Holding On To You (23 page)

She decides again, having decided already that morning, when she first heard it spoken, that there are many ways of interpreting that phrase, and she can no longer remember, or at least doesn't want to, how it was that her husband said it. That alone would be fine, but that coupled with Javier's strange behaviour and the thing she saw on his computer screen, has made Claudia both angry and confused.

It has made her so angry it fact, that she finds herself stuffing the dirty laundry so violently into the machine, anyone would think she was trying to push it through the bottom. Did she really see what she thought she saw? Did she really see letters cut up from a newspaper? If she was concentrating harder at the time, or knew what it was she should be looking for, she might have remembered what it said.

It is then, with the dirty laundry punched all the way into the bottom of the machine, that she thinks of looking. She doesn't snoop on her husband as a rule. They have a strong bond of trust between them that neither one of them has broken before, unless absolutely necessary, and she doesn't do it now light heartedly. She wouldn't do it at all if she didn't think there was any other way around it. What happened this morning has affected her so much, there's no way she'll be able to go on for the rest of the day unless she makes some attempt to find out what it is her husband is up to. Calling him and asking is out of the question, which leaves her only one remedy. His computer.

She sits down on the stool in front of the computer and turns it on. There are two profile options, Javier and Claudia, although Claudia has only ever used her own a handful of times, and hardly at all in the last few months. She clicks on the icon Javier has for his profile, and is prompted to enter a password. She types in Miguel08, and the home page screen boots up. While it is doing so, Claudia checks on her daughter, who is now surrounded by different coloured light plastic balls and engrossed in a favourite cartoon of hers. Even though there is no one else in the house, apart from Miguel sleeping soundly upstairs, Claudia shuts the door tightly to the laundry/office room, before placing herself back in front of the screen, her heart beating wildly.

She clicks open the chrome browser and immediately checks the history, which has been cleared. She opens the two other browsers on the system and each one says the same thing. Undeterred, she opens up a new browser page and directs it to the login site for Gmail. She knows Javier has a Gmail account, the name of which she puts into the relevant section. She tries Miguel08 as a password again, but it doesn't work. She tries Connor10, Elouise12 and Claudia81, but none of them work. She slaps the top of the tumble drier out of frustration, which is acting as an impromptu desk.

She tries several combinations of possible passwords, but not a single one of them gains her access. She growls, ready to give up. Whatever it is that her husband is doing, she'll have to find out by calling him. Either him, or one of his colleagues. She shuts off the laptop, waits for all the lights to turn off, and then spots it. A blue light still flashing, amongst the assorted stack of hardware Javier has piled without grace on a shelf he made exactly for that purpose. As Claudia gets nearer, she realises it's the scanner bed. Quickly she lifts up the lid, hoping that what she will find inside, isn't what she expects it to be. Horror dawning on her face, she lifts out the ransom note, as clear as day, the glue still a little sticky from that morning's work.

Maddy, alive and well, and about as far away from death as she has ever been, hangs her hand out of the car window, carving shapes into the wind. She remembers doing this as a child, letting her whole arm lift into a swan's neck, and drop spectacularly into a sort of wave shape, before being caught and chastised for it by her father who maintained the ridiculous belief that he should be in control of her window at all times, in case the young girl saw fit to throw herself out of it.

She has torn the long black dress into a skirt, and wears that now with one of the new T-shirts, her shoe-less feet up on the dash-board, where the sun warms them through the glass. River smokes, the perfectly rolled cigarette dangling from his lips like it was always meant to be there, and the grey twirl of smoke lifting in a perfect column, before being whipped away by the breeze from her window, and fading like a passing thought into nothingness.

River has his hand almost permanently on her leg, smoothing the skin there and making it his own. The stereo idles between classic rock 'n' roll, and country rock, providing a suitable soundtrack for the landscape they find themselves in.

'What did you dream about?' Maddy says, breaking the silence.

River looks at her quizzically. 'How did you know I was dreaming?'

'Because I wasn't', she says. 'And besides which, I don't think you were dreaming. I think it was a nightmare.'

'It's nothing', River says. 'Sometimes I don't sleep well, that's all.'

Maddy rests her head on his shoulder and hugs his arm. 'You can tell me if you want', she says. 'I won't judge you. You know my secrets already.'

'There isn't much to tell', River says.

'There's always something to tell', Maddy says, 'everyone's got a story.'

'Yeah well, I don't', River says.

Maddy squeezes him tighter. His stubble is beginning to grow back, and she likes the way it looks on his face. 'Well maybe we can give you one', she says. 'One that you like better than the one you are pretending you don't already have.'

River takes a long pull of his cigarette and then drops the butt out of the window into the wind. He looks down at Maddy, and Maddy looks up to him, smiling a cheeky little smile that puts dimples into the side of her face, and makes her even more kissable than normal.

'I might like that', River says.

'I dare say you might', Maddy says.

The world here is dry and dusty, as though it's been washed, left out in the sun and forgotten about. The only things that grow are cactuses, and a type of thorny bush weed that has a thousand or so derivations, none of which are of any use for anything but getting in the way. In the summer the sun beats down so hard, it can make even the sanest of men stir crazy with fury, and even now, at the back edge of one of the mildest winters in years, River can feel that heat on its way, like a sickness creeping in.

'I grew up not far from here', he says, without being prompted. 'A couple of hundred miles across that flat expanse of death and nothingness you see all around us.'

Maddy is back by the window carving animal shapes she'd long since forgotten about, into the warmness of the running air.

'My father used to beat me. He was a horrible man', River says. 'The devil himself wouldn't have had a patch on him.' There is another cigarette between his lips, as though he's somehow magicked it there. 'I got away as soon as I could, but I could never stay away for too long, there was always something that kept bringing me back. Guilt, dependence, familiarity, money, need, you call it what you like, there was always something. Always an excuse. Whatever it was, I couldn't stay in one place for more than a few months at a time. On the road or back with my folks. Either way I'd go between the two like a god damn yo-yo. Right up until it happened.'

'Until what happened?' Maddy says.

'Until enough was enough', River says. 'You want to know why I am what I am? You want to know my story?'

'If you want to tell me it', Maddy says diplomatically.

'Well I don't know if I do. I've never told anybody else.'

'Maybe you've never found the right person to tell', Maddy says, back alongside him now, interlocking her fingers with his.

'What are you, like my psychologist now?' River says sarcastically.

'I reckon I've had a decent amount of experience to be so', Maddy says, wistfully.

'Perhaps you have', River says.

Cars drive past in the other lane, kicking up dust as they go, which he watches hypnotically in his rear view mirror. River doesn't know how to start, all he knows is he wants to. There are a thousand stories to tell, all of them so jumbled up inside his head, he's forgotten the order. He's kept them locked up for so long, he thought he'd never be able to find the key, let alone want to let them out again.

'If I tell you what I'm going to tell you, you can't tell anyone else, you promise me. I'm telling you because you told me a secret, and because you trusted me. And because I like you more than I believed was possible.'

'I won't tell anyone else', Maddy says. 'I promise.'

'I'm here with you because of a man named Buck Tavern', River says. 'He's the only person in my life apart from that god damn horse Lightning, to have ever done anything for me.'

'Who is he?' Maddy says. 'Is he family?'

'Kind of', River says. 'I've known Buck for a long time. He caught me trying to steal from him when I was ten years old.'

'Ten?' Maddy says.

'I told you I've been running away for as long as I've known how.'

On their right, a collection of derelict buildings rise out of the dust like a set of badly looked after teeth. A young Mexican boy dressed in dirty clothes, and leading a mangy dog, both of them several days from a good meal, pick their way through the rubble. He has a stick which he whacks on what's left of a stone wall, and one of his shoes is missing - lost to the mud that morning - although it doesn't seem to bother him. Maddy catches his eyes as they drive past, dark as the night, and he watches them go. She thinks to wave to him, but only after they've gone, and by that point it's too late.

'We're close to the border here', River says. 'I can feel it.'

'We're not crossing yet?' Maddy says, worry straining her voice.

'Not yet Princess', River says. 'We don't have a crossing point for a while yet. Besides which, we haven't had anywhere near as much fun as I promised you.'

'It'll be ok?' Maddy says.

'It'll be ok', River says. 'I'm not ready to leave you just yet.'

'You'd risk getting caught to spend a few more hours with me?'

'Well we've got to have a second date, haven't we?' River says.

'Who says we've even had our first yet?' Maddy says, squeezing his hand tightly. 'I don't want to lose you.'

'You won't lose me Maddy', River says. 'I promise you that.'

'Can I ask you a question?' Maddy says.

'Usually when someone asks that, the question that follows is something the other person won't want to answer.'

'Why aren't you in Mexico already?' Maddy says. 'Why are you risking delaying getting there at all. If you get caught, they'll put you in prison.'

'Oh Maddy', River says. 'You caught me out. You really want to know why I'm not there already?'

'Yes.'

'I really have to say?'

'Yes.'

'Because you're not the only one having fun. If I have to spend the rest of my life in prison, for the time I've spent with you so far, I'll take it and die a happy man, knowing that I made the right decision. I had to stay long enough to know. Now I've stayed, it's harder than I thought it would be to pull myself away. I figure the time we'll have today is a calculated risk, one I'm more than happy to take. Besides which, I might need it to make sure that in a month's time you'll come and find me. Because if you don't, then at least I'll have had two dates instead of just one.'

'I told you, we haven't even had the first one yet', Maddy says. Again, she rests her head on his shoulder, getting herself as close to him as possible, feeling an urgent need to do so. 'Anyway, I might get tired of you after today', Maddy says, laughing at her own joke. 'Maybe you should have just stuck at one.'

'We'll see', River says. 'When you see what I've got planned for you.'

'You have a plan?' Maddy says.

'I've always got a plan Princess', River says, sliding his hand along Maddy's leg, until it ends up under her skirt and between her thighs. 'Haven't you worked that out yet?'

Maddy squeezes her legs together suddenly, trapping his hand strongly in place, before it reaches it's intended destination.

'What did you steal from him?' Maddy says, after a moment.

'Buck owned a series of casinos, still does actually. I used to hang around outside and pickpocket the people that came in and out. I didn't steal directly from Buck, but I was causing a nuisance and giving his business a bad name. Instead of calling the police, he gave me a job. He's been giving me jobs ever since.'

'Was the bank one of his jobs?' Maddy says.

'Exactly', River says. 'Buck used to do the big jobs himself, for the buzz, but this one he decided to give to me. He'd either had enough or he figured it was all getting too risky, and he was getting too old. He's a legitimate and very well respected business man after all, and I know he's keen to keep his public image like that.'

'Right', Maddy says. 'A great influence.'

'He looked after me and gave me a decent job in one of his businesses when I was old enough to work there. He kind of adopted me and has been better to me than anyone else throughout my life who I was forced to call family and never wanted to. I was a legitimate, paid member of his staff, and he tried to keep me away from that part of his business for as long as he could. Hell, I wasn't even working in the casinos, I was a back stage number cruncher for his hotel business, working in an office about as far away as he could get me from it. Glamorous huh?'

'But he couldn't keep you away, could he?'

'It wasn't a case of that', River says. 'I couldn't keep myself away. Buck didn't want me involved, but I didn't want anything else. I'd tried the normal life, but it wasn't for me. Buck could only hold out for so long.'

'How many banks have you robbed?' Maddy says.

'Four', River says without needing to think about it, and without looking at anything but the flat dusty plains zooming past out the window. 'That was the fourth.'

'And how many people have died?' Maddy says.

'Until yesterday, none. That's the first time I've worked with that team. They were high profile men in Buck's criminal organisation. I'd met one of them before when I was much younger, but he didn't recognise me. None of them knew who I was, and that was what Buck had done on purpose, to protect me as best he could. They were the men he always kept me away from, and they were the men he usually worked with, and nobody else. The other ones he put me on were much smaller raids, just to see how I'd get on. To see if I had the bottle. That was my first big job. I never knew it would also be my last.'

'Will it?' Maddy says, her legs tightening again against his hand.

'Yes', River says, looking at her. 'It'll be my last.'

'And where is Buck Tavern now?' Maddy says. 'Why isn't he helping you?'

'He's in Mexico, and he will', River says. 'Buck wouldn't ever let me get burnt, he's like the father I never had.'

Maddy loosens up her grip on River's hand. His life makes her nervous, but she doesn't want to think about it now.

'Is that it?', Maddy says.

'It's some of it', River says. 'It's enough for now.'

'Ok', Maddy says. 'Thank you.'

'For what', River says.

'For being honest.'

Empty space gives way to a suggestion of habitation, as farm buildings begin to dot the landscape around them. Little by little, more buildings come into view, as the road leads them into the familiar settings of a town, much larger than they both expected, that had at one point been a smudge on the horizon, as real as a desert mirage, and now stands up around them so insistently, that they can no longer see the landscape they've just come from. This is a prosperous border town, much bigger than it was the last time River was here, with a mix of Mexican, white American and Indian American looking citizens of all ages, going about their daily business, and then stopping to watch the Lexus drive past with curious interest, as though it were the first time in their lives, any of them had ever seen a car.

Chapter 18

The scrap of paper with the licence plate number of the Lexus River is driving, gathered so expertly by Sally Cannon that morning, sits unattended on Thurston's desk, already lost amongst a pile of other papers, categorised in his mind as 'pending'.

Thurston is not the smartest, nor the most proactive officer, but he does know how to follow orders, and he's learnt over his short time with Hank, that if he gives you something that's not considered a priority by him, it means you have the rest of the week to get it done, unless told otherwise. That is why, instead of running a licence plate check that would have taken fifteen minutes, police deputy Thurston Lurch is continuing to work on a project Hank set him several weeks ago and has since forgotten about, to keep his mind active in the lulls, which come much more often than the peaks, to work out how best to rearrange the furniture in their small office, so they can maximise the space, and get a third desk in if necessary.

Sally Cannon is well known in the community, and well known to the police, not least because her brother is the head of the two man department, but mostly because she likes to stick her nose into other people's business, in a place where doing that isn't ever that well appreciated. Hank had learnt a long time ago that whatever she says to him, has to be taken with a pinch of salt. She has a vivid imagination, and likes nothing more than to be at the very centre of a breaking news story, especially something as huge as this. The more he thinks about her frankly implausible eye witness confession this morning, his feet up on the desk again to aid the process, the more it annoys him. Usually, if Sally has a request for information, decides that she's seen something she most likely hasn't, or just wants to stick her beak in where it isn't needed, using police resources to do so, Hank would freeze her out for as long as he could, making her wait on tenterhooks for him to get back to her. This time, he is so annoyed by her insistence, that he just wants to prove her wrong.

Thurston is checking someone else's facebook page when Hank approaches him.

'You chatted to her yet?' he says, recognising the face and using his coffee mug to point to the screen.

'Not yet', Thurston says, clicking off the page. 'I figure I should probably wait another few weeks or so before I tell her how I feel.'

'That's good thinking', Hank says, not really meaning it. 'Hey listen, that licence plate number I gave you. Did you run the search already?'

'The one you gave me today?' Thurston says. 'I didn't think it was urgent. I was working through the desk plan.'

'Desk plan?' Hank says, genuinely having no idea what he means.

'Yeah, do you want to see it?' Thurston says, excitedly. 'I think it'll work quite well.'

'No, no, forget about that for now', Hank says, whatever the hell it is Thurston's referring to. 'Let's run the search on the licence plate.'

'Now?' Thurston says.

'Yeah', Hank says, pulling over a chair and sitting down. 'I want to wipe that smile off Sally's face and prove her wrong. And then when we've found out that it's not a stolen car, I can go in and see her and get some payback.'

'Lemon meringue pie?' Thurston says, his eyes lighting up.

'A whole one just for you and me, and maybe even a couple of bear claws depending on how bad I make her feel for wasting our time.'

Thurston searches for the scrap of paper, pulling it out of the pile when he finds it.

'It might take a while for the system to load up the database', Thurston says. 'I haven't done this for a while, so I might have to update it.'

'I think we can wait', Hank says, pleased with himself at the imminent prospect of proving his older sister wrong.

Javier cowers in the corner stall of the restroom, clutching his mobile phone. He's sweating profusely over greyed skin, and his hands are trembling so much he looks like he's gravely ill. He tears off toilet paper, wipes his brow, lets it crumple in the palm of his hand, and listens to the voicemail again.

'Javier, please pick up the phone. Whatever you are planning to do is complete craziness. I know you are trying to do right for your family, but this is not the way to do it. Javi, please. Don't make me call the police.'

Javier has known his wife for a long time, but has never heard her sound like this. There is a strain to her voice, not entirely clear on the initial listening, which communicates complete and total panic, and terrifies him to his core. He also knows, only too well, that if he doesn't call her, she will do exactly what she has said she will, to save him from himself. He only hopes that in doing so, he can convince her to think otherwise. Javier deletes the voicemail, and with shaky fingers, dials the only number he knows off by heart.

'Javi, what are you doing?' Claudia says. In the background, he can hear his daughter babbling, trying to form words.

'Something that will get us out of this hole', Javier says, his voice calm, even if the rest of his body isn't.

'Javi, this isn't the way to do it. This isn't going to help.'

'Miguel needs medication and we haven't got enough to provide for him. Without it, he's just going to get worse and worse. Is that what you want to see happen?'

'No, of course I don't', Claudia says, 'but this, they'll put you in prison Javi.'

'They don't know who I am', Javier reasons.

'Javier, listen to me', Claudia says. 'This won't work. Whatever you have planned, they will catch you. Whatever you think you can get away with, you won't. Do you understand me, this isn't the way to do it.'

'What else do we have?' Javier says, his voice desperate, and tears welling at the corner of his eyes. 'I can't lose another child Claudia. I just can't do it.'