The Most Dangerous Animal of All by Gary L. Stewart, Susan Mustafa Page A
Authors: Gary L. Stewart, Susan Mustafa
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black-haired stranger. She noticed Van’s crooked smile of approval through her tears. For the first time, she realized they were in big trouble. She swallowed back a lump of fear in her throat.
Van decided to double back, confident that no one would recognize Judy now. He worried about his own appearance but thought that his glasses would suffice as a disguise. Most of the newspaper photos had been taken when he was not wearing them. He was right: no one recognized them as they hitchhiked to Los Angeles, where he hoped they could go unnoticed in the big city.
Van soon rented an apartment in an industrialized area near Torrance and insisted that Judy get a job, because he couldn’t risk being recognized. Covering up the bulge in her belly as best she could, she got a job at a nice restaurant on the north side of Los Angeles near Hollywood. When the manager realized she could not even mix a Bloody Mary, she was fired within a week.
In late September, Van and Judy headed south to San Diego. There was no hiding Judy’s growing belly now, and her chances of getting a job were becoming slimmer. The money Van had brought was running out, but he convinced a gullible woman to cash a bad check for three hundred dollars. He knew they had to get out of California. At a bar, he persuaded a drunken patron to give them a ride to Tucson, Arizona. He still held on to the thought that if they could get to Mexico they would be safe. He had crossed the border many times—at Tijuana, Tecate, Mexicali, and El Paso. He thought El Paso would be the safest route. They could travel to Ciudad Juárez and be home free.
Sympathetic drinking buddies provided transportation along the way. The Rescue Mission of El Paso provided lodging.
Judy was miserable. Each morning, in order to be able to eat breakfast for free, she and Van were required to attend church service and prayer sessions. Their daily breakfast, consisting of eggs with blood visible in the yolks, made the already nauseated girl sicker. After forcing herself to eat one morning, Judy experienced pains in her back and began having trouble urinating. When she doubled over on the floor, Van called for an ambulance.
Judy was diagnosed with a kidney infection, and Van, with no way to pay her hospital bill, befriended a woman named Belle and asked her to cash a check for one hundred dollars. Belle gave him her money, and he gave her a worthless check, signed by one of his growing list of aliases, John Register. Before Judy could be discharged, Van whisked her away from the hospital without paying the bill.
Worried about his love, Van spent the evening cooking a meal that Judy would always remember: ground beef with a baked potato. It wasn’t that the meal was that special; it was the sweet way he’d tried to take care of her, the fact that he had cooked for her. Since their escape, Van had not been as nice as he’d been in the days they’d spent walking home from the sherbet shop or playing tourist in Mexico City. He had become short-tempered. Snappish.
Mean.
That night restored her faith in the man who had swept her off her feet.
In her befuddled state, and experiencing pain from the infection, it was only later that Judy realized what Van had already known.
The date was October 8, her fifteenth birthday.
14
My father’s plan to cross the border near El Paso was nixed when someone at the hospital put the pieces together after the couple left without paying, and identified them as the Ice Cream Bride and her fugitive husband. Evening news reports announced that the runaway couple were planning to cross the border at El Paso. Troops at the border were ramped up as U.S. Border Patrol and local law enforcement agencies vied to catch the runaway couple.
Van’s father was determined not to let that happen. He had been in San Francisco when Van took off with Judy again, and he had returned home to Indiana with a heavy heart.
When two gentlemen in suits showed up at his home and
Van decided to double back, confident that no one would recognize Judy now. He worried about his own appearance but thought that his glasses would suffice as a disguise. Most of the newspaper photos had been taken when he was not wearing them. He was right: no one recognized them as they hitchhiked to Los Angeles, where he hoped they could go unnoticed in the big city.
Van soon rented an apartment in an industrialized area near Torrance and insisted that Judy get a job, because he couldn’t risk being recognized. Covering up the bulge in her belly as best she could, she got a job at a nice restaurant on the north side of Los Angeles near Hollywood. When the manager realized she could not even mix a Bloody Mary, she was fired within a week.
In late September, Van and Judy headed south to San Diego. There was no hiding Judy’s growing belly now, and her chances of getting a job were becoming slimmer. The money Van had brought was running out, but he convinced a gullible woman to cash a bad check for three hundred dollars. He knew they had to get out of California. At a bar, he persuaded a drunken patron to give them a ride to Tucson, Arizona. He still held on to the thought that if they could get to Mexico they would be safe. He had crossed the border many times—at Tijuana, Tecate, Mexicali, and El Paso. He thought El Paso would be the safest route. They could travel to Ciudad Juárez and be home free.
Sympathetic drinking buddies provided transportation along the way. The Rescue Mission of El Paso provided lodging.
Judy was miserable. Each morning, in order to be able to eat breakfast for free, she and Van were required to attend church service and prayer sessions. Their daily breakfast, consisting of eggs with blood visible in the yolks, made the already nauseated girl sicker. After forcing herself to eat one morning, Judy experienced pains in her back and began having trouble urinating. When she doubled over on the floor, Van called for an ambulance.
Judy was diagnosed with a kidney infection, and Van, with no way to pay her hospital bill, befriended a woman named Belle and asked her to cash a check for one hundred dollars. Belle gave him her money, and he gave her a worthless check, signed by one of his growing list of aliases, John Register. Before Judy could be discharged, Van whisked her away from the hospital without paying the bill.
Worried about his love, Van spent the evening cooking a meal that Judy would always remember: ground beef with a baked potato. It wasn’t that the meal was that special; it was the sweet way he’d tried to take care of her, the fact that he had cooked for her. Since their escape, Van had not been as nice as he’d been in the days they’d spent walking home from the sherbet shop or playing tourist in Mexico City. He had become short-tempered. Snappish.
Mean.
That night restored her faith in the man who had swept her off her feet.
In her befuddled state, and experiencing pain from the infection, it was only later that Judy realized what Van had already known.
The date was October 8, her fifteenth birthday.
14
My father’s plan to cross the border near El Paso was nixed when someone at the hospital put the pieces together after the couple left without paying, and identified them as the Ice Cream Bride and her fugitive husband. Evening news reports announced that the runaway couple were planning to cross the border at El Paso. Troops at the border were ramped up as U.S. Border Patrol and local law enforcement agencies vied to catch the runaway couple.
Van’s father was determined not to let that happen. He had been in San Francisco when Van took off with Judy again, and he had returned home to Indiana with a heavy heart.
When two gentlemen in suits showed up at his home and
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