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“Can’t you use that phone?” he asked, pointing.
“No.”
“Why not?”
She didn’t want the hotel number or Preston’s cell-phone number to come up on Manuel’s caller ID. “It’s not the best phone to use for what I need to do.”
Max was so eager to get out of the room he didn’t question her again. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, and darted off ahead of her.
She jotted Preston a quick note, in case he returned in their absence, and took the extra key to their room. At the last minute she saw Preston’s cell phone sitting on the counter charging, and slipped it into her purse. Maybe he wouldn’t be pleased about waiting for them should he get back before they did, but he wouldn’t want to head to Iowa without his phone. Emma knew it was small insurance. But she felt better having it with her than leaving it behind.
The midday sun was warm but not uncomfortable as she and Max hurried down the street. She could smell the petunias planted in the flower beds, hear the click of heels on the sidewalk all around her. She liked Salt Lake City. It was clean and well maintained, and the mountains rose majestically around her.
Max chased pigeons as they walked, squealing in excitement when he nearly caught one. Emma smiled at his fun, wishing they could have a few days that were free and slow and all their own. Especially when she spotted the phone booth that was her destination. In the next few minutes, she had to confront Manuel. She’d once wanted to marry him. But her fear of him had grown from a few misgivings after Max was born into something large and dark and often suffocating.
Now she could almost feel his hands reaching out from some alley to latch on to her neck, could see the thick-lidded expression that told her it was time to go into the bedroom, where he’d do things he knew she hated just to make her feel powerless.
A cold shiver ran down her spine. She turned, her worried eyes passing over a medley of people.
They were all strangers.
He wasn’t here, of course. How could he be?
Still, when Max called out, pointing to another pigeon, Emma couldn’t help telling him to lower his voice as they hurried on.
Graffiti covered the phone booth that sat outside the gas station and mini-mart. It had definitely seen better days, but there was a sign that read “This pay phone does not accept incoming calls,” which was exactly what she needed.
“Sit right here,” she told Max, placing him on the curb near her feet. “If you don’t move, I’ll buy you a sucker from the mini-mart as part of your lunch, okay?”
“Okay!” He plopped down as though he had every intention of obeying, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief. The next few minutes were going to be difficult enough without worrying about Max running into the street or walking off with a stranger.
Gathering her nerve, she called Manuel’s cell. A mechanical voice told her how much to deposit for the long-distance call. She pumped the pay phone full of change, then closed her eyes and listened to her heartbeat while she waited for him to pick up.
“Hello?”
Revulsion made her clench her teeth. She’d grown to hate even the sound of his voice. “Manuel?”
“Vanessa. Thank God.”
She sensed his relief, knew it was authentic. As twisted as he was, he honestly believed he loved her—or needed her.
“I’m glad you called, querida. Are you okay?”
Querida. My beloved. She grimaced. “I’m fine.”
“And my hijito?”
“He’s fine, too.”
“Good.” There was a moment of silence. “Is it over, then? Are you ready to come home?”
She thought of Juanita and Rosa. It was far from over. “No.”
“Vanessa, make this simple and come back to me. You belong with me. You know that.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You’re not thinking. I’ve been good to you, given you everything. How can you be angry with me?”
“How can I be angry with you? Are you serious, Manuel?”
“Of course.”
Emma had meant to avoid personal attacks, but the deep resentments of the past six years rushed to her all at once. “You know how unhappy I’ve been. You’ve abused me and manipulated me and—”
“I’ve bought you a big house and a fancy car. I don’t call that abuse. Maybe you should see a doctor for some antidepressants. This is all in your head.”
The outrage felt like an alien inside her body, clawing to get out. “You make me sick,” she said.
When he paused, she knew the vehemence in her voice had surprised him. But at least he’d stopped pretending he was something he wasn’t. “You think I’m going to let you walk away with my son?” he snarled.
“Thankfully, you don’t have a choice.”
“You filthy whore! When I get my hands on you—”
She closed her eyes. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear any more, do you understand me? Not a word! Just shut up!”
Silence.
“Mommy?” Max said, looking frightened.
Emma blinked, scarcely able to believe she’d exploded. For a moment, it felt good, liberating. But then Manuel laughed softly.
“Querida, your defiance excites me. Hang on to that, will you? When I get you home tonight, we can have some fun with it.”
The thought of his kind of fun made Emma feel faint. “Go to hell.”
His voice dropped even further, and the amusement in it disappeared. “Feeling brave, are we? Amazing what a little false security will do.”
Emma’s confidence slipped, as he’d meant it to, but she quickly pulled herself together. He couldn’t touch her, couldn’t hurt her in front of Max, couldn’t take Max away from her. Not now that she was on her own. She’d gotten out of Ely. As far as he was concerned, she could be anywhere. “It’s not false security, it’s determination,” she said.
“I know you’re with someone, querida.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“Nowhere.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“What I do is none of your business.”
“Have you let him in your pants?”
A picture of Preston flashed before Emma’s eyes—Preston, with his long, streaky-blond hair blowing carelessly across his face as they drove with the windows down, his blue eyes watching her, his lips soft and full, surrounded by a perpetual five-o’clock shadow. “Quit being crude.”
