She frowns, looking out at the main road.
“A few miles south, I think.”
“Do you know anybody who lives there? Friends, family?”
Maria looks down at the children. Jorge has dropped the plastic bottle somewhere along the way, but Ana still grips the unopened bottle tightly in her hand. Both children watch me with a mixture of fear and hatred.
“Believe it or not, Maria, I’m trying to help you. What I did tonight … I can’t explain why I did it other than I had no choice.”
Maria looks at me again, her eyes now hardened into a glare.
“You killed Ernesto.”
“Yes.”
“You killed all those men.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The children watch me, wanting to know the same question their nanny just asked, and it causes me to pause.
“Are these Javier Diaz’s children?”
Maria nods slightly, unsure the purpose of the question.
“Where is the children’s mother?”
Maria shrugs.
“She travels.”
“Do the children speak English?”
“No.”
I speak in English.
“I killed their father because he threatened my family, and I knew the only way to keep my family safe was to come here and kill their grandfather.”
I glance at the children to see whether they understood any of that, but they only stare back at me with a kind of hollow listlessness that pierces my heart.
“Tonight I intended to kill everybody at that compound. Everybody. But I couldn’t”—I shake my head—“I wasn’t about to kill them. And as you’re their nanny, I needed to get you out too. Do you understand?”
Maria just stares at me.
“Do you understand?”
She blinks, nods slowly.
“I have to leave now. I’ve brought you much farther than I probably should have. But I’m hoping you can take care of these children a little bit longer. Can you do that?”
“You promised to keep us safe.”
“I brought you up the coast. There’s nothing more I can do.”
I look at the children one last time. I want to say something to them, apologize somehow, ask them for forgiveness, but they will never understand why I did what I did tonight, nor will they ever forgive me. To them, I am a monster. The boogeyman. They’ll never forget what happened tonight. They’ll never forget I was the one who killed their grandfather.
Without a word, I leave them by the deserted building. I climb into the El Camino, hotwire it once again, and then steer past them down the dirt drive toward the main road.
As I drive past, I see Ana sobbing again. Part of me wants to stop, tell them to get in the car, that I’ll drop them off at the nearest town. It’s the least I can do, isn’t it? After everything I’ve done—all the terrible things they’ve witnessed tonight because of me—the least I can do is not leave them here in the middle of nowhere.
A pay phone stands near the end of the drive, rundown just like the building behind me. It doesn’t look like it works, but maybe it does. I could turn the car around, pick up Maria and the children, drop them off here. At least then Maria could call somebody to come help them. Some person who could add some certainty to the children’s already haphazard lives.
After a moment of hesitation, I make a left onto the main road and drive north.
Eight
I head up the coast, using the main road most of the way. The sun is starting to rise, the sky getting even brighter. I keep checking the rearview mirror, but nobody seems to be following me. In fact, the highway is mostly deserted this early in the morning.
When I’m several miles away from my next stop, I dig the transmitter out of my pocket, flick the tiny switch on the side, and put it in my ear.
“Atticus.”
Silence.
I give it a couple seconds before trying again.
“Atticus, are you there?”
More silence. It lasts maybe ten seconds, and then there’s a crackle of static followed by a tired sigh.
“What did you do with them?”
Straight to the point—that seems to be Atticus’s style, at least from what I’ve been able to gather in the limited time I’ve known him.
“Relax. Everything’s okay.”
Another sigh.
“Holly—”
“I left them behind, okay? I took them up the coast and then I left them behind.”
“You’re saying they accompanied you on the CRRC?”
“Yes.”
“That was unwise, Holly.”
“The craft’s been destroyed.”
“And? The idea was you would disappear. Yes, you may have destroyed the CRRC, but that doesn’t matter because now there are witnesses.”
“The woman’s not going to say anything.”
“How do you know?”
“I saved her life.”
“Are you even listening to yourself?”
“What did you want me to do, Atticus? Kill the woman and the children? Just put a bullet between their eyes and move on? Is that what you would have done?”
Atticus is silent for a moment. I can’t tell whether it’s because he’s actually considering the questions or giving me the extra moment to vent.
He says, “You could have left them behind.”
“And then what would have happened to them? More narcos would have shown up, and God only knows what they would have done to them.”
“Where did you leave them?”
Now it’s my turn to be silent.
Atticus says, “Based on where you launched the CRRC, I’m guessing that’s where you left them. And if that’s the case, you essentially left them in the middle of nowhere.”
I smack the steering wheel with my fist.
“Goddamn it, Atticus, what would you have had me do? I couldn’t leave them behind, and I couldn’t bring them with me. So yes, I left them in the middle of goddamn nowhere. Was it the most ideal situation to leave them in? No, but it was my only choice.”
The highway stretches out ahead of me. A town stands off in the distance, several miles away. I check the rearview mirror once again to make sure nobody’s behind me before I turn off into a field.
Atticus says, “Where are you now?”
“I’m about ready to make the switch.”
“Very good. When do you anticipate you’ll cross the border?”
“It’s, what, a twelve-hour drive from Culiacán? I plan to head straight out. I’m going to stop by my room first and
