Altercation

by Heiner, Tamara Hart

  “Do you need help?” Cindy asked.

  “No. In fact, I need you to go back in the house now and not watch what I’m doing.”

  “Okay.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Seth said, “Go. I’m running out of time.”

  Megan heard car doors opening, and then her door opened. “Stay low,” Seth whispered. “Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Yes.” Megan held up her little satchel, complete with her checkbook, mascara, and cell phone.

  “Does it have GPS?”

  “Of course.”

  “Turn it off and leave it in the jeep.”

  Megan looked down at her blue flip-phone. It wasn’t anything special, but it contained all of her contacts and important phone numbers. “If I leave it off, no one will be able to trace it.”

  “If you’re going to leave it off, just leave it here. Remove the temptation.”

  Megan turned the phone off and tossed it under the passenger seat, heaving a sigh as she did so.

  “Okay. Now use the doors as a shield. Get in her car and stay down until I tell you to come up.

  Megan did as she was told. She crawled over the driver’s seat and lay herself down in the back of a four-door sedan.

  Seth hopped in a moment later. He tossed the keys to his jeep on the passenger seat and put the car in drive. It felt like an eternity, but finally he said, “All right. You can sit up now.”

  She climbed into the front seat. They were back on the highway, heading toward the interstate. “Nice. Who was that?”

  “A friend.”

  “Sounded like more than that. And she lent you her car?” Megan knew there was no way she would let someone borrow her car.

  “If you know so much, who was she?”

  Megan analyzed her answer. “Not your girlfriend. You didn’t greet her with enough enthusiasm. She likes you, that’s for sure. But she’s not just a friend. Sounded like there is a past and a hope for a future . . . she must be your ex.”

  “Good call, Einstein.”

  Megan wasn’t done. “And you made me stay down because you knew she wouldn’t let you borrow the car if there was another girl involved.” She remembered the long pause at their goodbye. “Did you kiss her?”

  “Of course not. We’re not together. That would give her the impression that we were. Though she definitely wanted me to.” He smiled, a dimple showing in his right cheek.

  “But you didn’t mind hinting to her that you might get back together.”

  “We got the car, didn’t we?” Seth snapped.

  “Yep,” Megan said, settling back into her seat.

  “You have any cash in there?” Seth nodded at her bag.

  “My checkbook.” She pulled open the bag and sifted through it. “Maybe twenty dollars.” She held out the wrinkled bills.

  “Debit card?”

  “Yes.” Megan sorted through her wallet.

  “Great. Hold on to the money. We’re going to need it.”

  November 4, Idaho Falls, Idaho

  Carl stepped past the mobs of officers conversing with Agent Reynolds, glad that he wasn’t one that had been assigned to help find his missing daughter. When the agent was ready, they’d be able to talk about the kidnapped girls. He went into his office and closed the door, letting out a sigh as the noise vanished. He unwrapped his cheese and pickle sandwich and took a huge bite, losing himself in the sweet, tangy crunch of bread and butter pickles.

  He felt bad, of course, about Agent Reynolds’ daughter running off with Seth Rivera. But Carl wasn’t worried about her. While Seth seemed to be troubled, he wasn’t a trouble maker. Her actions might cause her parents heartache, but she wasn’t in danger.

  He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and noticed the flashing red light on his office phone. Voicemail.

  Hitting the button, Carl played it while he ate.

  “Detective Hamilton, this is Agent Horton.”

  Carl didn’t recognize the name. He took another bite.

  “I have the identity of Cisnero. Please call me back at—”

  Carl choked on his food and launched across his desk, anxious to find a pen.

  By the time he got it, he had missed the number. He played the message again and quickly dialed the numbers he had jotted down.

  “Agent Horton speaking.”

  “Agent, this is Detective Hamilton out of the Idaho Falls PD. I’ve been working on the case involving—”

  “Yes, of course,” Horton’s smooth voice interrupted. “Do you have a fax number? I’ll send the file to you.”

  “Sure.” Carl spouted off the fax number, then hung up the phone and ran out to the fax machine in the hall. He drummed his fingers on the plastic cover, trying to ignore the hum around him. He grabbed up the papers as soon as they spewed out.

  “Hey Carl,” someone called out.

  Carl pretended not to hear. He bolted into his office and locked the door. His hands shook with anticipation.

  Cisnero. Code name for: Brigitta Masceros.

  Carl let out a small gasp, staring at a picture of the red-headed woman. They were the same person. The murdered Hungarian heiress. He kept reading.

  Masceros was operating an illegal weapons operation out of Egypt. Interpol found an employee in Egypt that testified to Masceros’ operations. The plant in Egypt supplied weapons to genocide leaders in Africa.

  Following this information, Interpol arrested the manager of the plant. He confessed that Masceros often traveled to Mexico to meet with her buyers, who did not like traveling to the eastern hemisphere.

  Carl paused, giving himself a moment to internalize that information. Masceros, or Cisnero, had gone to Guadalajara to conduct business. The Hand and Rivera had also gone. Which one was the buyer?

  He turned to the next page, a document in Spanish signed by the Mexican police. A page of English translation was included next to it. Three bodies had been found in the rented lodge in Guadalajara, all killed like Masceros.

  Carl read the papers again. What about the other people in the pictures? Nobody else had turned up yet. Were they also dead?

  Was this a personal vendetta or something more mercenary?

  He booted up his computer, already planning out the message he would send Rivera.

  As soon as he logged in, he hit the reply button again to Rivera’s email, just as he had done numerous times before. Deleting the Re: subject, he typed in all caps, I’M ON TO YOU.

  Satisfied with his message and hoping this time it would prompt a response, he hit send.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  They traveled in silence in the nondescript dark-green Ford, Megan fretting about her parents. Adrenaline surged through her at the sight of every police car.

  At some point she must’ve drifted off to sleep. When she opened her eyes, she realized they weren’t moving. Seth slept against the door, huddled in a ball. They were parked at a rest stop.

  Megan yawned and stretched, shivering at the chill that crept into the car. What time was it? Shaking her wrist, she managed to get her jangly watch into position. Seven-fifteen.

  Seth stirred and jerked into an upright position, grabbing the steering wheel and blinking forcefully. “What happened?”

  Megan stared at him. “What happened?” she echoed. “Did someone have to tow us to the rest area?”

  He exhaled and relaxed his grip. “No. I was groggy, so I pulled in here. You were already asleep.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I figured. What time did you pull off?”

  He shrugged and turned the key in the ignition. “Sometime around three am.”

  “Well, at least you noticed you were tired.” She thought she was being complimentary, but he shot a glare at her.
>
  “I’m sure you could’ve gone all night.” He hit the gas.

  “No, I meant—”

  “Just drop it.”

  Megan kept her eyes on the road. “So, um, where are we?”

  “What, you mean you didn’t figure that out already? There was a sign back there.”

  “Um.” She plucked at her jeans, looking for lint, a string, anything. “No.”

  “Just outside Rawlins, Wyoming.”

  Wyoming. The land of beautiful green pastures and blue lakes and not much else. “How much longer?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Am I supposed to know everything?”

  You’re the mastermind! Megan wanted to scream at him. She chewed on her tongue. Maybe he doesn’t do well on so little sleep. She pulled her mascara wand out of her satchel. Opening the visor, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and carefully layered on the mascara. Without it, her pale eyelashes vanished into her skin, leaving her eyes naked and vulnerable.

  They rode in a non-companionable silence until just after nine.

  Seth tapped the steering wheel. “I need gas.”

  Megan focused on the gauges, noticing the red needle hovering below half a tank. “How are you going to pay for it?”

  “I have a visa.”

  She leaned her head against the seat and groaned. “Seth. Everyone will find us if you use it.”

  He froze. And then he banged his hands on the wheel and let out a string of swear words.

  Megan tried to figure out what to say in the silence that followed.

  “How much cash you have?” Seth’s voice came out way too calm for someone who had just had an explosive breakdown.

  Maybe he was schizophrenic. Not a great thought, since she was traveling alone with him. “I’ve got twenty dollars.”

  “That’ll buy us maybe half a tank.”

  “Yeah.”

  Seth took the next exit. He turned the car around and got back on the interstate, heading west again.

  Megan sat up straighter. “Are we going back?” She had to admit she felt relieved.

  He frowned. “No.”

  Idiot. He didn’t add the word, but Megan heard it. “What are we doing?”

  He didn’t respond.

  Two hours later Seth took the Victoria Way exit. The speed limit on the southerly highway slowed to fifty miles per hour as they passed through vacant pastures. Tiny farmhouses dotted the horizon in the distance.

  Megan glanced again at the gas gauge. Below a quarter of a tank. No yellow light yet. She persuaded herself not to ask any questions like, why on earth were they looking for a gas station way out here?

  The light came on twenty minutes later. Megan hadn’t seen a gas station in quite some time.

  Just as she began to worry, there was one. While Seth filled up on gas, Megan perused the books on the rack in the convenience store. She needed something to keep herself entertained.

  “Hey.”

  She turned around. Seth’s eyes ran over the book in her hand and she blushed. The cover had a woman leaning against a brick wall with her dress ripped open to the navel.

  “How old are you?”

  Megan cleared her throat and furrowed her brow. “What?”

  He rolled his eyes and leaned against the book rack. “How old are you? Age? Cuantos años tienes?”

  Was he making fun of her? “I’m eighteen.” She tried to make her tone seem haughty, but it came out meek.

  “Call your dad.” He pulled out eight quarters and slapped them into the palm of her hand. “Payphone’s outside. Tell him you ran away with me and we’re getting married in Vegas.”

  Megan felt her jaw drop. “My parents will be furious. They’ll kill us both. I can’t break their hearts like that.”

  “Megan.” Seth narrowed his eyes. “It’s a lie. We’re not getting married.”

  She knew her skin turned pink all the way down to her toes. Of course. She hadn’t thought he was serious.

  “Besides, they’ll feel better knowing where you are. It’ll buy us time. They’ll know we were here. I just used my Visa.”

  He made some good points. But she didn’t know if she could do it. “You call them and tell them.”

  “No.” Seth shook his head. “They’ll think I kidnapped you. You have to do this.”

  Megan took a deep breath. How could she deceive her parents this way? Swallowing, she headed for the door.

  “Was there a book you wanted?”

  She turned around. “Um. I think so. But I haven’t chosen yet.”

  “Okay.”

  He didn’t say anything else, and Megan took that as her cue to leave. Finding the payphone, she dropped the coins in and dialed her father’s cell phone. Maybe he wouldn’t answer. Her heart began to slow down by the third ring. She could lie to his answering machine.

  “Reynolds.”

  Megan’s heart started its warrior dance all over again. “Um. Daddy?”

  “Megan! Where are you? What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

  She swallowed hard, clutching the phone. “No, I’m fine. Listen. Listen to me, Daddy.”

  “What is it, baby? Tell me. Where are you? Do you need a ride? Are you in trouble?”

  She exhaled loudly. “I’m with Seth. Seth Rivera. We’re fine. Better than fine. We’re—we’re on our way to Vegas. I’m in love with him and we’re getting married.”

  “What?” Her father exploded with a barrage of words, some of them pleading, some of them angry. Megan tuned them out.

  “I’m so sorry to disappoint you. I know it’s not what you wanted for me. I love you guys. I’ll call you later.” Megan banged the phone down, an awful guilt heavy on her chest. It might not be true, but her parents wouldn’t know that. They’d mourn and agonize and wonder where they went wrong. She’d always been such a good girl.

  She whirled around at the sound behind her. Seth stood there, his dark green polo shirt contrasting with his tanned complexion.

  “Did you do it?”

  Megan nodded, wanting to glare at him but dropping her head instead. “Yes.”

  “Did he buy it?”

  “I think so. Yes.”

  “Good. Here.” He held out a plastic bag.

  She took it and peeked inside. There was a ham and cheese sandwich and three paperback books. Including the one with the embarrassing cover.

  Megan contented herself with the silence in the car, eating her sandwich and watching the view of the Routt National Forest, as a green sign on the side of the road indicated. Then she selected one of the books and started reading. Seth turned on the radio. At least now she felt slightly more comfortable. Maybe because they were supposedly running away together.

  The idea was so silly—yet so romantic—that she laughed.

  Seth looked at her. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  He turned the radio down. “No, really.”

  “I just thought what a ridiculous idea. You and me running off together to get married.”

  He snorted. “Yeah. But your parents won’t know better. They’ll believe it.”

  What did he mean by that? Megan frowned.

  His fingers reached for the radio again, and Megan spoke up. “I heard you say something about your father yesterday. Did something happen to him?”

  He put his hand back on the steering wheel. “I guess I can tell you. You might know something anyway. My father disappeared a few weeks ago.”

  Megan gasped. “Like, kidnapped?”

  Seth’s upper lip curled. “Uh, no. He’s pretty sure this was a voluntary disappearance.”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “Who is?”

  “Detective Hamilton. He’s on the case. My fath
er lied about everything. His job, his education, his business trips. Even his name. We don’t even know who he is. He could have several names. A different wife. Another family. Obviously has a career, because the money came every month.” Seth’s eyes blazed and he clenched his jaw. “It was all a lie.”

  “Wow.” Megan mouthed the word, though she wasn’t sure any sound left her lips. “That’s crazy.”

  “Yeah. My mom keeps telling me I need to learn about forgiveness. Not me. This isn’t about forgiveness.”

  “Maybe it’s about family.”

  “Don’t get smart with me,” he snapped. “Our family ceased to exist when my father walked out on us. I’ve pretty much lost my faith in families.”

  “But not in yourself.”

  “You know what? I really don’t like your tone. You think you’re better than me. You think you know something. Well, Ms. Superior, you just wait. Your turn’s coming.”

  Megan stared out the passenger window. Her tone?

  She opened her book again and resolved not to say anything more for the rest of the trip.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  So much darkness.

  Jaci blinked several times, trying to ignore the throbbing of her head. A sliver of light peered from under the door. It must be morning. Her legs and back hurt from sitting in a ball. Jaci arched her shoulders, brushing against the drywall behind her. Where was Amanda? She touched a leg, and Amanda moved.

  “I’m here, Jaci.”

  “I know. Where else would you be?” Yet she couldn’t deny the fear that she would wake and Amanda would be gone. Just like Sara. The door rattled a split second before it opened, and then the Creep leered down at them.

  “Mornin’.” He pulled a cigarette from his yellowed teeth. “Bathroom break. One at a time, just like yesterday. Up.” He grabbed Jaci’s forearm and yanked her to her feet.

  Same routine, only this time she went first. Jaci drew in a deep breath, feeling his fingers bruise her skin. He moved her out of the room so fast that she stumbled.