Although Dayvid had said that Tijuana was the most dangerous point of entry in Mexico; Fallon didn’t care. Once she was in Mexico, she would go from there. Besides, she didn’t have time to drive to any other points of entry. She knew it was only a matter of time before U.S. Marshall Torrence found out what vehicle she was driving and put a be-on-the-look-out alert or worse an all-points bulletin on the car. Fallon hadn’t forgotten about that bitch Torrence. Fallon promised herself that if she ever made it over the border and got settled with her siblings, she’d send a kite to some of her people in Baltimore to have that bitch Torrence wiped off the face of the earth.
Chapter 11
So Close, Yet So Far Away
“You have got to be fucking kidding me with what you just said,” Torrence retorted, looking at Agent Gripper like he was speaking another language.
“This is what we need to do. This is bigger than just your fugitive. This case against the Porters has been years in the making,” Agent Gripper replied.
“You mean to tell me, that I must allow Fallon Porter to continue running the streets, killing people, with the hopes that she will lead you to her brother and sisters?” Torrence repeated to make sure she’d heard correctly.
“That’s right Marshall Torrence,” Agent Gripper said.
“I won’t do it. No. No way. You have no fucking way to guarantee that she’ll lead you to them. She is a murderer or did you forget. No, I’m not giving up my case. I will continue to hunt Fallon Porter until the President of the gotdamn United States tells me otherwise,” Torrence came back.
“All of the other fugitive task force members have agreed to stand down as well Marshall Torrence. We have some pretty good proof that these four siblings are planning to meet up somewhere and we are banking on one or the other of them leading us to all four. It’s not as big a shot in the dark as you think,” Gripper explained. Torrence started laughing in disbelief.
“The FBI is amazing. So, what’ll we do now? Sit here twiddling our thumbs while Fallon Porter is out there possibly committing another murder to further her cause with the fairy dust hoping that she’ll be dumb enough to walk us straight down the path we’d like to go?” Torrence asked sarcastically.
“Not exactly, we are setting up checkpoints as we speak in ten states. We are also continuing to work with locals for any clues. All four Porter siblings airs on American’s Most Wanted tonight, so with all of these proactive measures, we hope to get some tips that leads us to a complete round up of all four at once,” Gripper said.
“I don’t care what you do and how you do it, I am not off this case. Understand I will be everywhere you are and at every step you make. Before the end of this, I will look Fallon Porter in her eyes and it will be my fucking handcuffs that go on her murdering little hands,” Torrence said with feeling.
“Suit yourself Marshall Torrence as long as you follow my lead,” Gripper said. Torrence was fuming inside. Here it was another white male stepping on her toes at work. She was so tired of the glass ceiling that black females in federal law enforcement had to deal with. Just as Torrence turned to storm out of the room, the Las Vegas police department sergeant rushed towards her.
“We have some new information for you Marshall Torrence,” the sergeant huffed. Torrence’s eyes lit up; until she felt Agent Gripper behind her so closely she could smell his stank ass cologne.
“What is it?” Agent Gripper asked before Torrence could even get her words out. She bit into the side of her cheek so hard she drew blood.
“We got a report of a home invasion and robbery. Woman named Dana Reddington waited more than twenty four hours to report it, but says a woman pushed her into her home with a gun, took her passport, all of her identification, some cash and her car. This lady is scared shitless. I thought it would be worth a try to put a tug and log on the GPS inside the car. Maybe this was your fugitive that did this. It’s worth a shot,” the sergeant relayed.
“Let’s do it,” Torrence said excitedly. Agent Gripper gave her the eye.
“What? So you’re not even going to run down this lead? What if it is Fallon Porter and she is on her way, like you say to meet up with her siblings now. We can’t just let this lead go,” Torrence insisted.
“I’ll have my guys run the GPS,” Gripper said.
“And I’ll be standing right over their shoulders when they do,” Torrence snapped back.
***
The GPS said Fallon was one hour from the San Ysidro border. Her palms were so sweaty they kept slipping around the steering wheel. She looked down nervously at the gas needle it was edging dangerously close to the E again. Fallon chewed her bottom lip nervously. She had been able to get a little gas in LA, but she’d gotten spooked at the station when two patrol cars had pulled in while she was pumping. Fallon had quickly put the pump back and jetted, so she wasn’t able to fill up. Now, she wondered how far she’d be able to go before she would have to stop to get gas again. Fallon wasn’t having much luck at gas stations since she had started this journey. She realized it was risky to have to stop, but it would’ve been even worse to break down on the side of the road and have a million onlookers calling the police to come and assist her. Fallon squinted to see better as she noticed cars slowing down one after another in front of her. Up ahead of her, she could see that flashing lights and what looked like police and emergency vehicles was the reason all of the cars had started throwing on their brakes.
“Shit! A fucking checkpoint!” Fallon cursed. She looked over to her right frantically. She was about to pass an exit. Fallon swerved over abruptly, which garnered her lots of blaring horns. She made it off the exit before the checkpoint.
“So fucking close, yet so fucking far away!” Fallon yelled in frustration. It was just one thing after the other that kept hindering her progress. She was still fifty-one minutes from the border according to the GPS. Fallon punched some buttons trying desperately for the device to find her an alternate route. Fallon check the “least use of highways” button and the GPS began calculating an off road route.
“Fuck my life,” Fallon grumbled.
The alternate route to San Ysidro was going to take and additional hour and a half. She had no choice. It was either that or chance getting caught up in a checkpoint that could’ve gotten her nabbed by all of the law enforcement agencies that were gunning for her.
Another hour and a half it is, Fallon told herself.
***
Torrence watched the red dot on the computer screen that she’d been following for the past hour disappear into thin air.
“Hey! What just happened?” Torrence asked, shooting up out of her chair like a jack-in-the-box. Agent Gripper and two of his computer tech guys rushed over.
“What is it?” Gripper asked.
“It vanished? The dot that was showing us where she was heading…it just disappeared,” Torrence said frantically.
“Dammit. She must’ve ridden into a dead zone,” one of the computer tech guys said as he started punching keys on the laptop’s keyboard.
“Just great,” Torrence grumbled, rearing back in her chair. She swiped her hands over her face. She was exhausted. This case was consuming her. She felt like she’d have a nervous breakdown at any moment.
“Looks like we’ve lost her. But just like we found her the first time, it’ll show back up again. At least we know the general area she’s in, so let’s jump on a plane and be in California when we get the call,” Agent Gripper said, handing Torrence another cup of coffee. She was surprised at his gesture of teamwork. Torrence accepted the cup and smirked.
“A plane ride sounds good to me because if I sit for another long ass car ride, I’ll just jump out of the car and roll down the highway,” she joked. They all had a good laugh.
Chapter 12
Stand Off
“We got a signal on her again,” Agent Gripper said as if it wasn’t a big deal. Torrence looked at him seriously.
“Looks like she’s heading towards Sa
n Ysidro and we all know what’s there. We are just speculating based on the route the car is moving…I mean if that female burglar that woman report is actually Fallon Porter,” Agent Gripper told Torrence as they rode together in a rental car from the airport to the FBI’s San Diego field office.
“Mexican border,” Torrence answered almost whispering. “How’d you know? When?” she asked trying to hide the overwhelming excitement she was feeling.
“I got the message when we landed. Didn’t want you to knock down all of the passengers and run off the plane, so I waited until we got out to tell you,” Gripper joked.
“Hah. Hah. Very funny,” Torrence said sarcastically. “The only person I’m interested in knocking down is Fallon Porter. We’re so close to getting her I can taste it. I know that was her that robbed that woman. I know that is her in that car we are tracking, I can feel it in my bones,” Torrence said.
“Well, I’m banking on it because I’ve already got my guys geared up in the vehicles and ready to go. San Ysidro border is only a few miles away. If we have the right vehicle and the right person, I’d say she is in for a mighty big surprise. I’m sure she thinks she is in the clear by now. I just hope that she walks us right into the others because that would make my life so much easier when I get back to Washington, D.C.,” Gripper said. Torrence was quiet. She was too busy imagining herself walking up to Fallon Porter with a huge smile on her face while she slapped the handcuffs on Fallon and said the words “I told you I would win.”
“Are you listening?” Gripper asked, snapping Torrence out of her reverie.
“Oh I’m listening. I can hear you loud and clear,” Torrence assured.
“You just make sure when we get her in our sight you let me nab that murderer.” Torrence said, her voice trailing off.
***
“Yeah baby, ten miles to the fucking San Ysidro border. I have only a few more miles to freedom and living it up with my people. They better be happy to see my ass after all the shit I have been through,” Fallon had a conversation with herself excitedly. The digital gas gauge on the Murano told her she was only going to be able to go seven miles or less on the gas that she had left. Fallon looked down at the little digital reading in dismay.
“But of course, three miles from freedom, with my luck I would have to stop,” Fallon said aloud as if she were speaking to another person.
Fallon drove for another ten minutes before she noticed a small off brand gas station on the left side of the two lane rural road she’d been driving on for what seemed like an eternity. The looks of the place made Fallon think of one of those deserted gas stations on scary movies that when the people stop there they find a killer or dead customers. She so didn’t want to stop, but she had no choice.
“If this is meant to be, please let it be. If I’m supposed to be with my brother and sisters please let it be. As for all the fucked up shit I’ve done over the years please forgive me,” Fallon prayed in earnest.
Religion was never her thing, but she figured with all of the close calls she’d had during this journey, somebody up there had to be looking out for her. She rushed out of the car and into the station. There was only one clerk. No other customers. No wanted posters of Fallon and her siblings.
“Sixty dollars, the black Nissan,” Fallon said to the clerk, plunking down three, twenty-dollar bills. The clerk grabbed the money without making eye contact with Fallon. She thought it was strange. Fallon shrugged it off, reasoning that it must be because it was such a rural and remote strip of road. Her mind couldn’t help but to drift to the scary movie theory she’d thought of earlier. The quicker she got the hell out of there the better Fallon reasoned.
“Restroom?” Fallon asked. She had to piss like a racehorse and since she didn’t know how long she’d have to wait to cross the border Fallon decided to just take care of it real quick now. The clerk nodded her head towards the back of the store. Fallon noticed the clerk’s bottom lip was kind of quivering like she was scared or something. There went Fallon’s all famous gut feeling rumbling through her stomach and psyche again. I’m going to take a quick piss and get the fuck out of here; this bitch making me crazy right now.
Fallon went to the back of the store and noticed there were two doors, one that led out the back of the station and one that was the restroom. Fallon went into the bathroom. Lucky for her, there was a small window inside. She climbed onto the toilet seat and peered out of the window. She quickly ducked back down.
“What the fuck? I just can’t win,” Fallon whispered harshly as she climbed down from the toilet. She had watched two black Impalas pull into the station. Even little kids in the hood knew Impalas were ninety percent of the time unmarked police vehicles. Fallon was sure those cars were probably there for her. She imagined that by now they would have her stolen car surrounded and were out there just waiting for her to come out of the station’s door so they could throw her to the ground, drop their knees in her back and clamp chains on her. The good thing was if she could get away, Fallon had the passport and birth certificate in the pocketbook so she could still get across the border. Good thing she hadn’t left it in the car. Getting across the border was now dependent upon whether or not she got out of that station in one piece and not in handcuffs. She sure as hell was going to try her best. Fallon was not ready to give up just yet. She had made a promise and she wasn’t going to break it unless she was forced to.
Fallon quickly slipped out of the bathroom. She looked down the little hallway. She could see the unfriendly clerk on the telephone. Oh shit. She’s probably talking to the cops and the Marshalls. Fallon said to herself. She jiggled the doorknob to the back door exit. “Shit,” Fallon mouth silently. The door wouldn’t give. She looked down and noticed there was a bolt slid across the door at the bottom. Fallon bent down as quietly as she could and lifted the metal holder on the bolt and slid it over. It made a little bit of a squeaking noise. “No be quiet,” Fallon said silently with her lips. She stood back up slowly, took a quick look at the clerk. She was still on the phone. Maybe she didn’t hear shit. Fallon thought. Then she twisted the doorknob slowly. The fresh air rushed at her. Fallon stepped slowly out of the door. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.
***
Torrence sat inside of the unmarked car with her legs swinging in and out anxiously. She hadn’t been this anxious since waiting outside the hearing room during her divorce proceedings, only that time there was nothing she could do to alleviate the stress. This time she was able to smile in Fallon Porter’s smug little face, Torrence was sure the stress would float away. She had her hand on her gun, her bulletproof vest was strapped on tightly and she was just waiting to see Fallon Porter come out of the gas station doors.
“Are you alright?” Agent Gripper asked Torrence, noticing the stony look on her face and the trembling in her hands.
“I’m cool, but I’ll be even better when I can get up close and personal with this bitch,” Torrence answered, looking down at her watch. It seemed like they’d pulled into the station hours ago, although Torrence knew it had just been minutes.
“What do you think is taking so long anyway?” Torrence said to Gripper, keeping her eyes on the gas station door.
“You said yourself; Fallon Porter is a prima donna who thinks the world revolves around her pretty ass. So my guess is that she is probably in there changing into another disguise or cleaning herself up. Trying to make herself pretty so that when she meets up with her brother and sisters she doesn’t look like she’s been on the run for the past two weeks,” Gripper replied.
It made sense, but Torrence felt like she knew Fallon Porter a little better than that. If anything, Fallon would rush in, pay for the gas, maybe take a quick piss and then be out. Torrence looked at her watch and squinted so she could see the door better. A few more long minutes ticked by. Torrence looked at her watch again and then she grabbed for the car door handle.
“What are you doing Torrence?” Gripper asked, urgency lacing his w
ords.
“I’m going in. Something isn’t right,” Torrence said. Gripper grabbed her arm.
“No. I explained all of this to you before we came out here. Now if it weren’t for me and my people you’d still be playing cat and mouse with Porter. We wait…we follow her to wherever she’s going…we grab all four siblings at once. Remember the plan,” Gripper said with authority. He wasn’t trying to let Torrence fuck this up.
Just like Torrence had a hard-on for Fallon Porter, Gripper had one for Dayvid, Rain, Autumn and Fallon Porter. He’d been made to look like a fool each time they completed a bank heist and he couldn’t get one shred of evidence to prove it—no fingerprints, no surveillance footage, and most importantly none of the money hitting the streets. They were very smart, until Fallon Porter ran her mouth to her lover Lincoln “Linx” Drake, who’d made a deal with the FBI to serve up the Porters on a silver platter so he would walk away from facing down a lot of years for drug trafficking charges. Linx had even lured Fallon back in and got her on tape bragging about their last job and how they are leaving town. It was like an FBI agent’s best gift ever. The rest was history. Gripper sent the locals and the FBI’s raid team out to grab the Porters, which had gone perfectly, except for the fact that they arrived a few minutes too late because Rain Porter had slipped out before they had arrived. Gripper hadn’t anticipated the Porters being savvy enough to break out of jail before the feds could even leverage the charges. He wasn’t about to sacrifice all of the months of work for one hard ass U.S. Marshall.
“Get off of me Gripper. I’m going in,” Torrence said through clenched teeth. “For all we know Fallon Porter could be in there murdering the fucking store clerk. Do you not know who you’re dealing with here?” Torrence boomed.
The Circle: Fallon's Story (THE CIRCLE SERIES) Page 15
