Torched: A Thriller (5 page)

ELEVEN

Miguel brought
dinner home with him. They ate out on the little porch—beans and rice stuffed
into homemade tortillas and tall glasses of mint-tinged iced tea.

Night had fallen by the
time they were finished.

“I’ve got something to
show you,” Vivian said.

“Yeah? Don’t keep it to
yourself, then.”

“Be right back.” She ran
inside and collected the documents. Before heading back outside, she stopped to
study her reflection in the mirror hanging in the foyer. The circles beneath
her eyes were disappearing. The edges of her mouth turned upward, naturally.

She felt different. She
felt…
renewed
.

She handed Miguel the
envelope. “Alma does excellent work. She asked me to thank you, by the way.”

Miguel grinned as he
studied the documents. “Carmen,
Carmen
,” he said, testing it out. “I
love it! These are great. You, uh…you feel any better now?”

Vivian shrugged. It was
difficult to consider herself in a new light, but she was warming to the idea
by the hour. She’d paused at least a half dozen times since Alma had given her the
identification cards to study them.

She’d even begun to
tinker with a personal history—a background that might accompany her new
identity. It was liberating, thinking about all of the possibilities.

“I guess so. It’s just
surreal, how quickly things have changed for me.”

 Miguel nodded. “Oh, I
know. I remember the feeling well, Vi—
Carmen
.”

“It’s okay, Mike. Call
me Vivian. Please, at least just for a little while longer.” She sighed, unsure
of how to move forward. “Would you,” she swallowed, “…are you interested in
hearing more about Vivian?”

“I’d like nothing more.
Can I get you a glass of wine? I’m having one.

“That would be great.
Thanks.”

Miguel ducked inside and
poured two glasses of Chilean red. He brought the bottle back with him and they
clinked glasses. Vivian took half of hers down in a swallow. She breathed
deeply, gathered herself and tumbled into the narrative she’d been avoiding for
years.

“Vivian and Ryan met at
the University of Central Florida. Ryan Bowles was an engineering student, and
he fit the stereotype that sort of goes with that. He was smart and
hard-working. He saw things differently—analytically, I guess you could say—and
he had such a knack for fixing things. It was uncanny what the man could do
when a problem popped up.

“But he was also so much
more than that, Mike. He was kind to others, and he had a beautiful smile, and
he could fill a room up with his laughter—which he did often. He loved life,
and people loved him. He was generous and kind—not all buttoned up like some people
think when they think of engineers.”

“Sheesh, Vi. Sounds like
a hell of a guy. Should I be jealous?”

Vivian’s smile was sad.
“Not anymore. I don’t think, wherever he is, that he laughs much anymore. And
that’s a shame, really…

“Anyway, now enter
Vivian Steiger. Awkward, self-conscious, average-in-most-ways Vivian Steiger. A
middle girl sandwiched between brothers that were award-winning athletes. A
daughter to hyper-achieving parents whose love was unconditional, but that
never really felt…I don’t know, never felt
authentic
. So Vivian’s at
UCF, taking biology courses with the idea of going into veterinary medicine—or
something in that area, she’s not really sure—when she bumps into Ryan Bowles
at a party. Literally, she knocks his drink out of his hand on the porch of the
Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity house and he spills it all over the girl he brought
to the party. It’s a movie set-up, I know, only in this case it really
happened.”

“And from such
auspicious beginnings blossoms a beautiful romance?”

Vivian nodded. “In many
ways, yes. Ryan apologized profusely to his date, but she wasn’t listening much
after he couldn’t keep his eyes off Ms. Steiger. That first meeting was
awkward, but it was never uncomfortable between these kids. Things were
never
really awkward, actually—at least not until much later, when everything fell
apart.

“So a first official
date—bowling, of all things—evolved quickly into a wonderful relationship. They
were good kids, and they were good
together
. They were…they fell
genuinely in love.

“Ryan Bowles excelled in
his classes at UCF; Vivian Steiger discovered that she enjoyed the humanities
much more than biology, and Ryan encouraged her to follow her heart. They were
inseparable for four years, and then they graduated and moved south, to Cape
Coral. Ryan began building bridges, while Vivian worked at an art gallery.

“There was a marriage,
and some very happy years as they sunk their roots in the Florida Sand.”

Miguel refilled their
glasses. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ on the horizon.”

Vivian shook her head.
“Not yet. Things got even better. They had a little baby girl. Her name was
Katie, and she was
everything
to them. If Ryan’s laugh had filled the
room before, it filled the county after Katie entered their lives. They had
lots of good years together, the three of them.

“Lots of good years.”
Vivian was crying, her voice little more than a whisper. Miguel reached over
and took her hand, and she swiped away the tears and pressed forward.

“Katie grew tall and
strong. She…she was out one night with the dog. She did it all the
time—absolutely loved going for walks in the neighborhood. When she didn’t come
home, Ryan and Vivian became worried. They were…they were just heading out to
search for her when the police pulled into their driveway.”

Vivian sobbed, her
shoulders hitching. She knew she had to tell him—knew that if she was going to
make a clean transition into this new life that he had to understand the things
she had done in her past—but the memories were still so raw.

“You don’t have to keep
going tonight, Vivian. It’s okay if you need to stop,” Miguel said, but she
shook her head. She swiped the tears from her eyes and pushed forward, her
voice an octave higher with grief. She worried her hands in her lap.

“Katie died, and so did
the love between Ryan and Vivian Bowles. He tried to hold it together for the
both of them. He’d even talked about starting over—about trying to start
another family—but Vivian couldn’t deal with Katie’s loss.

“Katie had been a
once-in-a-lifetime kid, you see? Every parent says that, but for Vivian it was
true. She loved her little girl
so much
that, when she lost her, she
lost everything.
Everything
, Mike.

“The career went, then
the marriage, then the house. Then…”

The silence hung in the
air, sharp as the blade of a guillotine. This was it—the place in the narrative
of Vivian’s past that would cleave her from the grief and deliver her into a
new identity. She had to confess it.

Miguel squeezed her
hand.

“Then Vivian did a
terrible thing. She had some money, and she used it to find the person that had
killed her daughter. Instead of going to the police, she…well, Vivian took
matters into her own hands. She did things that made her sick to her stomach,
Mike. She…she hurt a lot of people. She…” Vivian looked away.

“It’s okay, Vivian. What
happened, honey? It’s okay to tell me. I won’t judge you.”

Vivian turned in her
chair, her wide eyes locked on his. “I murdered the man that killed my
daughter.”

Miguel nodded, a pained
smile on his face. He never released her hand, even as he tried to process her
words. This woman that now shared his house was a killer. “What happened,
Vivian?”

She explained all that
had transpired in Colorado. By the time she was finished, Miguel’s expression
was one of sincere awe. He had a little smile on his face.
Wow
, it said,
you are some kind of woman
.

“You didn’t
murder
him, Vi. You just…Jesus, you just
didn’t
, okay? You need to understand
that. You gave that man a chance. Much more of a chance than he gave your
daughter. Look, I am so
sorry
about losing Katie. I wish that I could do
something to bring her back to you, Vivian. But you need to let it go if you
feel bad about this Sheldon James character. I think…I think you did a
remarkable thing, honey, and I don’t think you should feel guilty about it.”

Vivian studied him
through a veil of tears. “I wanted to tell you, Mike, but I couldn’t. I feel
so
bad
about what I put those kids through—what I put Terri through! I…I don’t
think I deserve forgiveness for what I did, but that’s what those documents
feel like to me. Can you see that? They feel like forgiveness, and I’m scared
to accept them because that means things might actually be different. And I
don’t think I deserve different. Certainly not now, now that I think back on
everything I did, and maybe not ever.”

Miguel stood. He pulled
her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, then sat back down with her on
his lap. She sobbed against his chest, such a petite figure, and he held her
tight and stroked her hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered,
repeating it over and over again. “I’m so sorry for everything, Vivian, but you
don’t deserve all of this unhappiness.”

He put the envelope in
his pocket and placed her hand on it.

“I’ll hold onto these,
Vi. When you’re ready, I’ll have them for you.”

She nodded, her cheeks
streaked with tears, and they stayed that way, folded into each other, until
fatigue took them inside and pushed them down into sleep.

TWELVE

Chaco knew his
way around Cerritos. He and Terri climbed out of the truck in the center of
town, on the outskirts of a little park, and he pointed down a well-lighted
street. “Come on. Let’s see if there’s any room at the inn.”

She practically
clung to him. They passed a few bars and cantinas, the sound of billiards
clacking and muted Mexican pop music coming from a couple of open doors. She
couldn’t resist the urge to search for El Principe, already wondering what
would happen if she somehow ran into Vivian on the streets before she had a
chance to put things in motion.

But she didn’t
see Vivian, or Miguel, and everyone was a stranger to her. Mexico was so unlike
anyplace she’d ever visited before and, while most folks were kind, smiling at
her as she passed, she garnered more than a few predatory glances as well.

For about the
fiftieth time that day, she thanked the Lord for Chaco’s return.

They covered ten
or twelve blocks before he stopped in front of an impressive building. The
sandstone walls were the color of faded cream. Two stories, it was an
old-fashioned hotel—right down to the cracked wooden sign suspended from a pair
of wrought-iron hooks.
Hay habitaciones
, it read.

“What do you
think?” Chaco said.

“Looks great,”
Terri said. She was filled with a sense of relief; a warm shower and a clean
bed had never sounded so good, and she was suddenly acutely aware of her
exhaustion. How many miles had she covered since waking at 4:30? “Are you…are
you staying?”

He shrugged.
“Got no place else here. I know the town, but not the people. Not really.”

Terri flashed a
relieved grin. “Thanks again. For all of this.”

“No problem.” He
opened the door and they stepped into the office. A young man had his nose in a
textbook. Probably a college student. He gave them a warm smile, marking his
place with a slip of paper. “Hola! Un habitacion?”

“Si, por favor,”
Chaco replied.

“Bueno! Tenemos
un más.”

A pained
expression flashed on Chaco’s face, and he and the innkeeper had a brief
conversation. He turned to Terri, his cheeks flushed. “They just have the one
room. There’s a festival in town, and he said they’re fortunate to have any
vacancies at all. He said we could try another hotel, but he can’t hold the
room for us.”

Terri gave a
dismissive wave. “Take the room. I’m not worried about it, Chaco. That’s the
last thing on my mind, after the day I’ve had. I’m dead on my feet, and the
only thing I need is a decent night’s sleep.”

He took the
room. It was on the second floor, at the far end of the building, and it had a
little balcony. Terri stowed her duffle and went out on the terrace. There was
a plaza in the distance, and people were dancing in the yellow light cast by
dozens of paper lanterns. “This is nice, Chaco. Take a look.”

He joined her
there, his elbow brushing hers. It felt good, that brief human contact.

“Very pretty,”
he agreed. “You want to check it out?”

“Ugh! I don’t
have the energy. Honestly, I haven’t walked that much since I was a teenager,
and I’m not in the best shape to begin with. My calves are seriously on fire.
I’m just going to grab a shower and hit the hay, I think. Thanks for asking,
though. You’re very sweet.”

Chaco nodded.
They’d both noticed the little sleeper couch in the corner of the room. There
was just a single queen bed, and they knew the arrangements.

“Then I’ll run
and get some supper in the hotel kitchen. There were still a few people at the
bar when we checked in. You hungry for anything in particular?”

“Something hot.
Other than that, the world’s your oyster.”

His eyebrows
bunched in confusion. “What? What does that mean?”

Terri laughed.
She explained the expression, and he joined her in laughter. “I’ve been
speaking English for more than ten years. Never heard that one. ‘The world is
my oyster.’ Okay, so it is. Be back soon.”

He left, and
Terri sighed a little when the door latched. He had a key, and she went to the
bathroom. It was clean and bright. She turned on the water, stripped out of her
sweat-stained clothing, and stepped beneath the shower, letting the warm
droplets scrub away the layers of salt and grime that had coated her throughout
the day. She eased herself down on the tiled floor, letting the scalding water
penetrate her sore muscles.

She tried to
concentrate on what she had to do in the morning, but she couldn’t.

Instead, she
thought of Chaco.

Who was he, and
why was he helping her?

The water
buffeted her skin, and it felt good. She briefly wondered what would happen if
her new ally met her there in the steaming shower, then banished the thought,
embarrassed that her focus could slip so easily.

She stood and
twisted the knob all the way to the left. Jets of icy water prickled her flesh,
and she fought the urge to cry out as the water shocked her system.

She counted to
sixty in the frigid water, thinking only of Vivian and Miguel and Sheldon and
Mike and Erin, then shut the water off and stepped out to towel herself off.
She dressed quickly and stepped into the room, toweling her hair in the
humidity.

Chaco hadn’t
returned yet.

She sat on the
bed, opening her duffle and pulling out the manila folder. There was just
enough time to go through her notes again before dinner.

***

Chaco returned
with three cartons and a bottle of wine. They ate on the terrace, dining on
grilled skirt steak, plantains, beans and rice. The wine was tasty, and Terri
ate two helpings of everything.

“Jeez, Chaco.
Sorry about the pig out. I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”

He laughed. “Oh,
I’m plenty full. It’s refreshing to see a lady that will still eat a real meal.
You, uh…you have quite the day ahead of you tomorrow, don’t you?”

Terri sipped her
wine. She sighed. “I don’t know. Yes, I mean. But now that I’m here, I just…I’m
kind of confused, to be honest with you. I came here because I wanted to hurt
somebody—I wanted to hurt somebody as bad as she hurt me. But now I’m not so
sure.”

Chaco’s eyebrows
spiked. “Why the uncertainty?”

“Well, I know
where they are—I mean, his house is plotted on my GPS. I have the things I
need. All that’s left is to rent a car, and I even made arrangements to take
care of that.”

“So what’s the
issue, Terri?”

“I’m not sure
that I’m strong enough to go through with it. I’m still furious, and when I
think of her…I just, my vision goes red. You ever get like that? My children,
Chaco! She hurt
my children
.”

“Then it sounds
like you have serious justification for being here. A mother’s love is a
powerful force.”

Terri stared at
her hands. “Maybe. Maybe not. Can I…can I talk to you about what happened?
Maybe ask for a little advice?”

He nodded, and
Terri launched into her tale. By the time she’d told him about Devil’s Head
Campground, and the frostbite, and the amputations, and Sheldon’s funeral, the
wine had been long gone and her fury had returned in full.

“Just talking
about it makes me feel like I’m
supposed
to be here. Like I’m—like I’m
the one that’s setting things back in balance.”

“But, Terri…you
said your husband
killed
her daughter. Can’t you, and forgive me if I’m
speaking out of turn here, but can’t you understand the nature of this woman’s
grief? I’m not saying what she did was okay, but can you also understand
her
anger and sadness?”

“Of course I
can, Chaco. She took my husband! Sheldon was a major league shit, but he was
also the father of my children. He was a pretty damned fine father at that. And
now, looking back, I know that I would have divorced him. When I reflect on our
life together, I really doubt that bitch Vivian was the first time he stepped
out on me. And that just breaks my heart, Chaco. It breaks my heart.

“But I should
have been
able
to divorce him.
He
should still be able to see
Erin and Mike. He was an ass, but he didn’t deserve to die any more than my
little girl deserved to have her fingers amputated.”

Chaco sighed.
They were quiet for a long time—the distant revelry lilting faintly on the
still night air. Kids lit bottle rockets in the hotel courtyard.

“Can I help
you?” he finally volunteered. “I mean, if you don’t mean to take this all the
way, that is. I won’t be a party to a murder, Terri. But I’d like to help…that
is, if you’ll let me.”

Her eyes
shimmered with gratitude. She reached over and slipped her hand into his, and
he gave it a squeeze.

“Thank you,
Chaco. It’s a lot to ask, I know, but I really appreciate the help. I’m—I’m in
over my head here by myself.”

They listened to
the dance in the plaza winding down. Terri nodded off in her chair, and Chaco
lifted her and placed her beneath the covers. She snored a little, but did not
stir until a few minutes after 3:00, when she woke with a start. Her hair was
plastered to her temple, and she was disoriented.

“Chaco?”

“I’m here,” he
called in the darkness. “It’s okay, Terri.

“Can you…would
you sleep over here? Please?”

He crossed the
room in silence, lifting the covers and matching his form to hers. He held her
in his arms, kissing the back of her neck as he shared her pillow, and they
fell into a deep and contented sleep, just like that.