Pink Neon Dreams (21 page)

“Yeah?”

“Don’t freak out if I show up driving something
different.”

Her mouth opened to ask why, but he shook his head.
“I’ll explain it later.
 
No questions,
querida.”

Her sigh came up from the depths of her soul. “All
right, be careful.”

“I will,” he said. “And you do the same.”

Although the boutique wasn’t open, she’d left the
neon turned on so the pink track lighting glowed in the summer dusk.
 
Above the front door the name ‘Pink Neon’ stood
out bright.
 
Nia clapped her hands with
delight. “Looks pretty damn cool,” she said. “I love it.”

“Wait until you see the inside,” Cecily said with a
feigned enthusiasm she didn’t feel.
 
On
one level she longed to show off her pretty shop, but her current situation
distracted her and she wondered where Daniel had gone.
 

Ten minutes later, after Nia walked from one shelf
to another, gasping and cooing with delight, she gave her cousin a basic
rundown of how things worked.
 
She showed
her the cash register, the computer, and handed over the keys. “I didn’t open
today at all, but you need to be here in the morning, early.”

“I can handle it,” Nia said. “Shit, I think this
will be a blast.”

“I hope so,” Cecily said. “Let’s go home.”

“Not so fast. I want to see some of the sights. It’s
been a long time since I’ve been here.”

The last thing Cecily wanted was to play tourist,
but she gritted her teeth. “All right but you can go sightseeing on your own
after I’ve left town.
 
We’ll just hit
some of the highlights.”

Cecily drove her GTO up and down the Strip.
 
She pointed out the half scale
Titanic
museum, replica of the ill-fated
ocean liner, waved a hand toward Dolly Parton’s
Dixie Stampede
, and named off some of the bigger theaters.
 
They killed more than an hour’s time gawking,
twice as long as she’d wanted before Cecily headed home.
 
She wanted Daniel, but instead she found an
unfamiliar truck parked in front of her house.
 
Anxiety exploded until she recalled what he’d said.
 
Still uneasy, she parked and went inside,
ready to know what he’d done—and why.

Chapter
Twelve

He’d like to leave within the next twelve hours, but
Daniel wasn’t sure it was possible.
 
As
soon as Cecily drove away in her bright red vintage car, he gathered up some of
his gear and drove to the Strip.
 
He
sought a motel, a cheap one, but he avoided the one where he’d stayed before.
 
Although he doubted they would remember him
in a town where guests came and went daily, Daniel wanted somewhere where they
would.

The dump he selected didn’t even offer a name on
their sign which read “ROOMS—CHEEP”. The rundown property suited his purpose,
and he liked the fact guests had to drive through an arch to reach his
room.
 
The U-shaped units surrounded the
central parking space on three sides and centered on an empty pool.
 
Huge cracks marred the concrete and indicated
why it wasn’t in use, but Daniel figured it served as a monument to broken
dreams, too.
 
He paid for two weeks in a
single room.
 
When he carried some
minimal baggage, stuff he wouldn’t need anywhere else, into the space, he
winced.
 
Mildew climbed a large part of
the visible walls and two cockroaches scuttled into the shadows.
 
A stale aroma combining rank piss and sour
beer hung in the air.
 
Ancient cigarette
burns marred the battered dresser and he doubted the sheets had been changed in
months.
 
He tossed his bag onto the bed
and put his work issue phone beside the television set.

Daniel used his pay-as-you-go phone to call a number
he’d lifted out of the pages of some free shopper paper at the airport. He
expressed interest in the 1976 pickup truck advertised for sale and asked if he
could get a ride to see it.
 
At first,
the woman who answered the phone sounded wary, but he charmed her into sending
her son to pick him up.
 
A sullen young
man, face pocked with pimples, arrived fifteen minutes later.
 
A half hour after that, Daniel exchanged cash
for the pickup and drove away.
 
At the
first car wash he spotted, he scrubbed it and cleaned the interior as much as
possible.
 
A quick stop at a dollar store
yielded sanitizing spray to kill any remaining gnarly bacteria and a cheap seat
cover to hide the ugly tear on the passenger side.

At Cecily’s, he did motor staples, checked the oil
and fluids.
 
Overall, for the cheap cash
price, the truck appeared to be fairly sound.
 
He thought it could make the trip to Texas without trouble and if not,
he’d figure out something else.
 

Daniel drove past Pink Neon, confirmed Cecily and
her cousin were still inside, and then returned to her place.
 
She wasn’t back yet so he let himself inside
and poured a tequila shot.
 
He tossed it
back and savored the burn as it traveled to his gut. If he’d been alone, he
would’ve followed it with more, but Daniel stopped with one.

He needed all his wits to deal with the situation,
he decided. Despite all the assurances he made Cecily, Daniel figured if he
could pull this off without Cecily in custody, without any charges for either
of them, hold onto his job, and keep them both alive, it’d take a miracle, the
kind his mama prayed to the saints to deliver.
 
Pray, Mamacita, pray, your son
needs it now.

Since his phone call, he imagined she was.

When Cecily drove up, he watched from the window and
saw her apprehension.
 
Her expression
changed when she remembered what he’d told her or so he believed.
 
He opened the door to her and she came
inside, her cousin on her heels.
 
He
hadn’t planned to show affection in front of Nia, but he couldn’t resist a
quick embrace and a swift kiss. “How’d it go?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. “What’s with the truck?”

“It’s part of the plan,” he said. Her eyes burned
into his, curious and needy. “Sit down and I’ll explain everything to both of
you.”

Nia flopped into the sole arm chair, a match to the
gold couch.
 
Cecily sat down on the couch
and after a moment’s hesitation, Daniel settled down at the opposite end.
 
He needed to focus as he talked to them both
and he couldn’t if he sat beside her.

“Okay,” he said, feeling more like he briefed staff
than shared his plan. “Nia, you need to drive Cecily’s car, keep the shop open,
and otherwise just do your thing. Keep a low profile if you can, but the reason
you’re here, besides keeping Pink Neon going for your cousin, is so maybe
another agent won’t realize Cecily’s not around.
 
Sooner or later, yeah, someone will, but
it’ll buy us a little time if we’re lucky.
 
Sound doable, Nia?”

“You bet,” Nia replied. “I can handle it, easy. But
will it work? I’m three shades darker than she is, always have been.”

Despite their circumstances, Cecily beamed and
Daniel’s heart melted to see her smile. “I don’t think most of these folks will
notice,” she said. “Lots of tourists in and out of here and all they
see’s
a black gal.”

Daniel nodded. “I agree. And I don’t think you’ll be
in any danger.
 
If the FBI tries to take
you into custody under the belief you’re Cecily, all you have to do is show
your ID and resolve it.”

Nia frowned. “So what are you two doing while I’m
playing store at Pink Neon?”

He glanced at Cecily and asked a silent question
with his eyes.
Do you trust her
completely?
She seemed to understand and nodded.
 
Daniel cleared his throat. “We’re heading to El
Paso, Texas, to my mama’s house to get Cecily out of reach of both the FBI and
whoever killed her ex-husband. Then we’re going to try to figure out what
really happened to Bradford VI, who killed him, and see if we can’t get
evidence to verify it.
 
If things stay
hot, we’ll head down to my
abuela’s
home
in Mexico.”

No one spoke for a moment and then Cecily scooted
over beside him. “Okay, so what’s with the old truck parked out front?”

“I bought it,” Daniel told her. “Its cover your ass
time.
 
I checked into a crappy no-name
motel and left my work cell there because they can ping it or track location.
 
I left one bag with shit I don’t need and the
car, too.
 
If Martin sends anyone looking
for me, they’ll find the stuff.
 
I’m
hoping it throws them off the trail and slows down any search parties.
 
Best case scenario is we’re back with
evidence before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

Cecily put her hand on his arm and gazed into his
face with her soulful eyes, serious and almost sad. “And what’s the worst case
one, sugar?”

For starters, jail, death,
dishonor.
At a minimum, losing my job.
But he wouldn’t share those dark thoughts with his
lady. “Let’s hope we never need to figure it out,
querida.
 
You need to pack,
casual clothes, jeans, t-shirts, nothing too flashy, comfortable shoes,
anything you can’t live without except your phone.
 
You need to leave it here in the house.”

Her lips parted and he knew she’d protest, so he
held up one hand. “I’ll get you a pay as you go phone, harder to trace.
 
If you want, I’ll go get one right now.
 
And bring plenty of cash if you have it, your
purse, your driver’s license, passport, all that kind of stuff.”

“How long will we be gone?”

“As long as it takes,” Daniel said. He wished he had
an answer to give Cecily.

“When are we leaving?”

He’d like to head out now, but it wasn’t
practical.
 
Both he and Cecily could use
some rest before they made the grueling journey, one he estimated would take a
minimum of eighteen hours and maybe as much as twenty, depending on how many
stops they made and the weather.
 
“Early,” he said. “Before daylight anyway so you’d better pack tonight.
Leave out what you’re going to wear for in the morning.”

Cecily frowned. “All right,” she said. “I better do
it now.
 
Are you ready to go?”

“Always,” he answered.

“Then I’ll go pack.”

Daniel watched her go but made no move to rise from
the couch.
 
He admired the way she held
her back stiff and straight, a no-nonsense pose.
She’s got guts and courage.
 
She’ll need both to see this thing through.
 

Thirty minutes later, Cecily returned rolling a
suitcase and dragging a duffel bag.
 
He’d
figured she’d have more baggage and asked, “Is this all?”

“Yeah, sugar,” she said. “I crammed them full.”

He lifted the duffel and groaned. “Damn, you weren’t
kidding. It’s heavy.”

“Do I need to take stuff out?”

“No, its fine,” he told her. “Keep your purse and I’ll
pack everything in the truck. Then we’ll go to bed.”

After stowing his gear and her stuff in the bed of
the truck, making sure it rode secure and wouldn’t shift during the long trip,
Daniel came inside.
 
Cecily and her
cousin huddled together on the couch, deep in conversation, a serious one
judging by their expression.
 
Although he
moved with a quiet step, Cecily became aware and glanced up. “Sugar, what now?”

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said. His jaw ached where
he’d clenched it tight with tension and stress. Both, combined with fatigue, delivered
a dull headache too.

Nia, quiet for some time, spoke up. “So who sleeps
where?”

“Shit,” Daniel said in a low voice. He hadn’t
thought about sleeping arrangements, certain he’d share the only bed with Cecily.
 
But he didn’t want to assign Nia the sofa. “I
guess I can take the couch.”

Cecily rose. “Oh, no, sugar, I want you with me,”
she said, eyes bright and intent. “If you sleep out here, so do I.”

“Guess that leaves me the couch,” Nia said. She
didn’t sound angry.

“Are you sure?” Daniel asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Nia said. “I’ll take over the bed after
you two leave me in charge. I’m cool with that.”

He laughed, more out of politeness than mirth.
“Thanks, Nia.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said. “Just get my cuz out
of this mess.”