Left Behind Ch. 03: End

Sangria, hashish, and orgasms flowed. Serena had toys. Thanks to strap-ons, everybody was DP'd or TP'd, as anatomically possible.

Dawn came all too soon.

*****

The happy gerbil-pile untangled by mid-morning Sunday. Serena threw out all their 'guests' after a bit of good-bye sucking and fucking, and some coffee and pan dulces, and Serena and Rosa prepared for the day's hike.

"So we're going to go out stomping around in this cold fucking rain?" Rosa was not enthusiastic. "You guys are nuts, muy loco, looney-tunes."

Serena laughed. "Don't be a pussy like Guy. Look, we all have ponchos and raingear. Hiking keeps you warm, yeah? Anyway, because of the rain, we're going to another redwood grove, a really dense one. Rain hardly ever hits the ground in there, and redwoods create a microclimate where humidity and temperature don't vary much. It's like being in a church with a leaky roof."

Rosa had to admit the grove was tolerable, even pleasant. Hiking with Dave again was also pleasant. So was taking him home that night, and screwing in his van on the way home. Rosa thought he might become a Sunday-night regular. And other nights? Well, maybe when she was not out clubbing...

*****

WEEK AND WEEKEND

It was becoming routine - a very lively routine. Work, dance, play, and sleep. Sleep at home on weeknights, and who-know-where on weekends. Life was a party. Don't think about her children...

Rosa broke the routine that weekend. She rose early Saturday and rode to her Sacramento post office for the papers waiting in General Delivery. (She had not had time to pick them up before.) As promised, she flew to Calexico to meet with Cici at the border - at a beer garden on the USA side. Cici thought it prudent for Rosa to stay in El Norte just now.

"Sí, the grapevine is... odd. There's some little buzz about Bobo doing something, nobody knows quite what." The short lawyer brushed cigarette ashes off her dark pants-suit and lit another. "I don't think anyone followed me, but ¿quien sabe?, who knows?"

Rosa sipped her frosty Modelo Negro. She suppressed an urge to look around on all sides for possible pursuers. She would not be paranoid, no.

"Any other news? The children, the family, anything?" Rosa asked.

"Ah yes, los niños... other kids in school are laughing at them but they don't seem particularly upset, don't seem to miss you too much. Were you really much of a mother for them?" Cici blew a smoke ring.

Rosa felt pangs of guilt again. No, she had not really been involved and engaged with her children for, oh, how long? She let the kids be raised by nannies and summer tutors, even grandparents, while she was a cog in the family business. The kids were probably closer to their abuelos in Texas than to her.

She pulled two envelopes from her day pack. "Look, Cici, I'm not ready for more now, but... I wrote the kids letters, about where I am, well not exactly, but how, and why. I know I still love them, even though they're rotten little shits. Yeah, I know, they're my rotten little shits. Anyway, would you see that they get these? And that Bobo doesn't intercept them? ¿Por favor?

"Of course!" Cici stuffed the letters into her capacious carryall. "You going to write to their grandparents too? They're family, y'know."

"Feh, they always looked down their noses at me. I'll think of something."

As promised, Rosa told her entire story - well, all but the hot sex. But the unwanted blowjobs, the attempted carjacking, the loot, sending Bobo's detective off chasing wild geese, and her settling into life north of San Francisco - she revealed almost all.

She did not mention Nguyen. That turd was just too insignificant.

Rosa had changed from flamboyant biking garb to a modest sundress for the flight and meeting. In her demon-skin leathers, she would be rather obvious. She spent Saturday night alone in the best hotel in Calexico (which ain't much) and flew back north on Sunday. She changed into bike gear again for the long ride home from the state capitol's airport. She stuffed her minimal accompaniments and papers into the motorbike's panniers.

Rosa was in no way psychic. She had no inner voices and no tingling spider-sense to warn her of danger. But she felt an odd buzzing in her head as she rode the freeways and then the Wine Country turnoff through Napa and Sonoma and over the hills to Petaluma.

She kept glancing in her rear mirror. Was that the same car there, three lengths back, no matter which turns she took? On a hunch, she switched on her GoPro helmet camera. Might as well have a video record, right?

Rosa had turned on the rural cutoff past General Vallejo's historic Petaluma Adobe to the city's northside when it happened. The anonymous reddish Toyata something-or-other following her had closed from three positions back, to two, to just behind. She looked over her left shoulder and had a good view of it when it sped up, overtook her on the left, and brushed against her.

Rosa sensed a kaleidoscope of spinning images, and pain, and then darkness.

*****

MONDAY

Rosa drifted into semi-consciousness. Huh? Where am I? She was dazed, achy, spacey, floating on a belladonna cloud of nightmares, wrapped in webs of vertigo and synesthesia. Every color was a sound. Her nose burned in E-minor. She slept.

Rosa drifted a little further into consciousness. Am I...?? Even with eyes closed, she knew her surroundings by the feel and scent; must be hospital. Why am I in hospital? Oh yeah, that car... She slept again.

Rosa snapped into consciousness, impelled by a sharp pain. OWWW! A gurgle escaped her lips. Her eyelids fluttered open. Oh yes, hospital. Oh fuck.

Rosa heard voices around her, saw masked figures. Some bent over and peered into her face. Fingers prodded her, annoying her. Stop that! Her latest gurgle did not communicate clearly. She was prodded again. And slept.

Rosa came fully awake. She opened her eyes. Her vision and thoughts were clear. She tested herself: fingers moved; hands moved; arms restrained; toes moved; legs restrained. Various tubes, wires, and straps imprisoned her in a crappy backless cotton gown. Monitors behind her beeped, hummed, and glowed.

An efficient roly-poly Filipino nurse and a beefy bald black man in a cheap dark suit, obviously a plainclothes policeman, conferred quietly. Rosa whispered, "Hey!" to them. A whisper was all she could manage just then. The cop heard her and turned.

"Miz Cortés - you're awake!"

The nurse turned too, saw Rosa, and thumbed a flip-fone. "Room 25A, doctor. She's conscious. Yes, just now. No, nothing yet. Okay, right away." She closed the phone. "Just a minute, Ms Cortés; doctor will be right here."

The nurse busied herself examining Rosa. The policeman watched silently. Rosa lay back but kept her eyes open.

"Where am I, and how long have I been wherever this is?" Rosa asked.

"You arrived here at Petaluma Valley Hospital early yesterday afternoon, just about twenty-five hours ago." The nurse continued inspecting Rosa.

A lean, calm-looking Chinese woman in puke-green scrubs joined the nurse.

"Hello, Ms Cortés. I'm Cynthia Wong. Let's see how you're doing."

Instruments poked at Rosa's eyes and orifices. Dr Wong palpated her gently, noting bangs and bruises. Rosa responded to inquiries: "Yes, that hurts. No, not too bad. Yes, my address is... I was born in Tucson on... Ouch!"

And so on.

Dr Wong stood back. "Well, the good news is, you don't seem to be seriously damaged. No concussion, no major trauma, nothing a good rest and painkillers can't mostly handle. You're bruised and X-rays show two broken ribs. You also have severe back strain; muscles weren't meant to be pulled that way. I recommend physical therapy."

The doctor paused. "It could have been MUCH worse. In fact, you're about the luckiest damn motorcyclist I've ever worked on. You ran your bike into what must be the biggest, softest oleander bush in this county. It cushioned your impact, and your riding gear kept your body and head from being torn up. Sorry, we had to cut you out of your leathers and boots. You may want to light a few candles for your saints. Or maybe a lot of candles."

"That's the good news?" Rosa whispered. "Any bad news?"

Dr Wong laughed. "That comes when you get the E.R. bill. Or do you have insurance? Well, worry about that later. For now, just rest. Okay, Detective Johnson, she's all yours - thirty minutes, no longer. Watch this guy, Wanda." She addressed the nurse. "He likes to push the limits."

The nurse grunted. "Don't I know it! We used to date. Better get going, Frank, the clock's ticking."

Rosa told everything she remembered. The detective recorded while he asked questions and took notes. He particularly focused on when and where she first noticed the car that pushed her off the road.

"Doc said you were lucky," the detective rumbled. "You're also smart to have that GoPro camera clipped to your helmet, and to have it running, and to look at the car. Our lab had no trouble recovering video from the camera. We have nice clear shots of that rental car's license plate and the driver's face. Yes, we have a general alert out. Does the name Tomás Echiverria mean anything to you?"

Rosa nodded painfully. "Tommy Echiverria? He's the Texas P.I. my ex-husband hired to find me. I just divorced Bobo, that's Roberto Duran, a few weeks ago and he didn't take it well that I didn't come back after he and the family left me behind in... oh, that's a long story."

"Go on," the detective said, "we still have a few minutes."

Rosa related the general outline of the past months' events - forgotten in Texas, the cross-country drive, and settling in Petaluma. She omitted messy details about coerced blowjobs, voluntary sex. the carjacker, all that interesting but irrelevant stuff.

"We had a Mexican marriage and I got a Mexican divorce - those can go real quick, with the right lawyer and judge. I thought maybe Bobo would calm down after the divorce was final. No WAY am I going back to Guadalajara and that rotten family! But I guess he didn't calm down, did he?" She shrugged sadly.

The nurse interrupted. "Time's up, Frank. Scoot. Come back this evening right after visitor's hours. Doctor says you can have a session then. But Ms Cortés needs to rest now." She put a hand on the detective's arm. "And thanks for being here. Now go." She pushed him to the door.

Rosa lay back. Rest? How could she rest? She was so... damn... sleepy... zzzz...

An aide woke her for dinner. Oh shit, people EAT this bland crap?

Another aide helped her to the toilet, and into a fresh open-back gown, and back into bed. Rosa was glad she was the only patient in this two-bed room.

Another aide entered... with an entourage: Serena, Dave, and Ernie!

"Oh shit, guys, am I glad to see you!" Rosa was crying.

The aide interposed herself between the visitors and the bed.

"Remember, a half-hour, that's all, and do NOT hug Ms Cortés - she is badly bruised. You can hold her hands, that's all. Now keep it down. Don't wake the dead, okay?" She smiled and left the room.

Serena cried too. "Oh Rosa, we heard, yesterday... we thought..."

Ernie interrupted. "Lucky our hike yesterday was on the coast and in range of cell towers. Serena got a call from the Petaluma Police that you were hurt. They got her number from your phone; she's your most-called. I think Dave broke a few laws getting us here. Not that it did any good - this is the first they've let us at you."

Serena held one of Rosa's hands. Dave had the other.

"Staff here briefed us on your condition," Dave said. "Yeah, you are damn lucky. Doctor says you'll need PT for a while. Maybe you can think of a therapist you'd prefer?" He grinned.

Rosa pulled his hand to her face and kissed it. "Sí, I think I know one, but he's still green. Needs more training and practice. I dunno, would one be enough? Maybe Sammy and Lily need practice too." She laughed. "Oh yeah, three therapists at once. I should be back in shape in no time, huh?"

They chatted through the evening. Rosa held Serena and Dave as close as she dared. Serena told Rosa that, yes, she was insured through the data center's coverage, so not to worry about the medical bills.

"I stopped at the office today before we came here," Serena said. "HR knows about this and you have medical leave. Everybody who knows you is broken up. I almost had to belt Ayesha to keep her from forcing her way in. You may have noticed that a few flowers have been sent." She waved at the pile of blooms in the room's corner.

Ernie excused himself when Frank (Detective Johnson) beckoned to him near the end of visitation. When the aide returned to evict Dave and Serena, Frank and Ernie came in together.

"You have an interesting buddy here, Ms Cortés. Captain Ernest O. Siciliani, US Army Reserves, serves in an intelligence unit, did you know that? A unit that keeps track of situations along the USA-Mexico border, among other things, yes? And we had an interesting conversation, didn't we, Captain?"

"Cut the crap, Frank." Ernie turned to Rosa.

"When I heard a couple names, I pulled rank and grabbed your ThinkPad and phone and gave them to our techs." Frank's wide black face soured at that but he kept his city-cop mouth shut. "And by the way, I just made Major. And we cloned your gear. You'll get it back."

"We cracked your passwords, easy," Ernie continued. "We know about your spoofing that dick Echiverria, and siphoning the family accounts, and your other tricks - nothing too illegal in the States, by the way, so relax, you are NOT in trouble. And we don't care what you have in safe-deposit boxes or how it got there. That's nothing to do with national security.

"No, you have no worries. Unlike Bobo, I mean Roberto, your ex. Guess what? Turns out your family import-export business, which Bobo runs very tightly, deals in, shall we say, INTERESTING stuff, not just ethnic crafts. Stuff like trade secrets, and laundered finances, and the logistics of smuggling people and drugs and weapons. Yeah, fascinating stuff. And we know you had nothing to do with it.

"Don't get me wrong. Bobo isn't at a high level of anything. He interfaces between cartels but he's just a bit player, really, a tiny cog between big machines. That's why he's not rich and you have to travel with your whole family stuffed into two minivans.

"I can't go into details. I can say that you won't have to worry any more about Roberto Duran."

"What?" Rosa asked. "You wouldn't..."

"No, we won't kill him. He does not deserve that; neither do your children and the rest of your family. But he'll be very occupied with his own problems. Nope, no worries for you. In fact, a bank error just might move some untraceable money from Duran business accounts into your credit union.

"There's something you need to consider. Bobo might not hang around Guadalajara much longer. Your kids are going to need a mother, somewhere, maybe there, maybe here. We can help facilitate any moves. Think about it."

"Hope you don't mind if I tip in here, Captain, I mean Major," Frank said. Ernie shrugged.

"Sacramento PD busted Echiverria when he returned the rental yesterday. He's singing. Least of his worries is operating in California without a state PI license. But he's looking at vehicular assault, and trying to talk his way out of attempted murder. And guess who's there? Your old pal, Nguyen Trinh."

"What, Guy's in this? How?" Rosa blinked more than once.

"Well," Frank continued, "we saw the security videos when he assaulted you and you, ummm, deterred him. We checked those because Echiverria mentioned him and he seemed worth tracing. Seems that after you dealt with Trinh so effectively, he went nuts, wanted revenge. Your cousin Serena had already told him about the dick trailing you. Trinh did his own online research, found Echiverria's name and number, and called him. Echiverria nearly killed you because Trinh sold you out - for money as well as revenge.

"You and your cousin don't need to worry about Trinh now, either. Cotati PD picked him up," he looked at his wristwatch, "about an hour ago. Not just for assaulting you, and conspiracy to murder. Yeah, we got warrants real quick on those. But he's a 'person of interest' in a few cases on the books in the county. Seems he's sort of sloppy about exactly who owns what."

Rosa wondered, what? Theft? Fencing? Fraud? Laundering? Whatever.

"Doc Wong said you'd be out of here by mid-morning tomorrow. That's fast. I guess they really need the bed." Frank laughed. Nobody else did. "Your pal Dillon already volunteered to get you home in his van. You're making the boy miss classes, you know. Naughty girl." Rosa felt a blush in her face.

"Okay, Ms Cortés, as far as Petaluma PD is concerned, we have enough for now. We'll want a full statement - it'll likely take a couple hours, won't it? Come by the station before the end of the week, please." He handed her a card. "Listen now. Don't leave the county. Don't go anywhere until we say otherwise, which probably won't be long. That's an official police order."

"And don't try to leave the country," Ernie laughed, "that's an official I-can't-tell-you-which-agency order. Not that I think you're in any rush to get away. You seem to be digging in pretty well. Nothing to flee here."

Ernie opened the room door and admitted the aide waiting outside. "We're through; you can kick us out now." He turned back. "You won't see us in the morning, Rosa, but we'll be in touch, yes we will. Talk to the cops when you feel up to it. And I'll get Steve to arrange an easy Sierra Singles hike this weekend - Dr Wong will tell you to start stretching your muscles."

The investigators left. The aide fussed Rosa into the bathroom and back to bed. Rosa mulled, and eventually slept, and dreamt deep, dark dreams.

*****

TUESDAY

"I couldn't keep her away; I'm sorry," Serena apologized. Ayesha was hugging Rosa and crying. The tall black girl snuffled back tears and pushed herself away, but did not release her older friend.

"Don't pull this shit, lady. Don't get yourself killed. Promise that, huh?"

Rosa stroked her dark oval face. "I've no intention, kid. I'm here to stay."

"Yeah, try to be careful," Serena laughed. "Breaking in a new worker sucks."

An aide pushed a wheelchair into the room. Surfer-blond Dave followed. "And breaking up is hard to do, but it's time to break this up and get Rosa home. You ready to go?"

Serena and Ayesha had brought Rosa fresh clothes and helped her don the loose underwear and track suit. Rosa's midriff was tightly wrapped, supporting her broken ribs. She could walk, but the wheelchair was a relief.

She looked around the hospital room. One corner overflowed with flowers; she thought to ask the aide to distribute them to other patients as needed. She saw nothing personal of hers.

Dave saw her scan the room. "All your personal gear is at home. Your bike looks in good shape. I already hauled it to your place - with that guy confessing, the cops don't need it or your other stuff as evidence."

The little procession rolled out the hospital door. Dave and a beefy aide carefully ensconced Rosa, still bruised, aching, and shaken, in the van's padded seat. After the drive across town, Dave, Serena and Ayesha helped Rosa into her studio, and bed. Serena and Ayesha kissed her goodbye and left for work. Dave stayed.

"Dave, please stay with me." Rosa looked at him pleadingly.

"Sure, I can stay here this morning," Dave said, French-pressing a fresh-roasted Chiapas grind. "I should get to class this afternoon, but I can cut again if you need me. Sammy and Lily volunteered to take turns here, helping your back, and..."