Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,30
I needed to feel wanted, and other than the pounding of my head, I feel like a tiny bit of me woke up.
“So, how far are we going this time?” I ask, deciding on being a partner in this trip rather than a victim on a rescue mission.
He is right with what he has been saying all along, that I act like I’m the only one risking something, or like I’m in more danger than him. Truth is: we are both screwed if we get caught, and they won’t have any mercy on him if they find us. Still, my confidence in him is growing, and it’s getting easier to trust him when he says he won’t let anything happen to me.
“We’ll be on the road for about fourteen hours. It’s going to be a long trip, but I want to get there tonight.” The corner of his lip pulls into a smile.
Relief floods me when I see he is in a good mood so far, and I don’t have to wonder if he regrets last night. “What are you going to do when all of this is over? Do you take breaks, or do you just jump into the next case?” I ask.
Rig shrugs. “I’ll probably just hop into the next one. There are so many people to help and not enough people to get them out. I would feel guilty taking too much time off.”
“So when do you have time for you? You must have moments where you are exhausted and need to recharge your batteries?”
He must not only be drained physically, but mentally on top of that. It must be a lot hearing the horror stories, seeing the torment that lives in the eyes of the people he takes away, not just adults, but children.
“I don’t. When I stop and take a breather, all I see are these people. My breaks are keeping some people where they are longer than they should be. I’m their only hope of getting away, and being needed is a great feeling.”
“Are you going to be doing this for the rest of your life? Don’t you want a life outside of this?”
“I don’t have time for a life; all I would be doing is saying goodbye. I’m on the road three-fourths of the year, and it’s selfish to not be able to give one hundred percent of myself to someone. So why even bother?” he says, never taking his eyes off the road.
“That’s very true, and I can see why you do this. I just don’t want to see that one day, when you can no longer do this, that you will be alone. And all you have ever done is comfort everyone else.”
“I’m not worried about that. I have all I need right now: open road and endless places to visit. And I’m not alone on these trips, I meet some really great people.” He nudges me with his elbow.
I smile. “How long is your average trip?”
“Nothing is average, nothing is the same. It’s a case by case thing. Some take a couple weeks, depending on the aggressor. And some can take months, if not longer. It’s all about connections, and how far someone is willing to go to get what they want. The ones with children are a little more complex, getting them into schools when a family has settled, trying to establish a whole new life. We always watch them. It’s not over once we leave. We are making sure their ex’s don’t go too far looking. Most give up, but like I said, when it involves children, they are more intent on finding them.”
“What about me? How complex is my situation?” I ask.
“Yours isn’t the norm. You not only have a husband who is looking for you, but you also have a whole army of people making sure you don’t spill their secrets. They have resources and eyes everywhere. The drug cartel isn’t only in California; there are bases all over the country, their distributers who make them money. We have eyes on your husband, and we know his every move. His search wouldn’t go unknown at this point. How do you think we knew he has hired a PI? We know what he is doing and how carefully we have to tread.”
Thinking about his words, I start to feel uneasy about stuff. But unlike before, I’m just going to cut off this conversation about me. I don’t want to know any more. It’s proven that the more