TORCHED
A THRILLER
DANIEL POWELL
DISTILLATIONS PRESS
Torched
© 2012 by Daniel Powell
This edition of Torched © 2012 by Distillations Press
Torched is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Canopy Studios
Interior layout by Distillations Press
Kindle Edition
ASIN: B008NXEHZK
ONE
They met at a café just around the corner from Southmoor Park. The day was sweltering—especially for a city at such high altitude—and they each had a glass of cold iced tea.
“This is…” Terri said. Shaking her head in disbelief, she closed the manila folder. “How did you do this?”
“Persistence,” he replied. He didn’t look like a smoker, but his voice was low and raspy. She thought he might be in his late fifties. He was fit, with broad shoulders and closely cropped gray hair. He wore sunglasses just a shade darker than his skin. “I just stayed after it, Ms. James. When I accept a case, I do my best to see it through.”
She nodded, flipping the folder open again to stare at the photograph. The woman had colored her hair and put on a little weight. She was deeply tanned, and she was smiling.
It made Terri furious.
One glance at the image and her mind conjured a pair of painful memories: the first was Sheldon’s closed casket—the one they’d lowered into the frozen Colorado earth just a few months earlier.
The second recollection was much harder to process. When she looked at Vivian Bowles, smiling over a meal in some tropical Mexican village, she thought of her daughter. She thought of Erin, the brave little girl with the gaps in her smile and the ugly scar on the inside of her forearm.
The girl missing the pinkie and ring fingers on her left hand.
“I’ve itemized my expenses, Ms. James. It doesn’t cost much to live in Mexico, but I was in country for almost two months. It adds up.” He slid the document across the table, tapping the subtotal. “I stayed at a little hotel on the outskirts of Cerritos. It wasn’t the cheapest place I could find, but it wasn’t the Ritz Carlton, either.”
Terri gave a dismissive wave. She rooted around in her shoulder bag until she located the envelope, which she placed on the table; the man made it disappear. “The expense report looks fine, Mr. Hines. Thank you for your professionalism. There should be more than enough to cover your fee and these expenses in that envelope.”
He thanked her, and Terri removed her sunglasses. Her eyes narrowed, and Benny Hines removed his as well. He leaned forward.
“Look, I have to ask you this: Why didn’t you go to the authorities, Mr. Hines? You knew about the reward, right?”
He nodded, smiling. He drained his glass of tea and sighed. “I didn’t want to go to the authorities, Ms. James. I never even considered it.”
“But why?”
A shadow darkened his features. “My niece went missing. She was snatched off a playground in Mobile. Just,” he drew a deep breath, “she just up and vanished.”
“Oh, Mr. Hines,” Terri said. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I am so sorry.”
He nodded. “It’s been damn near four years. We haven’t given up. I mean, we’re still looking. Anyway, I knew what this woman did to your family. Knew what she did to your children. I had to help.”
Terri smiled. “I’ll pray for you, Mr. Hines. I’ll pray that your niece finds her way back to you.”
“Thanks,” he replied, scratching a spot on the back of his neck. “We’ll take all the prayers we can get.”
The conversation shifted as the retired Denver homicide detective explained the documents in the dossier. “Cerritos is well off the beaten path. And Vivian? Shoot, Vivian’s even further off the grid. You’ll have to get dirty if you want to get to her.”
“That’s okay,” Terri replied. “Getting dirty is the least of my concerns.”
“You can’t fly in, Ms. James. You want to be careful about leaving a trail. Mexico’s relaxed when it comes to the law, but those people aren’t stupid. They’ve got their eyes wide open down there. If you want to slide in without leaving a footprint, I know some people in Brownsville that could probably help out with that.”
She nodded. “I’ll take you up on that. What about once I’m inside?”
Hines shrugged. “You’re on your own. I used to know a few expats down there. I might be able to find some phone numbers. You want me to poke around?”
“Please. Mr. Hines, I can’t thank you enough. This means a lot to me.”
Hines stroked the graying stubble of his goatee. “I helped you find this woman,” he said, “and I don’t regret doing that. I did it as much for your children as I did it for you. But…but please just be careful, Ms. James. You want to be damned careful about how you move forward from here.”
“Careful of what?”
“Revenge,” he replied, shaking his head, “can be one evil bitch. Just look at where it got her. You think she sleeps easy at night? You think she’s at rest, living down there in that dirty ol’ shack, looking over her shoulder twenty times a day?”
“She’s alive,” Terri replied, an angry tremor in her voice. “She’s alive and Sheldon’s dead, and our children don’t have a father. They’ll never have their dad back. Mr. Hines, my daughter won’t even be able to wear a ring on her wedding day! That…that woman took so much from us. You’re flat out wrong if you think I have even an ounce of sympathy for her.”
Hines put up two hands. “Hey, I just had to say my piece. It’s clear that you’re determined. Like I said, I’ll help you get into Mexico, but from there I don’t want to know. You do something to that woman, I don’t want to hear about it.
“Just…just remember what I said. You seem like a decent person, Ms. James. Like a good mother. If you do something you can’t take back, you’ll become somebody else altogether. You’ll become somebody you might not recognize when you look in the mirror.”
Terri sighed. “I know. And I appreciate you saying that. I just…I just want to have a word with her. That’s all.”
Hines nodded. He put his sunglasses back on. “So…what’s next?”
“I guess I’m going to Mexico,” Terri replied.
TWO
Vivian Bowles opened her eyes. She gazed up at the aged wooden beams in the ceiling, thankful once again for the opportunity to begin another day.
It was early and the air was still cool; birds chirped just outside the window. She said a prayer for Katie and reflected on the simple miracle that she was still alive.
Waking up that first morning had been such a surprise.
She’d stumbled upon the hunting cabin in the middle of a blizzard, drawn through the frigid darkness by what she thought had been her daughter’s voice.
She had no memory of slipping into bed, she was so exhausted from the things that had happened on the side of the mountain.
And when she’d awoken the following morning—shivering, dehydrated and disoriented, but otherwise okay—she had made a promise to herself and to her daughter that she would try to keep going.
She’d taken clothing from the cabin, leaving a few crumpled bills in the chest in place of the worn pants and thin jacket, and she’d put one foot in front of the next until she was off the mountain.
She’d slowly made her way back to Florida. People were searching for her and, although she took no extraordinary measures to avoid them, she had succeeded in making it home to gather some things before paying cash for
a cruise to Cancun. She traveled under the name of Katie Bowles, the officials barely glancing at her doctored passport before ushering her through Mexican customs.
America is a heck of a big country, and she’d just slipped right through the cracks.
From there, she had hitched rides with benevolent strangers. The Mexican people were generous and stopped often, and she wasn’t the only pedestrian on the pothole-strewn highways. They carried her further and further into the jungle; they opened their homes to her and offered her food and shelter. There was a language barrier, but it was a small thing and she fell in love with the countryside as paved roads yielded to gravel roads and, finally, rutted tracks through Mexican clay.
She had settled in a tiny place called Cerritos, and a month later had met the handsome man whose bed she now shared.
Vivian snuggled up against Miguel. She put her hand to his chest, felt the steady rhythm of his heart and the regular swell of his respiration, and she felt good.
Truly and honestly content.
She kissed his shoulder, and he stirred.
“Hey,” he said. He twisted to recline on the bed and she put her cheek against his chest. “How’d you sleep, darlin’?”
“Like the dead,” she said. “Same as always.”
“Well, that’s good,” he replied. There was a hint of a Spanish accent there but, like Vivian, he was American. “Never had rest like that in the states, did you?”
She smiled. “Not often. Not every night, like I seem to down here.”
Miguel squeezed her shoulder. He stretched his arms over his head. “Okay—let’s try this again. How about…Baltimore?” he said.
“Not even close,” Vivian replied, a little smile on her face. “Must you do this every morning, Mike?”
“Until I get it right. Look, Vi, I’ve been honest with you. I just want to know more about you. Is that so bad? Not Baltimore, huh? That’s a shame. You get a chance, you should try the blue crabs up there on the bay. Unbelievable.”
“I wish you wouldn’t, Mike. Seriously.”
He sighed, kissing the top of her head. “I know it bothers you, but whatever you were running from up there doesn’t matter to me. I swear, it doesn’t.”
“I know. I believe you, and I appreciate your patience. I…I’ll tell you more about my past when I’m ready.”
“That a promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay, Vi. I can wait.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” Miguel said, his hands moving over the coolness of her naked skin. He traced his fingertips lightly down her back and across the curve of her hip. “Every morning I have to pinch myself. It’s been wonderful having you here. I hope you know that.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispered, sliding on top of him, “but the pleasure’s all mine, Mike.”
They made love and, in that way, began another day in paradise.
THREE
“I promise that I’ll be home in a week,” Terri said. “Ten days, tops.”
Janet just smiled at her sister, her eyes narrow with suspicion. “Look, Terri, I’m not sure what this is really all about, but promise me—just promise me that you’ll be safe.”
Terri pulled her sister into an embrace. “I’ll be fine,” she whispered. “I swear. Thank you for doing this for me, sis. I really appreciate it.”
“Hey, I’m looking forward to it, and so are the kids. I haven’t had a vacation in ages.”
“Is Rob still coming up on the weekend?”
Janet nodded. “He didn’t have as many vacation days as I did, so we’re saving the zoo for Saturday. They have that new butterfly exhibit.”
Terri instantly deflated. What the hell did she think she was going to do? She thought about what she had planned for Saturday and juxtaposed the image with one of her sister and brother-in-law looking at butterflies with her children at the Denver Zoo.
The contrast made her stomach lurch, but her smile did nothing to betray the grim premonition.
“That’ll be great, sis. Take some pictures, if you don’t mind. I’ll try to call if I’m able, but you know there really aren’t a lot of cell towers where I’m going.”
“Just make sure you check in. There should be a register at the trailhead, and you need to follow protocol, Terri.”
“Of course I will. I know the routine.”
Janet nodded. “I understand that you need this, Tee. Have fun out there. I hope you…that you find what you’re looking for.”
Terri’s grin was wicked. “Me too, sis. Me too.”
***
The Subaru was stuffed to bursting with camping gear. Erin and Mike were standing in the yard; Janet watched from her perch at the top of the front steps.
“Mom, I wish we could go with you,” Erin said. Her eyes were wet, and she threw her thin arms around her mother’s neck.
“Yeah!” Mike said. He was crying. “We want to go, too!”
“Kids, we’ve been over this. Why am I taking this trip?”
“To say goodbye to Daddy,” Erin said, and the floodgates opened. Her lip quivered and her shoulders shook with the sobs. Janet came into the yard and put her arms around the kids. She rubbed their backs.
“Your mom just needs a little time to herself, guys. We’re going to have a great time of our own. Uncle Rob is coming up this weekend, and we’ll go see some movies and hit the zoo—maybe take in a Rockies game. Would you like that, Mike?”
The boy nodded, sniffling.
Terri swiped a tear away. She loved her children with everything she had, which was one reason she felt compelled to do this in the first place. “Listen, guys—I’ll call if I can,” she said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She’d purchased a couple of disposable cellular phones; her Blackberry she had hidden in her bedroom, wary of the device pinging cell towers every few minutes. “Mike, do you remember what the name is of the place I’ll be visiting?”
“Llano Estacado,” he said, nailing the pronunciation on the button.
Terri laughed. She hugged her son close. “That’s my bright little man! Gosh, Mikey…you’re so grown up!”
She looked into the eyes of her children. “But kids, it’s very remote. It’s pretty much a desert. I’ll be taking a long hike, and when I get back, I think I’ll feel much better. Okay?”
Mike nodded. “I love you, mommy.”
“I love you too, son. You too, Erin. I love you both so much. So much, bunches and bunches! Do me a favor and mind your aunt, okay? And Erin, take care of your brother.”
The girl nodded. Terri hugged them again, gave her sister’s hand a squeeze and climbed into the Outback.
She rolled her window down and blew them a kiss.
They were still waving when she turned the corner, and Terri felt a bizarre combination of emotions roiling deep in her gut. There was excitement and trepidation, as well as yearning and fear and anger.
She pointed the Subaru south and switched on the radio, content to ramble for a while without thinking about the things she still had to do.
***
She stopped twice for gas and coffee. Thirty minutes after the sun dipped behind the western horizon, she found the little state park outside of Abilene.
She pulled into the deserted parking lot and unrolled her sleeping bag on the grass. Exhausted, she burrowed inside and stared up at the sky.
The cloudless heavens were brilliant—an indigo sieve lit occasionally by the flash of a meteor burning up in the atmosphere.
She studied the vast darkness above her and thought about her destinations—both the shaded jungles of Central Mexico and the dark place she was visiting inside of herself.
She conjured those twin images—her husband’s casket and her daughter’s mangled hand—and drifted into the ether of sleep feeling angry.
FOUR
He had opened up to her quickly. She considered everything he had told her while she worked in the yard, hacking at the thick vegetation with the sha
rp shovel blade.
His name was Michael Hill, and he had changed almost everything about himself. Known in the village simply as Miguel, he had explained to her how he had simply walked away from the life he had built for himself in New York City.
He’d been one of the few that had fled New York under his own steam, ditching the trading desk just as the liar loans were piling up and the market lurched into its downward spiral. He’d cashed in his 401k, sold his possessions and investments and slipped into Mexico with just over a million dollars in a bank account that he rarely touched.
He’d paid cash for the two-bedroom bungalow and the little plot of jungle surrounding it. His job at El Principe provided just enough money to live on with such frugal tastes, and he relished the simplicity of what his life had become.
It was almost enough to make him forget about all of the destruction he’d caused as a mortgage trader. The lives he’d dashed to pieces in the interests of profit and notoriety at the firm.
He spent his days working the plot of farmland he’d slowly carved from the jungle. At night, he cooked in the back of the little cantina. He’d leaned out, swapping the doughy flesh he’d accumulated over eight years in a cubicle for deeply tanned muscle.
His days were pretty much all the same, and it suited him just fine. He avoided American newspapers, and he rarely used the internet. No news of the states, as far as he was concerned, was good news.
And nobody came looking for him, despite the trades he’d made—despite the lives he’d demolished. His first year had been a wreck, waiting minute after minute and hour after hour for the knock at the door.
Vivian knew the feeling well.
But nobody came, and he was happy just to be—just to exist in the comfort of his simple routines.
Wake and work. Cook and sleep.
And then one day, she had stumbled into his life. She remembered every detail of their meeting; it was as clear in her memory as the day she’d put Terri and Sheldon James through hell in the Colorado Rockies.
Torched: A Thriller Page 1
