Promise Kept

by Mitzi Pool Bridges

  Donovan sat on the edge of his bed, looked Mark in the eye. “I’m going to go with Dugan and Ted to look for your mom. But my mom and some FBI guys are here. You be a big boy and go to sleep. When you wake up, I’ll be here.”

  “Can I go with you?” he asked in a small voice.

  Donovan shook his head. “Not tonight.”

  “Tomorrow? I’m big enough to help.”

  “There’ll be lots to do tomorrow, so we’ll have to see. Maybe by then, she’ll be home.”

  Mark looked up at Donovan, his dark eyes swimming with tears. Donovan pulled him close again and gave him a hug. “She’ll be all right, son.”

  Please keep her safe, he pleaded. Please.

  Mark nodded.

  Donovan pulled back the covers. “How about it? You gonna climb in here and get to sleep?”

  Mark hesitated.

  “Tell you what, why don’t I send my mom up here to sit with you until then?”

  Mark pulled the covers up to his chin, but didn’t answer.

  Donovan left the lamp on and went downstairs.

  When he got to the kitchen, his mom had a pot of coffee going, handed him a couple of thermoses. “Thought you could use this tonight. Give one to the boys in the barn.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” He kissed her cheek. “Would you sit with Mark until he goes to sleep? He’s scared to death.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Donovan saw her in the distance, ran toward her. But the faster he ran, the further away she was. She kept looking back at him, willing him forward. He put on another burst of speed. But his legs wouldn’t move. He had to reach her. Had to.

  “Mom!”

  Mark’s voice seemed to come from very far away. He called out again. Donovan shot out of the bed he’d been in for less than two hours. Shaking sleep from his head, he went over to sit beside Mark.

  They’d been at it all night. The town was full of FBI agents and U.S. Marshals as well as Dugan and his deputies. No one had seen Mateo since he’d left Carter’s Grocers around noon yesterday.

  “I’m here, Mark.”

  “Where’s Mom? Did you find her?”

  Donovan pulled the boy onto his lap. “No. We didn’t. But there are lots of people looking for her.”

  Tears fell down Mark’s cheeks. He wiped them away.

  “It’s okay to cry, Mark.”

  Donovan wanted to cry, too. With so many people looking for Phyl, you’d think finding her wouldn’t take this long. But it hadn’t happened. If Mateo had slipped through the roadblock and was out of the area before it was set up, they’d have a hard time finding her.

  Mark laid his head on Donovan’s chest and cried. “I want my mom!”

  They sat there for a while. Donovan held Mark close, let him cry. When Mark pulled away, Donovan’s eyes were damp. “We’re going to find her,” he promised, his voice husky. “Why don’t you get dressed and come downstairs? Breakfast will be ready.”

  Mark shook his head.

  “We have to be strong.”

  “I know. But I don’t feel strong.”

  Nor did Donovan. He stood, put Mark on the floor. “Get dressed. We’ll go down together.”

  “Okay,” he said, and he went to the bathroom.

  Donovan sat there a minute, his head in his hands. Why hadn’t they found her? The thought that she could already be out of the county, and was out of reach, made him ill. He wouldn’t even think on the fact that she might already be dead. He simply wouldn’t go there.

  He got up, pulled on his clothes, took his turn in the bathroom. Then, taking Mark’s hand, they went downstairs.

  Voices came from the kitchen.

  “Who’s here?” Mark whispered.

  Donovan looked at his watch. Eight o’clock. “Could be the FBI.”

  When they walked in, the kitchen grew silent. Mom had called the family. They were all here, even Lisa. Lisa wasn’t blood kin, but you’d never know it. She and TJ were like sisters and as much a part of the family now as any of them. Donovan was grateful for her presence. For all of them. Plus, there was a strange face in the group.

  TJ ran to Mark. “How are you, Mark?”

  “Did you come to help find my mom?” he asked.

  “We all did,” she said.

  “So did I, Mark. We’ll find her,” Lisa added.

  Mark looked around. “Where’s Duncan?”

  “Asleep. But he’ll be up soon.”

  “We were about ready to leave,” Darin said.

  A small, dark-haired woman stepped forward. “I’m China Gibson,” she said. “FBI.” She showed him her credentials. “I have a trace on the phone in case anyone calls. Want you to know I’ll be here until we find her.”

  “Thanks,” Donovan said, his voice husky with thanks, and with fear.

  “C’mon, Mark. Breakfast is ready,” Nellie said. “You too, Donovan. Everyone else has eaten.”

  “We’re headed out,” Douglas said. “We’re meeting at Dugan’s office. He’s helping the FBI divide the county into grids. They’re going to check every house in the county.”

  “Are the roadblocks still up?” Donovan asked, taking a cup of coffee from his mom.

  “They’re up as far as San Antonio, Sonora, and every side road in between,” Max said. “The FBI thinks she’s still in the area.”

  “If she is, we’ll find her,” Darin said. “Eat your breakfast. We’ll see you at Dugan’s.”

  “I’m coming with you.” He turned to Agent Gibson. “You’ll keep Mom and Mark safe?”

  She patted the gun at her waist. “Count on it.”

  Donovan believed her. She was a small woman, but the look in her eyes told him she could handle anything that came her way.

  He bent down, hugged Mark’s shoulders. “I’m going with the family now. You stay here in case your mom calls.”

  “Do you think she will?” he asked, his eyes bright with hope.

  “If she gets the chance, you bet she will.”

  “Okay.”

  Donovan introduced Mark to China Gibson. “Ms. Gibson is an FBI agent. She’s here in case your mom calls, too. If she asks you to do something, I’m counting on you to do it.”

  “You can count on me,” he said, his lips quivering.

  Donovan did his best to ignore Mark’s eyes, filling with tears. He slammed on his Stetson and joined his family.

  “If Mom will take care of Duncan, I’m coming with you,” TJ said.

  “We’ll manage. Mark will help,” Nellie offered.

  “Don’t worry about Dunc,” Mark said. “I’ll play with him when he wakes up.”

  They walked out into a beautiful day, the sun bright, the sky blue. If his heart weren’t breaking, Donovan thought, this would be a day to celebrate.

  He climbed into Douglas’ SUV. Darin got into the back seat. Max, TJ, and Lisa came in Max’s car, and since they would probably split up later, followed them.

  “We’re sorry as hell,” Darin said.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do if she isn’t found.”

  “We’ll find her,” Darin promised. “Max is in touch with his FBI friends and his computer expert is trying to find who this Mateo guy is. Where he’d go. What he’d do.”

  “Has anyone found out anything?” Donovan wanted to know.

  “Not that we’ve heard,” Douglas answered. “Something’s bound to break. There are hundreds out now looking for her.”

  Donovan took out his cell phone, dialed Max who was in the car behind them. “Has the FBI found out anything about Mateo?”

  “They’re still researching. Could be Erik Tilton. But they don’t know for sure. I talked to my man, Bernie Peters. He’s on it too. If there’s anything to be found, he’ll find it.”

  “We’re losing too much time,” Donovan said.

  “Take it easy. It hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet.”

  Donovan flipped the phone shut without answering. One hour was too long.r />
  They reached the sheriff’s office to find a dozen cars parked in front. He recognized most of them. Friends and neighbors were volunteering. His heart filled with gratitude.

  “We’ll find her, Donovan,” Douglas said again. “Just hang in there.”

  ****

  Phyl opened her eyes. She was in the same curled position. Had she slept? It seemed as if she’d spent the night with her mind racing one minute, praying the next. But she’d survived the night—survived the dark, and must have slept some; otherwise her eyes wouldn’t be so gritty.

  At first, she wondered if the windows were covered with plywood so the room would stay in darkness, but there was a faint sign of dawn. She got up, staggered to a window that had boards across it. She put her face to the boards, peered between the cracks. It wouldn’t be long until the sun came out. She hurried to the bathroom to find a small window also boarded up. A ten-gallon bucket sat beside the toilet with a small cooking pan beside it. Probably put there for dipping water.

  When she turned on a faucet there was no water. No lights either. She was sure the owner had the utilities cut off long ago. She dared not rinse her face or flush the toilet until she had to. She couldn’t trust Mateo to bring more water once the bucket was empty.

  She searched the bathroom, hunting for a weapon. Scissors. Hair spray. Anything. But there was nothing. Even the lid to the toilet had been removed.

  Going back to the bedroom, she saw what she couldn’t last night. The room wasn’t large. Barely big enough for a bed and dresser.

  She grabbed the bottle of water on the floor, opened it, drank it down.

  Mateo banged on the door. She jumped.

  “Move back if you want something to eat.”

  She did as he asked.

  “Talk to me,” he ordered.

  He wanted to be sure she’d moved away. When she called out, he opened the door, put another bottle of water on the floor along with a can, and a plastic fork. Then he shut the door. The lock clicked.

  She picked up the can. “Tuna.”

  With the first bite, she made a face, ate a little. Better than starving, but not by much.

  It didn’t take long for the smell of tuna to filter through the room, and she didn’t like tuna to start with.

  She looked around for something to cover it with—something to stifle the smell. In the closet she found an old newspaper, wrapped the can in it. After putting it in the closet, she shut the door.

  But the smell remained. If she could break the window, she’d throw the can outside. Maybe someone would find it and be suspicious. But a quick look proved that impossible. Maybe she’d suffer the smell and leave it out where it could be seen. If anyone came here looking for her, it would be an obvious clue. She got the can, set it on the dresser.

  After an hour, she ran to the bathroom and threw up what she’d eaten. “Not that great going down, worse coming up,” she muttered.

  The smell now saturated the room. Nothing but fresh air or a can of deodorizer would get it out.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant idea.

  She put her mind to other things, like how to get out of here before Mateo got his orders. She wasn’t ready to die.

  Going to the window, she pulled on the boards. They wouldn’t budge. She’d need a crowbar to get them off. If she had a weapon, she could take him down when he opened the door.

  Just like in the bathroom, a quick search of the room showed nothing useful.

  The bed reminded her of the one they’d had when she was a child—her grandmother’s bed—a bed that had been given to her mother when she married. It’d had boards to hold the old-fashioned springs. If she was lucky, this one did too.

  She went to the door, heard nothing.

  Going back to the bed, she lifted the mattress. Yes! Old fashioned springs and six boards. She was reaching for one when a key scraped in the lock.

  Quickly, she dropped the mattress, smoothed the covers and sat down.

  Mateo walked in, a gun in his hand. Where did that come from? She hadn’t seen it before. Was he going to kill her now?

  He came in quickly, locked the door behind him, threw her facedown on the bed. “What?” she managed to ask right before he stuffed something in her mouth.

  “Keep quiet and you live.”

  She grunted when he put a knee in her back. Whatever he’d stuffed in her mouth crawled down her throat. She was going to choke to death.

  “Are you ready to die?”

  She shook her head, coughed to bring the rag up.

  “Are you going to lay there and keep your mouth shut?”

  She nodded.

  “Good,” he said behind her.

  Then she heard it. A truck motor. Sounded like a diesel.

  Voices.

  She struggled to get up, but Mateo increased the pressure on her back. “I can kill you with a twist of my wrist,” he whispered in her ear.

  More than one person was there. She wanted to cry out. Scream. But she could barely breathe. She prayed the tuna smell would alert them.

  The voices came closer.

  “No one’s been here in a couple of years,” a male voice said.

  “Let’s see if we can get inside,” another said.

  “Let’s check the house first.”

  Their voices faded. Mateo jerked her up, pushed her against the iron headboard. “Stay put if you want to live.”

  Would she have time to grab the board before he got back?

  Quickly, she pulled the rag out of her mouth and jumped up, but he was back in seconds. He put the cases of water on the floor, went back out. This time he came back with a case of tuna and an overnight bag.

  “Oh, and you forgot this.” He held up the can of tuna she’d left for someone to find. He stuffed the can in a drawer, and brushed off his hands. “That should do it.”

  He shut and locked the door again, went to the closet where he pulled a short rope. A ladder appeared. Why hadn’t she seen that before? She’d have been out of here by now.

  “Up the ladder, and hurry.” Now she could see why she hadn’t seen the opening. The hole was large and trimmed with wood matching that of the closet.

  With no other choice, she climbed the ladder.

  “Don’t even think of fighting me.”

  She looked around the dark attic. There was no way out. The cases of water plopped down beside her, followed by the tuna and his bag. She looked for a weapon. Nothing.

  Then he was beside her, shutting the opening.

  “If they find us, you’re dead,” he whispered. He meant it. “Not that I don’t trust you, but…” Another rag went in her mouth. It was as if he could see in the dark.

  She was frightened for her life, wondered if she was going to die right here and now choked to death by a rag in her mouth.

  She reached up to pull it out, but Mateo grabbed her hands. She took shallow breaths through her nose. She would survive this. She had to.

  Please God, don’t let innocent people die because they’re looking for me.

  She barely heard the outside door open over the beat of her heart. But Mateo did. He pushed her face down onto the attic floor, put his knee in her back once more. “You know the drill,” he whispered. “If I have to kill these people it’s fine with me.”

  He didn’t mean it. She could hear it in his voice. If he shot anyone, he’d have to leave. If he left, he’d be caught. He had to know that.

  “No one here,” a man’s voice said. She thought she recognized his voice from the day they took the cows to auction, but wasn’t sure. “Just like the house, empty.”

  Phyl heard them tromp through the house, stop at the door where she’d spent the night.

  “Locked.”

  The knob rattled. “Probably been that way since Adams went to jail.” The rancher’s voice again. “Sheriff said to be thorough. Break it down.”

  “Wait,” one of them ordered. “It’s old. I think I can open it.”

  Phyl�
�s heart almost stopped. Mateo’s knee dug deeper.

  Within seconds they were in the room.

  “Were you a burglar in your past life?” one of the men teased.

  Several chuckles.

  “Nothing here,” the rancher’s voice boomed.

  Their voices faded as they walked out. “Do you smell something?” another asked.

  “Smells like tuna fish—or maybe vomit. Probably some animal puked in the corner.”

  “What about the barn?”

  Phyl couldn’t breathe. She was going to die, felt her head whirl. Hurry, her mind screamed. Blackness that had nothing to do with the darkness floated in her head.

  “It’s locked up tight, but I looked through the cracks. There’s nothing in there but a car covered with an old tarp. Probably belonged to Adams.”

  “Mark this place off our map. We still have several others to check.”

  The outer door slammed shut.

  It wasn’t long before the diesel motor roared to life.

  When they could no longer hear anything, Mateo lifted his knee. “Lucky bastards,” he said as he pulled her to a sitting position.

  She fell sideways.

  She barely knew what was happening. Tried to cough. He pulled the rag out and slapped her on the back.

  She choked, and coughed until she couldn’t cough anymore. But the darkness in her head receded.

  He put the knife and gun back in his pocket, moved to the opening. It didn’t take but a minute to drag the water and tuna down.

  “Your turn.”

  Legs trembling, she followed him into her prison. He headed for the door, his arms laden down.

  “Wait,” she managed to strangle out the word.

  He turned back. “What?”

  She waved a hand in front of her face to stop herself from coughing again. “How long are we going to be here?”

  He laughed. “I’ll know tonight.”

  He sat everything down in the other room, came back to put two bottles of water on the floor, shut and locked the door.

  Once more, she was alone.

  But now she had a plan.

  After drinking another bottle of water, she lifted the mattress, pulled out one of the long boards, lowered the mattress back into place. She hefted the board to her shoulder...and willed Mateo to open the door again.