Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo (12 page)

Tina went through
the events of that day when she crossed the border. Mrs. Hightower took notes
but used a different pen.

“Do you know who
any of those people were who abducted Miss Shoe?”

“I didn’t get a
good look, but one of them may have been Ramon from the cantina. He’s a brute! Mean,
nasty.”

“You say that as
if you know it.”

Tina sighed and
blinked her eyes fast, trying to avoid tears.

“You’ve got to get
to Miss Shoe! He can make you wish you were dead.  ”

“We will find her.
If you don’t mind, could I please see the back of your neck?”

Suddenly, Tina’s
eyes welled up with tears that she couldn’t hold back. Through a bite of mashed
potatoes, she said, “They branded me! It was supposed to be a cute little glyph
tattoo, but it’s hideous!”

“Just what I
expected.”

Mrs. Hightower
studied the design, a grotesque leopard with a girl’s face peering out of its
mouth, the fangs resembling bars of a prison.

“They think they
own you.”

By now Tina was crying
hard.

“It’s OK now.
You’re safe,” Mrs. Hightower assured her. “I see you have your journal. That’s
a good starting point.”

“But I’m not safe.
There was a car today. A blue van. I think they knew me.”

“That’s pretty
unlikely. If you saw the license number or recognized a person, we could try to
get some sort of identification. Anything?”

“I heard a voice.
It sounded like my boyfriend. They were arguing.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Miss Shoe said he
wasn’t a boyfriend. He sold me.”

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t really
know his whole name. It’s Hispanic, I think, but I don’t remember. He just went
by ‘Gopher’ and ‘Godfredo’.”

Mrs. Hightower
made notes on a little pad. Tina kept on eating, suddenly feeling thirsty.

“Very soon, you’ll
need to go to a healthcare facility and get all checked out. You may have picked
up something. Here’s a good one that’s nearby, and your father should go with
you.” She took a card out of a large manila envelope and handed it to Tina. It
was the same as the one Miss Shoe gave her. Then she put the envelope on the
table.

“He won’t want to
go.”

“Maybe not, but he
needs to.  And soon. Have you had any drugs lately?”

“Not for a few
weeks. I told them to save their money. I didn’t want them. I hate what drugs
do to people.”

“Smart! So you
weren’t addicted?”

“I had some rough
days, but I didn’t do that much. Did you bring anything to drink?” Tina asked.

“I’m sorry. I
forgot. You can have this bottle of water. I carry it in this bag, just in case
I need it. It’s warm but I haven’t opened it.”

“Thanks.” Tina reached
for it and opened it quickly. Until then, she hadn’t realized how thirsty she was.
She poured it in like she was trying to fill a bathtub. “Got any more of
those?”

“Don’t worry. I
can get some for you. As a matter of fact, we can take a walk. I’ll help you
get to know your new neighborhood. Want to walk?”

“Can I eat some
more first?”

“Of course. What
made you think he was your boyfriend?”

“When I first saw
him, he said I was so pretty! It was like he thought I was the prettiest thing he
ever saw.”

Tina was surprised
that she could even talk about it. She certainly didn’t feel pretty now, but somehow
it felt good to tell Mrs. Hightower what had happened. She continued.

“The next time I
saw him, he had a necklace for me, to ‘frame my beautiful face’, he said.”

“And then what?”

Tina put her head
down. Suddenly talking didn’t feel as good.

“I’d rather not talk
about it anymore.”

“That’s OK. How
old is Gopher?”

“Eighteen, I
think.”

“And you are?”

“Fourteen.”

“Did he ask you
for pictures or anything?”

Tina’s eyes got
wide, and she asked, “How’d you know that?”

“Just a hunch. So,
you emailed some from your phone?”

“At first.”

“Then, let me
guess, he moved on to videos.”

“Yeah, for the
money.”

“I see. Do you
still have that necklace?”

“Is that OK?”

“Really, it would
be better if you got rid of it. Would you mind if we try to lift the
fingerprints from it?”

“Go ahead.”

Tina went to her
bedroom closet and came back with the necklace and a keyring.

“Here, take both
of these.”

“Thanks, Tina.
Anything else?”

“That’s it. Oh, he
bought me some clothes.”

Tina sat back down
to eat some more but her appetite had gone away.

“I’ll save some
for Dad,” she said. “I’m ready to take that walk now. You must think I’m awful for
what I did. He said he belonged to a church group. He made it sound really nice.
I thought it was like a revival of the ancient Mayans. And he liked my name.
Reminded him of the Virgin Mary, he said. It’s hard not to think of myself as
‘Maria’.”

“I understand,”
Mrs. Hightower said. “It hurts, but it gets easier. And no, I don’t think
you’re awful.”

“He didn’t really belong
to a church group. Not at all. I feel so stupid! What will they do if they find
me?”

“They’re not going
to find you.”

“Can we go now? I
have some money, and I’d like more to drink.”

Tina put the
leftover bucket of chicken in the cold, empty refrigerator and smiled at Mrs.
Hightower who was picking up the pen she had put in the middle of the table.

“Thanks for the
food,” Tina said, noticing, wondering about that pen.

“Thank YOU!” Mrs.
Hightower said. “You need your father more than he knows, but counseling will
help him see that. We can talk some more on our quick little walk. I’ll try not
to ask anything too personal. My aim is two-fold--to take care of your
well-being and to find Miss Shoe. Before we go, I need to make a couple of
quick phone calls. And could I get a picture of that tattoo and how about those
bruises?”

           
“Whoa! What
happened here?” Tina’s father asked when he returned.  “When I left I had a
little girl with long dark hair like her mother.”

            “Mrs. Hightower was
here,” said Tina who had a pair of scissors in one hand and a long lock of hair
in the other. Piles of loose light chestnut hair with a reddish shine were
scattered beneath her on the floor in long swirls. “She wanted to see you.”

            “Who?” Her father’s
eyes seemed entranced by Tina’s renovation, the combined effect of a color
change a few shades lighter than natural and her haircut-in-progress.

            “FBI. She helped us
relocate. Remember the name?”

            “Are you sure that was
her?”

            “Yes, Daddy. Anyway, we
talked and we took a little walk. She bought me scissors and hair color but
couldn’t stay for the haircut. Do you like this shade?”

            Her father’s mouth
dropped open but no words came out.

            “Well?”

            “It’s going to take
some getting used to, like everything else.”

            Tina gave her father a
smile.

            “Whose idea was this
anyway?” he asked. He seemed irritated.

            “Mine, Daddy. Don’t be
upset. She agreed. She says they won’t find me, but this will help me become
someone different and feel more secure, like I shouldn’t need to be scared all
the time.”

            “Yeah, well, it’s
different,” her father said, looking at her new haircolor and her blotched
haircut. “I hope you’re not finished.”

            “DAD!” Tina said,
laughing at him. She looked in her hand mirror. “We can handle this, Dad, but I
need some help getting the back even. How do you think you’ll like the new
job?”

            “The people are
alright, but they’re different here. Maybe not as friendly. I don’t know. I
wonder what they know about me, or you, in particular.” His words cut into her.

            “Probably not much. The
FBI seems pretty good at keeping secrets.”

            “I hope you’re right.
I’d like us to be able to live this down. This job will help, I guess.”

            Her father reached into
his pocket and held something out in his hand for her to see.

            “You have your new
nametag already. ‘Officer Benson’. That sounds nice,” Tina said. “Can you help
me with the back of my hair, Officer Benson?”

            “Cutting hair isn’t
something I do! It’s not in my new job description,” he said with a twisted
smile. “I have to say, I wish you hadn’t started this.”

            “The haircut?”

            “That’s part of it,” he
said. There was still an edge to his voice, like he’d tasted something bad and needed
to spit it out.

            Tina tried to lighten
the situation, hoping to choose the right words to get along with him.

“Well, we can’t
very easily just leave my hair like this. Just this once, Daddy. Here.” She
said in a lilting, child-like voice and handed him the scissors.

“Do you see what I
see? That’s not all it needs. It’s chopped.” He stood back, scissors in hand, a
student artist examining his first shapeless lump of clay, not knowing where to
begin his sculpture.

“For now, just cut
it straight across in back. That’s all. It’ll be OK. Right here below my
shoulder.”

            “You’ll have to sit
straight. Wait a minute. What’s…Oh.”

He stopped
speaking and pulled away the long hair that draped thickly over her shoulder.

“What’s this?” he
asked. “When did you get this? That looks painful!”

            His face made an awful
contortion as he studied the detailed design. A leopard’s head, mouth open.

“You’re right,” Tina
said. “It wasn’t my idea.”

She knew that if
she went into detail, her father would escalate into a rant. She’d seen that
happen before, with little things like forgetting to take out the trash. But
this was no little thing.

“And it’s, uh, is
that a girl’s face looking out?” he asked. “That had to hurt!”

“A lot of things
hurt, Daddy.” She tried to be matter-of-fact, unemotional, to fall into the
same numb trance she had put herself in during those months in the cantina so
that she wouldn’t feel pain. In a monotone, she went on. “Don’t look at it.
Just cut my hair. I didn’t know what they were doing to me. But I survived it.
All of it. Some didn’t.”

            Suddenly her father
started crying, big heavy man sobs, and he fell to his knees.

            “Oh, God!” he said.
“Oh, God!”

            When Mrs. Hightower
returned to the Pelletiers’, Lowell greeted her at the door with three bags and
his trumpet case.

            “Seriously?” she asked.
“Good thing I didn’t book a flight for you.”

            “If you don’t have room
in the car,” Lowell said, “I could cut back.”

            “I would suggest it,”
Mrs. Hightower said. “That would be a good use of your time while the ladies
and I have a chat. I should have given you a list, Lowell! Speaking of lists,
how did you girls get along with yours? Keep in mind that you’re going to be
flying.”

            Louise stood with her
hands on her hips.

            “I just don’t get it,”
she said. “Why does Abbi need rappelling gear?”

            “Like Girl Scouts, we
want to be prepared. Knowing Abbi, as I do, I knew she’d have it here. She
doesn’t go anywhere without it, like Lowell with his trumpet. And you, Miss
Louise, what’s your vice?”

            Louise just shook her
head, as if there was nothing.

“I don’t rappel!”
Louise said, as if she thought dropping over a cliff for fun should be
considered a terrible vice. “Ugh!” She shivered at the thought.

Abbi quietly unzipped
a small piece of Louise’s luggage that was filled with chocolate.

“Close that!”
Louise said. “Why do we have to go?”

Abbi closed it,
but slowly enough that Mrs. Hightower noticed.

            “We all have one little
vice, Louise. It’s human nature.”

            “You didn’t answer my
question,” said Louise, red-faced from having her chocolate exposed.

“It’s a long story
but you’re going to Washington, D.C., if Abbi can accept the mission. Your
parents need you, Abbi, and I have a feeling you’re cut out for it.”

“I understand. I’m
in,” Abbi said with determination.

“From there, who
knows? I already assumed you both have a passport but, if not, I can pull some
strings overnight if I have to.”

The girls nodded.

“Got it,” Abbi
said, proudly displaying hers.

“Why all this
attention to Abbi? I do stuff too,” Louise asked. She seemed indignant.

“The one who stands
to lose the most also has the most to gain. This is high stakes. Abbi is
willing to put her very life on the line. Do I read you correctly, Abeni?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Abbi
said.

Louise shook her
head.

“Then why pull me
into this?”

Mrs. Hightower sighed.
She stared at Louise.

“Louise, here’s
what you need to know. You will soon be traveling with Abbi, starting in the
morning. You’ll call for a taxi to get to the airport. Arrive early. You won’t
get much sleep tonight. Here is your ticket information, some cash and a credit
card. Take the shuttle to this hotel. Plans may suddenly change so keep
communications open.”

“You’re giving us
cash?” Louise asked.

“Some. Be frugal
but always tip taxi drivers and wait staff. Stay with Abbi even closer than
usual, as if the two of you were glued to each other. I don’t even want her
going to the bathroom alone. Right now, Miss Louise, I am counting on you to be
an extra set of eyes and ears for this young lady.”