I was so rattled I wanted to pull over and stop, but there wasn’t a safe spot to do so for several miles. Instead, I slowed my speed and stayed on the road, taking deep breaths and feeling my pulse race under my skin. Idiot driver! We could’ve all been killed!
I lowered the window a little in spite of the cold. I could smell the clean sap of ponderosa pine, feel the bite of the crisp, rare air on my lungs as I inhaled. As I started to recover a little, I brought my Jeep up to speed again-but my adrenaline had leaped into overdrive just minutes ago, and it would be some time before I felt truly at ease. I drove through the heart of the forest past several gated Forest Service roads. When I passed the turnout for one of the trailheads, I saw a white vehicle emerge from the cover of the trees alongside the track and nose onto the highway behind me. It was the Ford Ranger again.
This time the driver didn’t waste any time letting me know that the previous incident was not just a random act of reckless driving. The truck closed on my tail, the shape of the driver little more than a silhouette in my rearview mirror, wearing a hooded jacket or sweat-shirt and sunglasses, and likely a man from what I could tell. As he moved to pass me again, I put all 195 horses in my engine to work. Around two dangerous curves, my tires singing like Las Dolientes, we fought for the lead. I knew the pursuer would again try to edge me over the side if I let him flank me. Going up a steep rise, I gained markedly on the pickup, wishing I had enough line of sight to a repeater so I could radio ahead to the Forest Service ranger station for help. But in this steep, curving terrain, it was hopeless unless you were atop one of the peaks or on one of the high stretches.
Coming downhill again, we were nearing the turnoff to Llano, a dirt road that culminated in a cattle guard at the paved highway. The pickup edged out into the oncoming lane, his front bumper just even with my rear quarter panel. I kept the pedal down hard, not wanting to give away my plan. My adversary followed suit, his engine roaring in my left ear as he gradually gained an inch at a time, clearly looking to get far enough to force me over. When the sign for the cattle guard appeared on the right shoulder, I slammed on the brakes and veered onto the dirt turnout, spinning counterclockwise into a red dust cloud as the white Ranger zoomed on by. I looked quickly for its tag number. The plate was packed with mud, unreadable.
I lurched to a stop and immediately stretched over and popped open the glove box. I pulled out my pistol, yanked it from the holster, and clicked off the safety. I opened the door of the Jeep, which was now perpendicular to the highway, its front bumper just at the edge of the cattle guard. I stood on my left leg, my right on the running board, and propped my forearms on the roof, squaring my gun sights at the highway ahead, my body in the cover of my Jeep.
The Ford Ranger came veering back in reverse at high speed. I sighted in on it, hoping to hit a tire, cause a blowout. I squeezed the trigger when I thought he was in range, but I heard a ck-zzzzzngggg and knew I’d hit the tailgate just above it instead. The pickup squealed to a stop, then slammed into drive, and the tires screamed. I took another shot before it could peel away. This one made a metallic kunnnkkk as the bullet penetrated the side of the truck bed just over the rear tire. The Ford Ranger sped off.
31
I stopped at the ranger station outside of Peñasco and used the phone. The Taos County sheriff’s dispatcher told me she would radio Deputy Jerry Padilla and have him call me right back. While I waited for his call, I went out to my Jeep. I looked around the grounds, the parking lot, and down the road in each direction. I opened the rear hatch, unzipped my backpack, and pulled out my book for the first time since I’d gotten it back at Tecolote’s place the previous morning. I turned to the page where I’d written down the two things Father Ignacio had told me, and I copied the name I’d been struggling to remember onto the back of one of my business cards: Pedro Antonio Fresquíz of Las Truchas. Then, closing the hatch and again scoping the area, I took the book and set it in the passenger seat on top of the bundle I’d been entrusted to guard. Theresa Mendoza was right-someone was stalking me, but was it me or La Arca he was after? I tucked my book under a fold of the blanket, making it a part of the bundle. “I know someplace you’ll be safe,” I told my charge. “For now anyway.”
“A white Ford Ranger?” Padilla said.
“Yes, a fairly late model, but not new. There was mud packed over the plate; I couldn’t read it. The driver was probably a man, but I couldn’t guarantee that. The truck had tinted windows. But I could tell he was wearing some kind of garment with a hood. And dark glasses.”
“Listen, I can send an officer up there to investigate, but this is getting pretty weird, don’t you think? Have you got someplace you can go for a while? Maybe stay with some family?”
I swallowed hard. “No.”
“A girlfriend, anything like that? Anyplace you can stay for a few days until we figure out what the hell’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I need to think.”
Padilla was quiet for a few moments. “Roy said you live almost to Tres Piedras, all by yourself, no phone. I don’t think it’s so good for you to be all the way out there by yourself. And what about work? Are you working alone?”
“No. Not right now. I’m doing a team assignment with the Forest Service. I have a partner in my section-a forest ranger.”
“Well, let’s see… I got a meeting in a little bit; I couldn’t come for another hour and a half. How ’bout I send a deputy up there to cruise around the area, see if he sees that Ford Ranger anyplace nearby?”
“There will be a ding in the tailgate and a bullet hole in the rear of the bed on the passenger side.”
“Good to know that.” I could hear him rustling his notepad. “I’ll put it out on the wire and have everyone keep a lookout for a vehicle like that, countywide. Do you want the deputy to stop by the ranger station there and talk to you when he gets up there?”
“No, thanks, Jerry. I’m going to head on out after I get off the phone. Let me know if-”
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know. Now, this is twice this bad guy has tried, Jamaica. Three, if you count when he took your book.”
“No, he’s not the one who stole my book.”
“How do you know?”
I couldn’t tell him about La Arca, or about the driver. I couldn’t even tell him that I’d gotten my book back without revealing too much. “I just know.”
“You just know, huh? I wouldn’t be too sure. Doesn’t seem like we know much of anything yet. Now, before I let you go, I’m going to try this one more time: I think it might be better if you took some time off, maybe got out of town. Take a vacation. Go see family or friends.”
I felt my chest tighten. I drew in a breath, my lips pulling into a hard, tight line. “I hear you, Jerry. But I have no place to go.”
Tecolote was not home. The turquoise-colored door was pulled fast to the frame, and there was no answer when I knocked. I had been counting on her to bring clarity to my muddled mind. An army of questions trampled my thought processes into mire. Esperanza would know what to do.