Divine (16 page)

"That's okay." The man had white hair and a white beard. His brown eyes were warm and kind. "Call me Big Dave." He saluted her. "God tells me who to pick up. I just listen and obey."

Mary felt her pretenses fading. God? Again? Why did she keep running into people who wanted to tell her about Him? She looked out the windshield. At least this man wouldn't hurt her, not if he was anything like Ted or Evelyn or her grandma. She kept her voice deep anyway. "You'll have to thank God for me."

The man was a talker. He asked about her past, and she kept her answers vague.

Good,
she thought.
He doesn't recognize me.

Because of her public rescue from Jimbo's basement, she had a face people often looked at twice. After her first week at Ted and Evelyn's, they told her that the story of her rescue had been played across the nation on television. She was bound to be recognized. It was why she liked to stay inside and learn.

During the whole trip Big Dave talked about God being his copilot and the Lord's will this and praise Jesus that. He was nice, and if she hadn't felt the need to play the role of a tough street girl, she would've enjoyed talking to him. As Dave drove, Mary remembered something her mama had told
her:
"If you're going to live on the streets, you need to be invisible." Yes,
the tough-girl image had to stay, along with the baseball cap and ponytail.

"Well, little lady, we got about an hour left." Big Dave broke the brief silence and pulled his truck off at the next exit. "Let's get some dinner and get you where you need to be."

Mary was ready to run, just in case Big Dave wasn't the nice man he seemed to be. She kept her fingers tight around the door handle as he drove his truck into what looked like a gas station and restaurant.

As soon as he parked, he nodded at the door. "You can go now, missy. The bathrooms are inside."

Mary felt herself relax. Everything was going to be okay. Big Dave was safe, and in an hour she'd be in New York City. She was closer to her grandma—and maybe even her mama— than she'd been since she was ten years old. She could hardly wait to feel her grandma's arms around her, hear her voice telling her that she was never out of her thoughts for one minute.

Before she climbed down the steps she reached into her bag, took the red beaded purse from the bottom, and stuffed it into her back pocket. She gave Big Dave a smile. "Thanks."

She hopped down and walked through the front door. Two police officers stood at the counter, visiting with a waitress. When Mary walked up, they stopped talking and looked at her.

The waitress was punishing a piece of gum. "Table for one?"

"No, thanks." Mary adjusted her baseball cap. The way the officers stared at her made her feel uncomfortable.

"Hey . . ." One of the officers squinted. He took a step toward her. "You look familiar." Another step closer. "What's your name?"

Mary's mind raced. "Jane." She gave a nervous laugh. "Sorry." She pointed toward the restroom. "I need to go."

Neither officer said anything as she walked down the hall, her steps as quick as she could make them without looking suspicious. What could they know about her? Had her foster family already reported her missing? And if so, would police this far away know about it? She didn't think so.

She stepped into the restroom, found a stall, and leaned against the door.
Breathe, Mary. Breathe.
The officer was just making conversation. She took her time, and ten minutes later she dried her hands, tossed the paper towel in the trash, and headed back down the hall toward the front counter.

What she saw stopped her in her tracks. The lobby was full of police—the original two and at least four additional officers. Big Dave was standing in the middle of them shaking his head and shrugging. From where she stood, she was hidden from their view, but not for long. If one of them took a few steps toward her they'd all know where she was. In that same instant Big Dave caught her eye and immediately looked back at the policemen. He gave a quick shake of his head and, without looking at her, he waved his hand in the air.

Was he using his hands to talk or giving her a signal? She took a step backward and looked over her shoulder. There was a door at the end of the hallway, and a sign over it read Exit. She had no time to thank Big Dave or think of a way out. There was just one. If she didn't take it now she'd be caught by the police and taken . . . where? Back to the Lakes' house? A shudder passed over her arms and down her spine.

She'd rather live under a bridge.

Moving slowly so she wouldn't gain their attention, she moved back until she was out of view. Then she turned and pushed her way through the emergency exit. Outside was a parking lot, and on the far side were long stretches of cars. She squinted at the sign above them. She wasn't sure about the first line, but the bigger words at the bottom read Used Cars. She blinked. The cars lined up in rows must've been for sale.

She sucked in her cheek. If only she could get a car. Then she could drive to New York, find a safe place, and park the car. The owners would find it eventually. It wouldn't exactly be stealing, would it? She could drive after all. Ted had told her that all farm kids learn to drive young. And she wouldn't hurt the car. Once more she looked over her shoulder. Whatever she did, it had to happen fast. They would be looking for her any minute.

Her heart raced, but her feet moved even faster. In a few seconds she crossed the back parking lot of the restaurant and headed for the rows of used cars. When she reached them, she felt her fear triple. There were people everywhere. Couples walked around looking at cars, and scattered throughout the rows were people dressed in nice clothes. Salespeople, probably.

With everyone around her, she couldn't exactly walk up and take a car, could she? She looked back at the restaurant. No one was coming after her, but it wouldn't be long.

The cars on either side of her were locked and had no keys in the ignition. She hurried down a row of vehicles until she came to a section of pickups. Trucks like the one Ted and Evelyn used to let her drive. The first one in the row had an open window and . . . she leaned in . . . yes, there were keys on the front seat.

She swallowed hard.
You can do this,
she told herself.
Take the
truck, get to New York, and find Grandma Peggy. Then you can give the
truck hack.
She glanced around, and out of the corner of her eye she saw police officers spill out the back door of the restaurant. She had maybe a minute to pull it off.

She slipped into the front seat and grabbed the keys. Her hands shook as she slid the largest key into the ignition and turned the engine. It was too late to back out now. From not far away she saw one of the well-dressed men turn and head toward her, his hand raised. Terror wrapped its arms around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. She had to get out of here fast.

The gearshift was just like the one in Ted's truck. She put it into drive and peeled out of the parking space. The squeal was bound to get the attention of the officers, but she had no choice. If she didn't move they'd catch her for sure.

She would only have the clothes on her back and the red-beaded purse, but that was okay. She had all she needed. Her mouth was dry, and she ran her tongue over her lower lip. "I'm coming, Grandma. . . . Please be waiting for me."

The aisle ahead was clear, but in the rearview mirror she could see people running after her. "Come on," she yelled at herself. "Go, Mary . . . move it." She wasn't sure where the entrance to the lot was, but it didn't matter. Trucks could take a curb. As soon as there was a break in the row, she turned and sped up to the sidewalk. She looked to the left. No traffic. Behind her the men were catching up, and in the far distance the police were heading toward the car lot. "Okay." She grabbed a quick breath. "Here goes."

The truck dropped down over the curb, and she was off. The freeway was just ahead. She'd paid close attention while Big Dave was driving, so she knew which way he'd been going. Without slowing, she entered the freeway heading the same direction as before.

There. She settled back against the seat. She'd done it. Her breathing returned to normal, and even her heartbeat slowed down. No one would know where she was going, so everything would work out just fine.

It took a few minutes to get used to the flow of the freeway, but it was easy compared with what lay ahead. She had to find her grandma as soon as possible. Grandma Peggy would explain the situation to the police and the Social Services and the people who owned the truck. No one would be mad at her—not once they understood.

She passed one exit, then another and another. With every mile she could feel herself getting closer to her grandma, feel the past falling away. Never again would someone chain her to a bed in a basement, and never, never would someone use her to meet the needs of men. Never.

The minutes passed, and no one seemed to be chasing her. Her back melted into the seat, and she loosened her grip on the steering wheel. Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked so she could see the road. "Grandma ... I'm coming." She could hardly believe it was actually happening. She was going to find Grandma Peggy, maybe even today. Every exit she passed took her closer to the place where she had spent her first years, the place where she still had a safe home and a pink bedroom and a pink teddy bear and a stack of books that finally . . . finally she could read.

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and she rolled down the window. It was wrong to take the truck, but what choice did she have? She'd leave it somewhere safe, and her short loan wouldn't hurt anyone. The summer wind felt wonderful on her face, washing away the dirt of her past, the grime of every ugly yesterday that had scarred her heart and soul and seared her memory. Her grandma would be waiting, and she could live with her and maybe one day her mama would join them. Because if Jimbo had lied about the police, maybe he'd lied about her mama. Maybe she wasn't dead. Maybe she'd joined up with Grandma Peggy, and they were both looking for her.

They could all live together once Mary found them.

Yes, it was all going to work out. She could already imagine the smell of her grandma's house, already feel her arms around her. Soon, very soon. She pressed her foot to the pedal, but as she did she saw flashing lights in her rearview mirror.

Her eyes fell to the control panel. She wasn't speeding.
They're not coming for me,
she told herself.
I'm way too far ahead of them.
Just in case, she changed lanes until she was on the far right. In the mirror the police were gaining ground. Two cars, both with their lights flashing. They changed lanes, and Mary felt her heart fall to the floor of the truck. One more lane change and they were right behind her.

She was wrong. They were coming for her after all. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and she pressed the gas pedal to the floor. She wasn't going to give up without a chase, not when her grandma was so close. At the next exit, she whipped the truck down the ramp. But up ahead was a red light. Two lanes of stopped traffic blocked her path, and the shoulders weren't wide enough for her truck.

The police were right behind her. A booming voice came from one of them. "Pull over!"

She thought about sideswiping the cars on the right and squeezing past them. But that would never work. The police would get through easier than her, and she wouldn't lose them. Besides, she might hurt someone. Slowly, all life and hope and promise leaked from her. She pulled over, put the truck in park, and sat back in the seat.

The officers were on her in seconds, their guns drawn. "Put your hands on your head," one of them shouted at her.

In that instant Mary knew it was over. Over the next ten minutes, when she put her hands on her head and stepped out of the truck, and while strangers stared at her from their cars, and officers searched her and read her something called rights, and as they slapped the familiar handcuffs on her wrists, all the while she couldn't stop thinking about one very sad thing.

It was the same thing that haunted her for the next three years after she was convicted of grand theft auto and placed in a juvenile detention center in New Jersey, and when she was caught sleeping with the math teacher while there. While she studied hard enough to get her high school equivalency certificate and when she was placed in a work program doing clerical tasks at the New Life Center on the streets of inner-city Washington, DC.

Mary Madison allowed only one thought to dominate her heart and soul. It was the saddest thing of all.

Grandma Peggy would never know how close she'd come.

Emma wanted to cry for Mary. "Did your grandma
have any idea where you were or that you were trying to find her?"

"She had an idea." The pain in Mary's eyes colored everything about her face. "She saw the newspaper the day after I was rescued from Jimbo's basement. She called the police and told them she thought I was her granddaughter."

"So . . ." Emma tried to contain her frustration. "Why didn't the police get the two of you in touch?"

"I couldn't remember my last name. The information Grandma Peggy had didn't match what was in my file. I guess a lot of people called after my picture ran. If the caller's details didn't match, then the police dismissed the call. My grandma said my name was Mary Madison, but my file said I was Mary Margaret."