Everyone who knew me even a little could tell those were a bunch of lies. Elena Freire Valls had never started something early in her life. But it got me thinking about my thirty-fifth birthday because I was starting to doubt I was going to see my mom’s sour face that day. She’s disappointed in everything I haven’t achieved at my age and makes sure I’m aware of it every single year.
I became conscious of the fact that this year I wouldn’t get the talk about my successless, childless, marriedless, awardless, and overall unsatisfactory state from my mother. Not because I didn’t deserve it, in her opinion, but because I wouldn’t be alive. My anxiety grew as fear took hold.
Fred had switched techniques and no longer tried convincing me to get in the car with him. He’d jumped into his battered Toyota Prius and was now speeding in my direction. Even without my eternally neglected glasses on, I could see the rage and determination in his face.
This was my second day in a row being thrown in the path of danger, so this time I managed to ask myself the pertinent question a lot faster even if I was in a state of growing panic. It seemed I always asked myselfWhat would Tom Cruise do?to reach the same conclusion: RUN. So, I did. If only I’d put even an infinitesimal amount of effort in my training of what Tom put in his, maybe I wouldn’t be so slow.
I could hear the Prius getting closer and closer but didn’t look behind me and kept running. I was heading for the trail again where the car would not be able to follow and run me over. I felt like Cary Grant in the most adrenaline-fueled scene ofNorth by Northwest, only convinced that I wouldn’t find a way to get my pursuer to crash against something and take himself out of my way like Grant does in the Hitchcock flick. And then I heard the loud clash, realized I was in one piece and not hurt at all, and I finally allowed myself to turn.
I recognized my sister’s car right away. She has a pastel-blue custom-painted electric SUV. I can’t stress enough how unmissable it is. It had bumped into Fred’s Toyota on the passenger side. I started running to my sister to make sure she was okay when I heard police sirens in the not-so-far distance.
“Elena!” I heard yells coming from my sister’s car. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay, are you okay?” I helped her open the door and get out of the car. She gave me a big hug and nodded. She was garbed in bright-pink Disney-princess pajamas and Koala-shaped slippers.
“How did you know?” I managed to say, still confused and enveloped in a sea of sweetness.
“David,” my sister answered, and I think both of us were a bit shocked. But she was pointing to the passenger side of her car.
I didn’t let go of my sister, grabbing her hand and running to the other side of her car. I’ve been told I was yelling David’s name by then, but given my tendency to remain cool as a cucumber in all situations, I think that’s highly improbable and a total fabrication.
David, thank goodness, was completely unscathed and was just now getting out of the car. He’d been trying to recover from an acute case of car sickness. Marta’s aggressive driving can make even the most immune-to-car-sickness passengers feel queasy. And I could only imagine that must have been a bumpy ride.
“Are you both okay?” he asked me and my sister. His golden skin looked grayish, and he was unbalanced, keeping a hand on the car door. I tackled him in a hug and buried my face in his chest, inhaling his smell shamelessly.
“¿Habéis hecho las paces, entonces?” My sister wanted to know if we had reconciled, and that brought me back to reality. I was still holding one of her hands and pretty much the whole of David’s body.
“Have we?” David asked me, tentatively.
“I cannot be mad right now, but we still need to have a long chat,” I said, looking at him.
By then, the police had made it to the crash area and some uniformed officers approached us. I recognized Detectives Clooney and Moreno between the agents. They didn’t care as much for us and went straight to the Toyota Prius.
“Shoot! What happened to Fred?” I asked.
“I’m sure he’s okay,” my sister said. “I didn’t even hit him so hard!”
“But he didn’t flee, right?” I asked. We’d been so distracted making sure we were unhurt, we hadn’t paid any attention to Fred. I now realized the driver’s door on his car was open. “Detective Clooney, that’s the guy who killed Dashing Henry!” I yelled, pointing to Fred in sudden anguish. He was running toward the trail and making good progress.
“Rooney,” both my sister and David whispered.
“Oh, I don’t care!” And I really didn’t.
Detective Moreno ran after Fred with a cadence and graceful style that made me realize she probably was more of a runner than I had ever suspected. A few of the uniformed officers followed her closely. Detective Clooney seemed to think about it and decided there were already too many people getting sweaty. He came toward us instead.
“You again, I see,” he said, referring to me and David. “And this would be...?” he addressed my sister.
“Marta Freire Valls,” she said, and she sounded like a total boss. “I’ll be representing Ms. Elena Freire Valls and Mr. David Ramos until their other attorney gets here. He’s on his way.” She was typing on her oversized phone and not missing anything.
“I see. You really like your lawyers in the family, huh?” Clooney asked.
“We do,” I said, and I would have smiled but I was too worried about something else. “Fred is escaping!”
“Don’t worry. Detective Moreno is into trail running and that sort of thing. No one outruns her,” Clooney said, but I wasn’t convinced. “We’ll be able to wrap this up and arrest him shortly.”
“You got my message, then,” David told Clooney.
“We did. We’ll still need to talk to you, but you’re suddenly looking a bit less suspicious. Now, can you tell me what happened here?”
