “But maybe an agent in Medford would carry more weight than us when we ask for a SWAT team from Portland.”

  He swiveled his chair to face her. “Allie, even if we reach someone there, we would have to tell our story to one agent in Medford and then have him tell it to someone else at a different office. Too much time and too much room for miscommunication. I say we plead our case with Portland right now.”