37
Boots kicked open the front door and rushed in, carrying the young girl in his arms. She looked like she was suffering the effects of a binge night, her emaciated face and sunken eyes, her body lifeless in Boots’s arms. He walked passed Jack and Laura, who were sitting up at the table, and laid the girl on the old couch next to the wall.
“Great,” Jack whispered to Laura, “he grabbed another one.”
“Naw, Jack . . . I ain’t grabbed another one, but the poor child is in a bad spot right now.”
Laura went to the water pump, filled a glass, walked over to the couch, and started to wash the grime from the girl’s face. Underneath the dirt, she was pretty. Maybe sixteen or seventeen, but with a little girl’s face. Her clothes were a bit worn and several sizes too big for her frame. Laura moved the girl’s dark hair from her forehead to reveal a large bruise.
“Did you do this, Boots?”
“Naw, she had that when I found her. Like I say, she was in a bad spot. Who knows what she’d end up with if I didn’t show up. She’ll be fine.”
“You’re a real hero, Boots.” Jack’s words dripped with sarcasm, but his expression wilted under the glare from Laura.
Ignoring Jack, Boots continued talking to Laura. “I found her just past the west ridge. Not sure what she was doing up there, but that was no place for her to end up. Bet she was dragged up there not knowing where she was going. Seen it before. Boys like to take runaways up there and have their way. Sometimes they leave ’em up there. Sometimes they don’t. Yup, I’ve seen it before.”
“Did you get caught up in the storm? It looked fierce.”
“Storm? I ain’t seen no storm.”
Laura looked at Jack. He was sipping on his water, apparently disinterested in their conversation. She looked back at Boots.
“What storm?” she said, searching Boots’s face. “The storm that was up on the mountain and then disappeared.”
“Like I say, storms come up pretty quick out here, easy to miss if you ain’t looking. I’ll be sure to catch the next one. You take care of her.”
And with that he scooted out the front door and was gone before Jack could respond.
Jack stood as the front door shut behind Boots. “Seriously? The guy vanishes, kidnaps a girl, drops her off here, then runs out? This is far beyond insane, Laura.”
“Not now, Jack,” Laura said, focusing her attention on the girl.
“Not now? Why not now? We are being held by some mountain man who is starting his own prison camp. Why doesn’t he just let us go or lead us out of here? Why is he keeping us here?”
The girl began to groan and stir. Laura sat her up and held the water to her mouth. The girl sipped slowly at first, and then her eyes shot open, staring at Laura. The fear on her face was unmistakable. She pushed back into the couch as if she thought she could melt into the pillows.
“Who are you? Where am I?” she screamed, looking around the cabin for any sign of familiarity. Her eyes fell on Jack, who was now walking over. “Who are you?”
“It’s okay, you’re safe now. We won’t hurt you.” Laura offered the glass again with a motherly instinct and a faint smile. “What’s your name?”
“Molly . . . ,” she whispered. “Molly.”
“My head hurts.”
“You got a nasty bruise. Did someone hit you?”
Molly shook her head slightly. “I don’t remember.”
“How’d you get out here?” Jack piped in.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know where here is.”
“Good point. Somewhere in Nevada, I’m sure. Did some old man steal you from some place?”
“Jack!” Laura shouted.
“It’s a fair question! She looks like she’s been roughed up. She doesn’t know where she is, and then Boots comes along and carries her in here?”
Molly pushed at the fog in her mind. Her body was past exhaustion, but she dug for memories while the couple argued on. They seemed all right to her. She felt no ill will toward her from them, just general concern, at least from the woman. The man looked agitated but harmless, like a small dog with all teeth but no bite.
“I was on my way to LA,” she started slowly, scanning her mind through a cloudy haze. “I remember getting as far as Utah but then ran out of money. It was a lot more than I thought it would be.” Molly took a sip of water. “I got a ride with someone down to Las Vegas. They dropped me off there and gave me a couple bucks. I was going to the bus station but didn’t have nearly enough.” Her mind searched for more detail, but that was where things became fuzzy for her.
“You remember anything else, honey?”
Searching her memory again, shifting folders around looking for some lost file. Her eyes darted from the floor to the wall, back to Laura’s face.
“A truck . . . I remember a beat-up black truck.”