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I smile gratefully, relieved that she feels this way. "Thank you. I'll remember that."
I finish up the last few tasks of my shift and the incident replays in my mind. There's a sense of closure, though. A feeling of being looked after. Jeanie's intervention was more than just about keeping the peace in her bar. It showed that she protects her staff. It’s a relief to know that even in this town I've been forced to lay low in, there are still people who care.
As I tidy up after my shift, the adrenaline from the earlier encounter slowly ebbs away, leaving me with a lingering sense of unease. The incident in the bar, though handled, has reignited the nagging urge within me to keep moving, to not stay in one place for too long. The vulnerable position I'm in hangs over me, a shadow that I can't seem to escape.
Yet, as I weigh the pros and cons of the idea to leave here, uncertainty creeps in. This town, for all its smallness and simplicity, has been a refuge, a place where I've started to rediscover parts of myself. The thought of uprooting again, of diving into the unknown, is daunting. It could be worse somewhere else. But it also could be easier. The decision to stay or go weighs heavily on me, each option having its own risks and what-ifs.
The quiet of the night offers no answers, only a void that amplifies for my thoughts and fears. Should I stay, embracing the fragile sense of belonging I've found here, or should I leave, chasing the elusive safety that might always be just one more step ahead?
12
Antonio
The punishing glareof the midday sun beats down as our dust-caked SUVs rumble into Taos, New Mexico. The air is thick with both heat and anticipation, as harsh as the turmoil brewing in me. The town sprawls before us, a patchwork of desert colors and rugged mountains, and sandstone buildings backed by an unforgiving sky so crystal blue it hurts to blink.
The grit in the air is almost tangible, and I can feel the weight of countless eyes upon us as we drive by places where, for the locals, everyone knows everyone. The sight of summer dresses rustling in the breeze and casual plaid shirts reminds me that we're far from our usual urban setting. It's time to blend in and leave behind our uniform black attire. As I urge my team to adapt to their new surroundings.
I mentally prepare. I’m hot on Natalia’s trail again and it feels like this is the place I’ll find her. And if she's not here anymore, I'll have to figure out where she might’ve gone to next.
Despite our best efforts to avoid attention, the tension in our postures gives us away. Each of us is filled with a restless energy, driven by our intense focus on the mission at hand. We have been at this for so long that even the most experienced among us are beginning to show signs of fatigue. It's evident in the determined set of our jaws and the urgency in our steps as we scan all of our surroundings. Rico is tasked with checking the bus station and all possible forms of transportation in and out of this place. His movements are calculated and efficient, showing his training and skill. Together, we work on covering every inch of the town, determined to complete our mission and bring justice to those who deserve it.
I start by checking all of the open access art galleries and art stores, as well as any quaint shops. It’s a rustic, charming town with easy-going locals and a few tourists, all with friendly smiles. I find myself wondering how she might fit into this picture, how she’s been surviving. Considering that she got the courage to lift some cash and clothes from that tow truck driver back in Colorado, I shouldn’t be too worried. The girl got resourceful and I’m so fucking proud that she held her own.
Rico appears at my side on one of the street corners, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Any luck so far?" he asks, his voice sounding exhausted.
I shake my head, my gaze scanning the bustling streets. "Not yet."
He sighs heavily, his eyes narrowing with frustration. "She's good at this. We knew it wouldn't be easy."
I nod in agreement, my mind racing. "But we have to keep searching."
We part ways again and continue checking things out. A few shops are closed as I pass by them, and I make a note to circle back when they open next. I communicate quietly with my men by group text messages, sharing observations, noting anything we find. Our lead is pretty cold, so I know it’ll take time. But while we’re here, the more thorough we are, and the longer we stick around here, the more likely we’ll find something.
I hope.
Continuing to move through the streets, I'm acutely aware of every glance in my direction, even for the casual passersby. As day goes to evening, I notice the locals wearing more of a mix of casual and artistic attire, reflecting the town's blend of traditional and bohemian cultures. The tourists are seriously bright, with their holiday shirts and relaxed, flowy dresses, and too many sandals. But who can blame them? They’re on vacation, and even their movements are relaxed, unhurried.
But the urgency pulsating through my veins won’t let up. And each time I spot a short-ish brunette with longer hair, hope surges in me, quickly followed by the crushing weight of more disappointment. From the back, every one of them could be Natalia. It's a tormenting cycle – wishful thinking, then heartbreak, then more obsessive looking.
As the sun slowly dips below the horizon, it’s hard not to notice how it casts elongated shadows across the peaceful streets, the warm tones of the adobe building seeming to bake in the radiant light and give off an unreal glow. Our exhausted group, in search of rest from our long trip, stumbles upon a modest hotel on the outskirts of town. Its remote location will give us more anonymity, that way we can really unwind during our down time from constantly looking for answers. The hotel itself is a simple two-story brick and wooden building. It screams humble country charm, the way it blends into the desert-like. As we park and get out of our SUVs, right way I pick up the sweet smell of sagebrush, giving the place an inviting feel.
Stepping through the front door of the hotel office, we are greeted by an older couple who seem to run the place well. Everything seems clean and tidy in spite of the aged look of the place. The wife has a gentle demeanor and soft-spoken nature. Her gray hair is tied back in a neat bun, framing her kind face. Her eyes emanate a warmth and kindness that makes me like her right away.
Her husband gives off a similar vibe, the way he stands while he passes me a card to sign and takes my cash. He’s slightly stooped with the weight of years but still hasn’t lost his ability to be friendly. His face has a fun-loving look, like if he stops to chat, he’ll have a lot of stories to tell. As he hands us our room keys with a genuine smile, I can sense his wise demeanor is the real deal. His voice carries the weight of age and knowledge gained through learning hard lessons.
"If you need anything during your stay, don’t hesitate to let us know," he says, his words a gentle assurance that we are in capable hands.
I smile and reply with a polite yet cautious, “Will do.” I take one key for myself and pass the others to Rico, feeling a wave of comfort and nostalgia as we make our way to our rooms.
Rico catches my eye and quietly asks, "Think we'll find anything here?"
I purse my lips, contemplating his question. "I'm not sure, but we're in the right place. Maybe someone in town has seen her."
Rico nods thoughtfully, his exhaustion showing in his tired eyes. "Yeah, you're right. We just might, Boss."
We reach our rooms and I settle in. The fatigue from so much searching is weighing heavily on my shoulders. I slip off my shoes and collapse onto the bed, liking how soft the mattress feels.
As I close my eyes, I hear a knock on the door. "Boss," Rico says on the other side of the door, and I quickly get up to answer it. He’s standing there with a tray of two steaming cups of coffee. "Saved you one, Boss. I figured we could use some caffeine," he says with a tired smile.
