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“Not a problem," he answers, and I notice the name Vernon embroidered on his uniform shirt. “I was finishing up with a dead car battery around the corner,” he answers, starting his work as he spoke, showing his efficient, long-practiced movements. “You rolled over a nail, but your SUV model has the run-flat tires. Don’t bother putting on the spare. You’ll save a few hundred dollars if you take it to the tire shop in the next town over. Just ask for Charlie-boy.”
“Charlie-boy. Next town over. Got it,” I repeated back to him, grateful for the advice. “Thanks.”
As he finishes up, I take the opportunity to show him the picture of Natalia on my phone. “Seen her before?”
“Nope,” he answers. "What’s her name?”
“Natalia. Why’d you ask?”
He shrugs. “Could be the same girl who lifted a few things from my rig a while back. Her initials were NR, if I remember right.”
“I don’t think it’s the same person,” I answer in her defense. “Natalia wouldn’t steal from anyone.”
“Well you never know. Hang on a minute, I’ll show you.” He strolls back to the passenger side of his vehicle and reached inside, returning with a piece of paper. “Yep, it could've been her. She wasn’t the usual petty thief. The girl left me a damn note” See?”
I take the piece of paper and my breath stops.
This is Natalia’s hand writing. What the fuck kind of coincidence is this?
The note reads:
Dear Mr. Vernon,
I borrowed the money you're missing, but I swear to you that I’ll pay it all back very soon.
Sincerely,
NR
“When did you find this?” I demand, my voice shaking.
“A few weeks ago, maybe a month,” he replies, his eyes shifting nervously. “I was doing a tire service on a road just outside of town late one evening, and when I got back, I found this. She didn't take much cash, but she also took one of my uniforms. I thought it was probably just some homeless kid passing through who saw an easy target. No real harm done. Except I couldn't believe how dusty and foul the seats were when I got back to my truck and found the note. No offense.”
I reply, "No offense taken," though my heart sinks, not from the slight insult towards Natalia, but from the struggles she must have faced to escape. I inquire, "Which road were you on?"
“Right where the highway crosses Station Road,” he says slowly.
Station Road.
My stomach twists into knots.
We were there. That's the location of the industrial warehouse we just searched top to bottom, finally finding some of Natalia's belongings.
It all makes sense now.
Fuck.
It was Natalia. She got away from where they were keeping her, and did what she had to do to leave town. Suddenly the thought of Taos makes more and more sense. I gesture to Rico with a nod, handing over several crisp hundred dollar bills as payment.
“Thanks for your help. Hopefully this makes you whole from what was she took from your truck.”
“Oh yeah. It does, and then some,” he answers, eyeing the money. He folds the bills and slides them into his pocket without counting it. “Keep the note, if it’ll help at all. Good luck finding her.”
Together, the compact mirror, half-empty purse, and this note in Natalia’s handwriting provide us with a clear picture.
They took her.
She got away.
