Now that it was a weekday, we were closer to getting everything ready. But we couldn’t do anything until we picked a place to hunker down for a while. Camden had Gualala on his mind and at times seemed convinced we could drive another ten hours to get there. But by the time the sun was high in the sky and we’d passed Tulare, we had to find a place to crash or we would crash ourselves. We would have gotten there quicker but the headlight and the windshield had to be repaired. We were lucky it was even done in two hours (though we were several hundred dollars poorer).
We pulled into a small motel on the roadside, making sure to park Jose behind the buildings and out of view from the highway. We must have looked quite the sight to the front desk clerk as he observed us behind coke-bottle glasses; me in boxer shorts and a bandaged leg, Camden in a tuxedo. But he didn’t give Connor Malloy or Emily Watson any grief.
Our room was shabby and smelled like too much Lysol, but it didn’t matter. Camden and I crawled into bed—now we were sharing—and passed out in each other’s arms. Our sleep was deep and we didn’t wake up until I heard my cell phone ringing.
I groaned and frowned at the clock, all messed up from the nap. It was 6 p.m. and the light outside had faded. I got up and looked for my phone, then remembered it was in my clutch. It was a bit unusual for my phone to ring—everyone I knew almost always texted me.
I peered at the screen, heart in my throat. It was Uncle Jim.
“Hello?” I asked, trying to hide the worry in my voice.
“Ellie!” he exclaimed. “Oh, Ellie thank God you answered. Are you all right?”
I eyed Camden nervously. He was sitting up, taking off his tuxedo jacket, now all wrinkled from our nap.
“Yeah, I’m fine Uncle Jim. Why, what’s going on?”
“Where are you?” he asked.
I had to remember what the last lie I told him was.
“Santa Barbara.”
A pause. “Ellie, I don’t want you to freak out, but I…I need your help.”
My heartbeat got louder. “What? Why?”
“I’m in a lot of trouble,” he said in barely a whisper. “Some men came to my house while I was in town. They…they roughed up one of the workers and lit fire to some of the trees.”
“Holy shit!” Now Camden was at my side, trying to listen, his solid grip on my shoulder steadying me. “Did you call the cops?”
“I did,” he said. “They got a description of the men from the workers and said they’d look for them, but that’s all they could do. Ellie, I’m scared. These men…I think they were after you.”
I felt like bricks were being shoved on my chest. “Oh, I…I’m sorry, Uncle Jim, I…”
“It doesn’t matter. I just don’t know what to do. I left, I got out of there. I packed up some stuff, told the workers to stay away for the week until I figured things out.”
“Good, good,” I told him, feeling relieved. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the Shady Acres Hotel. It’s just outside of Hemet. Do you remember Hemet?”
Of course I remembered Hemet. It’s nothing but a town in the green mountains between the Coachella Valley and San Diego. But it had an amazing music store where I used to drag Uncle Jim when I was a teenager just so I could get some bootleg CDs.
“Okay, stay there. I’m coming to you. What room are you in?”
“Room eight,” he said. “Thank you, Ellie.”
His voice cracked, bordering on tears. There was a pause, then a click as he hung up the line.
Guilt. I used to wear it like a badge, now I wore it like a ball and chain. I couldn’t believe this was happening to him, my only family left, the only one who I could depend on. I was ruining his life with all my past mistakes.
I looked at Camden, his face shadowed in the dark of the room. “We have to go to him. We have to help him.”
He didn’t nod like I thought he would. His lips were pressed together in a firm line.
“Camden?”
His jerked his head as if saying no.
I frowned. “Look, I know it’s out of the way and not part of our plans, but I can’t let my uncle hide out on his own. They’re after him, Camden.”
He licked his lips quickly. “Are they?”
I looked at him askew. “I don’t follow.”
“Yes, you do.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He strolled over to the window then drew the blinds shut and flicked on the light. “But you don’t want to think about it.”
I crossed my arms. “Think about what?”
“That he’s lying to you,” he said. He flinched a little as he said it, as if I’d hit him. I almost did, too. Smart boy.
“How dare you say that,” I seethed at him. “He’s my uncle.”
He raised his palms in defense. “I know he is. And I know it’s a terrible thing to even think, but I’m just being cautious. Your life is more important than his.”
“Maybe to you! Not to me. He’s been there for me when no one else has. My parents left me with him. They basically screwed him over! They left me and ran and they never came back. Sure, they talk on the phone now, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t sacrifice a lot of his life to raise me. And through high school, of all places. He was there during my deepest, darkest hours. There’s no way I can’t repay that.”