SHE heard Mark coming to the kitchen and dropped the phone and card under the table.
“What are you doing?” he asked, still angry.
“I don’t want to go,” she cried, but unmoved by her plea, he grabbed her arm roughly and forced her out of the door.
He drove with gritty determination, moving skilfully through the heavy traffic and stopped at a lonely backroad somewhere on the East Bank. There were two other dark SUVs waiting and after a brief conversation with the occupants, strange men, he led the way up the highway.

It seemed like hours before they reached a secluded area along a long trail with a few house-like huts nestled in the foliage of the forested area.
“We will stay here until it’s safe to travel further[sic],” he told her, touching her cheek, maybe to say ‘sorry’ but she pulled away from him.
An elderly Indigenous woman tended to her wounds, helped her with a bath and brought her some food, but she couldn’t eat. She cried quietly all night, a prayer in her thoughts for help to find her.

Arvin had been at a high-level meeting with superior officers when she called him, but his phone was off.
The meeting concluded that all the evidence gathered was enough for the investigators to arrest Mark Moore as the mastermind of the high-profile robberies. He listened to her message, hearing the pain and fear in her voice and left immediately with a team to her house.
But too late, she was gone.
The blood on the sofa and torn bits of her clothing were evidence of a brutal assault. It hit Arvin with a deep feeling of regret that he was late to help her and a further setback was when he found her phone and card which meant she wouldn’t be able to contact him.

“He is running and he has taken her with him,” he announced to his team, “Because he knows we are getting close.”
Arvin took a deep breath and said quietly with fierce determination on his face.
“I had offered to help you so I will find you, Tanya.”
Wanted bulletins were issued for all five suspects and roadblocks were set up on the highway.
“They may lie low somewhere or make a run for the border.”

The border patrols on the Brazil and Venezuela borders were alerted as investigators intensified their search for the suspects.
Tanya opened her eyes next morning to a strange place somewhere in an interior location, given the consistent sounds of birds and animals. It was something pleasant to awake to but the heavy voices of men swearing outside triggered a fear in her. A few spoke with a foreign accent and she got up slowly, wincing in pain as she limped to the window.
Mark was standing among several men in agitated discussions, few of whom she recognized from the police posters and the others seemingly Spanish. All the men were heavily armed and Tanya retreated to the sofa, trembling.

“I think something terrible is going to happen,” she moaned to herself, “And I may die.”
The elderly woman brought breakfast for her, a gentle sympathetic look in her eyes.
“Try not to be too sad. Eat something. It’s all in God’s hands.”
Tanya smiled just a little with thanks and as she began to eat a little, Mark came in and sat in front of her. She did not look at him nor say anything. He knew she was hurting and scared and he apologized, “I’m sorry I hurt you again, but as soon as we cross the border everything would be fine.”
“What border?” she asked alarmed.

“Brazil, a good place to hide and live our lives for now.”
Tanya’s heart sank for she knew she would be forced to live her life with a fugitive.
“I want to go home,” she pleaded.
He got up, giving her an angry look and went back outside, leaving her in tears. The elderly woman looked on unnoticed from the kitchen, touched by Tanya’s sadness. She knew the feeling of helplessness after her young daughter had been taken away a few years ago by a man with power and wealth. Now, all she could do was live with hopes she would see her again, one day.
“In the meanwhile[sic],” she said to herself, “I can help to save a life.”
Late that night, she sent a message to a mission in the city.

Tactical units had been dispatched to different areas and one was not far from the suspects’ location when the message was received at CID Headquarters.
“Thank God,” Arvin expressed with deep relief as he sped to the location with his team, but he had many miles to cover. The unit that reached the location was met immediately by heavy gunfire.
“Stay down!” Mark shouted to Tanya as bullets pierced the walls.
It sounded like a warzone with casualties on both sides but the police, though outgunned, skilfully held their own until backup arrived.
During the short lapse, Mark and two of the four suspects escaped on ATVs heading for a secret crossing on the border. Two speed boats were waiting at the river-crossing and at that moment, Tanya knew she had to make a break for it. It was a do-or-die effort for her and tearing her hand from Mark, she ran. The pain in her legs where he had repeatedly kicked her hampered her, but she kept going, hearing his shouting, “Stop Tanya or I’ll shoot you!”

She stopped and turned, gasping for breath, “I can’t, I c—can’t, I need my life back.”
She turned to run again, as far away as she could get from him and felt a sharp burning as he shot her, shouting enraged, “You’re not leaving me!”
She fell to the ground, gasping as blood seeped from the bullet wounds in her body. As darkness closed in, she heard voices, shouting, more gunfire and hands holding her.
People from the community that’s her home, vendors, church members and neighbours kept prayer services, praying and singing songs as she laid in the Intensive Care Unit battling for her life.
A wild flower left to bloom by the wayside, now seeming to wither.
Arvin spent long hours at the hospital waiting on word of her recovery and it became clear to his colleagues and those she was close to, how much he cared for her.
“Sweet but sad” were the sentiments expressed by those who knew her story.
The doctor came to Arvin three days later with word on Tanya’s recovery. He had leaned back in a chair in the waiting room, his eyes closed when the doctor approached.
“Sir.”

He sat up and felt a tightness in his stomach when he saw the unsmiling look on her face, then she smiled a little and said, “She’s awake.”
“Thank God,” Arvin exclaimed with tremendous relief.
The darkness that had descended over her slowly cleared away and the first person she saw when she opened her eyes was Arvin, sitting by her bedside.
“Sorry I got your message late,” he said with regret.
She tried to smile but grimaced in pain and said between breaths, “Y—you found me.”
“I had to because you called for my help.”

“Tha—thank you.”
“You’ll be fine,” he assured her, “And I’ll always be here to help you in whatever possible.”
Those words were quite comforting to her, for she needed to get her life back to continue working to build her dream of becoming her own woman.
For that week, as she became stable and slowly regained her strength, Arvin visited her every day. His care and concern gave her a warm feeling, but she knew she had now to be cautious to any new friendship.

She would now be like the fresh flowers by her bedside, not anymore, a wildflower on the wayside.