Authors: Charlie Price
Angel told Rita she’d found Scotty. Said it looked like he was doing some business in Brawley at the pawnshop a couple of blocks past the plaza. Told her she hadn’t seen what he was driving yet, or found out where he was staying.
Rita gave her a long look, said, “You’re something, girl.”
Was that a compliment?
When they neared the glittery casino on their left, Angel again asked Rita to make a tour of the parking area. No Scotty. She hadn’t really thought there would be.
Waiting to reenter the divided highway, Rita pulled the gun out. “You know you have to return this,” Rita said, handing Vincente’s pistol to Angel.
The gun was heavier than she remembered.
“You can’t steal from people who treat you right.”
“But then I have no chance,” Angel said. “Scotty’ll take me and do me and I can’t stop him.”
“I’m working on that,” Rita said.
“How?” Angel asked.
“Don’t worry about where Scotty’s staying,” Rita told her.
“Why not?”
“You met Abuela?” Rita glanced at Angel to confirm. “She’s like a
curandera.
A wise woman. She told me: ‘
¿Atrapar a una pantera? Hay que atar a una cabra … en tu hogar, no suya.
’”
Angel looked at her.
Atrapar
sounded like a trap. She thought
hogar
was home. A
pantera
? She had no idea. Gave up. “What does that mean?” she asked.
“Basically,” Rita said, “it goes: To catch a panther, tether a goat. But do it at your place, not the panther’s.”
Angel thought about that. Grimaced. “Make Scotty come here?” Shook her head. “That’s crazy. He’s already coming here. He might already be here.”
“We’ll see,” Rita said.
Angel couldn’t believe what she was thinking now … If you’re going to die, might as well die with friends.
* * *
T
HE LARGE DARK GREEN PICKUP
that had been cruising Main Street earlier had left its spot at the corner of the plaza and followed the Toyota at a distance, stopping well back whenever they stopped. The driver watched them go through the motel parking lots in Westmorland, stayed a few cars behind when they went through the drug inspection, watched them check out the trucks in the huge casino blacktop area. Kept an even greater distance when they turned off the highway onto the Salt Shores entrance road, kept them in sight while Rita made the left onto her own street and let Angel out at the blue house on the corner. Watched Angel unlock the door. That was good enough. A U-turn put it back on the highway.
* * *
F
IRST THING
, Angel went out back to see about the dog. It was long gone. She called its name, walked out front, walked around the house. She whistled and called some more but it had clearly moved on. She knew that was only fair. She just hoped Xena found someone who would treat her well. Did most people treat dogs better than children?
Rita had told her to come for dinner and Angel went the back way, hoping she might spot the dog. No deal. She crept around the side of the house to the front, hoping she might see Momo’s red pickup. No deal. She looked for Vincente’s truck but didn’t see that either. Maybe he wasn’t home yet, so she could slip the gun back without him knowing. Had Rita told him?
There was a dusty maroon crew cab across the street, looked familiar but she couldn’t place it. It didn’t frighten her. Maybe it belonged to another house. Once inside she remembered. Ramón.
He stood as she entered. “Angel,” he said. “You look tired.”
Why was he here? He had protected her, literally given her his shirt. He’d arranged her ride down here … and she’d repaid him by putting Momo in danger. But he didn’t sound angry. Did he come here to help Vincente safeguard Rita?
Did he come here for me?
Angel was so very glad to see him but couldn’t think what to say. “Hi” and a smile was all she could muster. “I … I’ll be right back.”
She rushed to the bathroom and got the box of bullets from behind the towels, ran to Rita’s bedroom, pulled the pistol out of her pocket and emptied it. She made herself slow down to stick the bullets back in their round holes in the foam packing of the cartridge box and hurriedly stuck the box in the back of Vincente’s top dresser drawer. She wiped the pistol one more time using the inside of her T-shirt and took the canvas bag down from the closet. Vincente had kept the gun in a thin oily handkerchief and she wrapped the gun in it, stuffed it all in the bag, and set it back on the shelf. She heard a sound behind her and spun around. Rita. In the doorway. Rita turned and left without speaking.
Angel went to the bathroom then and stood holding on to the sink until her heart stopped pounding. She hoped she had done the right thing. She really wasn’t sure. This could cost her life.
When she returned to the living room there was another surprise. Abuela. Angel didn’t know what to do this time either. Abuela looked thinner than Angel remembered. And older. Deeper lines across the forehead and around the mouth. Had sorrow done this?
Angel’s rush of feelings made her dizzy. Could she run before Abuela saw her? Escape the guilt? Had the old woman come to punish her for Matteo? She remembered how Abuela had washed her face after Scotty almost caught her, how she had helped Angel escape at the church. She owed this woman her life. Angel forced herself to keep walking. The closer she got, the more she wanted Abuela to hold her and make everything all right.
The old woman heard her and turned in her direction, nodded.
“Bien,”
she said.
Angel felt like she could breathe again. She stopped a couple of feet away, unsure what to say or do.
“Okay,” Abuela said, holding up a finger, like “wait a minute.” “Ramón.” She looked toward the kitchen.
“Ven aquí y traduzca.”
Angel could get that. Come here and translate.
Abuela extended her hand.
Angel reached for it and allowed herself to be drawn close. Yet she hardly knew this woman.
What has happened to me?
28
Vincente arrived in time for dinner the next night, Saturday, and they all spent the evening talking through a plan. Angel convinced them that they probably had a couple more weeks before Scotty got serious. He would wait, she told them, until it would look like Angel had run away on her own. They agreed with her reasoning and decided to spring their trap right away. Goad him into action.
They would spend the weekend making the blue house as safe as possible: nailing windows shut, reinforcing doors, drilling peepholes, putting a ladder to the roof crawl space, and bulletproofing part of the attic floor with a heavy metal plate that Ramón had brought.
They would also make a hundred copies of Scotty’s picture and Tuesday morning Ramón would drop them all over Brawley with Angel’s cell phone number on them. They believed Scotty would call Angel, and when he did, she would taunt him, saying she was looking for him, coming after him. That he could run but he couldn’t hide. She’d say she was ready to meet him in the plaza and shoot him. Tuesday afternoon late. After the local families had gone back to their homes.
At dusk, she’d meet him at the bandstand. Angel would be there with Ramón and several of his and Rita’s friends from this area. They’d be ready and waiting. But they were sure that Scotty wouldn’t show. He’d know it was a trap.
What
would
he do? He’d watch. From some place near. He’d see them challenge him and laugh at him … and finally give up on him and go back to their homes. And he’d follow Angel back … to the blue house. He’d finally see where she was holing up. He wouldn’t know that when Angel came home from the mock showdown, she’d hide in the attic. He wouldn’t realize that Ramón and Vincente had returned to the blue house earlier and set up with their weapons.
Scotty would wait till the middle of the night, till everything was quiet, till the neighborhood was asleep, and then he’d sneak into the house. But at that point, Ramón and Vincente would either disarm him or shoot him. And then call the sheriff. They would have Scotty where they wanted him, on their own territory. And they would take care of him, for good if necessary.
The men felt certain Scotty would be provoked into responding. He wouldn’t ignore that prodding and humiliation. Angel and Rita weren’t so sure, but they were outvoted. The group went over every bit of it. If Scotty didn’t come the first night, he’d come before long. It was definitely worth a try.
* * *
O
N
M
ONDAY MORNING
A
NGEL WENT TO SCHOOL
for a couple of hours to help Rita set up. She wanted to see Norma and tell her she didn’t have to worry about “Bad Bad” anymore. Angel swept, set the tables for morning snack, washed and sliced the apples, put out the graham crackers.
Norma found her while she was sorting the games and putting the right pieces in the right boxes.
“That don’t go there,” Norma said, shaking her head like Angel was a dummy.
Angel was holding an inch-long metal race car, poised to put it in Candyland.
“That’s Mopoly,” Norma said, her patience obviously strained. She took the piece, opened the Monopoly lid, and stuck it inside.
“How about the rest of these?” Angel asked, pointing to a pile of fifteen or twenty pieces near the edge of the small game table.
“I’ll do ’em,” Norma said. “You watch. Maybe you learn something.”
“Who says that to you?” Angel asked.
“Momma,” Norma said. “And Momma wants to know what’s wrong with the keys?”
“What keys?” Angel could never quite follow Norma’s changes of conversational direction.
“School keys,” Norma said. “You lose ’em?”
“Nope,” Angel said, and that reminded her. She walked away for a moment to replace the attic key she’d stolen.
“Why come the locket truck been parked here?” Norma asked when she returned.
“I don’t know,” Angel said. “I wasn’t here. What’s a locket truck?”
“I own’t know,” Norma said. “You gots any candy?”
Angel stayed for snack time and sharing circle before she went back to help with the blue house prep. On her way out she asked Rita, “Was there a locket truck here yesterday?”
Rita was clearly puzzled. “What’s a—oh, a locksmith? There was a locksmith truck out front Friday or Saturday, must have been doing something for one of the neighbors. Why?… Locket? That’s funny,” she said. “Sounds like something Norma would say.”
Monday afternoon, on the walk back to the blue house, Angel remembered. Two guys testified for Scotty. A pawnshop owner and a locksmith.
* * *
T
HE HARDEST PART OF THE HOUSE
preparation had been getting the thick metal plate up through the ceiling hole. Once Ramón and a friend of Vincente’s accomplished that, the rest of the work went quickly. When everything was finished, Ramón showed Angel what he wanted her to do.
“You get back from the plaza Tuesday, you go up this ladder,” he said. “We’ll have a pillow and blanket, water bottle, snack. You lie right on the metal. I’ll put cardboard so it don’t make you cold. If there’s shooting, bullets don’t go through that steel. You haul the ladder up soon as you climb it and nobody but Vincente and me’ll even know you’re there.”
“Maybe you should let the sheriff set the trap, handle him when he comes,” Angel said. The closer this got, the more she was beginning to worry about someone else she cared for getting hurt. What if Scotty started shooting?
“
Policia
had him before and let him go,” Ramón said. “We’ll see what TJ finds, whether they go for murder. I don’t know, I got a feeling this ain’t gonna end till we end it.”
Angel felt strange hearing someone else talking about killing Scotty. She was sure that’s what Ramón meant. She guessed Ramón had a blood stake in it now with Matteo gone.
29
Alone, the blue house felt almost too quiet as Angel sat on the couch in the living room’s dim light and thought about what was going to happen. What could go wrong? She didn’t like the idea of the locksmith nosing around the school or around the neighborhood. What had he seen? What information had he passed on? She bet he was Scotty’s friend. Could Scotty already know she was staying at the blue house? The longer she thought, the more she worried.
She jumped when her cell phone rang. Had to look for it. Without the tote, she didn’t have a particular place for her things anymore … not that she had anything left besides the phone and the charger and some of Rita’s clothes. Found it by the third ring.
At first she thought it was a wrong number. Sounded like somebody coughing or crying.
“They found Nick.”
“Tolan? Uh, Kix?”
“Run over.” He tried to clear his throat. “That empty area by the airport? He never goes out there.”
“We can get this guy. I know where to find him,” Angel said. She could make this right.
“Hell, no. Forget it. You got Ni—”
Angel could hear the catch in his voice, knew he was trying to keep it together. “Do you drive?” She needed one last bit of help.
“You got to tell me!” Yelling now. “Am I next?”
“Can you give me a ride to town?”
The phone went dead. Connection ended. She tried calling back, screamed into the receiver, but it didn’t do any good. He didn’t answer, couldn’t hear her.
Okay.
No.
Not okay. Not ever going to be okay. She could end this. Without anybody else getting hurt. Without Ramón risking his life for her. She knew from the way he’d been talking, Ramón had brought a gun with him. She hoped it was a pistol, but anything would do. He probably wouldn’t bring a weapon into Rita’s. Too many kids. He’d leave it in his truck.