by Sam Hawken
‘We are doing—’
‘You’re not doing anything except twiddling your thumbs while the bad guys get away with murder! Where is Lidia? I want to see my family!’
Alvares signaled and Lieutenant Casiano appeared at the office door. ‘Please take Sr Searle to see his family,’ he said. ‘And Sr Searle?’
Jack rose and stopped at the door. ‘What?’
‘After you’ve had time to meet with your stepdaughter and the rest of your family, you will be returned to your hotel. Once you are there, you will pack your things and then you will be escorted to the border with your stepdaughter. It is too dangerous for either of you to remain here any longer.’
Something like anger and sickness roiled in Jack’s stomach. He wanted to shout, but instead he said, ‘That’ll make it easier for you. For us to be gone.’
‘It’s about your safety, Sr Searle, and nothing else.’
‘You keep telling yourself that.’
Lieutenant Casiano led Jack away. Jack did not look back.
TWO
THE ARMY TRUCK THAT FOLLOWED THEM from the police station to the hotel continued to trail them all the way to the bridge. They stayed on Jack’s rear bumper until he was in the thick of traffic headed toward the port of entry and then they made an awkward turn across the lanes and back away to the city. Even though he could not see them anymore, he was sure they were watching.
Lidia sat in the passenger seat without talking. She wrung her hands, first left over right and then the opposite, but she had said little since the station. When Jack dialed Gonzalo’s number on his cell phone she did not even chastise him for making a call from behind the wheel. He almost wished she would.
Gonzalo sounded subdued when he answered. ‘I heard the news,’ he told Jack, and that was good, because Jack did not want to go through all of it now. Not with Lidia sitting there.
‘I’m not giving up,’ Jack said. ‘We have a contract.’
‘It’s more complicated than that now, Jack,’ Gonzalo said. ‘There have been murders. The army will have pressure on them to clear the case. There’s no room for us anymore.’
‘I’m asking you to stay on Guadalupe and Fregoso, not investigate… not investigate Bernardo’s death.’
‘I can’t be sure how much more of this they will tolerate.’
‘Then find out! I’m paying you, aren’t I?’
‘I’ve kept an eye on Fregoso.’
‘And?’
‘So far nothing.’
Jack glanced at Lidia. He did not want to yell in front of her. He closed his hand over the phone tightly, so that the plastic squeaked. ‘You told me they were our best bet,’ he said evenly. ‘You told me that if we watched them, we’d come up with an answer. That’s what you told me.’
‘I’m sorry, Jack. I thought it was the right way to go. Maybe I was wrong.’
‘So what now? You want out? The army sure wants out.’
Gonzalo paused a long time. ‘It may be best.’
‘Doesn’t anybody care what happened?’ Jack demanded, his voice rising. Lidia looked at him. ‘Isn’t there somebody who’ll do what it takes to find out the truth?’
‘Jack, there’s no one who cares more about this than me. I’ve done everything you asked and more.’
‘Just not enough.’
‘There’s nothing I can do,’ Gonzalo said.
‘Fine,’ Jack said. ‘You sit the rest of this out. You’ve got your job to worry about. Meanwhile I’ll be sitting at home for the rest of my life wondering what happened to Marina and no one will give a good goddamn because they’re too busy covering their own asses!’
‘Jack, it’s not like that.’
‘You sure could have fooled me.’
Jack ended the call and tossed the phone into a cup-holder between the seats.
‘So it’s over?’ Lidia said abruptly.
He did not want to answer, but she turned toward him then and even though he did not look at her, he could feel her eyes on him. His teeth ground. ‘Nobody’s going to help us anymore,’ he said.
‘We’ll never know what happened.’
Not a question. Jack had no answer.
‘You did your best, Jack.’
‘I didn’t do a goddamned thing. I let everybody else do the work. I just sat there and played along and hoped that if I followed all the rules there’d be a reward at the end. I’d get a gold star.’
Lidia put her hand on his leg. It felt like a feather and she was so small. She was thirteen, but she was still a child. His child. ‘Let’s just let it be over,’ she said.
‘I thought I was going to be a hero,’ Jack said.
‘It’s okay, Jack. You don’t have to be. Not anymore.’
THREE
HE LET DAYS PASS WITHOUT TRYING to hold onto them. He got up in the morning, he made meals for Lidia, and he went to bed. In the in-between times his hours were fuzzy, unformed, and he did nothing. A scheduled job was coming up and he had done nothing to prepare.
Lidia was like a ghost, coming and going, spending time with friends before school started again. Jack made sure she left a phone number for every friend she met and that he knew wherever she was going. If she objected to this, Lidia made no indication. She was always home in time for the dinners they ate without conversation.
Some days he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed with the Browning Hi-Power in his hands, just looking at it. He did not have the urge to put it to his skull, but there was something else lurking that he could not quite give shape or a name to. Somehow he knew it was coming.
When he could finally think clearly enough, he went to Home Depot to buy the first round of supplies he’d need for the new job. He overspent and loaded his truck with expensive things he would not have bought otherwise.
At the grocery store he traveled the aisles without a plan, simply putting things that caught his eye into his cart, until the basket was completely full. He bagged the groceries himself instead of waiting for the teenaged kid at the register to do it and he hauled everything home. The cupboards were full, the refrigerator completely stocked.
He went to Marina’s room and sat at her desk. Sitting on her bed seemed wrong and he didn’t want to muss the covers. On her computer he found her email program open and he browsed through the messages that had come in since she vanished. If he hoped to find something there he was disappointed. Everyone was worried for her. He knew that already.
Sleep. Wake. Another day.
It did not surprise him that he did not hear from Gonzalo or Alvares. He was invisible on the other side of the border and they had lives of their own to live. One Sunday he called Reina and she told him that they were only going to the house to get things they needed and the rest of the time they were living at her sister’s home. The police could not say the sicarios would not return. Better to leave the place darkened and empty. Maybe they would never go home again.
On the night he had the dream, Jack ate another mute dinner with Lidia and went to bed early. He did not remember falling asleep, but abruptly the bed and the darkness were gone and he was driving on a dirt road. He could not recall how he got there.
‘You’re almost there,’ Gonzalo told him. They were together in the truck where before Jack had been alone. ‘Just keep going.’
‘There’s a roadblock,’ Jack said.
‘They won’t stop you.’
A wall of hundred-foot-high army trucks blocked the way and the soldiers who stood sentry by them were giants. Jack put his foot down and charged for the center of them and they melted away like an optical illusion.
They found a house with a wall around it, but it was not a house at all but a village in the middle of the city, its gates locked tight. Jack was out of the truck at a thought and he had his gun. He put his foot to the gates and they slammed wide. The villagers scattered.
From door to door he went, looking into the little spaces like rooms in a dollhouse, where people cowered because he was
a giant now, too. And there was light, a glowing light as if from a hundred candles, ahead of him, and in that light was the shape of a woman.
‘Marina,’ Jack said.
‘She’s here,’ Gonzalo whispered in his ear.
She was hidden behind layered curtains that fell between them in waves, the light showing through them to make Marina’s silhouette. Jack grabbed the curtains and rent them with his hands, stepping through the ragged holes he made until he was surrounded by ruined cloth that bellied from a steady breeze.
He had his hands on Marina then, drawing her out of the heart of the light. He could feel the firmness of real flesh, the heat of skin. Her face was hidden, still trapped, and he pulled and pulled until suddenly she came free and he could carry her away, saying, ‘I’m here now. I’m here now.’
And then he woke. The first light of morning touched the window of his bedroom. His hands were filled with bedsheets and he was awash in sweat.
The images were slow to fade, though he took a long shower to wash them out of his mind. He toweled off and dressed himself and from the drawer in the bed stand he fetched the Browning Hi-Power. He held it a long time, until the sun was strong at his back.
He felt as though he were replaying a scene in his head when he brought out his duffel bag and stuffed it with clothes. From an empty peanut can in a cabinet in the kitchen he brought out $1,000 in cash. Half he took for himself and the other half he put on the table. He wrote a note—Lidia, I’m sorry—and weighted it down under a glass with the money.
It occurred to him to unload the truck, but he did not want to be delayed. Lidia might wake and then it would all be ruined. He turned over the truck’s engine on the quiet street and backed out of the driveway. When he drove away from the house, he did not look back.
FOUR
THE BRIDGE ON THE AMERICAN SIDE WAS practically deserted. At the checkpoint he showed his passport and explained that he was bringing building supplies to some Mexican friends. The officer nosed through the bed of the truck briefly before waving him through. The Mexican officials asked no questions at all.
It took him a while to orient himself in the city because he was traveling an unfamiliar route. Whenever he crossed paths with a police patrol he tensed behind the wheel, but the Federal Police were not interested in his truck and they passed without stopping. He got lost twice, but eventually found the street he was looking for.
He parked in almost the same spot as Gonzalo had on the day they watched Fregoso’s apartment for all those hours. From the back of the truck he retrieved a handful of black plastic zip ties and stuffed them into his pocket. When he looked, there was no one paying him any attention and the street was barely stirring.
Up close the turquoise building was even rattier than it appeared at a distance. There were heavy cracks in the plaster façade and the metal of the steps was rusty. Jack moved into the cool shadow of the building and took the steps up lightly. He paused at the window to Fregoso’s apartment.
The blinds were closed, but they were pulled to one side and Jack could see the crowded, dirty front room. Fregoso was not on the couch or visible anywhere else. This was good.
Kicking down the door was easier than he expected it to be. He drove his foot into it once and then again and a whole section of the frame splintered off into the apartment and the door was flung wide. Jack brought out the pistol from underneath his shirt and stormed into the front room.
It was hot inside and there were only two doors leading off from the combined front room and eat-in kitchen. Through one door was the bathroom. From the other Jack heard the sound of a man startled from sleep.
He bulled into the bedroom and was on Fregoso before the man could find the baseball bat leaning in the corner near the head of the bed. Jack hit him hard across the face with the Browning three times until he was sure he’d broken the man’s nose, then he dragged him out of the room by the back of his neck.
‘¿Qué carajo?’ Fregoso managed to say. He was naked except for underpants and Jack threw him down hard onto his hands and knees. He grabbed a zip tie and fastened it around Fregoso’s wrist. He stomped on the man’s back and drove him flat onto the floor. Another zip tie went around his other wrist. A third fastened the loops together.
Jack was breathing hard and bright sparks flashed in his vision. He consciously took deeper breaths then and brought out the pistol again. ‘You shut the fuck up unless I ask you a question,’ he commanded. He put the Browning behind Fregoso’s ear. ‘Do you understand me?’
‘Sí, sí, lo entiendo,’ Fregoso said. ‘Please don’t kill me. I’m a cop! Don’t kill me!’
‘Get up!’
Fregoso allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. Jack shoved him hard toward the bathroom and Fregoso stumbled, crashing into the toilet and slamming his head against the wall. Blood already flowed from his nose, but now a cut opened over his eye and ran freely.
Jack snapped on the light. The bathroom had a small tub with a rubber plug for the drain. He put the plug in and started the water.
Fregoso flopped around until he was seated on the toilet. He was bleeding into one of his eyes and it made him squint. His face was heavy with perspiration. Jack was sweating, too.
‘If you want money, I don’t have much, but you can have it,’ Fregoso said.
‘I said shut the fuck up,’ Jack said, and he kicked Fregoso in the bare chest. His work boot left a deep welt.
‘Please, señor, I’m nobody. You don’t have to kill me.’
‘Open your mouth one more time and I’ll put a bullet in it.’
Fregoso was quiet. Now there was just the sound of both men panting and the noisy jumble of the tub filling. Steam rose heavily and fogged the tiny shaving mirror attached to the wall.
When the tub was nearly full, Jack turned off the flow. He pointed the gun at Fregoso. ‘Get on your knees,’ he commanded. ‘Right here. Get down on your knees.’
‘Don’t shoot me,’ Fregoso said.
‘Get on your goddamned knees!’
Fregoso obeyed. He knelt by the tub as if praying to the water, his hands fixed behind his back. It was clear he did not want to look at Jack, but his eyes kept straying toward him before flickering away just as quickly.
Jack put the gun away. ‘I’m going to ask you questions,’ he said. ‘And you’re gonna answer them.’
‘Anything you want.’
‘Two girls in a white car with Texas plates. Your partner Guadalupe pulled them over one night. Do you remember that?’
‘What? I don’t know—’
Jack seized Fregoso by the wrists and the back of his neck and forced him forward over the edge of the tub. Fregoso’s head went under the water and his body spasmed, his legs kicking out in the small space, hammering the wall. Jack held him there ten seconds, and then hauled him out again. Fregoso struggled for breath.
‘Two girls. A white car. You pulled them over,’ Jack said.
‘I don’t remember!’
This time Jack held Fregoso under for nearly half a minute, until his struggles became so frenzied he nearly lost hold of him. When he brought Fregoso up, the man’s face was scalded. He choked and spat water.
‘I’m going to ask you again,’ Jack said, ‘and this time I don’t care if you fucking drown. Two girls. A white car.’
‘Please!’
FIVE
GONZALO HAD JUST FINISHED BREAKFAST when the call came in. He saw the number. ‘Hello, Jack,’ he answered.
‘I think you and I should meet.’
Jack’s voice was completely flat, emotionless. Gonzalo felt a tremor of something hearing it. He thought he could hear Jack breathing. ‘I don’t think I can come to Laredo right now,’ Gonzalo said.
‘You don’t have to. I’m in the city.’
‘Jack, what are you doing? You know you’re not supposed to be here. Captain Alvares said—’
‘Alvares can go fuck himself. I’m here.’
Now Jack was quiet and Gonza
lo could hear him breathing: a steady in and out as blank as Jack’s voice. Gonzalo licked his lips. ‘Where are you, Jack?’
‘I’m in Fregoso’s apartment.’
Gonzalo felt a stab of panic and fear that passed completely through him. He was riveted to his chair, the phone at his ear, unable to move. ‘What are you doing there?’
‘Your goddamned job.’
Gonzalo steadied himself before he spoke again. ‘Jack,’ he said carefully, ‘is Fregoso still alive?’
‘He’s alive,’ Jack said.
Gonzalo felt a flood of relief. ‘I’ll come to see you,’ he said. ‘Don’t do anything until I get there.’
‘I’ll try not to.’
Gonzalo closed the line and put one hand over the other to stop it from shaking. He sat a moment simply breathing and then headed for the bedroom to dress. He hurried into his clothes, took his pistol from its hiding place and holstered it at his ankle.
Driving to Fregoso’s apartment seemed to take days. Every light was against him and traffic slowed whenever it was most inconvenient. Gonzalo sat hunched over the wheel, tension coiled in his back. Whenever another car moved into his path, he cursed out loud.
He spotted Jack’s truck on Fregoso’s street and immediately he hoped that no patrol had passed this way. A Texas plate would be noticed this far into the city. Whatever lay at the other end of this journey, Gonzalo knew it was not something for the police or the army to see.
Parking around the corner, Gonzalo waited a few moments before getting out to scan the street for watchful eyes. He saw only a woman pulling a grocery cart and a lone car headed in the opposite direction. By the time he was onto the sidewalk, both of them were gone.
The door to Fregoso’s apartment was pushed closed, but the damage was evident to anyone who cared to look. There was a loaded silence behind it. Gonzalo brought out his revolver from its ankle holster before he eased the door open.
Jack sat in the middle of the disorderly room on a straight-backed metal chair. His hands rested in his lap and Gonzalo saw the gun, the same gun he had told Jack not to carry. It was impossible to see whether the safety was off.