A minute later, Fortunada followed them through the living room and into the kitchen.
Mrs. Watkins sat the cat on a small table, then opened the pantry and removed a black patent leather purse. “Robbers would never think to look in there for my pocketbook,” she said with obvious pride at her ingenuity. Then her eyes narrowed at Fortunada. “Don’t be thinking to come back and steal it.”
Ignoring her, he opened the fridge. “You got any beer in here?”
Mrs. Watkins appeared sorely affronted. “No, sir. Mr. Watkins didn’t cotton to spirits and neither does the good Lord.”
He grunted and snatched a bottle of soda. Eyeing the old-fashioned wall phone, he walked over and pulled the wires from the socket. “Give her your keys, and whatever money you got in there you can give me.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Watkins, for the use of your car,” Maria said, holding out her hand. And as soon as we’re gone, you walk to your nearest neighbor and call the cops.
The woman dangled a key ring above Maria’s hand. “Mr. Watkins bought this car when it was brand spanky new, and it was his pride and joy. It ain’t going nowheres without me.”
Oh, no, no, no. “No ma’am, that’s really not a good idea.”
“Actually, it is,” Fortunada said. “Cops won’t be looking for a little ole lady. But we’ll wait until it gets dark. Better that way.”
Maria spun. “No, I refuse to go anywhere if you take her. Leave her be.”
“Fine, I’ll just shoot her instead. Your choice.”
Would he really? Why not? He’d put a bullet in a cop so what difference would it make if he shot a sweet old lady? Cold black eyes stared at her, daring her. She lowered her head in defeat, unable to risk finding out if he was bluffing.
When this was over, she was signing up for every kind of martial arts class in existence and would never leave the house again without a knife strapped to her thigh and a gun in her purse. If she got out of this alive, that was.
At the sound of a low-flying helicopter overhead, everyone froze. “Quiet,” Fortunada said.
Maria prayed they would spot the Ford, but it was unlikely. He’d made her park it under a large oak tree, and unless they landed they’d never see it.
“Don’t see as how they can hear us all the way up there, Mr. Fortunada.” Mrs. Watkins picked up her cat and headed for the door.
“Where you think you’re going, lady?”
The old woman gave him a look that said he was stupid. “You got a gun Mr. Fortunada. I ain’t having no shoot out in my house, no sir. I’m gonna go out there and wave at them, otherwise they’re gonna send someone to check. I seen that one time on the television. There was this murderess on that show—”
“Christ, woman, I don’t give a shit about no TV show. You go out there and wave, but don’t you think about trying something.” He brandished the gun at her. “I’ll be watching you.”
“Your cussing offends me, sir.” She huffed, then walked out onto the back steps with Mr. Kitty and gave a merry wave. The helicopter hovered a few more seconds before moving away.
All rightly then, I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole. Maria only wondered how soon she’d get to meet Alice.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jake checked his phone again. Still nothing. He needed to turn around and go back to where he’d had service so he could call Saint and find out where Maria was. Maybe right had been the wrong direction to take, but he’d once heard that when people were lost, they tended to make right-hand turns.
There’d been no sign of her, the Ford Fusion, or Fortunada for the last twenty miles, and he was ready to tear something apart with his bare hands. As soon as the oncoming car passed, he’d make a U-turn and head back to the Interstate.
Ahead, a low-flying helicopter approached. When it was within thirty yards, it hovered, forcing him to stop. Jake kept his hands visible on the wheel. He didn’t have time for this. The bird approached off to the side, and the pilot looked him over before giving a curt nod and flying away.
Jake watched in the rearview mirror as the chopper disappeared. If nothing else, he’d learned they’d yet to find Fortunada. Deciding to check his phone one last time before he turned around, he clicked it on. Sweet Jesus, yes. Two bars should be enough to get through to Saint. “Don’t know if I’ll fade out so tell me quick where Maria is,” he said when Saint answered.
“One sec. Okay, got you. She’s six point seven miles to the northeast of you. You need to stand by for instructions. Kincaid’s here and . . .”