Page 82 of Dust and Ashes

The muffled yelling escalated. She could make out broken English in a higher tone, from the woman she’d seen when she came in the house. Kenna didn’t like making snap judgments but the impression she’d gathered in just a couple of seconds was that the woman was likely a customer of Kart’s.

Someone hooked on whatever he sold locally.

She hadn’t been Hispanic, but Caucasian. So maybe someone who’d come down to Mexico for some of the same reasons Kart had—to escape the laws and regulations north of the US–Mexico border. Down here there were likely the same laws and regulations in effect. It just depended on the local police and what they chose to enforce. And how they did it.

So effectively, just like anywhere else.

The woman seemed like someone he thought he could bend to his way of thinking. Or who he could coerce for a favor in exchange for…whatever she wanted from Kart. Drugs. Something else? Kenna had no idea. But she couldn’t imagine the woman was all that reliable.

The kid started to drift off to sleep, letting out a long shuddering breath.

She did the same, trying to relax so Javier rested rather than absorbed the tension she felt. Getting up wasn’t going to be so fun, considering how hard her head pounded right now. She would have to eventually though, in order to escape.

“You can’t do this!” The woman’s muffled yell hit her.

“I do what I want, Shey,” Kart’s voice boomed across the house. “I’m leaving.”

The woman said something without yelling, but the tone sounded desperate. Kart said something else.

A couple of minutes later the front door slammed, shaking the whole house.

Kenna wasn’t going to think about whether she could handle a woman alone. If Kart really had left, then it was a better time to take a shot at leaving than when he was here. Even with a child relying on her.

Now or never.

She prayed, whispering the words as she sat up. Sat on the edge of the bath. Got her feet under her. They’d taken her shoes but left her with socks. She had dirt smudges and scratches all over, so she didn’t look in the mirror.

Her arms rang with pain, up to her hands and down to her elbows, but she ignored it and held Javier on her hip to take some of the weight off her arms.

She listened at the door.

Then stared down at the chrome handle, wondering. It had to be locked from the outside if they’d been shut in here specifically. She tapped her knuckle on the door. It sounded hollow. She grasped the handle and turned it. Then the handle stopped at a point and didn’t give any more.

Kenna listened some more.

Wherever the woman had gone, she was quiet. Maybe on the back porch, smoking.

Please, Lord.

Now or never.

Kenna backed up and kicked the door.

It splintered open, away from the handle. Her foot caught on the shards of wood and flared with pain. She ignored it and kicked again, then slammed her hip and shoulder against the door. It cracked open. A chair wedged on the other side of the door handle stayed in place. Kenna kicked it away.

Teeth gritted.

Head pounding.

She stepped into the hall and looked both ways, letting out a long breath as she scanned and listened. No one came running.

She patted Javier’s back as she walked, as a nanny or someone might do to sooth a crying child. The hall opened to a filthy kitchen on the right. Trash and dishes piled up. Empty containers and pizza boxes. Flies buzzing around.

Farther down she saw blond hair, where Shey sat on the couch, head lolled to the side.

Kenna raced past her to the front door and flung it open. Her socks slid across the floor, and she stumbled against the wall. The woman screamed behind her.

She didn’t even look. This could be the end, or she could survive and rescue a child.

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