Don't Go by L.J. Breedlove (series like harry potter txt) 📕

p.m. Thursday, Oct. 28, 2020, Nampa, Idaho — Ryan’s Prius was small to start with, that’s why he liked it. However, add a 3-year-old and all of his paraphernalia, and drive for six hours? It had gotten to be a really small place fast. Now add Teresa? Fortunately, she didn’t have much stuff.

And Boise wasn’t far away.

When his phone rang, he glowered at it, before he answered. It would not be good news.

“Hi Vic,” he said warily. Teresa moved closer to hear better.

“Change of plans,” Vic said. “When I went to make plane reservations, the clerk reminded me that all parties would need either one of those new driver’s licenses, or a passport in order to board.”

“To go from Boise to San Francisco?” Ryan asked, incredulous. “Within the U.S.?”

“Welcome to the police state,” Vic said. “So, I had my source check to see if Teresa was still on the watch list. Her ID is good, but not good enough for close scrutiny.”

“And she’s still on ICE’s watch list,” Ryan said flatly.

“’Fraid so,” Vic said. “You’re going to have to drive to San Francisco.”

“Vic, have you seen my car? It’s a Prius!”

Vic laughed. “So, you’ll be cozy. I’m happy to change places with you, man.”

Ryan growled, and Teresa giggled.

“Hi Teresa,” Vic said, still laughing. Then soberly, “Just remember. Don’t go through Grant County. Go through Malheur. Stay in Burns or Bend. You can drive hard and make it to San Francisco tomorrow, or slow and stay in Ashland, then be in San Francisco the next day. Just check in with me tonight, OK? Just get out of Idaho as soon as possible. Don’t speed and get stopped.”

“Have you heard anything from Twin Falls?” Teresa asked, anxiously.

“No, but we’ve got a good attorney working on it, Teresa. They’ve all got work permits. The orchard growers are angry. We’ll take care of them. But that’s why I want you back in Oregon.”

“Just not in Grant County,” she said laughingly.

“Exactly.”

Ryan clicked off the call and shrugged. “Guess we’re driving, babe,” he said.

She hugged him. “We’re together,” she said. “That’s what matters.”

He sighed and pulled up a Google map.

The problem wasn’t so much getting to San Francisco, as it was following the rest of the instructions. And it was getting late. Too late to drive straight through, and that route took them uncomfortably close to Twin Falls.

So, get out of Idaho. Fine, they can do that by backtracking to Ontario. He fiddled with destinations and drive times. They could make it to Burns in three hours. If he still felt like driving, or if they couldn’t find a hotel, they could go on to Bend. Bend was big enough for anonymity. And right now? He felt like he was in the sights of a sniper rifle. Anonymity sounded like a good thing.

“OK, Burns, here we come.” He kissed Teresa, just because.

It was 9 p.m. when Ryan pulled into Burns. It wasn’t much of a town, from what he could see in the dark. But he’d been on the road for 12 hours, and the adrenaline was long gone. If there was a hotel room to be found here, here was where they’d stay.

Teresa had gotten increasingly quiet. It felt like anxiety to Ryan, which hurt. Did she think he would jump her? Do anything she didn’t want? Well, put that way, he didn’t blame her for being anxious. He’d hurt her plenty during their time together. Never physically. But emotionally? He sighed. Trust would have to be rebuilt. And that would take time.

He used his phone, found that Days Inn had a room available, and yes, they’d be glad to bring in a cot for the 3-year-old. He gave them a credit card number to hold it but told them he’d pay in cash when he got there. That didn’t seem to raise any questions.

Nor was it far away. But then, anything inside Burns had to be close together, there were only 3,000 people. And any town of any size was three hours away. Ryan shook his head.

But as he drove through town, he saw a small pleasant main street, flower boxes, lights from a couple of bars. And then he was on the other side of town and there was the big Day’s Inn sign.

He pulled up to the front door. “Wait here,” he said quietly. He kissed Teressa gently when she nodded. Rafael continued to sleep, as he had since it turned dark. Ryan smiled.

He went inside, exchanged cash for a key, and was reminded that breakfast was in the lobby before 9 a.m. by a bored clerk. He filled out the form she handed him, mixed up his license plate number as one might accidently do.

“Ground floor, in back,” the clerk said indifferently.

He thanked her and went back to the car. He drove it around slowly.

He was afraid, he realized. In all of the risky behaviors he’d taken in his life, even in facing down Ian Black and his gun, he hadn’t really felt fear, not like this. He took a slow breath. It would be OK, he reassured himself. He would take care of Teresa and Rafael, and it would be OK.

He got his son out of the child’s seat in back and put his arm around Teresa. “Let’s go in,” he said. “I’ll come back out for the bags.”

Teresa nodded, silent and tense. He frowned. See the hill, take the hill, he thought. First get them inside. Then get the bags. And then? Talk.

The inside of the room was surprisingly nice. A big queen-sized bed, and a small cot with side-rails. That was thoughtful. He put his son in the bed and went back out for their bags. They’d need to do some shopping in San Francisco, he thought.

When he came back in Teresa was sitting on the floor stroking Rafael’s hair. He smiled as he put the bags on the console by the television. “I did the same thing the first night,” he said softly. “We were at the