Emerald Street Page 19

  “So you think this is an eminent possibility?”

  “Well, I—” She stopped talking and sighed.

  He laughed at her, the sound raspy like a person with fluid in their lungs. A wide grin engulfed his shallow face. “Raylyn, I do know where I’m going when I leave this world. This is why I’m here.”

  ****

  The two days of waiting was almost Jack’s undoing. His father attempted to distract him with pleasant childhood memories, but they were always overshadowed by Raylyn’s continued disappearance.

  On the morning of the plan’s enactment, Jack and his father shared breakfast. Silverware clattered against the rough-hewed table.

  “I know I haven’t treated you right these last fourteen years—”

  “Dad—”

  “Now let me finish. Your choice to join the military threw me for a loop. My pa dragged us all over the country with his career, and I didn’t put down roots until you were about five and we settled next to some of my kin. Kentucky finally became the home I'd been searching for.

  “Your mother and I wanted kids for so long, but it just didn’t seem like it was in the cards. I turned forty, and she tells me she’s expecting. That was one of the happiest days of my life, aside from your actual birth.” He sighed and a lone tear coursed his rugged sun-weathered cheek. He wiped it with his bandana-style handkerchief.

  “Anyways, I couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving and me being completely alone. But then I went and pushed you away. I guess I’m trying to say I’ve been miserable without you. When this is all over and your lady friend is safe, I pray you’ll see fit to come home, even if just for a visit.”

  Jack hugged his father, and they wept. Spent, Jack drew back. “I was hoping I might have my wedding at the farm. That is, if I can convince Raylyn I’m a good catch.”

  “I’m sure if she’s anything like you described, she’ll be delighted to be your wife.”

  They resumed their seats and finished breakfast. The rest of the day, Jack spent with his father. They talked about his mother, the farm, and those life events they’d missed by being estranged.

  “I’m sorry I brought Tabitha along.”

  “Dad, it’s okay.”

  “No, it ain’t. That vixen came over to the house. You know the postmaster can’t keep his mouth shut, and it didn’t take no time for the news to circulate that you’d sent me a letter. Why, I barely got the words read before ladies were bringing food to the door.”

  Jack cocked a brow.

  “Yup, I’m sorry to say, but they all thought it was your last letter come from the military. They dropped the food on the porch, and I didn’t even get a chance to explain that you was alive. Then at church, I thanked God for protecting you, and next thing I knew those same ladies were breathing down my neck, demanding I return their casserole dishes.”

  Jack laughed at his father’s expressive face.

  “’Course when it was learned you’d made it through your military time, others started showing up. Girls I ain’t never even seen stopped by the house asking for your address so they could write to you. I told them it wasn’t none of their business. But when Tabitha showed, I didn’t know what to do. Last I knew, you two were still an item. Then, I went and let her convince me to come for this visit. I had no idea she knew about the inheritance.”

  “I know.”

  “You should have seen her. She knelt beside my recliner, opened her eyes like a sad puppy, had these walloping tears dripping from her cheek. Why I believed she just had to see you. Why, if I’d known she was purely coming after the money, I’d booted her right out the door.”

  Jack patted his father’s shoulder. “You couldn’t have known. I didn’t know myself until she slipped and told it.”

  His father lowered his gaze. “I feel like a hindrance to you.”

  “Dad, you’re not a hindrance.”

  “But there ain’t nothin’ I can do to help.”

  “That’s not true. You can pray for our mission.”

  Jeb nodded.

  The afternoon hours slipped away. A knock resounded on the door.

  “It’s time to go.” Rory stood outside.

  Jack gave his father a departing hug and left.

  Two cabs escorted them to a junkyard. Buried deep in the rubble was a truck. Keys resided in the keyhole, waiting to be turned.

  Hank took the driver’s seat with Olin as the passenger. Tina had remained at the Gomez hacienda with Manuel, Alfonzo, and his father, directing the satellites and providing real-time information. Jack, Rory, and Gabe were the unloading crew. Crates of packing peanuts filled the truck’s interior.

  A window between the truck’s cab and bed allowed them to communicate.

  Hank guided the vehicle out of the junkyard and drove through the streets of San Cristóbal. The planned heist would happen in less than an hour.

  Settled in the truck bed, Jack heard the rattle of ancient vehicles. They rolled along the streets, converging on a nearby warehouse. One stopped in the front while the rest parked around the sides.

  The sun lowered, and men dressed in dark uniforms climbed from the trucks and converged on the building. Garage-type doors rose, and the men moved in. Pinpricks of light floated through the air then disappeared inside.

  Jack scooted to the edge of his seat and stared out the rear of the truck. Barely perceptible streaks of light reflected in the interior. They grew in size as a group of men rolled a flatbed cart into the night air.

  “What are they doing?”

  Rory snickered. “They are using the company’s own equipment to load their trucks.”

  “Do you think the company is sympathetic to their cause and knows what is happening?” asked Gabe.

  “I guess it’s possible. The people of San Cristóbal are divided,” answered Jack.

  Thirty minutes later, the trucks were loaded and barreling along the road, leaving San Cristóbal. The rutted road created a bouncy ride, and Jack held to the side of the truck to steady himself.

  Through the opening and the dirty windshield, Jack watched. Curves blocked the view of every vehicle but the last truck in the convoy. Rear brake-lights glowed bright red.

  “They’ve spotted us,” said Hank.

  “It’s about time,” said Gabe. He hit his fist in his palm before drawing a ski mask over his face.

  Rory pulled a weird-looking weapon from a backpack at his feet. The truck shuttered to a screeching halt.

  “Here they come,” whispered Hank from the corner of his mouth.

  He climbed from the cab and slammed the door. Jack peeked through a hole in the truck’s frame.

  Hank appeared ready to speak, but the other driver spoke first. “Who are you?”

  Hank held out his hand. “I’m Julio Gutierrez. This my first run.”

  “I don’t remember ever seeing you before.”

  “Like I said, it’s my first run.”

  “I have to check you out. Wait here.”

  “Sure.”

  The driver turned toward his truck and crumpled to the ground. A dart protruded from his neck.

  “It’s about time you showed up,” said Hank.

  “Were you worried for yourself, Julio?” asked Rory, snickering.

  Hank ran his hand through his overly long hair. “It was the best I could come up with. We’re going to have to start writing scripts.”

  Rory laughed as he placed his hands under the driver’s arms and dragged him. At the back of the truck, he yelled, “Jack, help me lift him.”

  Driver settled on the truck bed’s floor, Gabe appeared with his own prisoner. Jack grabbed the limp man and pulled him inside.

  Gabe said, “We’ve definitely got to help that boy. Maybe Tina could come up with a convincing storyline.”

  Tina’s voice echoed in the truck. “I heard that.”

  Gabe and Rory climbed into the truck. Stripped to their skivvies and secured, the men looked as harmless as babies.

  Hank par
ked the truck off the road, and the five of them covered it with tree branches and downed limbs. Olin grabbed his shoulder bag, and they climbed inside the other truck.

  The radio blared with a worried voice. Olin lifted the receiver and held it to his computer. The voice of the driver responded in rapid Spanish, and Jack bit his tongue to keep from responding with a gasp.

  Conversation over, the group breathed a sigh of relief.

  Jack said, “Now what?”

  “Now we catch up with the group and drive to the compound. Piece of cake.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Raylyn smacked her lips. What she wouldn’t do for a piece of cake.

  The sun rose, and light filtered through the bars, reflected off the stone wall and struck her in the face. Her lids felt so heavy. She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. Maybe if she went back to sleep, she would dream about that yellow, pudding-filled, spongy cake again.

  “Miss, you must wake up.”

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Raylyn squinted and stared at Josue.

  “You mustn’t give up. I have a good feeling for you.”

  She attempted to speak, and it came out scratchy. She cleared her throat and started over. “Why?”

  “Because someone will rescue you today.”

  She tried to laugh, but it came out strained. “Why would they do that? Jack finally has the woman he loves. I was only a convenience, a passing fancy.”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  “And how would you know? You don’t know him.”

  “I know more than you think.”

  She rolled over. “Leave me alone.”

  “No. You will listen. You have to wake up.”

  Facing him, she swung to the edge of the thin mattress and rose on wobbly legs. “Are you happy now?”

  “Yes.”

  Head leaned sideways, she laid it against the wall. The surface vibrated with the noise of diesel trucks.

  “Another day as Juan’s prisoner.”

  “Perhaps your last day.”

  Raylyn stood on the bed and used her hands to steady her shaky form as she stared through the bars.

  Trucks entered the compound. The convoys had been a regular occurrence. They often brought extra food. She wedged her face against the bars and squinted. Uniformed men circled the idling vehicles. One at a time, supplies were unloaded and carted into a tan tent. One truck moved only to be replaced by another.

  Most trucks brought their own crew. One by one, trucks pulled forward, men jumped out, and the unloading began.

  A truck edged closer. The crew jumped out. Raylyn inhaled a swift breath.

  She reached through the bars and almost yelled but quickly bit her tongue. How could she tell him where she was without giving him away?

  Jack was with four other men. The driver climbed from the cab. Someone approached. Voices rose.

  “Who are you?”

  The driver’s response was quiet, but his accuser’s continued to escalate.

  “I don’t know you. Produce paperwork now.”

  Guns pointed at the driver from a dozen directions. He lifted his hands before reaching into his coveralls and drawing out a thick wad of folded papers.

  Raylyn cringed as the soldier analyzed the proof. She breathed a sigh of relief as they were handed back to the driver, and the crew was given permission to proceed with their job.

  She dropped from the bed, feeling invigorated. Pacing the cell, she tapped her finger to her forehead and mumbled under her breath. “How can I get his attention? There has to be something I can do. I guess I could act crazy, or, or, I could scream. Or—”

  “Start a fire.”

  She lifted her gaze and studied Josue. “How do you propose I do that?”

  Chains rattled with his shrug. “Who said you need to start a real fire.”

  She caught his meaning. Standing on the makeshift bed, she cupped her hands over her mouth and screamed through the bars. “Fire!” Over and over she yelled the word.

  Men surrounding the trucks spun and faced the jail. Raylyn’s voice morphed to a squeak, but still she screamed. Several converged on her location. She backed away from the bars. Men squatted and stared inside.

  One yelled, “I see no fire. There is no fire.”

  Still more men drew close to the cell’s window. Raylyn rose on tiptoe and moved her head about, struggling to locate Jack. If he resided in the crowd, she couldn’t see him.

  Tears glazed her eyes. Footsteps pounded on the stairs. She gulped and faced away from the door. Pain radiated across her skull as Juan pulled her hair and dragged her out of her cell.

  Josue called, “You should pick on someone your own size.”

  Juan growled and flung her into the wall. Bones snapped and splintered. Raylyn rolled over, holding her arm to her chest, and moaned. Through strands of dirty hair, she watched.

  Roughly jerked open, the cell door shrieked.

  “You were always a coward, Juan. Always picking on those weaker than you, never having the guts to see the truth.”

  “And you, Josue, never did know when to shut up.”

  The slap echoed in the stone prison. Chains rattled and dropped to the floor. Josue collapsed.

  “Can’t stand up? Who has the upper hand now, hmm? Whose God is more powerful?”

  On spindly legs, Josue pushed into a standing position. Ribs protruded from his chest. Ripped clothing draped across his emaciated frame. Spots of dried blood dotted his exposed flesh. His chin rose in a defiant manner.

  Juan clapped. “Impressive, old man.”

  The whip snapped through the air as it connected with Josue’s back. He flinched but didn’t change his position. Juan’s head fell backward, and he roared with laughter. “Yes, very impressive.” He replaced the whip. His hands on his hips, Juan added, “I’m ready. Plead your case.”

  Blood from Josue’s back dripped to the floor, but Josue didn’t reply.

  The slap echoed, and Josue’s head lolled backward before straightening.

  “Grovel! Now!”

  Josue stared straight ahead. Juan drew his brows together, grabbed Josue’s forearm, and forced him from the cell toward the stairs. Before leaving, Juan faced her and said, “I will deal with you later.”

  The two ascended the rough rock staircase. “You will live to regret your defiance. Jorge may not have had the courage to end you, but I have no such qualms.”

  The fading words struck fear in Raylyn’s heart. Using her good arm, she pushed off the floor. Pain radiated from her broken arm into her shoulder, and she drew in a deep shuddering breath. Stumbling, she made her way to the bottom of the stairwell.

  No railing provided support, and she was forced to run her hand along the moss-covered rock wall. Halfway up, her breath coming in short raspy gasps, she stopped.

  A shadow loomed. She opened her mouth to scream.

  ****

  Jack descended the remaining stairs in a run and clamped his hand over Raylyn’s mouth.

  The howl of terror became a whimper of joy as she wrapped one arm around his neck and cried in pain when he touched the other.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. Light drifted up from the ground floor and down from the outside. He could just barely make out her form, the paleness of her hands and unswathed feet illuminated.

  Her hands looked raw, the fingertips red, as if she’d clawed at something rough. The skin of her feet was cracked and broken, covered with spots of brown dried blood.

  His voice caught in his throat, and he struggled to say, “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

  The trip was slow, but they finally made it out of the hole. Peering over the top step, Jack searched for Juan. The man was occupied.

  Several moments earlier, he’d climbed from the hole in the ground, dragging a man that was little more than skin and bones and escorted him to a stained pole. While Juan had busily tied up the prisoner, Jack had sneake
d in and found Raylyn.

  Jack’s crew remained on the fringes of the crowd. Their plan to create a distraction had been handed to them on a silver platter.

  Juan stood on a three-foot-high wooden platform, his hands raised. “This man is a traitor to our cause.”

  Jeers and boos coursed through the crowd.

  Juan quietened them with a look before continuing, “He pretended to agree with us, with our cause, but he lied!”

  The crowd roared.

  “What should we do with him?” asked Juan, pointing at the withered figured strapped to a thick wooden beam embedded in the platform.

  “Shoot him!”

  “What did you say? I didn’t hear you. What should we do with him?”

  “Shoot him! Shoot him!” The crescendo of the chant shook the ground.

  Raylyn groaned and sagged against him. Tears raced along her dirt-smeared cheeks. He pulled her toward the line of trucks. If he could just get her inside, deposit her in an empty crate and then join the crowd, it would be perfect. When the convoy was ready to leave, they would join the exodus, and Juan would hopefully be none the wiser until they were far away.

  She dug her heels into the soft earth. “I can’t leave him. We have to do something.”

  “I will, but first I have to hide you. If we wait—”

  The gunshot rang out. Raylyn dropped to her knees and screamed, “No!”

  Heads turned. Juan lifted his hands and head to the sky and roared like a lion.

  Jack froze like a deer in headlights. Rory, Gabe, Hank, and Olin circled them.

  “We have to get out of here now!” yelled Rory over the deafening crowd.

  With the backs of the crowd facing them, Jack and Raylyn scooted and shuffled their feet toward the escape truck. Before reaching the vehicle, bullets whizzed past, kicking up dirt and hitting objects all around them. Jack shielded Raylyn. A bullet struck his prosthesis and flung him backward.

  Stunned, he lay on the ground and stared at the cloudless sky. The blue reminded him of ocean water. He grunted when Hank jerked his collar and hauled him to his feet. “Come on!”