When I Knew You

by Desireé Prosapio

  I looked at Mom, and she smiled. Some parts of this would never be over, but at least now we were safe. "So it's over, right?"

  Robert sighed. "Yes. It's over. Except for one thing." He slowly pulled out a third piece of paper and put it in front of me. His face looked pained. "You'll need to turn yourself in."

  "What?" Mom rose to her feet, her face turning red.

  I pulled the paper closer, reading my name near the top, right under the word Warrant. "It's about Eliah, isn't it?"

  Robert grimaced. "You need to come in for questioning about the car bomb. Fortunately, Willie here has an eyewitness who saw one of Trent's men working on the truck. But you didn't stick around after the explosion, and the local law enforcement frowns on that kind of thing. Not to mention Homeland Security."

  "Homeland Security?" Willie said incredulously. "That's a little overkill, isn't it?"

  Robert shook his head. "My dear, that was a bomb. You're lucky you don't have the FBI here."

  "This is ridiculous," Mom glared at Robert. "You have to do something about this. Kati can't go to jail."

  "Look, your friend Gustav is already working on it. He hired some big shot defense attorney, Terrance Jimenez, who swears he'll have you out in a couple of hours." He patted Mom's hand. "It will be fine. Kati will be out in no time."

  Chapter 29

  The Bonita political machine might have been wounded, but even in its death throes it managed to keep me in the El Paso County jail long past a few hours. When the officer came to let me out two days later, I didn't much care how or why; I was being let out, I was just grateful that it was over.

  Freedom is like that. It blinds you, makes your stupid and slow on the uptake.

  "Aren't you are a lucky one, getting out of here early," said the guy who handed me back the items I'd had in my pockets when they booked me—a cell phone, my wallet, and the tape Antonia had made for me.

  "I'm not sure I'd call it luck. More like lawyering." I tried to power up the cell phone, but it was dead. I shoved it, along with the rest, into my pockets.

  "Yeah, I heard you had Jimenez. I saw him earlier," the guy looked around. "Probably went out to get the car for ya."

  The light outside was bright, bleaching the sky and the sidewalks by the jail. A man stood near the door and called to me. "Are you Katarina Perez?"

  He was dressed in an expensive suit, his tie loosened and his dark hair was clearly a dye job. He was an older man, with a tightly trimmed beard and dark sunglasses.

  "Nice to meet you, at last," he said, his smile reassuring. "I'm Terrance Jimenez. I worked on your release. Let's go, everyone is waiting for you."

  I knew Jimenez was working on my case, but I stood there for a moment, hesitating. "Where is Gustav?"

  He turned away and I heard the truck behind him beep softly and the lights flash, acknowledging that it was open. "Gustav is at the courthouse, filing the final paperwork personally," he said over his shoulder. "When I was contacted that we had secured your release, I came to make sure there were no further efforts to keep you from your rightful freedom." He glanced at me and gave me a slight smile. "I find that taking care of things like this oneself is much more effective." He opened his door and climbed in." Come, Ms. Perez. We shouldn't keep them waiting."

  I went around the truck and stepped in the passenger side. It was a large ranch truck— high profile and pure luxury on the inside. Satellite radio, backup camera, soft leather seats, climate controls, the whole nine yards. I clicked on my seat belt, elated to be going home.

  Jimenez snapped in a small black device into the seatbelt buckle, effectively shutting off the ringing of the seatbelt alarm. I'd seen the old ranchers use those on the ranch back at the ropes course where I worked, a way to avoid buckling up over and over when they were feeding cattle and jumping in and out of the truck dozens of times.

  We pulled out of the parking lot and hit I-10, heading toward the house. I looked out the window, not in the mood to talk. Last time I'd seen Gustav as I was being booked, he swore I'd only be in the jail for the afternoon, maybe overnight, tops, but I honestly expected to be out in hours given all the evidence. The sound of the jail doors slamming shut that first night had unnerved me to the core. He called the second day, swearing that Jimenez, the lawyer he'd hired, was hard at work and that he was certain everything would be handled that day. The second night I was starting to panic, wondering what was going on in the outside world, terrified that this was going to be my new life, always hoping that release was going to happen the next day. Now that I was out, all I wanted to do was camp out under the stars, with only a sleeping bag between me and the desert air.

  Lost in thought, I didn't register at first that we were exiting the freeway early.

  "You're going the wrong way," I said, turning to the Jimenez.

  His freckled hands on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening and for the first time I noticed the age spots, the arthritic swelling around the joints. He was much older than I'd thought at first, his skin sagged on his neck, there was a line of red ringed his neck like someone who worked outside, not in the fluorescent glow of a law office. A glint of silver on the keys in the ignition caught my eye and I saw a silver B with a curve beneath it. The Rocking B brand.

  I turned back to the window, feeling felt light-headed. In my mind, I erased the tight beard and mustache, comparing it to the grainy photo I had of Javier Bonita. In the video where the body was discovered, he wore a classic straw stetson shading his eyes, but his grim expression was clear, the line of his nose sharp, his lips thin as a razor.

  But of course, this wasn't Javier. He had never been Javier. He was Caleb. Caleb Mayhan from Texarkana, the man who had disappeared after the Moonlight Murders. The man who had taken Javier's place, his inheritance, and probably his life.

  I tapped the door's armrest, focused on calming my breathing, swallowing the panic that clawed at my throat. "If you take a left up ahead we can go the back way. There's a ton of lights, but it's not too bad."

  He kept looking straight ahead. "They decided to have a little get together to celebrate your release. The restaurant is right down here."

  We turned down a side street and zig-zagged through a neighborhood. The streets were empty, it was the middle of the day and everyone was at work or school. He kept checking his rearview mirror.

  Images flashed in my mind: the flames shooting out of my apartment, the rolling bottles of water crashing in the intersection, the blanket lying flat where Pilar's leg should be, the scar on Antonia's forehead. I was done playing dumb, done with all the games, done with the Bonitas destroying everyone I loved for their twisted ambitions.

  "They will look for me, you know," I said evenly.

  "I imagine they will," he said. His voice was sharper, irritated.

  "And then they will look for you, Caleb."

  He was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening. "I haven't heard that name in a very long time." He glanced over at me. "And I imagine you didn't keep that little thing to yourself, did you."

  "Didn't see much point."

  "Doesn't matter. They can't get to me," he replied, then turned down another street. "Never have been able to get to me." He pulled onto Montana Street, usually a busy four-lane road, but at this hour it was nearly empty. He checked the rearview mirror, then smiled. "You see, I have a gift. I can hide in plain sight. And now I have a flipping army of lawyers. They love this shit."

  We were picking up speed now, heading east toward the desert. There were hundreds of roads out in the desert, hundreds of places to dump a body where the coyotes would rip it to shreds. Right now my fear was still under control, I could think, but just barely. It was now or never.

  "He trusted you, didn't he?" I asked, watching the speedometer. My timing had to be perfect. I only had one shot at this. We were going over 50 now, five miles over the limit. Fast enough.

  "Happy little Javier?" He scoffed. "Nah. He didn't trust me. He just didn't watch
out for me. I guess you could say he underestimated me." The speedometer read over 65.

  "That's funny," I said. "My Mom and I, we both know that feeling." I lunged for the steering wheel, pulling it hard, straight down and the truck turned sharply.

  The truck was tall, and the sudden turn at that speed did exactly what I thought it would. It swerved wildly, as Caleb struggled to wrest control back from me. It wasn't hard;, he was stronger than me. Which was perfect.

  I quickly let go of the wheel, letting him do what I knew he would. He jerked the wheel back.

  "Damn it!" he screamed, as his over correcting sent us into a spin.

  The momentum was too much for the top heavy truck. Everything slowed down as if we were tumbling through a thick amber, and with every blink the scene skipped forward.

  I glimpsed a silvery flash of the Rocking B, felt my seatbelt tighten like a climber's harness during a fall. Outside I could see the world change from blue sky to asphalt again and again.

  Without his seat belt to hold him in place, Caleb was tossed around like a bag of climbing gear. In one moment, I saw his startled face, contorted as glass sprayed into the cab all over us. The truck's airbags managed to keep him in the truck for at least one of the flips. As the massive vehicle flipped over again, they must have deflated, because suddenly he was gone.

  When the truck came to a sliding stop on the road and I looked around in a daze. I was cramped in my seat, the roof was caved in and I was hanging upside down from my seatbelt.

  I fumbled with the seatbelt, trying to unbuckle myself, but the latch held me fast as if it was too shook up to let go of its grip. I tried to slow my breathing, reminded myself that cars don't blow up, not usually, then closed my eyes.

  I heard screaming in the distance, along with the quiet ticking of the engine cooling and the clinking sound of broken glass still falling all around me. When I opened my eyes I saw the locket, Estella's locket, dangled in front of my face, swinging slowly. I reached over my head to hold it in my closed fist, holding it like I would hold the kiss from my mother when I was a child, her gentle kiss in the palm of my hand. I hung there for what felt like an eternity, feeling the pain start to radiate as the adrenaline tapered off. The sound of sirens filled the air, and I knew someone would come soon and cut me free.

  Chapter 30

  Pilar was testing the foothold of her prosthetic leg in the crevice to the rock face, about 20 feet up. We were at Reimer's Ranch, a climber's paradise outside of Austin.

  "Are you sure that leg isn't going to break?" I called from the ground. I had the rope around my back, belaying Pilar as she reached for the next hold.

  "It better not. Didn't she say it cost a fortune?" Antonia took a picture with her phone, capturing the first field test of Pilar's climbing leg. "Will they charge you for it, Pilar?" she asked.

  Pilar twisted, pulling the prosthesis loose from the crevice and hiking it up higher. "Nah." She jammed it forcefully in what looked like a jagged rip in the limestone but was actually a climber's favorite type of crevice. One just wide enough to fit your hands or feet in with plenty of edges to latch on to. "I'm supposed to test it for all conditions. I already told them the rubber they were using on the foot section sucked." The metal of the artificial knee area made a slight scratching sound against the wall as she put weight on it.

  "Just clip the damn bolt. You're freaking me out down here." I gave her a little more slack so she could pull up a bite of rope.

  "Same here," Antonia said. "Are you sure we have to go through all this trouble to rappel down the wall, Kati?"

  "No, but it's more fun this way," I said, keeping my eye on Pilar.

  "Sure!" shouted Pilar. "I'm doing all the work!" Pilar pulled a carabiner set from her harness and clipped it in place. She reached down and grabbed a bite of rope, neatly setting it in place. When she started to move to her next spot she couldn't pull her prosthetic leg loose from the crevice. "Crap. I'm going to tie off for a second, Kati. I think I got the son of a bitch stuck."

  I tried unsuccessfully to stifled a laugh.

  "I heard that," she shouted.

  "What?" I called back innocently.

  "Did she do that when she had a real leg?" Antonia pulled out a cold bottle of water out of the backpack. Sunlight filtered through the oaks, dappling the limestone boulder we were perched on. The boulder was nestled on a wide ledge with just enough soil for trees to wrap their roots around.

  "No, she just wiggled it," I said, watching Pilar undo the straps on her prosthesis, then proceeding to try to yank it free of the rock wall. It wouldn't budge.

  I'd been back in town for a month and had been busy rebuilding my life in the Hill Country. The Bonita political machine had ground to a halt after the Caleb-slash-Bonita accident with me—now the third in my life—and the evidence against him beginning to dig a hole not even an army of lawyers could fill.

  Caleb Mayhan had been thrown from the truck, dying on the asphalt of Montana Street. Politicians from around the state were falling over themselves to distance their little corner of power from everything having to do with the Bonita family.

  I had stayed in El Paso for a few weeks to make sure everything was safe for Mom; then she decided to come and visit for a week or two.

  Her memory retained its flickering quality, with more long-term memory and less southern belle. The theory was the extreme stress combined with her partial return to full function for those few days had forced her brain into overdrive and some pathways had been rebuilt. She was on new medication that showed promise in cases like hers. Detective Mora, or Roberto, as she called him, was visiting her regularly. She rarely brought up the Lady these days, but I wasn't sure if it was because she didn't hear the Lady anymore or because she thought better of bringing her up.

  Abuela returned with the real Bonita clan in tow, and with Gustav's help, they were suing Mayhan's estate for the property and every single company and business he grew after Javier's murder. It looked like the entire family might become multi-millionaires almost overnight.

  And, according to Willie, Jr., we were about to get a reward for finding the Texarkana serial killer. The reward money had been sitting in the First National Credit Union of Texarkana in a savings account since 1962. Mom and I agreed to split the reward with Willie and her father. Thanks to the power of compounding interest, my portion would go a long way to helping me get back on track.

  I heard Pilar shouting, and I searched the rock face only to see loose rocks plummeting toward us.

  "Rock!" Pilar yelled. Apparently while pulling her prosthesis from the crevice, she had dislodged a good bit of limestone. A large stone careened down the wall. I jumped to one side of the boulder we were on, and Mom scrambled to the other.

  "Holy cow, you're a menace with that thing!" I shouted back up at her. "What were they thinking at MIT? Don't they have more responsible people to test their new prosthesis designs?"

  She howled with laughter and fastened her leg back into place. She reached for her tie off and called down, "On belay!"

  "Belay on," I said.

  "This rock climbing is pretty dangerous, even if you're just watching," Mom noted, coming back to her spot on the boulder. "I think I lost the water bottle down there."

  I shrugged. "We'll get it when we hike down. We brought plenty."

  Pilar unclipped the carabiner set and reattached it to her harness while I held her safely in place. "Climbing," Pilar shouted, as she reached up for her next handhold.

  Mom applauded her from the boulder.

  "Climb on." I called back, carefully playing out a bite of rope, ready to catch her if she fell.

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  When I Knew You is e-printed through Word River Press. More books are in the works, all featuring compelling characters in unique situations. Sign up to be notified when the next Blue Sage Mystery launches or to join the reading group at wdprosapio.com.

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  Blue Sage

  Blue sage is one of the toughest plants in Texas. Like the characters in my novels, it's beautiful, grows despite the soil it's planted in, and can weather immensely difficult situations. Characters from Blue Sage Mysteries make cameo appearances in other Blue Sage books, but every mystery is a stand-alone novel.

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