One Grave Less

mission. We have lots of possibilities. We will get home. Don’t worry.”
    “I’m not. Mama said if you have a good plan and carry it out good, you can get what you want. Or something like that. She wasn’t talking to me when she said it and I was just a little kid. But I remember stuff. I remember her.”
    Maria saw her grab the hem of her shirt and hold it in her fist. Strange gesture. Then she realized that Rosetta probably had sewn something up in it. Something that reminded her of her mother, of the home she’d never been to.
    Maria’s main concern was getting across borders. Particularly into the United States. She had lost her passport in her effort to get away from her attackers, and Rosetta didn’t even have one. If she could get to a phone and call John, her boyfriend, or Diane Fallon, they could take care of the problem from their end. At some point soon, she would have to get Rosetta to talk about the man who took her. She had to know which embassy to trust. On the other hand, that was a long time ago and the man was probably long gone.
    Rosetta finally put her sewing away and made herself comfortable on the seat. “Tell me a story,” she said.
    Maria thought about the stories she knew. She knew a lot of Native American mythology, but she didn’t know how entertaining that would be for an eight-year-old.
    “You heard of Harry Potter?” Maria asked.
    “I’ve heard of him, but I don’t know his story.”
    “I’ll tell it to you. We’ll start with Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. ”
    Maria started the story in her half-croaked, half-whispered voice, of the little boy wizard who lived at number four Privet Drive. She glanced at Rosetta occasionally and watched her as she slowly began to struggle to keep her eyes open.
    “I like this story,” she said. “I know what it’s like to live with people who don’t want you.”
    Maria felt a tug at her heart. She had gotten as far in the story as the letters arriving when she heard the regular breathing of sleep.
    Maria drove for four hours before she had to stop for a break. Rosetta was still asleep. She hated to wake her, but if she left Rosetta and she woke up before Maria returned, it would scare her. Maria guessed they were somewhere around sixty miles by way of the road from where she had been held captive. Still too close for her comfort.
    The rain forest was an emerald green and the flora was gradually getting thicker. Several times she doubted the wisdom of her decision, particularly when she had to pick her way around a fallen tree. Once she got out to scout a few feet in front of them to make sure the ground was solid. The map indicated a swampy area nearby. They had been lucky so far. The way had been easier than she dared hope.
    “Rosetta,” she whispered. She gently shook her.
    “What? Is something wrong?”
    “No, I just have to take a potty break. I didn’t want you to wake up and find me gone.”
    “I’ll go with you,” she said. “I can help you find a good spot.”
    Maria took some cloth she had cut from the bolt of material and a gun and let Rosetta lead her to a clearing of sorts away from the trees and they both relieved themselves. On their way back to the truck they heard a muffled thump. Through the trees, Maria saw the truck rock slightly. Someone had found them. She whispered for Maria to hide and she took out her gun.

Chapter 15
    Diane stared at the woman for several moments. She and David were not allowed to see Simone? Diane noticed that David, the professional pessimist that he was, believing that any bad thing that can happen will, did not look as surprised as she felt.
    “May I ask why?” said Diane.
    “How dare you! How dare you even come here.” The voice was behind them and sounded vaguely like Simone’s. “Leave us alone.”
    Diane and David both turned in the direction of the voice. The nurse also turned, but in a different direction, and busied herself in a file drawer. Standing before them was an older version of Simone. Tall, slim, blond . . . obviously her mother. Two men stood beside and slightly behind her. One was Simone’s younger brother, whom Diane had met when he came to visit Simone in South America. He looked like his sister. Strong family genes at play. The other man had graying hair and a dignified air about him. Diane recognized him from a photograph. He was Simone’s father. As Diane recalled, Simone didn’t get along well with her mother and did not have her