Chapter Thirty-eight
Judy couldn’t believe what was happening. She had thought Father Vega was so kind, but she’d been horribly wrong. It shocked her, but it was unfolding before her. The priest must’ve been in cahoots with Carlos and Roberto. Father Vega charged at Judy with the hunting knife.
“No!” Judy aimed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher at him and sprayed his face with powder.
“Ahh!” Father Vega cried in pain. His hands flew to his face. He dropped the knife and staggered backwards.
Judy swung the extinguisher toward his head and slammed it into his temple. The priest fell to the ground, and the old man, girls, and Good Samaritans wheeled around, a confused group. Behind them at the curb, Carlos raised an assault rifle and Roberto a handgun, aimed at Judy and the group. They must’ve followed Domingo to the sandwich shop and planted the bomb on her car. They’d tried to kill her and Domingo. Now they were going to finish the job.
“Watch out, they have guns!” Judy screamed. Roberto fired his weapon. Suddenly red blood spurted from the cheek of one of the girls, who dropped to her knees and fell over.
Pop pop pop! Carlos fired the assault rifle, but Judy was already running for her life. She raced past the burning car and through the parking lot. The smoke and fire screened her from Carlos’s view. There were woods behind the sandwich shop, and she ran into it as fast as she could, struggling not to trip on sticks and underbrush.
Tree trunks and limbs exploded on her right, spraying jagged wood chips where bullets hit. She kept her legs churning, full-tilt. She zigzagged between the trees. Their limbs had grown together everywhere. Vines wound around the branches, blocking her path. She pinwheeled her arms to get through them.
Tree limbs and thorns scratched her face and clothes. She veered around one tree, then the next, not knowing which direction she was heading. Her only thought was to run away. Her chest heaved. Her heart pumped with exertion and terror. She coughed and spit. She caught a flash through the trees of the sloped gray roof of the treatment plant, with steel pipes sticking out of the top.
She crashed through the woods, trying to think. Carlos and Roberto couldn’t drive a truck through here. They had to chase her on foot. She had a head start. She was younger and in better shape. She had a fighting chance if she could make it to the treatment plant. There would be help there. She thought of shouting for help but that would give away her position. Police would arrive soon. She had to stay alive until then.
Hope fueled her. She kept going, the idea of salvation powering her anew. She heard her own ragged breaths. Her hearing was fully back. She heard gunshots behind her and put on the afterburners. A herd of deer sprang from the underbrush away from her, their stiff white tails high. She kept running and whacked aside the vines as she went. She stumbled, tripping on the gnarled root of a tree. She kept her balance and staggered forward.
She veered left and caught another glimpse of the treatment plant. She was getting closer. Birds and turkey vultures circled overhead. Her nostrils were too full of soot to smell anything.
Gunshots popped behind her, a lethal series. It was too close for comfort. She bolted ahead in terror. She kept going, running straight. She didn’t dare look back. Carlos was running after her. Roberto could be with him. It was two against one. They had weapons.
Judy felt rising panic but fought it. She couldn’t give up now. She had to get to the police. She had to put Carlos and Roberto away for Iris and the others. She had to tell the police what Domingo had told her. Then she remembered.
My phone.
Judy had recorded her conversation with Domingo on her phone, unbeknownst to him. She had every word he’d said on tape, in case she couldn’t persuade him to go to the police. She never dreamed that he would be murdered. Domingo would help her bring his own killers to justice, even though he was gone.
Her phone bounced around in her pocket. She raced toward the treatment plant with her precious cargo.
She would get to the police or die trying.