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“Damn, these are good,” Garrett said, lifting a breakfast taco. “Can’t get anything like this up in Michigan.”
They were seated around the small square dinette table in the kitchen. If Garrett was suspicious about catching Red in the spare bedroom, he wasn’t showing it now, so Red relaxed a bit. The excuse about bed sheets had worked, apparently.
“That’s a damn shame,” Billy Don said, exposing a mouthful of chorizo, egg, and cheese, with salsa mixed in.
Red swallowed what he was chewing and said, “You gotta do that?”
“Do what?” Billy Don replied.
“That. You just did it again, on purpose.”
“Did what again?” Billy Don asked, shrugging, acting all innocent.
“Talking with your mouth full,” Red said.
“I like to eat and I like to talk,” Billy Don said.
“Tell me about it.”
“And sometimes they happen at the same time.”
“It’s gross.”
“Well, if you don’t like it, don’t look,” Billy Don said.
“That’s a great solution,” Red said. “Suppose I was taking a big dump with the door open, and you said it was gross, and I said, okay, well, just don’t look. How would you feel about that?”
“I’d be fine with it,” Billy Don said, speaking yet again with a full mouth, complete with food lodged between his teeth.
Red shook his head. “I know I ain’t no country-club gentleman, but you’ve got the manners of a donkey.”
“I’ve seen you dip snuff at a funeral,” Billy Don said.
“Well, the guy was dead,” Red said. “Wasn’t like he could get offended. Plus, it was an outdoor funeral, so the rules were different.”
“Then there was the time you told that nurse with the big hooters you had some swelling you wanted her to look at.”
Red grinned at the memory. “But you laughed, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but she sure as hell didn’t. I mean, who gets kicked out of a hospital? You’ve gotta own that one.”
“They say laughter is the best medicine, right?”
“Point is, don’t be trying to teach me manners. We’re both pigs.”
“I can agree with that,” Red said.
The three of them ate in silence for a moment.
“One thing I’ve been wondering about,” Red said, talking to Garrett now. “Seems like you’re just sort of traveling around the country, going wherever you feel like going. Does that basically sum it up?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Garrett said. “I figure once I get married or have kids or whatever, I won’t be as free to travel. I’d been thinking about doing this for a long time, but all that mess back home sort of inspired me to get out on the road. So at least that’s something positive that came of it. I think, in a weird way, my dad would be glad about that part. He always told me to do things while I was young, because before you know it, your time is up.”
Yeah, because somebody shoves you off a roof, Red thought.
“So did you, uh, save up for the trip or what?” he said. “I mean I know you’re not staying at four-star hotels, but if you’re mostly just traveling and not working, I figure that’s gotta eat up a pretty good amount of money.”
Red wanted to see if Garrett would reveal that he was rolling in cash from life insurance.
“Being nosy,” Billy Don said.
“I’m just curious, is all,” Red said.
“Not your bidness.”
“It’s a fair question,” Red said.
“None of your concern,” Billy Don said.
“Hey, if you don’t like it, don’t listen!” Red said, feeling pretty smart for throwing Billy Don’s nonsense logic back at him, but with a twist.
“That’s okay,” Garrett said. “I don’t mind. And the truth is, I’m really enjoying myself, but I can’t travel much longer before I’ll need to get a job again.”
Red didn’t say anything, because he wanted to make sure Garrett was done answering. Billy Don didn’t say anything because he was starting on yet another taco—his fourth, according to Red’s count.
Garrett didn’t add anything else, so Red said, “Money getting tight, huh?”
“Yeah,” Garrett said, grinning. “I can stretch the hell out of a dollar, but it only goes so far.”
So there it was. A kid his age with $400,000 in the bank doesn’t think about stretching dollars. So that meant Garrett didn’t have the money yet...or he didn’t want to admit he had it.
Red decided he needed to push harder, even if it meant crossing a line or ruffling some feathers. It’s what a real detective would do. Ask the hard questions, as they say.
“I hate to pry,” he said, “but didn’t your daddy leave nothing to you in his will? Or maybe life insurance? Nothing like that?”
“Jesus, Red,” Billy Don said, apparently so appalled that he actually stopped eating for a moment. “You’re way outta line.”
Before Red could defend himself, Garrett spoke up.
“Hey, I think I’d be wondering the same thing,” he said. “Unfortunately, no. He didn’t have much to leave behind. But that’s okay. He was a great dad and that was good enough. I didn’t need anything else from him.”
The kitchen went quiet for a long moment.
Red was wondering why Garrett was lying about the life insurance. Even if Garrett hadn’t gotten the money yet, that wasn’t the same as his daddy leaving nothing behind.
“You guys shouldn’t feel sorry for me,” Garrett said. “It’s all good. I have great memories of my dad, and I still have my mom, and now I’m out exploring the world. When my cash gets low, I’ll just work for a while. And when I’ve had enough of life on the road, I’ll just go back home. By then, maybe everything will have blown over. If it hasn’t, well, I’ll deal with it.”
When Albert was finished with his story—including revealing his real name and explaining why he was hesitant to seek assistance from the cops—the old man didn’t say anything for the longest time. Then he finally said, “I will help you.”
The relief was enormous. Not because the old man offered to help—what could he possibly do?—but because he wasn’t going to turn Albert in.
“Thank you,” Albert said. “I mean it. Really. And, hey, if you doubt anything I told you, just google my real name.”
“I don’t know how to google,” the old man said. “But I believe you anyway. If you weren’t being truthful, I would know.”
How would you know? Albert wondered. But he believed the old man.
“Thank you for believing me,” Albert said.
The old man nodded. “What would you like to be called?”
“Albert. Please. Always Albert. Never my real name. I’ve been Albert for nineteen years. That’s who I am now. Albert Cortez.”
“What are you planning to do? Run forever?”
Albert thought about that. “I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of options. In fact, that’s the only option I can think of—running. And starting over.”
“Here, or somewhere else?”
“You mean a different country?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
“I don’t know that, either. I’ve been thinking a lot, but I don’t know what to do. I just know that I don’t want to die.”
Across the highway, a train rolled north on the tracks, creating enough noise that Albert and the old man sat silently for a few minutes. After the train had rolled out of sight and the noise was dissipating, Albert spoke again.
“What’s your name? I never got it.”
“It’s Bob.”
“Bob?”
“Yes, Bob.”
“Oh.”
“Unless you want to call me Soaring Eagle.”
Albert looked at him. “Soaring Eagle?”
“Just kidding,” the old man said. “I’m not Soaring Eagle. Just Bob.”
“That’s funny. You got me.”
“I’m a laugh a minute,” Bob said, with no hint of sarcasm.
“I’m sure you are.”
“But I shouldn’t be making jokes right now. Instead, you need to make some decisions.”
“I know,” Albert said.
“And then I will help you.”
Albert nodded somberly to show his appreciation and agreement, but he said, “I don’t know if anybody can help me. But it’s nice of you to offer.”
“I grew up in this town,” Bob said. “Been here all my life. I know people. If the people I know can’t help you, you’re right—nobody can.”
Now Albert was nervous. Bob was talking about involving more people, and the more people who knew who he was, the greater the chance that someone might turn him in. And how would anyone in a little town like Gallup be able to help?
“What kind of people?” Albert asked.
“You’ll see,” Bob said. “Do you trust me?”
“I do,” Albert said.
“Because you have no choice,” Bob said, grinning. He was missing several teeth, and the remaining ones were the color of caramel.
“That’s true,” Albert said. “But I’d trust you anyway.”
A car pulled into the motel parking lot and stopped at the front office, prompting Bob to rise slowly out of his chair.
“We’ll talk again later,” he said.
Albert nodded. “Thank you.”
Bob walked slowly across the parking lot and Albert remained in the chair, enjoying the sunshine for a moment. He might’ve even dozed off—which showed how much the conversation had eased his worries—but suddenly Bob was jostling his arm.
“You need to get into your room,” Bob said. “They’re talking about you on the local news.”
“What the—”
“Somebody spotted you,” Bob said. “An older couple in an RV. Said they ran into you at a Denny’s in Roswell. That ring any bells? They showed a security video of you in the restaurant and your green car in the parking lot.”
Just like that, the feeling of renewed hope was gone.