Free One Grave Less by Beverly Connor Page A

him.
    Rosetta was already at the truck inventorying its contents. Maria shook her head with amazement. The little girl couldn’t have gotten as far as she had without being a really smart and practical kid.
    “They were getting supplies,” said Rosetta, shaking with excitement. She had found treasure. “A lot of it is whiskey,” she added, awe in her voice. “This will be good for trading.”
    Practical kid.
    Maria looked over the contents. There was fresh food—vegetables and salted meat, most of which would not last on a long trip. But they would eat well for a while and save the jerky that Rosetta had in her backpack. There were medicinal supplies, mail, fabric, a hammer and nails, and a paperback romance.
    She took the letters and threw them in the cab of the truck, hoping they contained clues as to what the hell her kidnapping was about. She grabbed one of the bottles of whiskey and one of the several knives she had acquired in the past hour and climbed in the truck. Rosetta climbed in the other side.
    The seats were a brown vinyl that were worn and torn. The floorboard was bare metal—no carpets, no rubber mats. It was beat-up inside and out and smelled like mildew, but it looked good to Maria. She tried one of the keys and the engine started up immediately. It had a full tank. So far, so good.
    “Let me see the map,” she said.
    Rosetta pulled it out of the backpack she had set between her feet and handed it to her.
    Maria pointed at the map. “I’m thinking we should avoid both of these villages. They are too close by and we will be in danger from Julio’s friends and enemies.”
    “Where will we go?”
    Maria detected a little fear in Rosetta’s voice. Maria didn’t blame her. She was terrified herself.
    “Here.” She pointed to the map. “This is a railroad. It runs along the borders of Peru and Brazil. If we can make it there, we can get a long way across the Amazon. I’m thinking about trying to get to some archaeological digs I know about, or maybe a tourist attraction, and get some help from there. We have lots of choices and they lie in this direction. The roads will not be as good, but I think it’s our best bet.”
    “None of the roads are good,” said Rosetta. “You’re right about the villages. They are not good either.”
    Maria took the bottle of whiskey and the knife and got out of the truck. She walked to the felled man who was still groaning. She set the whiskey down beside him and stuck the knife in the ground several feet away.
    “This is the best I can do for you,” she said. “Keep in mind, you would have done nothing for me.”
    She walked away, got in the truck, and drove into the darkness, following the route she had laid out. It was a rough ride over terrain that was hardly a road. The two of them didn’t speak for a long while, not until there was more than a mile between them and the men whose truck they took.
    “Why didn’t you tell them you are not Mama?” Rosetta asked after a while.
    “If they don’t know my name, they’ll be searching for Diane Fallon, not me. That makes it a little less dangerous for us. And it gives Diane Fallon a little protection. From what those men have said, it sounds as if someone with a lot of money is looking for her. Their influence may have a far reach. If they think I’m Diane, perhaps they won’t go looking for her in Georgia. But they’re going to look for me even if they discover who I am, because I know too much—or, at least, they’ll think I do. I wish I knew who it is who’s looking for Diane.”
    “Is that where she is? In Georgia?” asked Rosetta.
    “She’s the director of a museum in Georgia,” said Maria.
    “She said she was going to work in a museum and take me there.”
    The little girl’s voice shook. Maria thought she might cry.
    “You’ll be there in a few days,” said Maria. She reached over and squeezed her hand.
    “We need to warn Mama—in case somebody goes looking for her. I wish those