"Good, now I can get you a better phone," Xochi said evenly as El Gallo crawled along the Harbor Freeway.
41 MILES
3 HOURS 15 MINUTES
"How is this happening?" Lucy slammed down on the horn. "We're only five miles away."
"Welcome to hell, Lucy Lowell." Xochitl groaned, staring straight ahead at the never-ending trail of red taillights.
The emergency responders had cleared the accident twenty minutes ago, but it did nothing for the backup of cars all headed in the same direction.
This is hell. Can't get worse than this.
"What the?" Xochitl felt her cell buzz in her pocket and pulled it out, checking the Caller ID. "Great." She pressed the speaker icon on her phone and moved it closer to Lucy.
"What?" Lucy asked.
"It's for you." Xochitl showed Lucy the name on the screen — Scary Bitch.
"Hanna?" Lucy looked perplexed.
"What the hell happened to your phone?" Hanna's voice sounded tinny over the speaker. "I've been calling you for twenty minutes."
"Nah. You only tossed your phone fifteen minutes ago," Xochi quipped, displeased that Hanna had called her phone to reach Lucy.
"You dumped your phone?" Hanna bellowed. "Again!"
"Couldn't be helped." Lucy grabbed the cell phone from Xochitl, staring daggers at her. "What'd you find out, Hanna?"
"That's what you get for giving her my number. Gimme that." Xochitl grabbed the phone back. "We can't get pulled over." She held the phone near Lucy so she could hear.
"Are you two finished?" Hanna was clearly still upset the Travis job was pro bono.
Xochitl didn't care.
"Sorry, Hanna." Lucy sighed. "It's been a long trip."
"You haven't gotten to San Pedro yet?" Hanna sounded exasperated.
"What's she got to be so pissed about?" Xochitl said, knowing Hanna could hear her. "We're the ones stuck in this shit."
"No." Lucy glared at Xochitl. "Hanna, I don't want to talk about it."
"Neither do I." Xochitl huffed.
"Fine." Hanna was curt as she changed the subject. "Well, I haven't found any cases of diseased Hounds or Ferals being reported. Are you sure it was mange?"
"Yes, mange. I saw it all the time working for the ACTF." Lucy didn't elaborate.
This time, Xochitl didn't blame her. The thought of oozing pustules and the horrible stench in the cave made Xochi's skin crawl, and she began scratching at her neck again.
"Marley had all the classic symptoms," Lucy continued. "Patchy fur, crusted-over wounds, sores, scabbing. Clumps of skin were sloughing off when she wasn't even moving."
"Guess that would be the mites," Hanna pondered out loud.
"The what!" Xochitl sat up straight.
"Parasitic mites cause mange," Lucy explained.
"Arrrrrrgh!" Xochitl's free hand flew to the rearview mirror, turning it toward her. She stared at the red rash on her neck, which seemed to be spreading. "Did I get mange? I itch. Make it stop!"
"People don't get mange." Lucy gently pulled Xochitl back from the mirror.
Xochi's practical side was aware Lucy was trying to keep her from panicking, but it was too late. She was freaked.
"There have been cases—" Hanna started.
"Psht!" Lucy snapped. "Not helping!"
"No, let her talk," Xochitl demanded, scrubbing her nails through her scalp. "I DON'T WANT MANGE!"
"You got poison oak. That's why you are itching. We'll pick up some calamine lotion later." Lucy waved her hand, dismissing Xochitl's freak-out. "People don't get mange."
"But this Hound did." Hanna turned the conversation back to Marley.
"She was a Feral. And she was living like a stray in the canyon," Lucy threw in, rubbing at her eye with the palm of her hand.
Xochitl could tell Lucy still saw Marley lying on the cave floor — dying — and wanted to scream as much as Xochi did. They knew putting Marley out of her misery was the right thing to do, though the thought didn't make it hurt any less. Xochi hoped Travis would never know what had happened to the girl he loved.
Wishful thinking, Xoch.
"Well, that might be a clue." Hanna made a searching "Hmmmm" sound, and Lucy looked intrigued.
"Lucy, do you remember your mama helping those research scientists from Davis?" Hanna asked.
As Xochitl listened to their conversation, the enormous soda she'd slurped down took its vengeance. She was overcome with the sudden urge to use the bathroom.
"My mama was helping out two PhD candidates with a coyote study some years back. She cleared the road for them with the town council," Lucy explained to Xochitl.
"Oh," Xochitl replied and whispered, "I have to pee."
"Hold it." Lucy turned her attention back to Hanna.
"Your mama did more than that," Hanna continued. "She really got involved with that study. Anyway, while they were tracking the coyotes' movement patterns throughout the season, they noticed that a number of the healthy coyotes suddenly came down with a deadly mange."
"Really?" Lucy frowned. Xochitl was growing more uncomfortable by the minute.
"Your mama said the researchers had a theory that rat poison was causing the problem. The coyotes were being poisoned by eating rodents that had been poisoned."
"Wouldn't rat poison just poison the coyotes outright?" Xochitl questioned, trying to keep her attention on the conversation and not on her bladder — a task she was failing. Xochi's leg bounced involuntarily. "I have to pee," she reiterated quietly.
"Wait," Lucy hissed through gritted teeth.
Xochitl groaned and waved her hand in a "let's get on with it" motion.
"It was more complicated than that." Hanna seemed to search her memory, apparently unaware or uncaring of Xochitl's need to wrap up the conversation. "I don't quite remember what your mama said, Lucy. Something about prolonged secondary exposure. The rat poison would get into the coyotes' digestive system and make them unable to fight common diseases such as mange."
"It would compromise their immune system, like HIV?" Lucy asked, also more interested in dead coyotes than Xochitl's need for a pit stop.
"It was just a theory," Hanna said, not exactly answering the question. "But Ellie said something like ninety percent of the dead coyotes analyzed tested positive for rodenticides, and she made us stop using rat poison at the ranch."
Xochitl felt like her eyes were filling up with water.
"Was that the summer Chasselas spent months digging up that rats' nest out by the back fence?" Lucy giggled at the memory.
"Yeah, we did have a problem that year. Almost lost the garden to the gophers too," Hanna said.
"But Mama took her revenge, huh Hanna?" Lucy looked out the window.
"I think her motto was kill 'em with kindness," Hanna replied.
"Umm...What did your mom do to the gophers?" Xochitl asked, hearing the uncomfortable tone in her own voice and hoping Lucy could too.
"Chocolate Ex-Lax," Lucy explained. "Not Mama's best moment." She sounded melancholy and clearly still hurt at the mention of her mother.
"So they would...shit...themselves...to death?" Xochitl tried to lighten the mood. "At least they got to relieve themselves." She poked Lucy's arm.
Lucy gave her a weak smile.
Xochi's bladder threatened to explode.
"But it worked." Hanna sounded defensive.
"Fox urine works just as well," Lucy argued. "And you're not—"
"But how do you make a fox pee on command?" Xochitl feigned interest, hoping to calm Lucy down.
"You buy the urine at the store, city girl." Lucy laughed.
"Freakin' rednecks." Xochitl shook her head and drawled in her best Foghorn Leghorn impression, "Luce, I reckon...I reckon...we could make some squirrel stew tonight?...After I pee...I pee, that is."
Lucy rolled her eyes.
That 'a girl. Back on the happy train.
"Only if you're really good and stop scratching your nasty, swollen poison oak pustu
les." Lucy held up a finger and pointed to a gas station sign on the side of the freeway.
"Oh, thank God!" Xochitl groaned.
"Hanna, we're pulling over for gas. Could you look into that mange thing some more?" Lucy asked. "If Weres can come down with some sort of immune thing, we need to know."
Lucy nodded to Xochitl who ended the call before Hanna could answer.
"You can be such a baby sometimes," Lucy said, pulling El Gallo onto the off-ramp.
"It's your fault for buying those pinche sodas." Xochitl tucked her phone inside her vest pocket and grabbed the door handle, ready to jump out of the car as soon as they parked.
"Pull into that one." She pointed to a gas station that catered to truckers. "It'll be easier to park. My papa always said truckers are the best kind of people to have around when you're traveling."
Lucy parked the Toronado and attached horse trailer in a lane long enough for a big rig. Xochitl immediately jumped out of the car and raced into the all-night convenience store and restaurant.
"Bathroom!" she yelped to the attendant behind the counter. The twenty-something Hispanic kid seemed amused by Xochi's discomfort. He pointed to the large restroom sign at back of the store.
"Oh, thank God!"
She darted for the door marked Ladies and raced into the nearest stall.
A few minutes later, Xochi exited the ladies room feeling more refreshed. She combed the store for calamine lotion and spotted Lucy behind one of the snack racks.
"So, pretzels or chips?" Xochitl sashayed up to Lucy.
"Huh?" Lucy looked lost in thought.
"You gonna buy something?" Xochitl nodded to the assortment of snacks lining the display rack.
"Oh, yeah." Lucy grabbed a bag of pretzels and headed for the counter to pay. "I got gas too."
"Great...Ooo...pepitas!" Xochitl snatched the bag of roasted pumpkin seeds, her favorite, and followed Lucy to the register. Xochitl squinted at the clerk's name tag — Todd.
"That'll be one-hundred forty-seven dollars and ninety-five cents," Todd said after ringing up their gas, snacks and calamine lotion.
"¡Híjole!" Xochitl shook her head and pulled the business credit card from her wallet.
"Umm..." Lucy raised her eyebrow.
"What?" Xochitl slapped the card on the counter. "Serves her right." She ran her finger over the name on the card. "Hanna's Rescue and Rehabilitation," she said with slight disdain. "I still don't know about that. We shudda stuck with 'The Werewolf Whisperer.' That's the name everybody knows. Hanna's a control freak." Xochitl signed the credit card slip.
"Your funeral." Lucy grabbed the snacks and turned toward the glass doors. "Holy shit!"
Xochitl heard the bag thump on the floor.
"What?" she glanced up.
"What the...?" Todd blurted out.
At the pumps, their fifteen-foot, black horse rig bounced up-and-down off the pavement.
"¡Ay carajo!" Xochitl snatched the credit card off the counter and pulled a frozen Lucy out the door.
Chapter 12
breaking news from iLA...the levantón continues...Mass kidnappings cause fear and panic throughout East LA and the Valley...Locals suspect gangs and blame police for the removal of the Afflicted...LAPD refuses to comment...breaking news from iLA...
23 months ago
"Attention all units. Attention all units. This is an end of watch broadcast for Police Officer II Gabriel Adrian Torres serial number 20160." The police radio crackled the transmission.
Captain Burch took one hand off the wheel and adjusted the volume for better reception.
Riding shotgun in Burch's cruiser, Lucy felt all strength drain from her limbs and bile rise up to her throat. She and Burch were heading into East Los Locos territory, not knowing what to expect but determined to find Memo Morales and Xochitl Magaña.
Hearing Gabe's end of watch broadcast shocked Lucy and made her ill.
Gabe...I didn't even get to say goodbye.
"Torres graduated from the academy in Los Angeles and completed his probation at Van Nuys division. He was assigned to the Los Angeles Metropolitan Animal Cruelty Task Force where he worked until April of this year."
Afraid to miss even one word, Lucy said nothing but stared hard at Burch, who kept his eyes on the road. She blinked away tears.
"Gabriel Torres worked many investigative assignments during his career. His dedication and superior investigative skills led to many arrests. Gabriel takes great pride in the work he did with his partner Officer Lucy Lowell."
"Takes! As in present tense?" Lucy shouted. "Burch, you bastard!"
Captain Burch chuckled.
"Torres plans to dedicate his retirement to the rescue and proper training of bully breed dogs as well as the eradication of all dogfighting in the city of Los Angeles. Officer Torres, we wish you well in retirement." The transmission ended.
"His retirement!" Lucy pounded the window with her fist and stomped her feet down on the car floor, sending up dust and dirt from the rubber mat.
"Hot damn! I'll have to call him when we're done." Lucy rolled down the window and yelled out, "Gabe's not dead!" She turned to Burch, searching for words.
"Burch you are an ASS!" She stretched out the last word and punctuated it by slapping both hands on the dashboard.
Burch laughed out loud. "Lucy, you are a hemorrhoid. You've been nothing but a giant pain in my sphincter. Serves you right." She joined in his laughter as they rolled into East Los Locos territory.
Lucy was still laughing hysterically when they pulled up to the rundown apartment complex on Figueroa Terrace. She bounced out of the car, but her mood changed as soon as she saw the desolated street.
The area was unusually empty, and homemade barricades blocked a construction site. Oversized ELL graffiti blanketed every available surface, as if the taggers had become unhinged. Like a pack of wild dogs, the East Los Locos had marked their turf. Barbed wire stretched across apartment balcony rails. Collections of photos, candles, flowers and rosary beads made up sad little corner shrines — offerings to the Virgin for those who had been lost.
Something felt deeply wrong. Lucy flicked the release tab of her holster, freeing her Beretta, and followed Burch cautiously to the intercom at a white wrought iron gate.
"You really think this Terrace Edge Neighborhood Watch is gonna help us find Memo?" she asked as Burch pushed the intercom button. No answer. He waited a moment then tried again. Still no answer.
"Damn. They're hiding. Musta known what we were coming for," Burch said and kicked the gate. "Mr. Vasques! Mrs. Robles! Hello!" he hollered loud enough for the whole complex to hear.
"Go away, puerco!" a young child's high voice called out. "Está nobody home."
"Where do you recruit your informants, pre-school?" Lucy teased Burch. "They obviously take you seriously. Must be your sparkling personality. If we had Gabe here, those doors would be wide open."
"You're walking on thin ice, Lowell."
"Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I haven't heard." Lucy smiled at Burch, the good-natured teasing coming easily now that she knew Burch had her back. "Now where, boss?"
Burch grumbled something involving a long walk and a short pier but turned from the gate at a loss.
Lucy scanned the area, their elevation granting her a good vantage point. The hilly street allowed her to see clearly to the high-rises of Downtown. Small houses and gated apartments crowded into each other. The midday sun beat down hard, and she started to feel the beginnings of a headache.
Must be hungry.
The thought of food made her stomach tighten and her muscles contract in spasms. Her imagination conjured up the sweet aroma of roast pork.
"Do you smell it?" Lucy asked Burch with a reverent whisper.
"I smell warm piss and asphalt," Burch snapped back, walking to the cruiser with purpose. "I hate fucking palm trees in the barrio. Sends the wrong message."
"It's Cabra Blanca, and it's close." Lucy didn't wait for Burch bu
t took long strides down the street, senses sharp.
A tiny Spanish house with bars on the windows and a long driveway that wound around to the back caught Lucy's attention.
Following the scent of carnitas and barbacoa, she walked down the cracked concrete and cautiously peeked around the corner of the house.
The Cabra Blanca food truck sat nestled under the roof of a makeshift carport. While the sizzling of meat on a grill was absent, Lucy could still smell the delicious aroma of braised pork and fresh tortillas.
Low grunting came from the inside of the truck. Lucy drew her gun and checked her back. She could hear Burch's quiet boot fall down the driveway.
She signaled him and on his nod approached the cracked-open door.
She looked inside to see a dark figure rooting around. It grunted again and clawed at the ground.
"Stop!" Lucy commanded what could only be a small, chubby Werebeast.
"¡Mocos!" A round, dark haired man turned with unexpected dexterity, smashing spilled tortilla chips with his knees.
"¡Ay caramba!" Eddie Ibáñez exclaimed and stumbled back, clutching his chest. Lucy holstered her Beretta and jumped into the truck to steady the man.
"It's okay, Eddie. I thought you were one of the creature beasts." Lucy supported his back, allowing the man to find both his breath and his balance.
"Officer Lowell, I thought you were one of the East Los coming back. They hit me for food a couple of hours ago. Broke into my damn house while I was cooking. Made a mess of my truck too. Useless delincuentes juveniles."
"Everything okay, Lowell?" Burch shouted from the yard.
"All set, boss." Lucy called out. "Come around, Burch. You're gonna wanna hear this." She sat back on her haunches, taking a look around. The usually pristine interior of the truck was covered in dropped bits of cooked meats and grilled vegetables, smashed containers and spilled condiments. Eddie's broom and mop lay to the side of the black plastic garbage bag he'd been filling with broken tortilla chips.
Rising, Eddie grabbed a cup from under the counter and stumbled to his stainless steel ice bin. Holding himself steady with one hand, he scooped up a cupful of cubes from between bottles of soda and chilling beers. He turned back to Lucy and Burch, holding the cup to his forehead and cheeks.
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