Help
Gina furiously pulled over. I hate driving. She leaned over the steering wheel, couldn’t see through the dust and decided to just stop the car right then and there. It’s not like I’ll be in the way of anyone.
She sighed, removed her phone from the holder and glanced at it. Someone had been calling her repeatedly, but the loaner vehicle she got from the airport was too old to have Bluetooth and the calls went unanswered.
Now he’s in a hurry to talk. She sighed again when she realized it was her nephew. She dialed the number, a burner phone. He picked up after two rings.
“I might have known right away that it was you calling, had you called from the business phone we gave you.” She lectured him. “Good thing you sent a text, letting me know this is you.” She wouldn’t have called him back, otherwise.
“Get over it.” Mark barked. “We have serious problems.”
Gina rolled her eyes. Funny how he changes the personal pronouns from singular to plural when he wants something.
She glanced outside, the dust clouds that rose as she drove the old rental car down the dirt roads to get from the airport in Peto to her newly acquired vacation home fifty miles out of town. In this remote setting, fifty miles might as well be a hundred. She’s been driving for thirty minutes, hadn’t seen another house, let alone another human being, just dirt, jungle, and she had no idea if she was on the right track. She rolled down her window. Maybe this silence isn’t for me. She felt irritated, her skin itched, and she suddenly had a craving for Chinese food.
Mark had kept talking, whining about Steve not returning calls and Regina mostly stopped listening. Only when he told her that he had kidnapped Constantina Morrigan did she sit up straight.
“You did what?” She yelped. “Tell me you didn’t just say that you have Connie.”
“Weren’t you listening? That’s what I’ve been telling you. She’s the one that’s been tracing me; she killed Duane.” Mark squealed.
And no, Regina hadn’t been listening. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. The hot, humid, jungle air pressed in on her. She rolled up the window, started the car and turned on the air conditioning. At least the car has that.
“And Steve isn’t answering or calling back. I don’t know what to do.” Mark whined.
It’s because he doesn’t want to be anywhere near you when shit hits the fan. She remembered her last phone call with him. ‘Give the order or I walk.’ She should have known that Steve had a better idea about these things than she did.
“Where are you right now?”
Mark sighed, relieved that he finally had her full attention. “In a port house in New Orleans with some of my transfer guys. Connie is unconscious, I was thinking tossing her in the ocean on my way to Telchac Puerto.”
“No.” Regina barked. What would Steve do? Regina ran her hand over her face. “Since you’re already planning on coming to the Yucatan, ship her with you. Once you get here, take her to Peto, to my place there. I’ll call Steve and we’ll deal with her there.”
There was a pause. Mark cleared his throat. “What place in Peto? Where are you?”
“I’m fifty miles outside of Peto. I bought a villa in the middle of nowhere.” She didn’t tell her nephew how she happened to buy a place like that. Too complicated. And theoretically, it’s Steve’s place. Which is why I’m going there now. I’m hoping he’s there, hiding.
“Just do it. I’ll text you the GPS coordinates, since there isn’t really an address. Your burner phone does have GPS access, right?” She snapped at him. He mumbled agreement. “Bring everything.” She paused. “Didn’t she say she was driving to New York? Do you have her car?”
“Yes.” He mumbled again.
Regina nodded. “Good. Use your guys to get Mexican plates and then drive the car and Connie to Peto. Is that detailed enough, or do you want me to draw you a map?”
Mark hissed.
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