The Middle of Somewhere(102)

He smiled. “We can discuss its future over dinner at the steakhouse.”

“I hope I’m not too tired to eat.”

“Don’t even think that, carina.”

They walked the three blocks to the hotel. The late-afternoon heat rose from the sidewalks, dulling her senses. They crossed the main street to the hotel and climbed the exterior stairs to the second-floor rooms. Liz stopped halfway. Her legs, encased in stone, balked at the command to climb higher. After a rest, she managed the last steps. Dante opened the door to their room and ushered her inside. It was basic, but clean, and contained everything Liz needed: running water, a real bed and Dante.

She collapsed onto the edge of the bed. A pair of gray capris and a blue-and-white striped T-shirt lay beside her. “Thanks for getting these.”

“They didn’t have much of a selection.”

“Yeah, but I bet every single piece was clean.”

“Good point. I’ll start a bath.”

She considered lying down but feared she’d never be able to get up again. Her eyes went to the window, and the open curtains, and the door. She rose with effort, peered out at the parking lot and pulled the curtains shut. She hung the chain across the door and threw the deadlock, exhaling deeply as the bolt slid home.

? ? ?

They ate dinner at the steakhouse, choosing a table at the back. The food was delicious, but neither of them could manage more than half of their steaks. “My stomach has shrunk,” Dante said. “How sad.”

By the time the check arrived, Liz felt she was melting into the booth. They left the restaurant, crossed the parking lot, climbed the stairs and locked the door behind them. Liz undressed and slid between the sheets, so smooth against her skin, raw and taut from sun and wind and cheap soap. Dante climbed in and encircled her in his arms. She laid her head on his chest.

She said, “It’s not rational—I know we’re safe—but I’ll feel so much better when they arrest them.”

“I know, carina. So will I.”

They fell silent then, and Liz soon fell asleep, Dante’s heartbeat a metronome of solace.

The next morning they had breakfast at the Lone Pine Diner, feasting on eggs, bacon, pancakes, home fries and a side of waffles. Liz watched Dante transfer another pancake from the stack to his plate.

“You should be proud of your stomach. Such a quick recovery.”

He nodded and returned his attention to his plate. His phone vibrated on the table. He tapped the icon and put the phone to his ear. “Hello? Yes, speaking. Good morning, Agent Gutierrez.”

Liz put down her fork.

“Yes, I see. Yes, Liz is fine.”

Her mouth was parched. She sipped her water. Dante was listening and nodding. She raised her eyebrows at him, hoping for a signal, but he didn’t notice.

“Thank you very much. Yes, you, too.” He said good-bye and tapped the screen closed. He reached across the table and took Liz’s hand. It was trembling. “It’s over, Liz. They captured the Root brothers in the lower Kern Valley. He couldn’t give me any details, but wanted us to know they’re in custody.”

“Thank God.” She let out a long breath, one she felt she’d been holding for a week, and imagined Payton in handcuffs, staring defiantly out of the rear window of a police cruiser. “The agent couldn’t tell you anything?”

“No, because of the ongoing investigation. The same as on TV.”

“I guess we’ll read about them in the paper.”

“I might prefer to forget about them.”

She nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Dante squeezed her hand and she let the tears fall.

They finished eating and went back to the room. The sunlight filtered through the curtains as it had through their tent, a dim amber glow. They returned to bed and made love, their every breath a whisper of tenderness, and faith.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE





Liz pulled her phone from the hip pocket of her jeans with her left hand, an awkward move even after two weeks. A missed call, probably as she’d gone through airport security. She slid the icon to the right.

“Hey, Liz. It’s Russ. Your dad. Yeah, so I was talking to your mom and she mentioned your hiking trip. Anyway, if you’ve got a minute . . .” His voice trailed off and the message ended. She’d not heard from him in two years, and then only because he had business in San Jose. She checked the time—her flight for Albuquerque wasn’t boarding for a half hour—found his number and called.