Free 36: A Novel by Dirk Patton

checking my phone for signal as I climbed a low hill, looking up when I crested and nearly soiling myself.  A few hundred yards ahead, neatly hidden in a low spot between two hills, sat a pair of green and white Border Patrol vehicles.
    One was the commonly seen Chevy Tahoe, the other, one of the Ford Raptor trucks they were using.  Built for high speed driving across open desert, there wasn’t much they couldn’t catch.  I’d seen a segment on one of the local Phoenix TV stations where a reporter had gone on a ride along with one of the agents who drove a Raptor.  She’d had a great time as he pushed the truck to 90, over terrain that most vehicles would be hard pressed to navigate at 20 miles an hour.
    They were sitting on the sandy shoulder at a ninety-degree angle to the pavement.  I could see two figures standing at the rear of the Tahoe, one of them watching me approach through a pair of binoculars.  My first instinct had been to lift my right foot and slow down, but these weren’t traffic cops.  They didn’t give a shit if I was speeding or not.  All they cared about was who I was and what I might have in the truck with me.
    Heart pounding and a lump in my throat, I forced myself to maintain my speed.  I knew if I deviated, after having obviously seen them, it would be like waving a red flag that they made me nervous.  Glancing at the speedometer, I saw I was up to 65, but didn’t dare slow.
    Inside a hundred yards I could see the one with the glasses lower them and turn his head to speak to the other.  What the fuck was he saying?  Stop this one?  I had no way of knowing, and I was committed.  If they wanted me, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. 
    At fifty yards I could see that both of them had rifles slung on the side of their bodies opposite holstered pistols.  The only positive news was the rifles were hanging down and not being pointed at me.
    At thirty yards the road flattened out.  My heart stopped when the one with the binoculars raised his right hand.  But it was just a wave.  A fucking wave!  Somehow, I had the presence of mind to return the wave as I flashed past where they were parked. 
    Immediately, as I started climbing the next hill, I focused my attention on the rearview mirror.  Certain I would see the Raptor spitting sand and gravel as it pulled out to pursue, I couldn’t believe my luck when neither of the vehicles moved.  I watched them until I crested the rise, but they weren’t coming after me.
    When they were out of sight, I let out a huge breath that I hadn’t even realized I was holding.  Then the shakes hit so bad I wanted to pull over for fear of crashing.  I was considering doing just that in another mile or two when something suddenly vibrated against my hip.  I let out an involuntary shout and very nearly drove off the road.
     

10
     
    It was my goddamn phone!  Monica.  Relief flooded through me when I saw the caller ID. 
    “Hi,” I said, my voice shaky.
    “Are you OK?”  She asked, the concern clear in her question.
    “I’m good,” I breathed, steadying my nerves. 
    “Where are you?”
    “I’m back,” I said, wanting to be careful with what I said over the phone.  “On a road that I have no fucking clue where it is or where it goes.  Where are you?”
    “I’m in a hotel in Nogales.  On the Arizona side of the border.  Everything go OK?”
    “Yes.  I’m on my way to meet them.  Can you head for Casa Grande?”
    “Is that where you’re going?”
    “Close to there,” I said, not wanting to broadcast specifics about the location of the meet.  “Close enough I can find my way into town.  There’s a truck stop just east of where I-8 and I-10 meet.  Can you go there and wait for me?”
    She was silent for a moment before speaking again in a cautious tone.
    “Listen.  I’ve been thinking, and I’m scared.  Do you really think they’re going to just let you walk away once they get what they want?  You’ve seen