Charlie Price - Desert Angel

CONTENTS

The fight started after midnight, Scotty drunk, Angels mother shrill on crystal. When it didnt die down, Angel left the trailer to sleep nearby in a small draw where one of the drainage creases made a cradle. Screened from night winds, cut off from the yelling and threats, Angel could nestle in her robe and watch the stars. She no longer made wishes. Fourteen was too old for wishes. Sleeping outside was just one more thing that had to be done. When she awakened at dawn, the truck was gone and the trailer was empty. The inside wall by the door was bloody.

* * *

L ATER A NGEL WISHED SHED CHANGED CLOTHES , shed her robe and put on jeans and a jacket. Wished shed grabbed her daypack and taken the bread and a couple of water bottles. But no. She had to find her mother. Couldnt think of anything else.

The pickup tracks went north, away from the westbound dirt ruts that connected their squatter camp to Dillon Road. Maybe shed noticed that before she went into the trailer. Maybe that caused the rush. Angel knew there was nothing north except cactus and yucca and tall scree ridges that bordered the California desert.

She had walked twenty minutes or more when she stopped to slip off a shoe and shake out an annoying piece of gravel. In that quiet moment she heard the drone of Scottys truck bucking terrain in compound low and found his line of dust on the horizon. She stepped out of her sweatpants, used them to erase her footprints as she scrabbled several yards from the track to flatten behind a creosote bush.

She waited until he passed before looking up. Seemed like he was alone in the cab. She didnt pay any attention to the brief flood of sadness. Sorrow can make its own desert and Angels tears dried a long time ago. If anything, she would occasionally notice a knot of anger burning somewhere in her chest. When the truck was out of sight, she stood, shook her pants out, put them on, and resumed walking.

Four months ago, Angel and her mom had been running from a guy named Jerry, another in a long string of abusive boyfriends picked with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. Theyd hitched out of L.A. heading for Arizona. Supposed to find a cousin in Phoenix. A ride they caught in Ontario let them off at a truck stop in Cabazon. Angels mom struck up a conversation at the lunch counter while they waited for their burgers. Scotty was an easy acquisition.

Clever Scotty. In the truck stop he told them he was a hunting guide. Wrong. Turned out to be a gun dealer who trapped eagles and tortoises for quick money. He drove them east into the badlands. Big old GMC pickup towing a twenty-foot American Freedom trailer, both painted camo. Past Desert Hot Springs he took some dirt ruts into the flats and stopped at the jagged ridges bordering Joshua Tree. From a distance their camp looked just like more sagebrush. The beatings didnt begin until the third week of the new relationship. Scotty didnt climb in bed with Angel until the fourth week.

* * *

F OLLOWING HIS PICKUP TRACKS AND , finally, the drag marks, Angel found her mothers shallow grave before noon. She pawed through the loose dirt until she uncovered a wrist, pulled till she cleared the hand. Her mothers fingernails were broken. Scotty had torn the rings off. Angel pictured her mother clawing at Scottys eyes. Scotty. Angel had no weapon to kill him. That would have to wait.

Her mother. Lila Lee Dailey. Gone to dust. Angel could feel the cry coming, bad, huge, and it scared her. What if she couldnt stop? What if she broke apart? She pushed the sadness away. Got hold of it. Wadded it up. Made it tiny. Put it down deep. She could bring it back later if she wanted to. Right now there were other things.

Sitting beside the grave, Angel knew she couldnt leave until she fixed it. Piled rocks on it high enough and wide enough to keep the coyotes out. She would roll in the dirt around the mound to mask any blood residue with her scent. She didnt realize she might have learned that from Scotty. But first things first: a good place to hide if he came back.

She scanned the area. A climbing rock? A cave? Nope. A patch of scrub? Too obvious. She would have to dig. Fifty yards farther north, past a mesquite thicket, she scooped a shallow depression behind one of the yucca plants dotting the valley floor. If Scotty returned, hed see the rock mound over the grave. Hed look for her. Might check nearby bushes, the obvious places, in case his arrival had surprised her, but he wouldnt walk far. He wouldnt guess shed go to much trouble to hide. He accused her of being silly and lazy. He would figure shed run. Head west to Dillon Road, to Thousand Palms, maybe on to Cathedral City. Well, she would. Later.

The search for heavy stones required care. Rattlers. Scorpions. An eroded ledge nearby offered some heavy sand clods at the top, several loaf-sized stones along the bottom. It took her a couple of hours to carry them and cover the grave. When she finished she was seriously thirsty. She thought for a moment but found no solution. She collected her robe from the graveside, and used its hem to brush footprints back to her burrow. Nothing else to do but lie down, pull the robe over her, and wait until dark.

Her own scream caught her by surprise. Brief but loud. Did she dream it or do it? And then she was listening to an engine. Maybe thats what woke her. She listened harder but could no longer hear over her heartbeat. She resisted the urge to raise her head or do anything to give herself away. Struggling to calm herself, she picked up the sound again, nearer. The engine stopped and a door opened.

* * *

R UNNING AND HIDING . Shed gotten pretty good at that. Not much memory of her childhood. Years ago her mom had a job. Gone a lot. Angel stayed with some woman. Dirt backyard but you could see big ships parked in the Bay from the womans porch. After that, the trucker in Redding. Angel went to school a little bit there. Later, the fat security guard. His house smelled like feet. And the biker. Angel lost track. Up to Jerry. Jerry and the dog collar. Scotty hadnt been any worse than that until last night.

* * *

S HE FLINCHED WHEN THE TRUCK STARTED AGAIN but she didnt look until the sound of the engine faded almost out of hearing. If he hadnt hit the brakes for a second, she wouldnt have located him heading west. He thought he might catch her on the move. Angel stood. Dusk. Not enough light for him to see her in the rearview mirror. Plus, he wouldnt be looking. Hed be wondering which way shed go when she got to Dillon Road. That made up her mind. Back to the trailer. Water and a weapon. She was sure she could find a weapon. She knew as she walked. The best weapon would be a phone.

* * *

T HE TRAILER STILL BAKED from the late afternoon heat. Inside, she was right. Weapons everywhere. But first water. Her mom always kept a cool quart in the fridge. She drank that down and then a Coke that made her belch so hard her chest hurt. And then another bottle of water. She made herself go slower so she wouldnt get sick. Scanned for a phone. None in sight. Sat at the fold-out kitchen table until her stomach settled.

Okay. She was ready to outfit. She picked up a hunting knife Scotty kept by the sink and carried it to her daypack. First things first. How much time did she have? Fifteen minutes? An hour? She had to disable the trailer. The cops would want to see it. Find the blood. What if she stuck a knife in the sidewall tire? Would it blow up?

Outside at the wheel well she knelt, made a quick study, noticed the valve stem. When she cut it off, air came out in a steady hiss. She did the other three. The trailer settled to its leveling blocks. She located two spares and sliced them. Not going anywhere now.

Back inside, part two of her plan. Protection. She searched the bedroom, found the suitcase full of pistols. Picked a short one with a big hole in the end. How did Scotty load these? A metal holder came out of the handle. How? She pointed it away from her and looked it over. Pushed the small knob at the bottom of the grip. The bullet case slid out and hit the floor. Angel didnt pick it up until she stopped shaking.