"Mexico," Ali supplied. "Oaxaca. At least that's what he told me earlier."
"Shut up!" Jake said.
The barrel of his gun dug deeper into Ali's ribs, but she was grateful that it was pointed in her direction rather than in Chris's. He had his whole life ahead of him. As for hers? If she had to gamble her life to save her son's, that's exactly what she'd do.
Ali looked out across the darkened desert where mountains loomed black against a star-studded sky. They were only a few miles west of the Highway 111 turnoff and the place where the speeding train had plowed into a parked Camrythe place where Paul had died. Ali couldn't help wondering if maybe she and Chris were destined to die there as wellin much the same manner.
"I need to take a leak," Chris said from the front seat.
"Me, too," Ali added quickly. "I had way too much coffee earlier."
Jake immediately seemed to assume that their request for a pit stop was nothing but a ploy. And up to a point it was. Although Ali genuinely needed to use the facilities, it was also her sincere hope that in the process of getting in and out of the car, there would be an opportunity for Chris, at least, to get away.
"You'll just have to wait," Jake said. "You can hold it for a while."
Soon, though, and now that she was thinking about it, Ali really couldn't hold it any longer. She had drunk way too much coffee.
"I really do need to go," she said.
"I told you, we're not stopping."
"Fine," Ali said. "If you don't mind sitting in a puddle of urine, neither do I."
"There's a rest area coming up in a few minutes," Chris said. "Maybe we could stop there."
"Oh, for God's sake!" Jake exclaimed. "Stop then. By all means, but the two of you go in and out of the restroom one at a time, and your cell phone stays with me. Give it to me. Yours, too, if you've got one," Jake told Chris. "Hand it over."
As Chris signaled to merge onto the rest area exit ramp, Jake held out his hand to collect first Chris's phone and then Ali's. Chris passed his back. Involved in reluctantly handing over her own, Ali never saw exactly what happened. One moment they were slowing to exit the highway. The next the desert came alive with the flashing lights of a dozen police and emergency vehicles as the Alero gave a sudden violent lurch and veered to one side. Then it staggered forward on the rims of four instantly flattened tires.
"Nail strips!" Jake shouted in a panic. "Keep driving. Keep driving."
But Chris had already reached another conclusion and slammed on the brakes. As the vehicle slowed and came to a stop, Ali heard a voice she barely recognized as her own, screaming at her son.
"Get out," she screeched at him. "Go! Go! Go! I'm right behind you."
But that wasn't true. Before Ali could touch the door handle, Jake's fingers clamped down on her wrist. Ali may still have been trapped inside the car, but Chris was in motion before all the words had tumbled out of her mouth. She saw her son land and land hard, thrown forward by a combination of his own momentum and that of the vehicle. Then to her immense relief, he scrambled to his feet. Limping slightly, he raced to cover behind one of several waiting California Highway Patrol vehicles.
After that, in the middle of the chaosaccompanied by a cloud of swirling dust and the blinding flash of lightsthere was a moment of utter silence followed by someone shouting, "All right, Maxwell. You're surrounded. Put down your weapon. Come out with your hands up."
Jake looked at Ali. "How do they know it's me? Who told them?"
Ali had no answer for that, but with Chris out of the car and out of danger, she found herself immersed in a well of complete calma place where Jake Maxwell's threats no longer held any sway with her. She was immune.
"It doesn't matter who told them, Jake," she told him. "What matters is that they do know. It's over. You can't get away. Give it up."
"You have to believe me, Ali," he said, after a pause. "I had no idea she was going to kill him."
"Kill who?" Ali asked.
"Paul. I thought Lucia was just going to teach him a lesson. That's the way the Joaquins work, you see. They give people lessons, hard enough lessons so you know what they're capable of, and you don't need another one."
The comment came from so far out in left field that it took a moment for Ali to process it. "You mean you knew?" Ali demanded. "You son of a bitch, are you saying you did it?"
"I didn't. All I did was help get him drunk. I swear to you, I didn't know anything about Tracy and the rest of it. I never meant for Paul to die."
"You did mean it," Ali returned. "You meant it, and he did die. Why? Were you jealous because he got the job and you didn't? Was that it?"
With that Ali reached for the door handle.
"Wait, Ali," Jake said. "Don't leave me, please. I'll drop the gun if you stay. I promise. They won't shoot me as long as you're with me."
What Ali felt in that moment was a contempt and loathing so complete and all-consuming that there was no room left in her soul for anything else, especially not fear.
"Forget it," she told him. "You're on your own."
"But I have a gun."
"You may have a gun, buddy-boy," she told him, "but I know for a fact you don't have balls enough to use it."
With that, she opened the car door and stepped out into a world of flashing lights. And even there, in the middle of the sudden chill of the cold desert night, she knew that at least one or two of those flashing lights were bound to be cameras.
Blinded by them, she was startled when a pair of strong arms grabbed her and pulled her behind one of the waiting vehicles.
"Ali. Thank God!" Dave exclaimed. "Are you all right?" In the pulsing light she caught a glimpse of the relief on his worried face.
"I'm fine. Really."
"Come on, then," Dave said, leading her away. "It's too dangerous. Let's get out of here."
"How did you find us?" Ali asked. "How did you know where to look?"
Dave didn't answer. "Later," he said.
"Where's Chris?"
"Out of the line of fire. Where you need to be, too."
Someone shouting over what sounded like a bullhorn was still ordering Jake Maxwell out of the Alero as Dave led Ali to the far side of the concrete restroom complex. There she found Chris sitting on a picnic table with a paramedic applying ice to his ankle.
"The EMT grabbed me and wouldn't let me loose. It's just a little sprain, Mom," he said reassuringly. "It's nothing. How are you?"
Ali hurried over and hugged him. "I'm fine," she said. "I'm completely fine."
She turned back to Dave. "But how did you know amp;"
"Ask your son," Dave said. "Once he realized you were in trouble, he punched his phone's redial, and the last number dialed happened to be your folks' phone back in Sedona. Fortunately Bob was there and answered. Chris was wearing his Bluetooth mini earplug. That allowed Bob to overhear everything that was going on in the vehicle without Jake having any idea anyone was listening in. Bob immediately put another call through to usa conference callso we could all monitor the situation."
Ali remembered giving Chris a tough time when he had returned from a weekend skiing trip to Aspen with a telephone earpiece attached to his head. Now it appeared that an even smaller mini earplug might well have saved both their lives.
"And knowing what was up," Dave added, "Easy was able to get one of his electronic techs working the Pink Swan warehouse scene to reinitiate your GPS."
"So, from all that, you knew where we were the whole time," Ali said.
Dave nodded. "Pretty much," he said. "But none of that would have happened if Chris here hadn't used his head."
Flooded with relief and gratitude, Ali gave her son another hug. She and Chris had been in danger, all right, but not nearly as much as she had supposed.
"But you were here waiting for us," Ali said a moment later. "How did you do that? You and Easy were still in Valencia when I left. I thought you were going to pick up my mother."