Page 56 of South of Justice
She digested that. “For me, it would have to be by the sea. I get anxious when I’m too far inland.”
He glanced across at her. “Easier to escape?”
She didn’t respond, but he guessed he’d hit the jackpot. Maybe a nerve, too.
They drove a few more miles in silence. The air grew thicker, the temperature rising inside the car. Sweat gathered under his arms, and he rolled the window down another inch.
Eventually, Lucía pulled out her laptop, resting it on her knees. Ryan kept stealing glances. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her fingers tapping in rapid bursts. He liked watching her work. She was so relentless. Precise. A far cry from the chaotic mess he often felt inside his own head.
Her leg brushed his gearshift hand once, accidentally, and she didn’t move it right away. His pulse jumped. She didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she did. She shifted a little in her seat, subtly, but he caught the flick of her glance.
The road curved. A slow, winding bend that gave them a glimpse of something other than the ocean in the distance. Ryan shifted in his seat, muscles tight from the long ride.
“We should stop soon,” he said. “Stretch our legs. Maybe get something that passes for food.”
Lucía nodded without looking up.
He spotted a roadside stand a few miles on and turned the truck into its lot. It was just a few plastic tables, a grill, and a hand-painted sign promising tacos andcerveza. They ordered bottled water and chorizo tortas, sitting at a table shaded by a torn umbrella. Flies buzzed lazily in the heat.
Lucía peeled the paper off her sandwich, took a bite, and moaned softly. “God, I forgot what real food tastes like.”
They ate in a slow, companionable silence. Ryan leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the warmth soak into his bones. For a moment, it almost felt normal.
They lingered just long enough to finish their food, then headed back to the car. The sun was high now, baking the road. The air shimmered like a mirage, heat rolling off the pavement.
Back inside the truck, Ryan noticed the way she pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. A bead of sweat rolled down her neck. He looked away quickly, but not before she’d caught him.
“Something on your mind, Marshal?”
He kept his eyes on the road. “Plenty.”
Lucía turned the radio on and flipped through until she found a scratchy station playing old Spanish love songs. She didn’t change it.
Ryan let the music drift between them, slow and sentimental.
She looked out the window, resting her chin on her hand. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke. “You think we’ll actually find him? The boy.”
He didn’t answer right away. Then, “I have to believe we will. If I didn’t…”
He trailed off. She didn’t push him.
They drove in silence for a while longer, the sky widening above them, the road stretching out ahead, hazy with heat fumes. The air between them buzzed, like the static before a storm.
THIRTY-FIVE
The roadto the tax office had turned from cracked asphalt to gravel, then to something that barely resembled a road at all. Sun glared down on the hood of the vehicle, and dust curled in waves behind them as Lucía studied the location pin glowing on her screen. Her fingers tapped out patterns on her thigh, nerves wound tight.
“You sure about this?” Ryan asked from behind the wheel.
Lucía threw him a side-eye. “You mean, surer than I was last time?”
He kept his face carefully impassive. “That’s not what I said.”
They pulled up in front of a squat concrete building that looked like it hadn’t seen a fresh coat of paint since the early 2000s. One security camera hung limp over the front door, its lens cracked. A half-torn sign read OFICINA REGIONAL DE IMPUESTOS. A stray dog lay sprawled in the shade of the entryway, too lazy or heat-stricken to react.
Ryan grunted. “Hell of a place to hide a money trail.”
Lucía tucked the laptop into her backpack and slid out of the truck. The air outside felt like a hair dryer against her face. Theonly sounds were the ticking engine and a cicada chorus from the dry scrubland behind them.
