Chapter 31

 

“Go to the car, Paddy!” I was trying hard to take a deep breath and make my voice as stern as possible, but my ribs were being pressed against my lungs and I couldn’t speak as loudly as I wanted. The dog ran off a short way and then hesitated. He looked as if he wanted to help me, but he didn’t have a vicious bone in his body, and probably thought this was some new game.

However, Paddy didn’t like what he saw. He turned and walked slowly toward us, his eyes fixed on a point over my shoulder. His lip curled as if he were going to growl.

“No, Paddy. Go to the car!” Paddy circled with indecision.

The man lunged, trying to step on the end of Paddy’s leash, which put him slightly off balance. I managed to dig an elbow into his ribs, and he grunted. He couldn’t quite reach the dancing leash.

“Go! Go to the car!” Paddy finally got the message and began to run westward down the road as fast as he could, the leash trailing behind him. I prayed it wouldn’t catch on anything.

The man now gave me his undivided attention, and I had to admit there wasn’t going to be any physical contest. The man was much stronger than I. All I could hope for was to delay whatever he had in mind, in hopes that Tracy would figure out where I was and that I needed help. He began to drag me toward the house. Apparently, he wasn’t going to worry about covering tracks any longer, as he pulled me through the previously unbroken weeds. I dug in my heels and tried to swing my legs from side to side to make as visible a trail as possible. I didn’t waste any effort in yelling; I was pretty sure no one who might help me was close enough to hear.

When we got to the house I was physically lifted and heaved onto the porch. The front door was opened by someone from the inside. Just for a moment I thought I might still get away, and stumbled to my right, away from the dark opening. In that moment, I saw the man who had grabbed me. He was tall and blond with bulging muscles. It was no one I knew. His bulk did not affect his speed, and with no difficulty at all he caught my arm and growled, “Not so fast, lady. You aren’t going anywhere.”

My logic was failing me, and I yelled, “Help! Anybody, help!”

The blond man smacked his other large hand over my mouth. “Give it up.” He forced me inside the old house, and the door was slammed shut.

Despite it being bright outside, this room faced north and the interior was dim enough that my eyes needed a few minutes to adjust. Before I could see much of anything, my hands were tied behind my back with a bandana, and then some twine was produced. I was pushed into a filthy, broken, overstuffed chair. The blond man held my shoulders against the padded seat back from behind, and another man knelt in front of me and tied my ankles to the stubby legs of the chair. The position was awkward, and the twine bit into my ankles, even through my socks. When this man unbent from his task I looked into his face. It was Pablo Ybarra.

Behind him, standing and facing me were the blond man, and Pablo’s sister. “Hello, Juanita,” I began. “And, I’m guessing you must be Larry Louama. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.” I couldn’t believe they were too dumb to catch my sarcasm, but they didn’t react to it. No one said the big man wasn’t Larry, so I assumed I was right.

“Why couldn’t you just mind your own business?” Juanita asked. She was no longer the polite, saleswoman who had helped me out of the ditch. She practically spat the words at me.

“You do not want to make my sister angry,” Pablo said in a quiet, steely tone.

“Did you really stop to help me the other day?” I asked Juanita. “Or were you part of the plan to knock me off the road? Maybe you were supposed to find out if I’d been hurt badly enough to keep me from walking down this road. Who owns that black truck, Pablo or DuWayne?”

“You are too smart for your own good.” She looked at the men, but didn’t answer my questions. “What are we going to do with her? You just had to drag her in here, so now she’s seen way too much.”

I looked around, wondering what I was supposed to have seen, besides these three people. All I saw was a row of six five-gallon buckets lined up against one of the moldy, stained walls. My best hope was to stall for time. I turned to Larry. “I suppose this is where you’ve been living, since no one could find you. I guess you came in by the back door all the time. I know! That friend Juanita claimed to have on Mulberry Hill is just a good place to park, and then you can follow some forgotten trail down here without using the front at all.”

Larry glanced at Juanita. “She really is mouthy. I broke her cell phone before she could get anyone, but I don’t like it that the dog got away. What if he’s smart enough to bring someone back? Let’s shut her up and get out of here.”

I wasn’t sure if that meant they just planned to gag me, or if the “shutting up” was to be a more permanent kind.

Juanita nodded toward the pails.

“It will take us three trips to carry these up the hill, plus the stuff on the kitchen porch.” Pablo complained. “That will take too long. Someone’s bound to miss her.”

“Go get the truck,” Juanita said. We’ll have to take a chance to get out of here quick. We can take her along and deal with her later.” It looked as if Juanita was in charge here.

I no longer had any doubts about what they had in mind for me. The bandana around my wrists was wrapped tightly, but a knot in folded fabric just couldn’t be pulled taut. I had been working on it with my fingers the whole time we were talking. It was now loosened, and my hands were free, but I kept them behind me. The twine around my ankles was impossible to deal with in secret, and I needed the odds to be more in my favor.

Pablo headed toward the back of the house, presumably to get the truck. Larry lifted two buckets. He started for the front door.

“Put them on the kitchen porch,” Juanita ordered. “Don’t advertise.”

Larry changed directions and headed for the back of the house. The buckets had no lids, and as he carried them past me, I saw they contained plastic wrapped packages of something white. It looked as if the drug business was doing fine. I recalled how Juanita had described her career: “selling things to people with lots of money.” In a minute, Larry was back and picked up two more of the pails. He also took those out the back door—I heard it open—and returned for the final two.

“Wait a minute.” I said. “I’d really like to know what happened to Angelica, and I think you three know the answer to that question.”

Larry laughed, but there was no humor in his tone. “Ask her,” he said, nodding his head at Juanita, and continued to the kitchen. The outer door banged again. I was alone in the room with Juanita, who had moved close, as if to guard me. I knew I’d never have better odds, although I had no idea how I could overcome her and Larry, too.

It was difficult to come up out of the overstuffed chair quickly, but I had surprise on my side, and I lurched upward and forward, grabbing for Juanita’s neck. She leaned backward, but I succeeded in knocking her off balance. She fell and hit her head on the floor, and I fell sideways against the arm of the chair. My tied legs prevented me from reaching her. I hoped she was unconscious, but the blow hadn’t been hard enough, and before I could get straightened up myself, she was on her hands and knees, facing me.

As she rose, she pulled a knife from a sheath in her boot.