Squires reminded himself that he had around sixty grand in cash-plus a few grand more he’d stolen from the two white guys last night. That was more than enough money to kick back at some Mexican beach resort for a month or two.
And if he liked the place, maybe he’d invest some of that money in starting up a first-class steroids lab-a place where it was legal to use and make gear. Hell, he could hire Tula and her family to keep the place clean and do office work. The girl was strange, but at least he knew that she’d never steal from him or lie to him about the books.
Okay, Squires thought to himself, Mexico it is.
Goddamn, that felt good! He’d finally made a decision. It put a little smile on his face until Tula handed him his cell phone as if the thing was broken, telling him, “I can’t hear what my aunt Isabel is saying anymore. She was right in the middle of telling me something important when we got cut off.”
“I told you, we don’t have good reception out here,” Squires replied.
“But I wanted to hear what she was telling me!”
As the man slipped the phone into his pocket, he paid attention because the girl sounded so serious, which is why he asked her, “What’d she say that’s got you so riled up?”
Tula replied, “My aunt said an important woman called her tonight. A woman who works for the government helping immigrants. She was very worried because she said the police are looking for you and me.”
Squires felt his heart begin to pound. “Your aunt said that?” he asked.
“No, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. The woman said they’ve been talking about us on the radio and television all night. Some kind of special alert for children. It has a color in the name.”
Squires whispered, “Shit! An AMBER Alert.”
Reacting to the expression on the man’s face, Tula added quickly, “Yes-but it’s okay, don’t worry! The first thing my aunt will do is call the woman and tell her that you are my friend. She’s probably talking to the woman right now. Telling her that I’m very safe and happy. My aunt promised.”
Squires said, “Jesus Christ, an AMBER Alert. What next?” but was listening, wanting to hear better news.
Tula told him, “Then my aunt will call the church and speak with the priest-she knows him very well because she picked tomatoes in Immokalee for a season. His name is Father Jimenez, and she will ask him to telephone the police tonight and tell them the same thing.”
“Talk slower,” Squires said. “Tell the cops what?”
“That I’m with you because I want to be with you. So no one will be worried. My aunt was so relieved to hear my voice, she was crying. But she promised me, so I know she will do it.”
Tula held up the paper she was carrying. “In the morning, I will call the woman myself. I have her number here, too.”
Squires took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, before he said, “Maybe you should call the immigration woman now. I can back up. Usually, reception doesn’t go to hell until I get to the gate.”
But then he realized that turning around, driving toward Immokalee, might be a mistake. The woman from state immigration would want to know Tula’s exact location. That would bring the cops, asking questions.
The girl made up his mind, saying, “The police will believe Father Jimenez. A priest? Of course they will believe him. Plus, I told Father Jimenez that you are a wonderful man. He wanted to meet you, but I told him you are shy about coming into churches.”
Squires liked it when Tula said that. He began to relax a little and feel at ease as the girl added, “Do you now believe that the Maiden is watching over us? When you do God’s work, good things happen to you!”
By then, they were at the gate to the hunting camp.
Squires began to suspect trouble when he realized there was a light on inside his RV, the vehicle sitting up on blocks in the darkness. He and Tula had just gotten out of the truck, which was when the big man placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder, stopping her.
“Hold it, sis,” he said as he stared at the light. He knew he’d switched off the generator before leaving just in case he and the girl didn’t return. Plus, he would’ve heard the little Honda engine running if it was on.
That meant that someone inside had a flashlight. Or had lit a candle, or an oil lamp maybe. But where was the person’s truck?
Squire’s head pivoted from the mountain of cypress trees to the west, then to the east, where there were shadowed pine flats and a distant halo glow that was Lauderdale.
There had to be a vehicle somewhere. No one in their right mind would hike cross-country through the Everglades, not this late. Not half an hour before midnight… unless… unless they had parked their vehicle behind the RV. Which was possible. But how could they have gotten through the gate? The gate had been locked when he and Tula had arrived just as he’d left it.
Thinking that gave Squires a prickly feeling along his spine. Frankie had the only other key.
Squires reached out, patted Tula’s arm and whispered, “Hang on for a second, sis. Something ain’t right about this.”
He took a few slow steps toward the trailer, favoring his right leg, but then stopped abruptly when he saw what might have been a person moving in the shadows behind the trailer.
Squires couldn’t be sure. He had left the truck running, lights on, so he could see to unlock the door to the generator shed. He didn’t have a flashlight, so all he saw was a blur of movement like someone ducking for cover.
Squires was thinking about hurrying back to the truck and opening the hidden compartment to get his revolver and night vision binoculars. That’s when Tula whispered, “There’s someone here. I smell cigarette smoke. And perfume, too.”
Squires thought, Shit. It’s Frankie.
Yes, it was. The large woman appeared, standing in the RV’s doorway, shining a flashlight in his eyes, then focused the beam on Tula. Squires was shielding his eyes when he heard Frankie say, “Well, well, look at what we have here. Harris, you dumb pile of shit, I don’t know what to do first-have some fun with the pretty little wettail you brought me or call the cops and hope there’s a reward for turning in a kidnapper.”
The woman was very drunk and probably stoned. Squires could tell by the way she slurred her words. Frankie had to grab the railing as she started down the steps, adding, “Either way, I want the goddamn money you stole from me. Sixty thousand dollars in cash, you son of a bitch. You really thought I’d let you get away with it?”
For a woman, Frankie had the lowest voice Squires had ever heard. It was from using too much primobolan and shooting testosterone, which the woman lied about, too. But there was no disguising what steroids had done to her voice-and the female parts of her body, too.
Squires waved and called, “Hey, sugar babe, I was hoping you’d be here!” like he was glad to see the woman, but then he nudged Tula toward the truck, leaning to whisper, “Get in and lock the doors. Don’t come out ’til I tell you.”
Tula yanked her arm away, though, being stubborn, and said, “I’m not leaving you! You’re afraid of her, I can tell. I’m staying with you.”
Frankie, on the grass now, wearing tight jeans, her breasts ballooning out of a tank top, was close enough to hear the girl, because she laughed, saying, “Now, isn’t that sweet! You found yourself a loyal little chula. A cute young one, too. Harris, know what that tells me? It tells me you haven’t screwed her yet. Even if she’s a virgin, she wouldn’t still be hanging with you. She’d be ready for someone bigger and better by now.”
In a chiding voice, Frankie spoke to Tula, saying, “I’ll bet you’re still pure as the snow, aren’t you, nina? Then this goddamn piece of white trash comes along and kidnaps you. But you don’t have to be afraid of him now. Come here to Frankie”-the woman was patting her thigh as if calling a dog-“I’ll make sure you’re safe.”