The Reno-Tahoe airport is a lot smaller than I expected. And a lot seedier. I guess I assumed it’d be a lot like the Vegas airport, but as I walk from the gate to the exit where the buses are, it’s clear I was way off base. The furniture is outdated, a funny odor lingers in the air, the few workers I’ve seen are not exactly approachable, and everything is so dingy and weathered that it feels as if I’m viewing it all through a hazy yellow camera lens. Like a B-list movie from 1980.
Oh, and don’t get me started on the old people. At least seventy percent of the people I pass are eligible for social security benefits. I’ve even seen six or seven with oxygen tanks strapped to them. That’s when I place the odd smelclass="underline" a nursing home.
I move quickly to get outside into some fresh air, hoping I won’t have to wait long for the bus I need to catch. The online schedule indicated an eleven-thirty departure time, but was footnoted that based on traffic and weather conditions, the times could vary by up to an hour. The last place I want to hang out for an hour is on the splintery wooden bench outside the most depressing airport in the country, and luckily, when I approach the line of buses parked outside, I immediately see mine. Truckee, California, here I come.
In a back row by myself, I sit with the bill of my ball cap pressed against the window, half-listening to the music playing in my headphones, but mostly trying to memorize every sign and landmark we drive by. If I ever need to find my way back here again, I want to have as much information as possible.
It’s just after twelve-thirty when the bus driver pumps the brakes several times before bringing us to a complete stop in front of a tiny bus station. We all stand to get off, beginning with the front rows first, and by the time I hop down the two big steps and onto the cement, my teeth are chattering uncontrollably with nerves. I’m almost there.
As instructed, I hoof it the two blocks north to the famous golden arches high in the sky. When the soles of my shoes hit the blacktop of the parking lot, I slow my pace and scan the vehicles around me. At first, I don’t see the old blue and white Ford pickup I was told would be here, but as I reach to the back corner of the fast-food restaurant, I see the truck parked next to the dumpster.
Swallowing back my fears, I lower my chin to my chest and walk as inconspicuously as possible to the passenger side of the truck. I grab the handle and open the door, hauling myself into the cab, before I talk myself out of this. Only then do I turn to look at my girlfriend’s captor. Face-to-face. Man-to-man.
And he might just be the most intimidating man I’ve ever seen in my life. As if his enormous body frame isn’t threatening enough, the broken nose that was never fixed and the ugly jagged scar on the side of his face definitely seal the deal.
“Decker.” He tips his chin in acknowledgement as he grunts my name.
“Raze,” I reply, praying he doesn’t hear the shakiness in my voice.
Then, without another word, he turns the key over in the ignition and the engine roars to life. And we’re on the road.
He finally breaks the silence after we’ve been driving for about ten minutes. “I’m gonna pull over off the highway once we’re out of town and blindfold you for the rest of the trip. For obvious reasons, I don’t want you to know where we’re going. You know too much already. I won’t bind your feet and wrists, unless you give me a reason to. I’m trying to make this as easy as possible. No one else other than you, Blake, and myself will be at our final destination, but to make sure none of my men show up unexpectedly, I will stand guard outside while you are with her. Do you understand?”
Nodding, I keep my eyes on the road in front of me. “How long do I have with her?”
“One night. We will leave before daybreak in the morning, and I will drop you back off at the McDonald’s for you to go back the same way you got here.” His accusing eyes cut over to me, pinning me to the seat. “And don’t try anything fucking stupid like taking her back with you. That can’t happen yet. It’ll fuck everything up, and then we will all be running for our lives.”
I hang on the yet he drops, hoping that’s a good indicator he’s eventually planning on letting her go. “You have my word. I won’t try to take her back home with me this time.”
Conversation halts for a little while, and then as promised, Raze steers the truck off onto the shoulder of the highway and pulls out a black sash. Before he covers my eyes with the dark piece of fabric, he inhales a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, and then releases it in a whoosh. For a brief moment, he actually looks vulnerable. But then it’s gone.
After securing the blindfold around my eyes, he makes me huddle up on the floorboard so nobody who may possibly pass us in traffic can see me. Never in my life have I spent so much time on the floors of vehicles until today. And this ride, wherever it is we’re going that’s somewhere north of Truckee, is a curvy, bumpy one that has me struggling to not be thrown around between the door and glove box.
Raze isn’t much of a talker, but he said on the phone he’d answer some of my questions in person, so I build the nerve up and take a chance. “Emerson told me she figured out who Blake was by an old picture she Google searched, but I’m still not sure how or why she handed her over to your family. Are you at liberty to tell me?”
“Well, I never knew how she discovered who Blake was, but somehow she was aware of the money Easton owed us. It was really kind of bizarre.” Until now, that I can’t see, I never realized how much I use people’s facial expressions to read the other half of the story they’re telling.
“Bizarre?” I push him to keep talking.
“Yeah, I got this strange call one afternoon,” he divulges, “and I almost didn’t answer it because I didn’t recognize the number, but for whatever reason, I did. It was Emerson on the other end of the line. She said she was good friends with Easton and wanted to pay off his debt, but instead of using money, she wanted to trade Blake, or Bryleigh . . . whatever.
“At first I thought she was crazy and told her to stop playing games, but she swore she could deliver her that night. It had to be that night, though. It took us about twenty minutes to verify she was telling the truth, and then the drop-off was set up. And that was that.”
I don’t ask any other questions for a while as I try to piece together the details of times and happenings from that Friday, even though it really doesn’t matter much anymore. It happened, and there’s nothing I can do to go back in time to prevent it. Now, I have to move forward. I have to focus on getting her back.
“Can you tell me what you plan to do with her?”
“No. Not yet.”
There’s that yet word again.
We ride for the next couple hours or so without talking. My legs cramp up several times throughout the trip from being bent into positions they’re not used to going in, and just as I’m about to ask him if I can get out to stretch for a few minutes, the truck slows to a halt and he turns it off.
“Okay, we’re here. You can sit back on the seat now.” He unties the sash from behind my head, and it takes my eyes several moments to adjust to the afternoon sunlight. As soon as I can focus, I scan the surrounding area, taking in nothing but a heavily wooded forest and a rustic cabin. “She’s inside, and she doesn’t know you’re coming. I didn’t want to get her hopes up in case something happened on your trip,” he explains. “So expect her to be more than a little surprised when she sees you.”
I sit and wait for what happens next, as I fail epically in trying to keep my emotions in check. This is all too much.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Raze barks, causing me to jump in the seat. “I didn’t bring you all this fucking way so we could hang out in my truck. Go inside and see her. You’re on the clock.”