Chapter Fifty-Five
Nathan
The knock could have been a gunshot. I jumped out of bed and stood tense even though the taps were soft and tentative. I waited, heard them again, and then spun around.
Bree wasn’t in bed. I stepped back and peered into the motel bathroom but she wasn’t there either. My heartbeat revved up as I searched the small room for her.
Then my mind cleared, and I remembered that Bree was gone.
The room felt cold, dark, and the soft knock had a sinister beat. Who would be at my motel room door in the middle of the night?
I slipped my gun out from under the thin motel pillows and clicked the safety off. A voice whispered outside and a muffled sound answered. There were two of them.
I stalked toward the door, feeling my grimace turn to a wolfish smile. I didn’t need to be cautious anymore. Bree wasn’t there for me to protect, and I didn’t really care what happened to me. I grinned and put my hand on the doorknob, ready for a confrontation.
My muscles jumped and flexed. It had been too long since I’d had a flat-out fight, and I itched to take out all my aggression on whoever was stupid enough to come after me in the night.
I forced myself to pause, the barrel of the gun against the thin motel door. I wanted a fight, but it would be stupid to throw open the door and confront whoever was standing there. If I was smart, I would just wait until they went away.
I pressed my ear to the door and listened. Feet shifted back and forth, the person obviously weighing whether I was in the room. My fingers flexed, wanting to grab the doorknob and fling the door wide open, but I forced myself to wait. The footsteps started to walk away, spun around, walked back, and then receded once more. They made it partway down the hallway before returning.
I braced to hear a lock pick forcing open the door but there was nothing but another soft, tentative knock. I pressed my eye to the peephole and saw a flash of honeyed hair.
“Bree?”
The familiar depths of her eyes pressed to the peephole. “Nathan, open up. Let us in,” Bree whispered. She gave the motel hallway another nervous glance left and right.
I stepped back to undo the lock and the whole room reeled. I had to press both hands to the door again to steady myself. Relief swept through my body and threatened to weaken me. Bree was safe, and she was back. Just a thin door stood between me and the ability to sweep her into my arms and hold her tight.
“Wait. Who’s ‘us?’” I asked.
I flung open the door and caught Bree as she was walking away. When she spun around, there were tears in her eyes. I caught her arm and pulled her close, squeezing my eyes tight against another wave of relief.
“I thought you weren’t going to help me anymore. I don’t blame you. I’m the one who left. Again,” Bree said.
I opened my eyes. “I will always help you, Bree. No matter what.”
Then my eyes dropped to Bree’s small companion and all the strength ebbed from my muscles. The little girl hitched her heavy backpack up and looked over her shoulder, ready to run. She looked exactly the same as her photograph, only her hair was a little longer and tangled.
“Bree, is that..?” My voice came out a raspy croak.
Bree wove her arm around mine and turned to the little girl. “Nathan, this is Maggie. Maggie, this is Nathan.”
I stepped back, dumbfounded, as Maggie sidled past us and into the motel room. She kept her backpack on but went straight for the mini-fridge. One look at Bree told her she could take what she wanted, and she hungrily bit into a piece of leftover pizza.
“How about I get you some water, too?” Bree followed Maggie into the room, went to the closet, and pulled down an extra blanket.
I stood in the doorway, wondering if I was dreaming, as Bree and Maggie argued over her backpack. Then Bree settled the little girl into one of the chairs at the small table. She tucked the blanket around her snugly, opened a bottle of water for her, and made her drink a third of it before giving her another slice of pizza.
I edged my way back into the motel room and shut the door securely. Then I realized I was still brandishing my gun. I clicked the safety back in place and slipped it into my belt.
“See, Maggie?” Bree said when the little girl noticed my gun. “Nathan can protect you. You’re safe.”
Maggie gave me a lopsided smile around a large bite of pizza. My heart flopped over, and I grabbed the back of an empty chair to steady myself. Bree saw and wrapped an arm around my waist.
I looked down at her, tucked under my arm, and asked, “How? Where?”
Bree squeezed me. “I don’t know. A miracle? We were both trying to cross the border and met in the field.”
Maggie had finished her pizza and was eyeing us both with suspicion.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I told the little girl. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the ever-present photograph and postcard. “See?”
The wariness left her eyes as the little girl spied her own handwriting. “I sent that postcard.”
I knelt next to her chair. “And this is you, right?”
Maggie looked at the photograph and cringed. “That’s me. They take photographs of all the kids so they can find us if we try to run.”
A wave of protectiveness nearly caused me to crush the photograph in my fist. “Who? Who took this picture? The people who kidnapped you?”
Maggie shook her head. “I was at the zoo. With my mom. She works a lot but she’d just lost her job so we had time. Mom said she hadn’t had a vacation in forever. She wasn’t used to the crowds.”
“Did you get lost?” Bree asked.
The little girl’s lower lip trembled. “I wandered off. Mommy told me not to but I wasn’t paying attention. I just wanted to see the giraffe.”
“Who took you, Maggie?” I asked.
Maggie’s forehead crinkled. “They said they were sorry. They owed the bad men money and they had no choice. We drove a long time in the car and then they made me get in a big black truck.”
Bree took the little girl’s hand and squeezed it. “You must have been so brave.”
“There were other kids in the truck. One wouldn’t stop crying,” Maggie said.
“But you didn’t cry, did you?” I said.
Maggie looked up at me. “I tried to hear where we were going. But I didn’t understand the language they were speaking.”
“Brave girl,” Bree said again. She tried to stroke Maggie’s hair but it was too tangled. “Where did they take you?”
Maggie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
I stood up. “They didn’t hurt you?”
“No. But they said they would hurt Mommy if I didn’t do what they said.” Her wide eyes slid over to her heavy backpack. “Are they going to hurt her now? I have to go. I can’t be late.”
The little girl jumped up, her panic making her surprisingly strong. I let her go but stood in front of the motel room door. “We’ll make sure nothing happens to your mother. Maggie, what’s in your backpack?”
Maggie stood defiant, though her lip trembled. “I can’t be late. I don’t want them to hurt my mommy.”
“Bree? Call the police near Mrs. Wheeler. Ask them to do a wellness check,” I said.
Bree ran to the motel phone and dialed information. While she talked into the phone, I squatted down and held out my hand for the backpack.
“I’m not supposed to let anyone see,” Maggie said.
“I’m not anyone,” I said.
Maggie wasn’t sure how to counter that argument but she stared at me for another full ten seconds before shrugging out of the heavy pack. “They said I should call it sugar, but never ever taste it.”
I unzipped the backpack and saw it was jam-packed with bricks of cocaine. “And what are you supposed to do with this ‘sugar?’”
“I take it across the field and give it to a baker,” Maggie said.
I stood up again and met Bree’s worried eyes. Then I looked back down at the little girl. “And how many times have you gone across the field with a full backpack?”
Maggie shrugged. “I lost count.”
Bree finished her phone call abruptly and sank down on the motel bed. She patted the bedspread next to her. “Come sit down, Maggie. The police are going to check on your mommy.”
Maggie shuffled over to the bed and sat down close to Bree. “Did I do a bad thing?”
“No, sweetheart. You did what you had to do,” Bree said. “But now you can let us take care of it. We’ll keep you safe and get you home again.”
“Who do you give this to?” I asked Maggie. “Who’s the ‘baker?’”
Maggie shrugged again. “Different people. I just get to the road and look for the white van.”
“And what do they do?” I asked.
“They unload my backpack. Sometimes they give me a bottle of water and a granola bar. Then I go back,” Maggie said. “They get mad if I’m late.”
She looked again at her backpack and the door. Maggie had been carrying drugs over the border for nearly a month and her fear of breaking the routine was palpable.
Bree put an arm around the little girl. “I bet you were good at it. So brave and fast. Were you always alone?”
Maggie was stiff but leaned into Bree’s hug. “Sometimes, I took another kid and tried to show them the best way to go. A lot of the kids were scared to go in the dark.”
I nodded. “It takes someone very brave to keep going even when they are afraid. You did a great job, Maggie.”
“Will I have to do it again?” she asked.
“Never,” I said. “But, first, I need you to tell me everything you can remember. How many other kids are there?”
Maggie shrugged, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know. A lot. There was always someone new. They took the big kids and taught them to do other stuff. We weren’t allowed to talk to each other.”
“A lot?” Bree asked. “A lot of other kids? Oh, Nathan. Can they really be doing that?”
I gritted my teeth. My memory still wasn’t clear, but one thing was for certain: the New Mexico City Cartel was using children to sneak cocaine across the border and into the United States. Who knew what else they made those innocent children carry?
I shook my head and balled both hands into tight fists. “They won’t be doing it anymore. Not when I’m done with them.”