passenger on the plane. Before we leave, we’ll buy a burner phone, and you can call your mother and Beatrice.”
“Okay.”
Cruz set aside his plate on the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he studied her with his intense umber eyes. “Your situation could get worse before it gets better. We don’t know what we’ll find once we arrive in Texas. Are you up for all of this?”
Though the gravity in his voice scared her, Shanice nodded. “I want whoever murdered Dennis to be punished, and I want whatever he uncovered about them to be exposed.”
“Bueno. Then we’re on the same page.”
Cruz said the pink blouse she had in her backpack didn’t allow her to blend in enough, so he gave her a blue T-shirt, which she paired with skinny jeans.
He also handed her a navy-blue cap to wear and told her there was little chance of being captured on camera in a neighborhood like this—one reason the area made a good hiding place. Cameras tended to be in wealthier zip codes. Wherever there was money, there would be cameras, but he instructed her to pull the brim of the cap low on her face as an extra precaution.
“Expect the best, plan for the worst,” he said.
He wore a black cap, a black T-shirt, and dark jeans. With his height and build, the outfit gave him a take-no-shit appearance that renewed her confidence she’d be safe in his care. When they were ready to go, he lifted his duffel bag onto his shoulder, and she picked up her backpack, and they left the apartment.
On the way to the store, they walked along a sidewalk littered with cigarette butts and trash, and passed a homeless man sleeping upright in the doorway of a boarded up building. A few blocks away, they entered a store with white bars over the windows and a multitude of signs offering lottery tickets, electronics, and beer within. Cruz instructed her to keep her head down, and she followed his instructions to the letter.
As he stood in line with two bottles of juice, Shanice’s eyes perused the newspapers stacked at the front. Her breath suspended when she saw the headline on the front page of the Miami Herald: Six Men Dead Overnight as Gunfire Erupts in Miami Suburb.
The article mentioned the police were searching for a man and woman who’d fled the scene, and included with the article was a photo of Cruz’s Mustang and two shadowy figures inside. One of the neighbors must have taken the photo with their phone.
Shanice glanced up at Cruz, whose eyes were trained on the same paper. She ducked her head again, fingers tightening on the strap of the backpack over her shoulder, worry gnawing at her insides.
The person in front of Cruz left the line and he stepped up to the counter. “I need a phone,” he said, pointing at one of them hanging behind the female cashier.
He added a Miami Herald to his purchases and they left after he paid.
Cruz steered her to an area between two buildings. “You have five minutes,” he said, handing her the phone. He then stepped away and began to read the article about them.
Shanice was curious about the contents, but she had work to do. The first person she called was Beatrice because she figured she wouldn’t reach her on the cruise ship and could leave a message. She left a voicemail, apologizing for the damage to her home and letting the older woman know she was fine and would be in touch as soon as she could. She ended by thanking her for all her help and then hung up.
Then she called her mother. The conversation was much more difficult, and Shanice teared up as they talked. The fear in her mother’s voice was tangible, and she hated worrying her.
“Mom, I have to go. But remember what I told you. They’re coming to get you today. Get ready to leave, okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m worried about you. Be careful. I love you,” Miriam said.
“Love you, too.”
After she hung up, they were on the move. Cruz separated the phone parts and dumped them into different trash bins as they walked along the sidewalk.
“What did the article say?” Shanice asked.
He handed her the paper and she scoured the contents.
“They don’t have much information,” Cruz summarized. “Lucky for you, you stayed under the radar at your friend’s house.”
“This article says that we’re armed and dangerous. It makes it sound as if you murdered those men