‹ Prequel: Going Bush
Going Bush 2: Suburbia
127
Taylor’s knee bounced nervously as he sat in the back of the Mexican patrol car.
“Everyone has been very worried about you,” one of the officers noticed his nerves and tried to strike up conversation.
“Everyone?” Taylor clarified, running his fingers through his hair as his eyes scoured the traffic for any sign of Nate.
“There are a lot of people in Mexico looking for you,” the officer informed him, “they came close in Tampico.”
“Sorry, Tampico?” Taylor frowned.
“Yes. Apparently you were there, and then you weren’t.”
Taylor watched him thoughtfully, wondering if that was where the woman’s house had been. It was the only time he knew of where he’d actually come close to being rescued.
“Tampico…” he said to himself, “where are we now?”
“Reynosa,” came the reply, “next to American border.”
Taylor nodded.
“How far from Tampico are we here?” he folded his arms across his chest.
“About a six hour drive.”
Taylor’s eyebrows rose, knowing now why Nate must have gone for harder drugs. He didn’t remember any of the trip.
“Are my brothers here?” he asked, looking out the window again.
“Yes,” Taylor smiled at the reply, not knowing how the raid had gone, “but they are out looking for you. We will call them in when we get to station.”
Taylor leant his head back against the seat gratefully.
It wasn’t long before they pulled into the yard. They took Taylor inside and straight to where they took booking photos, using the camera to take photos of the collar and chain and of his wounded wrists and ankles. When they thought they were done Taylor turned his back and raised his shirt. After a moment of realisation, they took photos of those scars as well.
Evidence retrieved, they led Taylor to an interrogation room where they offered some time for him to be alone. Taylor denied it, and thanked one of the officers when they offered to stay there with him.
He ended up laying his head on the table and finally getting some much-needed sleep.
*
Isaac drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he tried to decide what to do. He’d already missed two calls from Carlson and one from Davison while the line stayed connected with Zac – his car kit relaying everything that was going on.
He’d pulled off at the side of the road where Zac’s relayed directions had led him, but he couldn’t go any further. He had no idea of how far in they were, and if he’d be seen if he continued on. He didn’t want to chance returning to the station in case Nate moved again, and he didn’t want to have to hang up on Zac just to get his GPS tracker working.
He leant over and opened the glove compartment, quickly rummaging through. It took some time but he eventually came up with Taylor’s phone. It wasn’t the one Nate had disposed of in the river, but a replacement they’d gotten at the same time as Zac’s knowing that he’d want it.
He carefully went through his phonebook without disconnecting the call with Zac. Finally coming up with Carlson’s phone number, he dialled it into Taylor’s phone and called.
“Everyone has been very worried about you,” one of the officers noticed his nerves and tried to strike up conversation.
“Everyone?” Taylor clarified, running his fingers through his hair as his eyes scoured the traffic for any sign of Nate.
“There are a lot of people in Mexico looking for you,” the officer informed him, “they came close in Tampico.”
“Sorry, Tampico?” Taylor frowned.
“Yes. Apparently you were there, and then you weren’t.”
Taylor watched him thoughtfully, wondering if that was where the woman’s house had been. It was the only time he knew of where he’d actually come close to being rescued.
“Tampico…” he said to himself, “where are we now?”
“Reynosa,” came the reply, “next to American border.”
Taylor nodded.
“How far from Tampico are we here?” he folded his arms across his chest.
“About a six hour drive.”
Taylor’s eyebrows rose, knowing now why Nate must have gone for harder drugs. He didn’t remember any of the trip.
“Are my brothers here?” he asked, looking out the window again.
“Yes,” Taylor smiled at the reply, not knowing how the raid had gone, “but they are out looking for you. We will call them in when we get to station.”
Taylor leant his head back against the seat gratefully.
It wasn’t long before they pulled into the yard. They took Taylor inside and straight to where they took booking photos, using the camera to take photos of the collar and chain and of his wounded wrists and ankles. When they thought they were done Taylor turned his back and raised his shirt. After a moment of realisation, they took photos of those scars as well.
Evidence retrieved, they led Taylor to an interrogation room where they offered some time for him to be alone. Taylor denied it, and thanked one of the officers when they offered to stay there with him.
He ended up laying his head on the table and finally getting some much-needed sleep.
*
Isaac drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he tried to decide what to do. He’d already missed two calls from Carlson and one from Davison while the line stayed connected with Zac – his car kit relaying everything that was going on.
He’d pulled off at the side of the road where Zac’s relayed directions had led him, but he couldn’t go any further. He had no idea of how far in they were, and if he’d be seen if he continued on. He didn’t want to chance returning to the station in case Nate moved again, and he didn’t want to have to hang up on Zac just to get his GPS tracker working.
He leant over and opened the glove compartment, quickly rummaging through. It took some time but he eventually came up with Taylor’s phone. It wasn’t the one Nate had disposed of in the river, but a replacement they’d gotten at the same time as Zac’s knowing that he’d want it.
He carefully went through his phonebook without disconnecting the call with Zac. Finally coming up with Carlson’s phone number, he dialled it into Taylor’s phone and called.