Desert Heat

She turned to Angie. “Did Tony ever mention Adam York’s name to you?”

“The DEA agent?” Joa

“Did you read through Tony’s book by any chance? See what was in it?”

Angie shrugged. “I glanced at it is all. Names, telephone numbers, dates, that kind of thing

“Do you remember any of the names?”

“No. There wasn’t enough time. I was too worried about getting away to pay that much attention. Why? What are you thinking?”

“Supposing Adam York’s name is one of the ones listed in that book,” Joa

A jangling fire alarm clanged noisily in the hallway outside the room, cutting Joa

“Wait,” Joa

“A trick?”

“Maybe it’s a false alarm. Maybe they’re waiting for us downstairs.”

“Oh, my God.”

Joa

“It is a fire! Come on.”

But Angie had retreated to the far corner of the room where she stood, clutching the beach bag and frozen with fear. “No,” she whimpered. “You’re right. It’s a trap. He’ll get me as soon as I step outside.”

Joa

Still Angie didn’t budge. Gripping both the jacket and the beach bag, she stood as if transfixed, unable to move. Joa

“I won’t let them get you, Angie. I swear. We can get out the back way, but we’ve got to hurry.”

Through the open window came the confused sounds of an approaching fire truck mixed with what seemed to be a dozen garbled voices raised in excited shouts. Joa

“Put on the jacket, Angie,” she ordered. “Now!”

Woodenly, Angie complied. Joa

Dragging Angie along, they moved in tandem toward the door. Expecting the corridor to be filled with smoke or flames, Joa

The fire alarm on the wall continued its nerve-shattering clamor, but there was no sign of flames.

At first Joa

As they stepped into the corridor, Angie automatically turned toward the stairs. Joa

“Where are we going?” Angie protested.

“This way. There’s a fire escape back here.”

During their abbreviated honeymoon, Joa

With Joa

“We’re trapped,” Angie wailed, shrinking back into the building.

“No, we’re not,” Joa

She dragged Angie down the ramp to the place she remembered. There, at a landing where the ramp doubled back, a dilapidated door had been built into the stuccoed wall. Barely daring to hope, Joa

Gaping for breath, Joa

Joa

“Come on,” Joa

“My thong came off,” Angie whispered back. “I can’t find it anywhere.”

“You’ll have to go barefoot. Come on!”

She helped pull Angie to her feet. The woman was still clutching the beach bag. She may have lost a thong, but the money was still intact. Together they started across the broken pavement and the rough, uneven yard. They had gone barely two steps each when a broken bottle sliced into the bottom of Angie’s leg. Gasping in pain, she stopped in her tracks. Joa

“It’s not far,” Joa

Together they limped down the steep hill side to where a single frail streetlight dangled on a crooked pole at the top of a stairway. They paused momentarily at the top of the stairs. Below them they heard the occasional tires and saw the headlights of passing automobiles. There was still no sound of pursuit from behind. They might just make it.

“‘That’s Brewery Gulch,” Joa

They started forward again. Joa

In the the old days Brewery Gulch had been a wide-open redlight district, complete with bars, gambling dens, and scarlet women. Joa