Free Texas…Now and Forever by Merline Lovelace Page A

“You should have turned right on Hyde Street, not left.”
    The driver stared straight ahead and whizzed down a broad street lined with leafless chestnut trees. Frowning, Haley leaned forward to rap on the Plexiglas partition separating the front seat from the back.
    â€œExcuse me. You’re heading in the wrong direction.”
    The driver didn’t so much as blink.
    Haley stared at the back of his head, ice forming in her veins. “Stop here,” she ordered. “Let us out.”
    In reply, he flicked a switch. All four door locks clicked down.
    Panic raced through Haley, swift and all-consuming. She wasn’t afraid for herself, but for her baby. Dear God, her baby!
    Snatching Lena from the carryall, she cradled the newborn against her chest. A dozen frantic schemes jumped into her mind. She’d roll the windows down at the next traffic stop. Scream for help. Pass Lena out the window to a pedestrian. Tell him or her to run like hell.
    She never got the opportunity to implement any of her wild schemes. Mere moments later the cab swerved onto a side street. Halfway down the block, a blue painted garage door rumbled up. The cab slowed, swerved again and rattled into the garage. The blue door dropped down with a clank.
    After the bright sunshine outside, the gloom of the windowless garage was impenetrable. Haley clutched Lena to her shoulder, almost frantic with fear for her child. Suddenly dazzling white lightflooded the garage. She couldn’t see a thing, but she could hear.
    The door locks clicked.
    The driver climbed out and opened the rear passenger door.
    Footsteps sounded on concrete.
    Blinking furiously to clear her vision, Haley made out two figures approaching the cab. One she didn’t recognize. The other had her gasping.
    â€œJudge!”
    Giddy with relief, she started to scramble out of the cab. The jurist’s haggard expression halted her. He looked defeated, utterly, completely defeated. His shoulders slumped. His white hair lay lank and disordered, as though he hadn’t combed it in days. Behind his black-framed glasses, his faded blue eyes held pain.
    Belatedly, it occurred to Haley that Frank might have had the judge kidnapped. Maybe he’d been tortured. Or fed drugs. Forced to disclose his role in the supposed death of Haley Mercado. She shrank back against the seat, Lena clutched to her shoulder.
    â€œIt’s okay, Haley.” Desolation wreathed the judge’s face as he coaxed her from the vehicle. “Please. Come out. We have to talk to you.”
    She emerged slowly, warily. Her glance darted to the man beside Carl. Short and stocky, with haira bright shade of copper, he wore a nondescript gray suit and a bulldog expression.
    Behind him, three others moved out of the gloom, watching her with dark, intent eyes.
    â€œWho are these people?” she asked the judge, her heart pumping hard and fast.
    â€œThis is Sean Collins. He’s a special agent from the New York office of the FBI.”
    Oh, no! All Haley could think of at that moment was that the FBI had busted Carl for procuring her fake passport and identity papers. Depositing the sleeping Lena in the carryall still resting on the back seat, she whirled and launched into a passionate defense.
    â€œJudge Bridges isn’t the one to blame for any wrongdoing. He was acting as my agent when he obtained that forged passport. I’m the one responsible. I had to get out of Texas, out of the States.”
    â€œWe’re not here to talk to you about a forged passport,” the agent identified as Sean Collins replied.
    â€œThen why are you here?”
    â€œBecause we have reason to believe your mother didn’t die of natural causes.”
    Shocked and confused, Haley turned to the judge. “What’s he talking about? You told me Mom had a heart attack.”
    â€œShe did,” Collins answered for him. “Butbased on evidence only recently uncovered, we obtained a