A cold, dark wind had kicked up at the border. Tumbleweed rolled across the two-lane road and stopped up against Steve’s Chrysler as he slammed to a stop in the middle of the road, half a dozen yards from the guard booth. He opened the door but didn’t get out; he was afraid to step on the pavement as though doing so, he would take another step into this nightmare and he just didn’t want to. He hung tight to Aggie’s kitten, Poo as Rhea jumped out and hurried up to Nava, Donnelly and Nava’s partner who were standing by the booth, talking.
“–no drugs. Yodel sniffed the whole van. Nothing–” Donnelly was saying as Rhea ran up to him, yelling,
“Did you see her?! It’s she ok?!”
“No, no–”
“You didn’t see her–?!”
“No–”
“But you saw her sunglasses–?!”
“We don’t know if they’re hers.” Nava tried to calm Rhea down. She kept hammering questions.
“They were pink?”
“Yeah–”
“With little kittens on them? One on each corner?” Rhea asked him.
Donnelly shook his head, “Couldn’t tell. He had them stuck on top of his head–”
“Who did?”
“He was a little older than you, maybe eighteen. Dark hair, brown skin, light eyes? Driving a new blue van?”
Rhea stared at Donnelly; blank.
“Did you see him around anywhere? Maybe on the street? Or at Joe’s?” Nava asked her.
“No… No.” Rhea tried to will a picture of this man but… she’d never seen him. “But he had Aggie’s sunglasses?”
“…I don’t know, Miss. But they were pink. And little.” He looked at Nava as he went on, “I only noticed ’cause they popped up a little and he pushed them back down. They popped up ’cause they were too small. Like…a little kids’ size.”
Rhea stared at Donnelly, waiting for more. But that was it.
“Anything else you remember?” Nava’s partner asked asked Donnelly.
“Maybe…” Donnelly shared, “He looked a little beat, so I told him the road through the hills is pretty hairy and if he was tired, he should pull over somewhere and sleep a little. His ID said San Diego but… he said he was OK and that he’d be home in three hours.”
“Three hours?” Nava asked, calculating the inevitable. “That’s LA.”
The three cops nodded; almost imperceptibly but there was an agreement.
Donnelly nodded. “I’ll call.” He headed toward his booth.
“What’s happening?” Rhea almost didn’t want to know.
“He’s gonna call LAPD.”
As the wind whipped the silence around them, a car hurtled down the hilly road toward the crossing. It nearly slammed into the booth, screeched to a halt and before it stopped completely, Stel jumped out of the passenger side and ran toward them, screaming,
“Where is she?!”
Steve jerked up, losing his grip on Poo. Poo started mewing, trying to mew that old Willie Nelson song as she scampered up the highway, into the hills.
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