The Journal

The Beginning.

My time was running out. I should have been done fifteen minutes ago, but here I am looking at this box in the corner with my name on it. The handwriting is my mother’s. I have not seen her in over five years. As I pick it up I hear the front door open. I have run out of time.

“Angel! Angel, where are you? I got off early to surprise you!” I hate surprises. I have a bigger one for him though. I removed my shoes and put them in the box. I can see him through the mirror in the hallway as he heads to the kitchen. I made his favorite meal, and it is still hot, so he is looking in the pots and tasting things. I quickly make it to the front door. He has left it open because he knows I hate that. One summer day a few years ago he had left it open and a snake got in. I am afraid of snakes. Leaving the door open is another way to torture me.

I make it out of the door as I see him enter the other end of the hallway and fast walk to my neighbor who is already on her porch. I make it to her house as my phone rings. Hello. Where are you? I am next door with Mrs. Sanchez, she is getting rid of some of her things and she offered to let me look at them first. Well, I am home now so you need to get over here. Mrs. Sanchez is holding my hand and praying softly under her breath. Taking a deep breath, I say, “I will be home soon. I need to go to the store. I did not have enough tomatoes to make the Pico de Gallo. I will go now and be right home. I left some clean towels out for you so you can shower while I am at the store." He gives a long-suffering sigh, and I can hear a belt hitting his thigh as he says, You better be home by the time I am done taking my shower. I understand. Bye.

The movers I have hired know how tense this situation is, and they were hired because this is what they do. Help women like me. I am to give them this phone and only use the new one I paid for with the moving package. As I extend my hand to give it to them it rings. With shaking hands I answer, "Hello" "Pick me up a new razor while you are there." He hung up before I could reply. This is how it starts. I am not moving fast enough so he will take a quick shower and be sitting on the couch waiting for me to come back. For a moment I am panicked. I do not even hear the movers or Mrs. Sanchez talking to me. Samantha, are you ok? I am Samantha. My name is Samantha. I am not Angel. I did not realize I had spoken out loud. With tears in her eyes, Mrs. Sanchez replies, No you are not Angel. I nod my head and Joshua from the moving company smiles at me. We exchange the phones. I hug Mrs. Sanchez and thank her for all her help.

As I reach for the box the other mover reaches out at the same time. No… I will take this one with me. I tell him. Running my hand over the top of the box, this is my mother’s handwriting. She named me Samantha. I say quietly.

I rush to my car knowing he is watching me and back out of the driveway. I make sure to head in the direction of the grocery store. The movers exit the house as I pass by with Mrs. Sanchez and appear to get directions from her. I drive slowly and obey the traffic laws. I do not want to miss this opportunity to be free. I make it to the grocery store, and I buy 2 tomatoes and a pack of disposable razors. I use the one card I have attached to his account.

Exiting the grocery store I speak to Sharon Kingsley; she works with August. They have been having an affair for over a year. She always speaks to me in a condescending tone. “Oh, you finally made it out of the house. August said he was going to try and make it home early today. You better hurry along. We don’t want you to get in trouble or lose that gorgeous man you have.” I smile and nod as I pass by her. The movers are at the far end of the parking lot. I make sure not to make eye contact and just head straight toward the red jeep at the end of the lane. I do not bother looking back Sharon thinks I am beneath her so why would she watch me. I am sure she is in the store calling August anyway. The mover honks at me to get my attention. I did not put the bags in the sedan I drove to the store. I must backtrack and leave my purse and the groceries in that car. This is a clean break. I make sure to get my box out of the back seat and move quickly to the jeep. I am praying Sharon is not watching from the store. I have made a big mistake. This will not sway me, I cannot stop now.

Once inside the Jeep I call Joshua, one of only three numbers on this phone. We go over the plan again. I pull my new purse from under the seat and make sure everything is still in it. I love these windows are blacked out. Any CCTV cameras will not be able to make out my face. We leave the grocery store parking lot. I cannot see the store because the moving truck is behind me. I do not need to look back. My life is ahead of me. MY LIFE. I am the one in control.

It is two in the afternoon. We are going to cross the state lines tonight. The only way this is going to work is if I put a lot of distance between us. I see a cd case in the passenger seat. I had asked for 90’s R&B mixes. What could be better when you are on a road trip? We are heading South on I-35 going toward Buda Texas. I see the exit for highway 71. There is still a weight on my shoulders, and I am scared the phone is going to ring. I must remind myself… I do not have that phone anymore. I do not have to answer. I remove the earrings and the ring set and throw them out of the window right onto the highway. I smile, a real big smile, as Joshua honks a small tune behind me.

August

Where the hell is, she?! It does not take 30 minutes to get over there and back with a can of tomatoes and a pack of razors. Sharon texted she had seen Angel leaving the store. I cannot cause a scene at the store. The location on the phone says she is still there. I will go next door and ask the old woman. If she lies I will rough up the old bitch.

BANG! BANG! BANG! I know she is here; she never leaves unless one of her sons is driving her and I do not see any cars. Mrs. Sanchez! It is August from next door! I think my wife is missing and I need your help! Anything to get her to open this door. From behind me there is the sound of a shotgun being primed. I am a police officer you do not want to shoot me. I did not mean to scare you. I am looking for Angel my wife. You do not need to bang on my mother’s door. The family is in the back, step off the porch slowly and we can go around the house so you can ask her whatever you need to ask her.

Calculating how I can take this little bastard down, whirling around, SHIT! There is a yard full of men and most of them are armed, they are also in uniform. Some of them are guys I investigated through internal affairs. They had not done anything, I hard timed them because I could. “Is this some kind of joke?” The one closest to me smiles, all teeth, and says, “Not today.”

Rounding the corner to the back yard I see they have a massive sunroom on the back of their house. They must have double pained windows because you cannot hear the music until you are right up against them. I see the old woman sitting on what looks like a throne as her family is gathered around her. Go ahead and go inside, we will wait for you out here.

The music stops when I enter, and everyone turns to look at me. I give the woman my most charming smile. Ladies cannot resist a well-groomed man with nice hair and green eyes. She does not smile back. She just stands and meets me halfway. Augusto is something wrong. I hate that name and she knows it. Through clenched teeth, where is my wife? She smiles and sucks her teeth. This is some sort of signal because all the children leave the room.

I do not know what the hell she thinks is going to happen, but I have no problem slapping an old woman. Sit down, Augusto. I do not need to sit down I need answers. You know where she went, and you know I will find her. She smiles again and says, she went to the store. I heard her tell you she was going to the store. Maybe it is taking a little longer today. Listen old woman I am not in the mood. She holds up her hand to silence me. The Fuck?! She settles back into her seat and asks me the one question I was not expecting. Do you enjoy beating your wife?

Samantha

It was a little over 11 hours of driving the first night. I managed it because I was determined. I had never driven that far before. The company offered to have someone drive with me. I thought it over, but I was not sure if I could handle being so close to someone I did not know. I needed to be alone for a while. Think about my future. Sing out loud and offkey. Smile. Just breathe. Alone. On the open road in a Jeep, I paid for in cash with my own money.

The plan was laid out that every night we would be in a different state until we reached Vancouver Washington. I had talked about wanting to go to Seattle a lot when I first started seeing August. We never went together, but I found some old plane tickets in his stuff a while back. He had taken a trip there when he was supposed to be in Dallas on business. I never said anything to him about it. I also never brought the city up again.

I had looked at pictures of Washington State at the library and thought it was a beautiful place. Somewhere to start over, be me again. I do not remember much about the hotel we stayed in the first night. I was so exhausted I just took a shower and went to sleep. I slept for six hours straight. I woke up thinking someone was in the room. I could not go back to sleep after that.

Joshua wanted to take my new phone from me when we arrived so I would not be tempted to call August. I had to explain to him I did not want to call him, and I could not even if I wanted to. I do not know any of his numbers. The phone I had was programmed to receive calls only. His name showed on the screen and I answered that is all. I kept my phone.

I sat up for a few hours just listening to the tv. I was too scared to even look out of the window. I know we had another ten hours of driving to do so I forced myself to go back to sleep. At 10 o’clock I woke up to pounding on the door. I looked through the peephole and it was Joshua. “Samantha! Are you ok? Will you open the door?” I took a deep breath and cracked the door open. “We’ve been calling your room and knocking on the door. We got concerned when you were not answering. Are you okay?” I nodded my head while looking at the floor. I noticed he was in low-hung sweatpants with no shoes and no shirt. I had not seen the bare chest of a man that worked out in quite some time. I was not sure what I was feeling but I knew I did not need to look. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

I was struggling with myself. I was not much of a sexual person with August. I hated him touching me. At this moment I am feeling all sorts of things down low. I nod again and whisper, I am fine. In my mind, I'm thinking where is his shirt? Speaking to him, I am sorry I made you worry. Is it time to go? He laughed a little. I did not want to look at him. This is about me getting myself together not falling into the arms of another man. My wife wouldn’t be pleased to see me like this in the middle of the hallway either. I am sorry Sammy. I- It is Samantha. I interjected. My name is Samantha. He whistled low and said, Good. You know who you are. We will leave in two hours. Order something to eat you have $50 to spend on food. With that, I closed the door and locked it. He softly knocked to acknowledge that small move and left. I slid to the floor. Who the hell am I becoming?

August

I cannot believe I spent half the night being questioned by some old wetback granny. If she thinks she can hide that little bitch from me she is crazy. I did not sleep at all last night. When she gets back here, she will clean this house with her toothbrush. I made sure to throw that food all over the house. She did iron all my shirts though so I can be presentable when I choke the life out of her today. There are two safe havens for battered women and I am going to both today.

Walking down the hallway there is light coming from the office. I did not go in there yesterday so why is this door open? Is she hiding in there? Angel! Angel! slamming the door open, no one is in here. Checking all my drawers, and the safe I notice nothing is missing. My office door is partially open. I see nothing has been touched. She has not even dusted in here. The chair in the corner is a little out of place. Crouching down to see what is under it. She found that box her mom sent her. This is about me hiding stuff from her mom. I should have burned it when I saw the return address. When I get her home, she can sit with me while I burn everything in that box. I will make sure to get that wine she likes. We can celebrate her return, the way I like.

Heading into the office I notice how people stop talking as I make my way to the chief. Officer Sanders pulls me to the side, Hey, I heard you were looking for your wife. Let me know if you need help. He was one of the ones who were at the hospital a few times she had to go for stitches. I only nod my head and keep moving. He always gives me an uneasy feeling. He sees more than he should.

Chief Jones has a corner office with interior glass walls. His privacy screens are down. Stopping one of the grunts passing by, Hey, who is in the chief’s office? Feds. Feds? Yeah, they are looking for some guy who has been using the police to shield organized crime. Do they have a suspect? Not that I know of. With that, he walked off. I need to get ahead of this. I need that warrant.

The door opens and I can hear the chief laughing and kissing ass. The people coming out of his office are not Feds at all; it's that bitch of a neighbor of mine and one of her friends or daughters. Chief Jones is saying, thank you for coming in and I will ensure you have as much help as you need. They all stop talking when they see me and I give my best smile. In my most professional tone. How are you ladies today, Mrs. Sanchez? The chief is stunned and asks. You know Special Agent Sanchez. Special Agent? Nodding my head I reply. Yes, she is my neighbor. The chief slowly nods his head and the ladies leave.

We stand in the hallway and watch them make their way out of the sea of desks. As I am turning to ask the chief for the warrants he says, “Get your ass in my office now!”

Samantha

The endless stretch of highway is starting to wear on me. I refuse to give up on myself. We drove a little over 6 hours yesterday morning before we stopped and ate a meal. Joshua asked me what was in the box? I do not know. I just had not thought about it. We decided we would keep going. There were another 8 hours of driving before we would cross into Utah. I was only good for another 4 hours of driving. We had hotel reservations again and I was exhausted.

I sat up breathing heavily covered in sweat. Quickly turning on the light to make sure no one was in the room. I know it is going to take time. I am pushing myself. The clock reads 3:25 am. My bottle of water is still on the little table in the room and I had asked Joshua to bring the box up for me. I may as well look in it. Sleep is not going to be coming back anytime soon.

With trembling hands, I open the envelope with my Mother’s handwriting on it. The note says:

Sammie,

You are Grandmother left these journals for you. She wrote in some of them, I think. She was always sharing stationary finds with you and thought you would enjoy these. Let me know if you like them. Love Mom. P.S. Call me sometimes I miss your voice.

I wish I could call her. Opening the box, the scent of my Mary Kay’s original bubble bath wafts up from the interior. Scent memories are the hardest to overcome. They can transport you back to being a kid. The time you felt safe and loved. Taking you back to that one safe place.

With tears streaming I pick up the thin black journal on the top. She had her initials embossed on the cover. Inside the cover, she wrote:

Samantha, I wanted to see you before my time was up. Even though you have not said anything I know your life is not easy. I have been praying for you. Your mom and her brothers are going to pick this house apart and leave you nothing. Their selfishness is my fault. I loved them and gave little to no instruction on how to behave. Nevertheless, this box is for you. There should be 80 journals in here. Some are about my life before I was married, some during the early years, and the rest are just the ramblings of an old woman. There is also a wooden box with my favorite fountain pen and two bottles of ink. Remember Granny loves you, find something to be grateful for every day then write it down. Be safe. Granny.

I flipped a few pages, and they were blank. I opened a few other ones, and they were blank as well. I guess my mom must have taken the ones she had written in. Removing a stack on the side and pulling the wooden box out. This box is a little dusty, but I know exactly what it is. My Grandfather would carve stuff for her all the time and he would make her pen boxes all the time. This one is my favorite one, there is a gold leaf rose on top. Inside there were two pens, one that always sat on her writing desk and the first one she ever bought me. I had lost it in her backyard. There were two bottles of ink. At first glance, I thought she had left a bottle of water in here to flush my pen out. It is a bottle of Noodler’s Invisible Ink. Grandma must have written her last journals with it so my mom could not be nosey. Now I need to find a black light.

Opening the first book again and running my fingers across the pages I can feel the grooves from her writing. I can't stop flipping the pages and smelling the scent of her lotion. I break. I have lost so much in the last few years. I refuse to lose another minute wasting it on the past.

I sat there in that chair for at least 3 hours. Just touching the covers of the journals. Stacking them back in the box gently so I can try and take a nap before we get back on the road. The top book from one of the stacks falls to the floor. There was a hundred-dollar bill sticking out of it. I now see the reason my Granny wrote in invisible ink, so my mom would not take the money she stuffed in here. My uncle said one time that she would always hide money in her books. I guess this is one of those times. Placing it in the one with the note to me I boxed up the rest and the pen box. Holding on to the journal I was able to sleep for 4 more hours with no nightmares.

August

It has been two damn days since she ran off. I could not get the warrants. The feds are sniffing around, and I am about to lose my shit. Jumping the fence last night, I was going to try harassing that old woman. The house was empty. When did they move? I need to find out what she knows.

Beep Beep Beep Hello. Hey, sexy. Sharon’s voice coming through my phone is grating on my nerves. She is yammering away, and I am getting more and more disgusted by the stench of this food Angel made me throw around the house. Hey. Cutting her off. Do you have time to come over here today? To your house? YES! Come on over I want to see you. The change in her breathing let me know she wants to come. I really do not have time to play this game with her today. Angel still has not come back. To Sharon I say, I need you to come over and help me go through the house and see if we can find any clues. Silence on the other end. Hello?! Sharon. Inhaling deeply, she replies through clenched teeth, You really think I am going to come over there and help you find your wife? Who the fuck do you think I am? Not realizing this was a rhetorical question I answered, My partner. She hung up.

Who can I run a con on? Er, call to help me? That street cop who always wants to help. Calling in to dispatch I get his number and call him up. Thomas Jefferies is his name. He has been on the force for almost two years. I try to pull a background check on him, but nothing comes up for Texas. I need to find out where he came from. Controlling someone is so much easier when you can hold something over their head.

It takes him about an hour to show up and he brings a few people with him. I am a little annoyed, but I need help. I meet them outside so I can give them my version of events. Hey, how are you all doing today? They all nod in greeting. I am sure everyone has already heard that my wife ran off. Before she left, she trashed the house. I am looking for her, but I need help, cleaning this house while simultaneously looking for any clues as to where she has gone. Can you guys help with that? They all say yes, and we get to work.

I cannot watch everything they are doing but the food gets cleaned up and I keep them away from things they do not need to see. Sharon shows up three hours into my cleaning session and I keep her outside. She’s in a panic about something and I’m really not listening until she says, “They found some tapes of you and me. We must go meet with the chief at 8 am tomorrow." “Some tapes of us doing what? I have all the tapes of us having sex I told you that. What tapes do they have?" “Not the sex tapes, you idiot. The times we met with Francisco.” There is no way. With a sinking feeling in my stomach. I tell her, "I always had a disrupter planted so any tapes would be fuzzy. I told you that. Well, that did not work. Hey, calm down there is no way they know what we have been up to. Go about your day and I will call you later. I need to get back in here."

As I walk through the door, I see one of the guys dumping a stack of papers in the trash bag. Hey! Wait! What is all of that? I told you to let me see every piece of paper before you throw it away. You know what thank you all for helping but I need you to just leave now. They gather their things and leave. I am holding on to my temper by a thread until I hear their car pull away. Throwing the glasses against the wall in a rage, “ANGEL! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT. I WILL KILL YOU FOR LEAVING ME!”

Samantha

We were up and on the road by 10 am. I was finally able to sleep peacefully. Joshua saw me carrying the box and offered to help. When he asked what was in the box I said with a smile, “Love. Love is in that box.” He smiled and said, “Nice. Keep it close.” We had a 4-hour drive to Salt Lake City, and we stopped at a nice sports bar off I-15. A place called bout time Pub & Grub. I was just happy to stretch my legs again. We entered and the hostess led us to one of the rooms off to the side. I did not think anything of it, it is around lunchtime and the place seemed full.

I was so caught up in looking at the décor I did not notice the people sitting around the table already. I hear, “So are you going to say hello?” from Mrs. Sanchez. In total shock, I just rush to hug her. “I thought I’d never get to see you again. What are you doing here?” Her hands cradling my face. I have a lot to tell you and I have some questions to ask. There are four other people with her. Her older boys, she called them and their wives. I nod in greeting and sit down.

She says ok let us order some food and then we will start. The waitress swiftly takes our orders and come back with drinks and appetizers that Mrs. Sanchez had already ordered. I tried to order a salad but she, like always, wants me to have a hardier meal. I tried to explain I cannot afford to fall asleep while driving. She waves off my excuse and orders me a platter of food. I can't help but notice how they are seated around me like a security detail. I relax a little more.

Joshua and the other driver dive into their food and their plates are clean before I get halfway through my mashed potatoes. Someone taps their glass with a knife, and everyone gets quiet. The energy in the room becomes all business just like that. One of her sons pulls out a briefcase and lays some files on the table. Mrs. Sanchez tells me to keep eating. Everyone else clears their stuff from the table. The files are laid out and she says, “I haven’t been honest with you these past two years.” I am not sure what to say. So, I just sit there waiting for her to continue. "I work for the FBI. I moved into your neighborhood to do surveillance on your husband and by default you. It did not take long for us to figure out you knew nothing about his criminal activity and that you were another victim of his. I know this doesn’t make any sense right now, but it will.” Opening the folders, I see pictures of me from the hospital, there are pictures of August and Sharon, there are pictures of him with Francisco Ibarra. I know Francisco because he came to the house a few times. He even offered to help me leave August. A mob boss wanting to help a battered wife. Crazy right?

Mrs…Agent Sanchez spends the next hour laying out everything they had on August, Sharon, and about half of the detectives. She asked me questions about the times he would be gone for a week, what were the events that happened before he left. Then the million-dollar question, “Why didn’t you run the last time he left. When he went to Seattle?”

I did not want to remember what had happened. This was my chance, to tell the truth. “You had invited me to church with you. I had told him about you and that you had invited me to church. He said he had a trip so I could not go. I asked him what was the harm in going to church while he was away? He became enraged and beat me and raped me every day until he left. I didn’t leave because I couldn’t even walk without being in pain.” I said the last sentence looking her in the eye. I was done being ashamed. I was three states away from him and she was going to nail his ass to the wall for something. "I want you to know I do not want to testify in court, and I never want to see him again. Please do not ask me to do that."

We were in that sports bar for about 3 hours. I was tired but I also wanted to cross into Idaho today. The further away I drove from Texas the lighter I felt. It was decided that one of the daughters-in-law would drive with me. I did not argue. She was nice and I could take a nap. Agent Sanchez said there were some other things I needed to know but she would talk to me about them in two days. She was flying back to Austin to deal with August and the rest of his little crooked crew.

August

I spent half the night calling all my contacts and no one was picking up. I pulled all my cash out of the safe, the passports, and the fake marriage license. All my well-laid plans are falling apart. I was waiting on this next shipment to finally have my 7 million in cash. I would have left a trail of clues and pinned everything on that little bitch. I still have no idea where the hell she has gone.

I cannot even skip this damn meeting this morning because I still have my issued vehicle outside. I will just pin it all on Sharon. She is too stupid to even think about pointing fingers at me. I leave my packed bags in the closet and leave for my meeting with the chief.

Driving over I notice a car trailing me. I hope they did not send some newbies to make sure I make it in. Pulling into the employee parking the car continues by. There is no one outside. It is early but it is not that early. Taking the elevator up to the second floor I expect to hear that hum of noise that comes from a room full of people talking. There is silence as the elevator doors open. I hear dispatch talking to someone, but their door is locked, and I just pass by, I see the cameras in the hallways are on. As I turn the final corner there they are, 7 FBI agents including that old bitch, and why the hell is Francisco sitting there smiling like the cat that swallowed a bird. Smiling the bastard says, “Good morning Augusto. I hear your little mouse ran away. She got tired of your tantrums no?” The chief is leaning in his doorway and the commissioner is standing beside him. I am not taking the fall by myself.

So, I ask, “Where are Sharon and the rest of my team? “Their meetings were held yesterday. We have taken all of their statements and now we need yours. What in the hell is she talking about? Sharon told me that we were meeting this morning. The chief says, “We told Sharon to tell you that. It was her one small act of decency before being charged. Come on in and have a seat. I cleared this floor, so we would have enough room to look at all the evidence against you. Before you start lying, Sharon told us about your backup plan to pin everything on your wife.”

I reached for my gun and I was restrained. I did not even hear them come up behind me. This is not how this was supposed to go down. I will have her mother killed for this. If I cannot have her, I will kill her mother. She will suffer for this. They drag me to a chair and handcuff me to it. Francisco leans over kissing his teeth and says,” You really should find out who people are related to. You wanted to prove your dominance so badly you invited me to your house. Your little mouse looked so familiar to me. It took a few months for me to figure it out. Her name was wrong. When I found out her name was Samantha Ines Jefferies, I knew what had to be done. She is the granddaughter of my uncle. That makes her my family. I do not tolerate miss treatment of MY family. So, I made a deal with the FBI to take all of you down.” That was over a year ago you were at my house. “Yes Augusto, it was. We have been playing you all along. You cannot find your wife because I helped her, she does not know it, but she will not be unprotected ever again. Your little friend down in San Antonio you are thinking about calling to kill her mother, do not, he has already been taken care of. You are a fly caught in my web Augusto.” Laughing he got up and walked away.

Wait how is he leaving, all the drugs and women I got from him, were his contacts. I am not going down alone. As the files are opened in front of me, I see my signatures on the forms that were supposed to cover up the drugs, guns, and money I took from evidence. The bogus warrants on houses I needed to stash drugs in, the prostitutes I was using to move drugs through the streets. Then a videotape starts to play. It is not even the one with Francisco, it is Angel. Sitting in some bar she is telling someone about the time I beat and raped her before taking a week trip to Seattle. “She will never testify against me.’ I confidently say, only to see her look right into the camera and say, “I’m done being scared. He will take nothing else away from me.”

Hours go by and in the end, I am charged with organized criminal activity, sexual assault, battery, bribery, stealing, false imprisonment, and anything else they can think of. As they are packing up all their files, I must tell that old bitch something, “You think you really did something. She has no money and no one. NO ONE. I will be out of here before the end of the month.” Sighing she says, “You don’t listen. Francisco really is related to Samantha. He has been sending money to her grandmother for her since he figured out who she was. You hid that box of journals from her. Stuffed in those books is over $80,000 in cash. She has a bank account he set up for her as well. She does not need you. One more thing, watch your back. All of those people you set up are waiting for you.”

Samantha

Three and half days on the road. I know the 32-hour drive could have been done a lot faster, but I enjoyed the time on the road. I had also had a lot to think about since leaving Salt Lake City. Elisa, Mrs. Sanchez’s daughter-in-law, has been with me since then and she had a lot to say. Some of this I am struggling to understand. Francisco Ibarra is the family’s “Uncle Frankie.” We all heard about Uncle Frankie, but you never call him unless it is life or death. I thought it was just some story. Sunny Days Agency for Survivors was not even a real business. This whole move and the extra money were all from Francisco Ibarra.

Elisa handed me a letter a few hours after leaving the sports bar. I had fallen into an exhausted nap after the big meal and the bombs dropped on me. We had stopped for a bathroom break and to top off on the gas. I read the letter while she spoke to Joshua and Callen, the other driver. They of course work for Francisco.

About 18 months ago I had gone to the hospital and the nurses had reported my case. A new officer had shown up by the name of Thomas Jefferies. He was nice but I did not trust them. They worked with August. He tried to get me to talk and he had also given me his business card. I had left there. He is a cousin of mine and he is an FBI agent. I had blindly signed the forms they asked me to sign and I did not know I had authorized all my blood samples and information to be handed over to him. That is how they found out who I really was. Everything was set in motion from there. Mrs. Sanchez and her family run a covert operation to catch dirty cops across the US. My case gave them a unique opportunity to start a unit to help victims of domestic violence and trafficking.

Francisco Ibarra was a criminal, but he did not deal in human flesh. He did not tolerate hitting women. I guess there is honor among thieves. In the letter, he told me about a bank account set up in my name and I would need to go to the bank to get a debit card. He also knew that my grandmother had been hiding the money he sent her in her books and journals. The amount would be $80-100,100.00. He had bought my grandmother’s house when my uncle had tried to sell it. Any of the books left untouched still had money in them. If I ever wanted to visit San Antonio, I had a place to go.

The letter was filled with words of encouragement and firm hints to build a life for me. I was completely shocked, and I had a million questions. Elisa told me to call my Mom when I was ready. She may have more answers about the family connection.

We finally arrived at the neighborhood of Shunway in Vancouver. This part of town had mature trees blended with city streets. I did not want a secluded large house, so I had opted for a 3-bedroom townhouse in an established but diverse neighborhood. I was no near ready for a relationship but if the time came, I wanted to be in an area where I could build a family. I did not have to rush to think about what I was going to do for money thanks to Granny and Uncle Frankie.

Pulling up in front of my new place the lights were on and the door was open. I turned to ask Elisa about it, and she was saying, “Oh Good they made it in time. We wanted to set up your security system before you got moved in. This system can be monitored remotely by us and you can turn it off if you like. There are only 3 cameras inside, the living room, the back door, and in the bedroom at the back of the house. The rest are around the outside. Come on there is someone who wants to introduce themselves.

The brick and slightly Victorian gables on the façade of the house were nice. There was a small balcony off one of the rooms upstairs. I really hope it is off the master. White trim made the black shutters on the windows pop. I was going to have to learn to shovel leaves and snow or hire a kid in the neighborhood to do it. Taking a deep breath, I gathered the courage to walk into my house. There he was, Thomas Jefferies, my cousin. We stood there staring at each other for a moment. I said, “Thank you doesn’t really seem adequate. You saved my life.” He smiled and walked toward me with his arms open and said, “It's what family does.” The tears came again. I wanted to apologize but he just held me tighter and whispered, It is ok. You are safe now. You are safe.

Epilog

In the months that followed my escape from Austin, I built a life in Vancouver. I found the courage to call Uncle Frankie and tell him Thank you. He apologized that he took so long to get me out of that, and I told him it was my stubbornness and not a fault of his. I was grateful for everything. I had decided I wanted to go back to school and finish my degree. I had no other plans now beyond that. He asked if I liked the new place I said yes. He asked if I was dating and I said no, I am not ready. He reminded me that Tommy and a few other cousins lived in the area and they would be checking on me from time to time. I tried to tell him I did not need protection, but he ignored me. I thanked him again and we hung up.

August aka Augusto Cruz was in jail waiting on his trial. With this being a federal case the county was not rushing it. I had heard he had to be put in solitary confinement for protection, after the third time he was beaten. I had received a letter from an inmate, and I thought it was him. I was worried he had found me. According to Tommy, we had a branch of the family no one likes to talk about, the Jones’. They are rowdy and some of them are in and out of jail. Uncle Frankie uses them as muscle from time to time. The cousins found out about August and were getting picked up for crimes so they could beat him while he was in jail. I do not know if I am flattered or concerned. Tommy says it's better to just ignore it because they do what they want. I have been subpoenaed but the prosecution and I agreed if I could testify remotely or be recorded. I have my life ahead of me and I do not want to keep being held back by this situation.

Fall has arrived and I love the changing of the leaves and the cooler weather. This will be the first time I get to decorate for Halloween and Christmas. I did take a drive to Seattle. It was great. I was able to walk at my own pace, stop in bookstores and take my time, watched people catch fish. The greatest joy has been sitting on my couch with a small black light reading my grandmother’s words. Finding the money stuffed in each journal is a treat as well.

The End…or the new beginning.