Flames glowed ahead as the draw widened to form a small bowl carved into the base of the butte. Two battered cars were parked near busted-up chunks of concrete that looked like the remnants of a foundation. A cabin or possibly a barn. Hard to tell through the haze of oily black smoke.
One thing was obvious—it was a dead-end road. They were bottled up like flies in a jar if any kind of cops came along.
Starr hunched down, peeking from behind the headrest of Mary’s seat. In the smoke and the shadows, no one outside would see her. And they were all looking. Only half-a-dozen people, David saw with relief. Two guys and three women, all in their twenties, David guessed, though the years had been hard enough they could’ve passed for forty. Kylan was a soft spot in the crowd, standing toward the rear with a beer bottle in one hand.
Mary took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “Let me do the talking.”
“No problem,” David said.
Starr ducked lower as they kicked open their doors, triggering the dome light. The thud, thud of the doors closing was as loud as a thunderclap in the now-silent clearing. As David and Mary approached the fire, a couple of the guys stepped forward to meet them, one wiry with a narrow, ferret face and hair slicked back in a greasy ponytail. The other weighed at least four hundred pounds, none of it muscle.
Okay. They could maybe take these two as long as the big guy didn’t fall on them. David put himself behind Mary’s left shoulder as she stopped a few paces short, just out of reach. Even over the stench of burning rubber, David caught a whiff of body odor.
“Hey, Mary,” the fat guy said with a sloppy leer that was missing a couple of teeth on one side. “Never figured you’d show up here.”
“Hey, Weasel.”
The fat guy was Weasel? David eyed him in amazement. Either the nickname was based solely on his personality, or he’d been a lot skinnier as a kid.
“If you wanna party with us, you better’ve brought your own booze,” Weasel declared.
Mary spread her hands, showing they were empty. “I guess we’re outta luck, so I’ll just take Kylan and go home.”
“Maybe Kylan don’t want to leave. And you ain’t even introduced me to your friend.” The nod toward David sent a ripple through multiple chins. “Or is the hotshot cowboy too cool for us rez boys?”
David shifted onto the balls of his feet, uncomfortably aware of how flashy his Finals jacket looked compared to the other men’s cheap, greasy windbreakers.
Mary tilted her head toward him. “Weasel, this is David.” She kept her voice cool, her stance firm but not hostile as she shifted her gaze to the huddle of people. “Come on, Kylan, let’s go.”
Kylan didn’t move. His face was set in the usual stubborn, sulky lines.
“He’s tired of bein’ a sissy boy, always under your thumb,” Weasel taunted. “He’s gonna stay here, party with the grown-ups.”
David slid his gaze from Weasel to his buddy and on to Kylan, let his disgust show as their eyes met. Is this what you want?
Kylan couldn’t hold his stare. But he didn’t budge. Neither did Weasel.
The skinny guy smirked. “Guess you can go on back to town, Mama Mary.”
“Guess so.”
To David’s astonishment, she stepped back, started to turn. Then she paused. “Oh, by the way…when we were driving out here, JoJo called to warn me. He heard on the scanner that the border patrol saw your smoke and they’re headed this way.”
For an instant, they were frozen. Then they burst into frenzied movement as if the grass beneath their feet had gone up in flames. The women scurried around, fumbling for bottles and cans that weren’t empty yet, while Kylan made a futile attempt to kick dirt on the fire. Only Weasel hesitated, like he might call her bluff.
“Shit, Weasel,” the ferret-faced guy said, joining the stampede toward the cars. “Cops got a warrant on me. I gotta get out of here.”
Weasel grunted, gave Mary one last leer. “Later, bitch.”
The car sputtered and then roared, the skinny guy revving the engine as Weasel lumbered over and wedged his bulk into the passenger seat. Kylan started after them.
“No, Kylan, you can’t—” Mary jumped to intercept him, but he shoved her away. She stumbled, going down to one knee as Kylan broke into a run.
David didn’t bother to talk. He launched his body at Kylan like the defensive tackle he’d been back in high school. His shoulder slammed into Kylan’s chest, and they went down in a heap, David on top. He heard the air go out of Kylan’s lungs in one big oof. The kid squirmed, but between lack of oxygen and David’s weight, it was a weak effort.
His buddy Weasel wasn’t waiting around anyway. The car whipped around in a ragged, bouncing arc, the back bumper swinging close enough that the tires spat dirt in David’s face as the skinny guy gunned it. They hit the road at an angle, lurching over the grassy berm. The rear end slewed sideways, first one way and then the other. One tire caught in some brush on the shoulder and sent the car careening up the side of the draw. The driver yanked at the wheel, and the car swung sideways, slid downhill, and caught, the uphill tires coming off the ground.
For an instant, it hung there, a breath away from rolling down the embankment and into the draw below. Then the tires slammed down and the front end came around. The car bounced onto the road and away, skidding through the bend in the draw and out of sight. The second car followed more cautiously.
Kylan jerked, driving an elbow into David’s gut. He rolled off, turning the kid loose.
Starr ran up to crouch beside Kylan, tears streaming down her face. “Ky, baby, are you okay? Oh my God, I don’t know whether to hug you or kill you.” She chose the first, flinging her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.
At first, David thought the girl was making the weird moaning sound. Then he realized it was coming from behind him. He twisted around, alarm shooting another spurt of adrenaline into his veins. Mary was still on the ground where she’d fallen, crouched into a tight ball with her fists pressed against her eyes, face screwed up tight. She rocked slowly, rhythmically, her lips moving, another low, guttural moan coming from deep in her throat.
David scrambled over to her on hands and knees and reached out, but he stopped short of touching her. Was she injured? Having some kind of seizure? “Mary? Are you hurt?”
She gave no sign of hearing him. He leaned in closer, straining to hear the words she mumbled. “Eighteen, nineteen, twenty…” She was…counting?
“Mary?” he said again, letting his hand rest lightly on her shoulder.
She flinched away, shaking her head, counting louder. David pulled his hand back.
“Starr,” he called softly. “What’s happening to her?”
Starr peeled herself off Kylan and stood. With oily smoke swirling around her, face smeared with black makeup and hair wild, she looked as if she’d emerged from the apocalypse. She stared at Mary, edging closer. “Flashback, maybe? I heard she used to get them, and this is the worst place…”
“What do I do?” David asked, helpless.
“I dunno, but we gotta get out of here before the cops really do come.”
Kylan stumbled to his feet, hunched over, his breathing labored. He shot a glare at David. “What did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do anything!” David snapped. “You’re the reason she’s here.”
“She din’t have to come after me,” Kylan shot back, but there was a whine under the bravado.
“Oh, shut up.” Starr punched him hard in the arm. “You’re such a jerk.”
Mary didn’t seem to hear any of it, still rocking and counting.
“Can you carry her to the pickup?” Starr asked, with a panicked look over her shoulder at the road.
Mary was small enough, for sure, but would she freak out if David grabbed her?
“We have to go,” Starr said.
She was right. They couldn’t get caught here with the fire still burning, remnants of the party scattered on the ground around them, and beer on Kylan’s breath. David sent up a quick, silent prayer, then scooped Mary into his arms and staggered to his feet. Damn. For a little thing, she was packed pretty solid.
She stiffened, her head rearing back, her eyes popping open but not seeing.
“Easy, Mary,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
He strode toward the pickup, as fast as he could in the dim light, hoping to at least get her in the back seat before she came unglued. She strained against his hold, strong in her panic. David stumbled, nearly lost his grip, but suddenly she went limp, curled into him, and buried her face inside the open front of his jacket like a frightened kitten.
Starr hustled ahead and opened the door. David tried to settle Mary on the seat, but her fingers clutched his coat, refusing to let go.
“Can you drive?” David asked Starr.
“A stick shift? Uh…maybe.”
“Not very good,” Kylan said. “I’m better.”
“You’ve been drinking,” David said. “Get in the pickup. Starr can manage.”
David ducked his head and slid into the back seat, Mary on his lap. Starr shut the door behind them and jumped behind the wheel.
“Put it in first gear and let the clutch out slow,” David said as she fired up the engine.
She did as instructed. The pickup lurched, but she didn’t kill the engine. She eased it around and onto the road. Kylan slouched on the passenger’s side, sneaking worried glances at Mary as David coached Starr through shifting into second gear and then third, which was as fast as they could go on the god-awful road.
The pickup rocked through a set of ruts, and David cupped Mary’s head to keep it from bouncing against his shoulder. A sigh shuddered through her body, and her hands released their death grip on his coat. She flattened one palm against his chest. The other fell into her lap. The harsh lines smoothed from her face.
She was the only one who could relax. The air inside the pickup crackled with tension as the rest of them strained their eyes for any sign of a vehicle bearing down from any direction, but the visible lights were all stationary, orangish outdoor security lamps that had flickered to life as the sun sank behind the mountains.
David’s adrenaline began to fade, slowly pushed aside by awareness. Mary’s warmth, the soft press of her body against his, the friction generated by the rocking and bouncing of the pickup. His body responded, his blood heating and his pulse rising.
Stop. Geezus. He had to think about something else. Anything but how perfectly she fit there in his arms. How easy it would be to tip her head back, put his mouth on hers…and get his throat ripped out in return. He tried to conjure up depressing thoughts. Picture the withering, sunbaked prairie back home. That was always guaranteed to deflate his…mood. Dry. Dust. Desert…
Afghanistan. What had happened to Mary over there, bad enough that reliving it could completely disable her? David had only vague impressions of news reports, half-heard stories of roadside IEDs and suicide bombers. He’d never paid attention. Had never wanted to know.
Wasn’t sure he wanted to know now.
After a five-minute eternity, they reached the main road. David breathed a sigh of relief as they bounced over the cattle guard and then sucked it back in when headlights popped over the hill behind them, followed immediately by an explosion of blue and red flashers.
Starr said a very bad word as she pulled over. “Still think you shoulda drove?” she asked, shooting Kylan a spiteful glare. “Woulda been real smart, getting a DUI when you don’t even have a license.”
“You said you could drive,” David said, adding a glare of his own.
“I can,” Kylan shot back and then hunched his shoulders, burying his chin in his chest. “I drive good. I just can’t pass the stupid written test.”
“Everything is just so hard for him.”
Even getting a driver’s license. Christ. No wonder the kid wanted to run away from himself, be someone, somewhere else. If he couldn’t get a license, how could he get a job? Any job. Especially in a place like this, where he couldn’t exactly hop a bus or a subway to work. So many little stumbling blocks, stacked up one by one. To Kylan, they must seem like a solid brick wall he’d been bashing into his whole life.
Starr finger-combed her hair and swiped at her smudged eyes, managing to look less disastrous by the time the white SUV bounced to a stop behind them. They waited, but it just sat there, lights spinning.
“What’s he doing?” Kylan asked, darting a scared glance out the back window.
“Running my plates,” David said. Or so he guessed.
“They’re real suspicious of out-of-state vehicles on these back roads,” Starr said. “In case you’re running drugs. Or smuggling guns into Canada.”
Oh great. David imagined them all dragged into an interrogation room at the nearest border crossing, held for hours while the pickup was torn apart as they looked for secret compartments. The door of the SUV opened, and a broad-shouldered male figure stepped out, flashlight beam skimming over the ground as he walked. A light-colored uniform, not black like JoJo’s.
Starr rolled down her window and pasted on a smile. “What can we do for you, officer?”
“Agent,” he corrected. “Border patrol. What are you doing out here so late tonight?”
Late? David glanced at the dashboard clock, stunned to see it read ten thirty.
“We was showing him around,” Starr said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at David. “He’s visitin’ for a couple of days. Wanted to see some ranch country.”
The flashlight beam swung around, full in David’s face. “Name and residence?” the agent asked.
“David Parsons. Brush, Colorado.”
“This is your vehicle?”
“Yes.”
The officer nodded, as if that jived with his information. “Reason for visiting?”
“Business. A, um, horse deal.”
The flashlight beam settled on David’s jacket, the National Finals logo with his name stitched underneath. Then it slid down to Mary. Her head jerked up and she blinked, her eyes unfocused. She burrowed deeper into David’s jacket, digging her fingers into his chest as if she wanted get under his skin.
David tightened his arms around her, stroking the back of her head.
“What’s wrong with her?” the agent asked.
“Migraine,” Starr said. “They come on real sudden, so bad we have to take her to the hospital to get a shot. Light and noise are super painful for her,” she added, with a pointed look at the flashlight.
The agent took the hint, switching the beam over to Kylan, who stared back like the proverbial deer in the headlights. “I don’t suppose you happened upon a party while you were touring around?”
“We seen the smoke,” Starr said. “But we din’t want nothin’ to do with them guys.”
“Which guys would those be?” the agent asked, suspicion sharpening his tone.
“The kind that have tire parties,” Starr retorted.
David probably should speak up, help her out, but she was handling it better than he would, so he buttoned his lip. Kylan seemed to be going with the silent approach, too, thank God. Or he was too terrified to speak.
“Where was this party located?” the agent asked.
Starr pointed back over her shoulder. “Last road west. Least that’s where it looks like the smoke is coming from.”
“But you didn’t drive up there.”
“Mary don’t go on that road,” Starr said. “It’s where her brothers died.”
Kylan made a choking sound. The flashlight beam swung around to his face.
“Something wrong, son?”
“I…uh…forgot. About the wreck bein’ there.” His voice started to quake, and he clamped his mouth shut.
“Was it recent?” the agent asked.
Starr shook her head and lowered her voice, injecting some drama. “It was awful, though. All four guys in the back of the pickup got killed. And Mary seen it happen, so, you know…”
Mary saw it?
David tightened his arms around her in reflex, as if he could protect her from the horror, but it was much, much too late. Now he didn’t have to wonder what she’d seen during that flashback. Dear God. And she’d gone to war after that?
The border patrol agent lowered the flashlight, gave each of them a long look. Then he stepped back, face inscrutable. “I won’t keep you, then. Drive safe.”
“Will do,” Starr said.
He got in his SUV, switched off the flashers and bumped through a U-turn. Starr waited until he was headed back toward the smoke that still billowed from the base of the butte before easing out the clutch, so he wouldn’t see the pickup lurch when she fumbled the clutch.
Smart girl.
As she worked her way up through the gears, David felt a different sort of tension building in Mary’s body. Awareness. She shifted, tipped her head back, and stared up at him.
“You,” she whispered.
He nodded, bracing himself for her reaction.
“I… Why…” She trailed off, her body still curled into his like a missing piece as the haze cleared from her eyes. Then she moved so fast he had no chance to react, scooting off his lap and across the seat.
The motion caught Starr’s attention, and she eyed Mary in the rearview mirror. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Her voice was husky, her face pale and sharply drawn in the dim-green glow of the dash lights. She looked very young, and very alone way over there on the other side of the pickup. David ached to gather her up again, shelter her until the monsters inside her head crawled back into their hiding places.
He reached out and cupped his hand over hers where it rested on the seat. Her startled, wary gaze jumped to meet his. He gave her icy fingers a gentle squeeze. She stared at him for a long moment and then slumped so her head rested against the back of the seat. Her eyes drifted shut while he cradled her hand as carefully as an injured bird.