Rick Mofina - In Desperation

Ruiz stared at the sketch. Once more he listened to the details about his description and his scar. He scratched his growth under his chin. He had not shaved.

“Ruiz, you and I know they will check your scar with the databanks and sooner or later they will know who we are. We have to do something.”

Ruiz cut another piece of the apple and chewed.

“I think we should pull out of the operation,” Alfredo said.

“No,” Ruiz said. “We’ve not been ordered to abort. We’ve heard nothing, which means we continue.”

“Continue? And do what? Where is Galviera? We have nothing set up for the sicario. We’re not even close. They told me you were the best. I don’t think so. Tell me, what is your next move?”

Ruiz turned to Alfredo. He’d insulted Ruiz’s pride.

Ruiz was seething. His anger was directed at Cora, but Alfredo’s fretting fueled it. Now, watching Cora, over and over, pleading to the camera while standing next to a sketch of his face, a good sketch, Ruiz grew furious.

All they’d asked was that she find Galviera so they could retrieve the money. That was all. The kidnapping was their leverage, their insurance that Cora would act quickly.

But does she find him?

No, she goes to the FBI. This woman did not know her place. She did not know the price she was going to pay for her disrespect.

“Ruiz, what are we going to do?”

The muscles along Ruiz’s jawline pulsed as he turned to the open door and Tilly Martin, bound and gagged on the bed in the next room.

Somewhere in Greater Phoenix, Arizona

Tilly sat upright.

The one with the knife was approaching her room.

What was he going to do?

Tilly tried to keep calm but fear pulled her down, the way Lenny Griffin had held her underwater that day at swim class.

She had thought she would drown.

She’d struggled but couldn’t breathe. Heart slamming against her chest, lungs bursting, alarm screaming in her ears, she kicked, scratched and gouged Lenny until she broke free.

All the jerk did was laugh.

But his smile had vanished after Tilly landed a swift punch on his face. She was glad that she’d retaliated, giving him a shiner and a guarantee that she would always fight back.

But Lenny Griffin was a stupid twelve-year-old boy.

The monster in her doorway now was a grown man with a knife, a creep who was obviously a fake cop. Because real police officers, like Deputy Sheriff Taylor, who had visited her school, didn’t do the things this creep and his friend, Creep Number Two, were doing. Real police didn’t take kids from their homes at night and stuff them in suitcases.

What were they going to do to her now?

Creep Number One, the one called Ruiz, just stood there, leaning on the door frame, cutting into that apple with his big knife, looking at her and chewing.

Tilly hated them.

Ruiz and Creep Number Two, the one called Alfredo, had been watching their TV and arguing for a long time. Then they stopped. Now Ruiz was just standing there, looking at her.

She was scared.

What were they going to do to her?

Her mouth was gagged, her teeth clamped on a twisted bandanna tied behind her head. Her hands were bound with duct tape. Her eyes filled with tears as she scanned the room.

That big black suitcase was in the closet.

Her coffin.

Please don’t put me in there again.

It was so dark in there. When they’d taken her from her mom, they’d scrunched her in the suitcase. She could feel them lift her into the trunk of a car. Then they drove.

She was trapped in a nightmare.

Seeing her mom tied up in the kitchen was horrifying. Tilly felt so helpless. All she could do was say her mother’s favorite prayer from church over and over.

Hail Mary, full of grace…pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death…

Tilly didn’t know where they were driving or for how long. But when they stopped, they lifted the suitcase, with her in it, from the trunk, rolled it inside and let her out here, in this scuzzy place.

A hotel, she guessed.

The place smelled like cigarettes and BO. The toilet never stopped hissing. The air conditioner hardly worked. She didn’t know where they were. The creeps had removed the telephone and phone book. They left the TV on a kids’ channel with cartoons for babies and kept the sound low. She tried to sleep but it took hours for the aching in her legs, shoulder and neck to go away.

They gave her teen magazines, pizza, chips, chocolate bars, cookies, soda and stuff. They didn’t hurt her or touch her or yell at her or anything. They kept her tied up and sometimes they asked her about Lyle Galviera, her mom’s boss, if she knew where he was.

As if she would know.

Tilly just shook her head, which made her chain jingle a bit.

For, in addition to gagging her and binding her hands, they’d put a metal clamp on her ankle. They secured it to a long dog chain and locked it to some steel pipes, so she could get up and go to the bathroom and stuff.

The chain clinked a little now as she trembled under Ruiz’s gaze.

Just then, sound from the creeps’ TV in the other room spilled into her room. Her heart swelled. Oh my God, that was her mother on TV!

“Sweetheart, if you can see me or hear my voice, I love you. We’re doing everything to bring you home safely…”

It filled her with hope, like when Lenny’s grasp on her had loosened.

I hear you and I love you, Mommy!

Ruiz kept his attention locked on Tilly and ordered Alfredo in Spanish to shut the TV off. Then he cut the last piece from his apple and took his time chewing it before tossing the core in the overflowing trash can in the corner.

Ruiz stood at the door, his tongue methodically probing his teeth for the apple remnants. Then he carefully wiped the serrated blade clean against his jeans and began tapping it against the palm of his hand.

“It appears your mother has disobeyed my order.”

His voice sounded friendly, but Tilly knew it was phony, because he was breathing hard. Under that fake nice voice, he was pissed.

Tilly was not fooled.

The man was holding a knife.

He just stood there, tapping it in his hand, staring at her for the longest time as if watching some plan play out in his mind. Then he went to the curtains and using his knife, parted them slightly to look at the Golden Cut Processing Plant across the street, listening to the meat saw echoing in the night.

Then he turned to Tilly.

He touched the tip of the blade in his palm.

He’d reached a decision.

“Remember, it was your mother who forced us to take this next step. For the action we’re about to take, I will beg your forgiveness.”

Tilly didn’t understand. Then Ruiz said, “Alfredo, come in here. I am going to need your help.”

The chain chinked as Tilly tensed.

“Your mother does not appreciate who she is dealing with. We will give her a lesson she will never forget.”

Mesa Mirage, Phoenix, Arizona

The flowers were yellow.

There were almost two dozen daffodils, carnations and roses arranged in a yellow ceramic vase with a yellow ribbon and a card for Cora Martin.

The vase was belted to the front passenger seat of the cab that had pulled up this morning to the tangle of police and news vehicles outside Cora’s house.

Since her televised appeal yesterday, people from across the city had brought her balloons, stuffed toys and notes of support. After passing their gifts to police at the line, most well-wishers spoke to the media, offering their teary consolation for Cora.