“Thank you,” River said. “What do I owe you?”
“Don’t be silly—you bought gas and you’re doing the driving,” Susan said. Behind her, Blake and Alicia jumped back into the second row of seats.
“You could have left that pack, man, I would have watched it,” Marty said.
River was afraid that Marty had noticed his hesitation, but he quickly thought of an answer. “I needed money out of it—you know. To pay for the gas.”
He revved the van back into gear and headed out to the highway. He’d been foolish. No men in blue suits had appeared at the station.
They couldn’t possibly know where he was.
He allowed himself to relax. Driving felt good. He didn’t remember the last time he had driven. You needed a credit card to rent a car—and he just didn’t use credit cards. It went against being a free spirit hiking his way through the country.
The group in the van, awake now, sang.
They accused one another of making up lyrics.
They were entertaining.
Then they began to drift off to sleep again.
He drove with silence around him then, other than the chug of the van.
Two hours later he felt Alicia’s touch on his shoulder. “We’re reaching the turnoff,” she said. “Would you like to come with us? We’re staying with an aunt for a few days.”
“Oh, I would, but I really can’t,” River said.
She smiled. “That’s right. You have a girl to get to in Rio.”
He nodded and found a good place to pull off the road. When he did so, Alicia hopped out of the back door of the van and came around. No one else stirred.
“Don’t worry, guys—I’ll do the driving now!” she said.
She took the keys back from River. “When they wanted to stop for you, I told them no,” she said. “You know—you see all those movies about kids in the country and picking up a hitchhiker and the hitchhiker being a slasher and all, but … you’ve been great. You drove and got us here and you were fun and…” She paused, stood on her toes, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I hope you find your girl quickly. She’s very lucky.”
“Thank you—thank you for the ride, and thank you for your words,” he said.
She hopped into the van and turned the engine back on. “Happiness to you, River. All the happiness in the world.”
He waved and the van headed off.
Once again, he found himself watching from the side of the road before venturing out. He looked for trucks—he was pretty darned sure that the men in their designer blue suits were not driving a farmer’s truck.
He saw a rusted old hulk coming down the road and he stepped out. The driver stopped for him. River wished him good day in Portuguese. He said, “Rio?”
The farmer shrugged and said something, telling River he could hop into the bed.
There were sheep in the bed. They didn’t smell at all well and they baaed loudly in protest of his joining them.
He didn’t care. He dreamed about coming closer and closer to Rio.
After some time, the driver stopped and indicated that he was turning off. River thanked him, patted the most obnoxious baa-er in the group, and hopped out. The truck drove off.
He wasn’t far now at all. There was a lot of traffic on the road. He caught another truck—this one with chicken crates. The chickens, at least, were penned.
He watched the sky. It had grown dark. He wouldn’t find Natal that day.
But he could dream of seeing her the next day. And if he didn’t …
He’d wait. He’d wait forever.
He had to hop out and hitchhike a fourth time to reach the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro. When he popped out of the last truck—goats that time—he was ready to do some walking. And he was hungry. They hadn’t stopped to eat all day—and he hadn’t had breakfast with Guillermo and his family.
The day had been easy, he reminded himself. He’d driven most of it. He’d been concealed by animals the rest.
He had to remember to be careful now that he was in the city.
He found a café he hadn’t been to before and bought himself a sandwich and coffee. He tried not to wolf his food down—people were watching.
With his hunger appeased, he began to wonder what he would do while waiting for daylight.
Maybe he would head to Beluga’s place.
Maybe the men in blue suits would look for him there.
But it might also be interesting to find out if Beluga had heard anything.
Actually, on the one hand, he wouldn’t have to wait. He went to the counter and asked about a newspaper. They had them.
They were in Portuguese, of course. But River picked one up and paid for it and returned to his table. He didn’t speak the language anywhere as well as he should have by then, but his reading skills were decent.
He quickly found what he was looking for—as he flipped the paper to read the bottom half of the first page, he came across a picture of Reed Amato.
There he was—in his Armani suit and white panama hat, his eyes narrowed and glittering with rage. A photographer had snapped a picture of him in the backseat of a patrol car. A man who should have been handsome—but who ruined his looks with his expression.
River tried to understand what the article said. He could definitely garner that Reed Amato had been arrested. A “large quantity” of drugs had been confiscated from his house—despite the fire that had destroyed half of it. Two other men, Aldo Mariachi and Miquel Hernandez, originally from Colombia, had been arrested with him. The men were being detained pending arraignment and trial. An anonymous tip had alerted the police to a murder that might have been committed: they should search the river near the bridge by his house for possible remains. Police were investigating.
“Yes.” River said the word aloud and then quickly looked around. He’d drawn the attention of one pretty girl and an old man. Both looked at him. The girl smiled; the old man snorted.
“Desculpe,” he murmured.
The girl nodded; the old man snorted again.
River left the paper and rose and wandered toward the city. He doubted that anyone could find him that night.
Tomorrow was Fat Tuesday. The last day of Carnaval. The city thronged with people—celebrations were wild. With each step closer into the northernmost neighborhood, the crowds were denser, the entertainment more frenetic.
He dared to hop on a crowded bus.
He didn’t want to celebrate—not tonight. Tomorrow, when Natal was in his arms, he’d do his celebrating. For the moment, it was enough to bask in the pleasure of Reed Amato’s downfall.
He had no fear going from bus to bus until he had come to the area where he could walk to Beluga’s. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he reached the hostel. If he saw Beluga outside, he might call to him. If he didn’t …
He realized that he hoped he’d catch a glimpse of Convict. He just wanted to see that the dog was all right.