Free 36: A Novel by Dirk Patton Page A

their faces.  You can identify them.”
    The knot in my stomach that had loosened when I heard her voice returned with a vengeance, threatening to double me over in pain.
    “What are you saying?”  I asked.
    “Maybe you should go to the police.  Tell them everything.”
    “These are the police, Monica,” I said, trying to hide the frustration in my tone. 
    “The FBI, then.  Or the DEA.”
    “No,” I said after a very long pause to think about what she was saying.  “I’m already running late.  If I don’t show up, they’re going to have Tim killed.  There’s no time to convince anyone I’m telling the truth.  It would be a bunch of bullshit, and if I could convince them it would be days before they’d do anything.  Tim would be dead by dinner.”
    She was quiet for a long time.  I’m sure she was trying to think of an argument that would change my mind, but apparently she couldn’t.
    “Then you need to take a gun with you,” she finally said with absolute conviction.
    “I don’t have one,” I said.  “Didn’t want to risk taking one across the border.”
    “I have them.  Remember?  I’m leaving now.  Meet me at the truck stop before you go see them.  Get your gun.”
    I thought about what she was saying, liking the idea of having a weapon to defend myself.  Things had been such a whirlwind that I hadn’t thought through all of the potential pitfalls of meeting these guys in the middle of the desert.  I wished I had the rifle I’d carried in the infantry.  Hell, I wished I had my whole platoon with me.  But I didn’t have either of those.
    “OK,” I said.  “Good idea.  I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.  Be careful.  Don’t get pulled over because you’re in a hurry.  That shotgun is illegal and if your car is searched you’ll be in trouble.”
    “I already ditched it,” she said in a quiet voice.
    “You did what?”  I shouted.  “Why the hell did you do that?”
    “You told me it was illegal,” she said, anger in her voice.  “I already told you.  I’m a mother and I’m not going to fuck that up for any man.  I’m not taking that chance.”
    I let out a sigh, realizing she was right.  I’d had no right to put her in that position.
    “I’m sorry,” I said.  “You’re right.  But you still have the pistol?”
    “Si.  I still have the pistola.”
    As she came under stress I’d noted that her accent thickened and she fell back on the use of words in her native language.  I actually thought that was kind of sexy.  Maybe if I survived this I could get her to start speaking Spanish in the bedroom.
    “Are you still there?”
    I’d been quiet too long, retreating into a daydream about her lying naked on my bed and talking to me in Spanish.
    “I’m here,” I said.  “I need to go.  Need to call them and let them know I’m running late.  I’ll see you in Casa Grande.”
    “Roberto?”
    “Yes?”
    “Be careful,” she said after a very long pause, then the call was ended.
    I don’t know if it was just wishful thinking or not, but I was almost certain she’d wanted to say I Love You .  Had to be just what I wanted to hear.  Right?  What the hell did I have to offer a woman like her?  But then, why the hell was she helping me?
    Dismissing thoughts of Monica, I thumbed through the phone’s memory and found the number I’d dialed before leaving Nogales.  The call was answered after two rings.
    “Bobby Boy, where are you?”
    “I’m on my way.  North of the border,” I said.  “But I’m running late.  Took longer than expected to cross.”
    “Not what I want to hear, Bob-O.  Not what I want to hear at all.  Late isn’t good.  Late gets the Timster a shiv for dinner.  Understand what I’m saying?”
    “Look, I’m coming as fast as I can, and I’ve got your shit.  OK?  Just fucking relax.  I’m still south of Tucson.  There’s no way I can be there in,” I paused to look at my watch.  “Eighty