Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo

by Ronda Pauley

  “Nice!”

  Before the potato chips reached Abbi’s mouth, there was a knock on the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Louise said, talking through a mouth full of very hot pizza. As quickly as her chubby legs could carry her, she went to the door and looked through the tiny window.

  Louise stepped away from the door and looked surprised.

  “She’s black!”

  Abbi said, “YES!!! It’s Nanny!” She rushed to the door.

  Louise cautiously opened it just a crack.

  “Can I help you?” Louise asked.

  “I’ve come to see Abeni,” the woman said.

  Abbi passed Louise to fling the door open wide. A wave of excitement rushed over her. The woman who stood before her was not the despised woman that she knew as her grandmother.

  Standing proudly in front of Abbi and wearing her flowing robes was the elderly woman Abbi had come to know as Nanny Fanny!

  Abbi’s gush of affection that was too powerful to hold back. The woman moved into the house with a sense of urgency. She welcomed Abbi’s embrace.

  “My, my, my, Abeni, my little Sugarlump! It has been a long time! Is this where you’re living now?”

  Abbi’s long-held tears streamed down her face as she took her hand and led the older black woman into the living room.

  “I’m staying with the Pelletiers while my parents are gone,” Abbi said. “I thought you were dead!”

  “Nonsense, child. I just had some things to do that pulled me away from you,” the woman said with an air of mystery.

  Nervous energy had Abbi smiling widely. She turned to Louise.

  “This is Nanny Fanny!”

  “We can talk about my identity another time. For now, I wonder if I might speak with Miss Abeni alone.”

  At that moment, Abbi had a vision. Her mother in a room-- too fuzzy for details, no indication of the specific circumstances. Just cold, loneliness and frustration.

  Louise interrupted the vision, “We can’t let Abbi be alone right now. House Rules.”

  “Are you Miss Louise Pelletier then?” the woman asked, leveling her eyes upon her, eyes that said she already knew.

  “Yes,” said Louise. “I’ve heard of you, too, but by another name, I believe.”

  Abbi wondered at this strange connection as she watched Louise studying the woman who was dressed in brightly flowing layers standing before them.

  “Of course! We’ve met before. It’s a long story, but I used to rock you to sleep at night, Miss Louise. Changed your diaper a time or two, too! You have a mole on your left thigh. Now, don’t you think you can trust me and allow me some alone time with Miss Abeni?”

  Louise smiled and said, “House Rules.”

  “I appreciate your loyalty to your friend and your willingness to follow instructions. That will serve us well. You’re absolutely right to stay at her side.”

  The woman, known to Abbi as Nanny Fanny, flashed a badge toward Louise from her oversized handbag.

  “OK,” Louise said, as she bristled stiffly and backed away.

  “Is anyone else is in the house? Lowell? No, of course not,” the woman said, glancing around and looking out through the window.

  “Right now it’s just us,” Abbi said.

  The woman bent her tall frame toward the girls.

  “Then I’ll talk quietly and fast. No one else must know I’m here. Do you understand? No one—except the people involved. That’s you girls, Louise’s parents, Lowell, and me. Don’t tell anyone I’ve been here. Especially, don’t trust your friends. Promise?”

  “Wait! What about Shoe Clerk?”

  “Didn’t I say him too? Of course, the man you know as Shoe Clerk. Yes.”

  “Promise!” Abbi and Louise both whispered, although Louise still seemed doubtful.

  “If anyone should arrive before I leave, introduce me as a friend or even as a Jehovah’s Witness. But leave it at that.”

  “But you’re Nanny!” Abbi said.

  The woman looked at Abbi and sighed. “Just do this.”

  Then she turned to Louise.

  “Miss Louise, your parents are not at a theater. Your father is now on location as part of the search team to find Abbi’s parents,” she said. “Your mother is staying in a hotel, helping with communications there.”

  “How do you know that?” Louise asked, obviously skeptical.

  “You saw my badge. Need I say more? May I have a word alone with Miss Abeni?”

  It seemed that the strange woman Abbi thought she knew as Nanny Fanny had strange powers: the ability to transform into different people and hypnotize others. Abbi stared wide-eyed at Louise who mechanically backed away into the kitchen.

  PART II

  TASK FORCES AT WORK

  In the first nine years since its inception, the Innocence Lost National Initiative has resulted in the development of 47 dedicated task forces and working groups throughout the U.S. involving federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies working in tandem with U.S. Attorney’s Offices.

  EIGHTEEN

  As Louise left the room, the woman A/K/A Nanny Fanny stood perfectly silent.

  “You’d better sit down, Abeni.” She waited as Abbi seated herself on the overstuffed couch. “I’ve received word that your mother has been kidnapped.”

  “Then it’s true!” Abbi said, staring at the woman.

  “There, there, Sugarlump,” the woman said and sat down beside Abbi to give her a gentle hug. “I work for the FBI, as do your parents. Mr. Pelletier, Lowell and Louise’s father, works for the CIA. He’s an analyst. You’ve probably guessed that there’s an FBI search crew on it, but they’re not the only ones. Thank goodness, your mother has her phone’s GPS device turned on but, if not, but we have another trick up our sleeves. I expect they’ve taken it from her by now, but we’ve been able to get a general location. It appears that she’s being moved.”

  “Where to?” asked Abbi. “Who’s doing it?”

  “We’re not sure where they’re going. A popular destination is Maryland. The hope is to stop them before they get there, but that’s a very tricky maneuver. We have the transnational cooperation of the Highway Patrol and other law enforcement agencies.”

  “Do you know who has her?”

  “Our best guess is that it’s a branch of Nuestra Madre. You’ve heard of them?”

  “No,” Abbi said. “Oh, wait! Let me show you something!”

  Abbi rushed upstairs and grabbed the folder with drawings in it.

  “Look!” she said, throwing the folder down on the living room stand. Abbi showed the woman stylized drawings that depicted the letters NM.

  The woman leafed through them.

  “Holy shit! Excuse me. How did you get hold of these?”

  “Mom left them out on her desk, just loose, like maybe on purpose? I figured she wanted me to find them.”

  “Abeni, I believe you’re right. This is very important information. That’s the flying NM, their symbol. It helps confirm what we’ve already suspected. This is a very big and powerful gang, not just one person acting alone. It will take the coordinated efforts of several law enforcement agencies, including the cooperation of the Mexican Government, for us to bring it down. This won’t happen fast. We just need to peel one potato at a time. Excuse me a moment.”

  The woman suddenly looked dark, darker than the deep brown shade of her skin, and made a quick phone call.

  Meanwhile, Abbi looked over the various designs. A shiver went up and down her spine as the woman passed the information on to an unknown entity on the other end of the call.

  When she turned back to Abbi, she said, “What is now a transnational criminal organization started small, as a teen street gang in South America. The initial purpose was to gain freedom for the poor people in their country who were being exploited.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Young people were forced to work for very low wages, among other things. The street gang blamed the gove
rnment for receiving pay-offs to look the other way when landowners broke the labor laws. Some of the kids who worked for the wealthy farmers and land barons became rebellious. They took on the landowners, who were denying people their rights. Soon, the workers began a sort of commune. In order to do that, they needed to enlist some help. They raised money to organize their cause. Part of their money went to pay off corrupt politicians.”

  “To look the other way,” Abbi said. “That’s what they were opposed to.”

  “Basically, yes. Then they needed more money. And more. As the nature of the gang changed, violence became a driving force, and freedom became a forgotten cause. Younger members’ ideas ran into conflict with the way older members had done things. The money didn’t seem to come in fast enough.”

  “So they turned to crime?”

  “They were already involved in crime, but the kinds of crimes got worse. What happened was a division, and things changed fast. This new faction, NM2, enlisted the help of young girls as well as young boys, and the NM2 business model became one driven by violence. They moved quickly into underprivileged areas of the United States where there were dense populations of Latinos. They currently look for children and young adults that fit a certain profile. Then, by means of ‘grooming’, they bring in their victims.”

  “What does that have to do with my mother?”

  “Abbi, she got in their way. Your mother was in the midst of a successful rescue that threatened to expose them. We believe your mother is in very grave danger. These people stop at nothing. I don’t want to scare you but recently a pregnant girl just your age got away from them and threatened to talk to authorities. Members of this gang found her, took her to a forested area, and stabbed her to death.”

  Abbi hid her face in her hands.

  “This doesn’t sound good at all,” Abbi said, her voice muffled by her hands.

  “It isn’t. Furthermore, your father has suffered a serious injury and is hospitalized. Thank goodness, we have him moved to a hospital in Washington, D.C. so at least he is nearby. If we can act fast, we can also rescue your mother.”

  “We?” Abbi asked.

  At that moment Lowell walked in from his trip to the drugstore.

  “Mrs. Hightower, you’re already here? Fast trip!”

  Abbi looked at the woman she knew as Nanny Fanny.

  “You’re HT?” she asked. “How…”

  “Long story short. Once upon a time I served as a key witness in a federal case. As a result, I had to be relocated. Witness Protection, new identity, the whole thing. One saving grace, FBI took me from the field and set me up at headquarters. Hardly low profile. Although technically I had to break ties with family and friends or risk being killed or hurting innocent people, we were still working together. To keep you safe, I kept my distance. That was the hardest part. Things are rarely as they seem.”

  “I’m getting the picture,” Abbi said.

  “We should bring Louise downstairs. Can you get her, Abbi? Lowell, how soon can you be ready to leave?”

  “Need a few minutes to finish packing.”

  If Louise went upstairs, Abbi hadn’t even noticed. The discussion had her full attention.

  It appeared that Lowell would be leaving with Mrs. Hightower. The two talked quietly while Abbi went to get Louise but strained to listen to their conversation as she walked to the stairs.

  “How soon do you need me?” Lowell asked.

  “Ride back with me. Soon, tonight, in a couple of hours. I’ll come back and pick you up. We’re starting Operation Missing Shoe.”

  “That’s your internship?” Abbi said, rushing down to see Lowell.

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” he said.

  Louise was behind Abbi and still obviously wary of Mrs. Hightower.

  “Yes? You wanted me?”

  “Louise,” Mrs. Hightower said. “I was expecting a visitor here today. Has anyone other than me come here? I was hoping to be here earlier. She would have spoken to me since your parents were gone.”

  “No. No one,” she said, looking at Abbi.

  Abbi looked at Louise and nodded.

  “Yes,” Abbi said, starting to point out the window. “There was this really odd girl who just stood out there across the street and looked over here at the house.”

  “Describe her.”

  “Dark hair. Tall, thin,” Abbi said. “I couldn’t really tell her age. Maybe in her teens, maybe twenties, pretty?”

  “Thin,” Louise added. “Like VERY! And tattoos. And there was the blue mini-van.”

  “Yeah. It was also at my house when someone broke the window and came in.”

  “Oh, yes. That. You ladies are a wealth of information. But I was looking for a very different young lady. I have to leave now. I know it’s getting late in the day, but I’ll return in a couple of hours. When I return, we’ll sit and chat a little, and then I’ll be taking Lowell with me.”

  “Today?” Louise asked.

  “Yes. Louise, you will be Abeni’s constant companion. You understand? You are not to leave her side. Not for anyone or for anything.”

  Then Mrs. Hightower’s attention turned back to Abbi. She searched for something in her substantial handbag.

  “Before I go, I should tell you, Abbi, we think you can help. Should you choose to accept this mission, here’s a list of things to pack.” She handed a paper to Abbi. “I really believe you’ll want to accept, so start packing. How do you feel about flying?”

  NINETEEN

  Tina walked as fast as she could straight to the apartment, glad she had written down the street names and turns. The taxi ride had made it seem closer than it really was. The people in the car, with their loud arguing and that familiar voice, had made her afraid to stop for food.

  There was very little to put away in her bedroom’s walk-in closet, just a few items of clothing and some girl stuff. The closet could make someone a nice little bedroom. She snapped the empty suitcase closed. The sparsely-furnished apartment echoed the snapping sound. Then Tina took her mother’s quilt, folded it neatly and put it in the corner of her bedroom. That would give her a make-shift bed, better than the mats she’d been sleeping on, but she didn’t ever want to think about that again.

  Tina took a couple of books and a journal to the kitchen table. She wanted to relax, forget about things that kept her edgy. She also needed to start the important task of filling in a backstory for her new identity, kind of like writing a diary, only backwards.

  Maybe she and her father would try to get some furniture when he got back. Work always seemed to come first. That’s the way he was. No wonder he didn’t like making this move. The apartment was nice, not really too small, and painted in soothing pastel colors. Tina looked forward to making it their home.

  She sat down to write in her journal and started by taking out her Social Security card. She studied her new name. This would take some getting used to. Mostly, except for not liking her name, it was exciting and fun to start over. She just needed to be believable. Then, once she believed it, she would become Tina. She could make it all work.

  A sudden knock at the door brought an unexpected rush of panic. Tina was afraid to go to the door. She lapsed into her recent past, remembering a nasty, angry man who was standing on the other side, impatiently waiting to get to her. Her hands began shaking uncontrollably. There was no place to hide!

  She started to run back to her bedroom to hide in the closet. Then, after abruptly realizing where she was, Tina mustered up her courage. Carefully she approached the door to look through its peep hole. Surprised by what she saw, she said, “Who are you?”

  “I’m Mrs. Hightower. Can you see this?”

  The woman held up a badge that looked very much like the nice man’s I.D. badge and like Miss Shoe’s badge, not the business card that said Fred’s Boots Inc.

  “Yes,” Tina said through the door. “But I don’t know you.”

  “I’m here because of Miss Shoe. Remember her? She was on my
team. Do you mind if I come in, Tina?”

  “You knew Miss Shoe? She needs help!”

  “Yes, I’m aware.”

  Tina carefully opened the door. The smell of fried chicken came wafting in with the woman. From the folds of her outfit, Mrs. Hightower pulled out a take-out bucket.

  “You’ve had a long trip. I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

  “You brought food?”

  “Yes, and lots of it! Is your father here?”

  “No. He went to the police station where he’s going to work.”

  “I see. Well, I don’t have the luxury of waiting. Let’s just close the door and get comfy. I need to ask you some questions. You’re in no trouble. We need help in finding Miss Shoe.”

  Mrs. Hightower looked around, apparently looking for a place to sit.

  “We can sit in the kitchen,” Tina suggested.

  Mrs. Hightower allowed Tina to lead the way.

  “Nice place you have here! Somewhat barren, but lovely. This apartment should serve you well.”

  Tina chose a piece of chicken when it was offered.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I think I really was about to starve.”

  “There’s also mashed potatoes and gravy. It’s all yours. Help yourself.”

  Mrs. Hightower put a pen on the table, and then took out a notepad.

  “Tell me about Miss Shoe.”

  Tina went through the events of that day when she crossed the border. Mrs. Hightower took notes but used a different pen.

  “Do you know who any of those people were who abducted Miss Shoe?”

  “I didn’t get a good look, but one of them may have been Ramon from the cantina. He’s a brute! Mean, nasty.”

  “You say that as if you know it.”

  Tina sighed and blinked her eyes fast, trying to avoid tears.

  “You’ve got to get to Miss Shoe! He can make you wish you were dead. ”

  “We will find her. If you don’t mind, could I please see the back of your neck?”

  Suddenly, Tina’s eyes welled up with tears that she couldn’t hold back. Through a bite of mashed potatoes, she said, “They branded me! It was supposed to be a cute little glyph tattoo, but it’s hideous!”