Read Torched: A Thriller for Free Online

second, Ms. James. There are eyes all around us. I
can assure you, our presence was noted. Are you prepared now to go out on your
own?”
    Terri bit her
lip. “I have a taser. Pepper spray. I…” She shrugged. “I’m as ready as I can
be, I guess.”
    “Wow!” he
smirked. “Look out! Got a lady with a taser over here!”
    His eyes
narrowed and the smirk vanished. “Be careful, Ms. James. Keep your eyes open
and your head on a swivel. Slide through. That’s your goal—just slide
through .”
    They stared at
each other, a host of unsaid things suspended in the space between them.
    “Okay, then. Our
business is finished. Good luck to you.” He held out his hand, and she went to
shake it. He laughed. “No, Ms. James. You can pay me now. Then, we shake.”
    She smiled and
gave him the envelope, and they did indeed shake. He held her hand for a long
moment, eyes fixed on hers, and then let it go.
    “Goodbye. I hope
you find the person you’re looking for.”
    He turned and
started back toward the boat.
    “Thank you!” she
called after him. Without turning, he put a hand in the air. A minute later, he
was gone, standing tall in the boat as it angled back toward Texas.
    Terri studied
the woods. It was similar to the trail she’d followed on the Texas side.
    She started as
an iguana scrambled through the branches overhead. A few leaves fluttered to
the ground at her feet. “Jesus, Terri! It’s just a lizard. Get a grip, girl.”
    She walked into
the jungle, but it wasn’t long before she’d gone into the duffle for the taser.
She held it loosely in her right hand, thumb on the trigger, feeling just
fractionally better.

NINE
    Vivian finished
up in the field before showering and riding into Cerritos. Miguel’s contact was
meeting with her at 1:00, and she didn’t want to be late.
    Cerritos, like
many Mexican towns, had a large and well-kept park at its core. This one was
filled with statues and tidy, shaded walking paths. There was a little cemetery
in one corner—home to perhaps forty or fifty plots.
    Old men played
cards and checkers on shaded tables. Street vendors peddled everything from
cheap plastic sunglasses to steaming empanadas. Vivian purchased two of the
latter and washed them down with an ice-cold bottle of orange Fanta. When her
lunch was finished, she opened the book she’d brought with her, thankful that
she’d thought ahead, and lost herself for forty-five minutes in a Paulo Coelho
novel. Her Spanish was improving quickly, and she understood most of what she
was reading—at least enough to follow the plot.
    Miguel’s contact
finally arrived just a few minutes after 2:00. Vivian smiled when she saw her.
Five years ago, when life at her South Florida art gallery had been much more
cluttered, the tardiness would have been irritating. But she was growing
accustomed to the pace of life in Mexico, and she was happy for the company.
    She was an old
woman, with very dark skin. She wore a traditional Mexican dress, her gray hair
swept up in a tight bun, and sunglasses with yellow tint. There were a few gaps
in her warm smile. She took Vivian’s hand in hers, swallowing it, and the
younger woman was surprised by how soft and cool her palms were.
    She was quite
pretty.
    “Hola, señora.
Habla usted Inglés?” Vivian said.
    “I do,” the
woman replied. Her voice was deeper than Vivian had expected, and there was a
calm command in her tone. “My name is Alma. I’m pleased to meet you. Miguel is
a good young man. He’s been very kind to me over the years.”
    “I’ll tell him
you said that, Alma. It’ll make him very happy.”
    Alma went into a
pocket inside the front of her dress and withdrew a worn envelope. She handed
it to Vivian.
    “Welcome to
Mexico, Ms. Diaz.”
    Vivian grinned.
A spark coursed through her.
    Ms. Diaz!
    She opened the
envelope and found a driver’s license and a national identification card.
Carmen Hidalgo Diaz—resident of Cerritos.
    She stared at
it. It was a new