Border Crossings

by Michael Lee Weems

  Eventually, Miss Lydia walked over to the girls, speaking in her false, grandmotherly voice. “Well, it seems things have not gone as we hoped. You girls have been like a second family to me, but Yesenia has sold us all down the river. I’m sad to say we’ll all have to say goodbye soon.” She acted as though she was close to tears over the matter, but Imelda wasn’t fooled. What is she up to? She wondered. “I have decided to go home to Mexico,” she told the girls. “We’ll all drive down to El Paso and from there, you girls can go where you wish. Your debts are all forgiven. You’re free to go where you like. As for me, this old woman is going to go back to the village where I lived as a young girl.”

  The others looked at each other skeptically. Could it be true? Were they all going to be released in El Paso? Then what? Silvia asked herself. She had no desire to continue living as a prostitute, but she had no place to go, either. She had no papers and would surely be deported as soon as someone stopped her. Still, what was the worse that would happen? She might get sent back to Mexico? Her old life was a hell of a lot better than the life she’d found in the North. She just wanted to be free now. She didn’t care where.

  As she looked around, she saw the other girls were also trying to absorb the news. Catalina’s eyes were bright with excitement, as were Maria and Isabel’s, but Imelda looked disturbed. “So come on, now,” continued Miss Lydia. “Let’s go ahead and get going.”

  “Miss Lydia, it’s the middle of the day. It’ll be too hot in the trailer,” said Arnulfo.

  She gave him a sharp look. “It’ll only be for a little while. We need to start moving.”

  Imelda gave him a look that said, I do not want to ride in that thing in this heat, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

  Jose herded the girls back into the cramped trailer and they all sat down. Imelda was the last to go in and she made sure to give Jose a go to hell look. She also gave one to Arnulfo. “This is such bullshit,” she told the other girls as Jose clamped the doors shut and locked them in.

  “It’s only for a little while longer,” said Catalina. “Then we don’t have to deal with them anymore,” she added with a whisper.

  The truck started up and pulled out of the campground, the girls bumping along as it went, but before heading back to the main road, Miss Lydia pointed to a dirt road and the truck turned down it. “Where are you going?” Arnulfo asked.

  “Back way,” was all she replied.

  Only a few minutes later the truck went down a small incline and Miss Lydia told Jose to stop. Arnulfo said nothing but in his mind he was becoming very concerned with these odd actions. The three got out of the truck and Jose went to the back and began unhitching the trailer from the truck. “What are you doing?” Jose used all his strength to pull the little trailer back a few inches and then the trailer tongue dropped to the ground, the girls jostled hard with the thump. “I said what are you doing?”

  Miss Lydia stood next to him and put her hands on his shoulders in that false grandmotherly way she conjured so often. “It’s the only way,” she told him. “The police are watching for the trailer and we can’t trust the girls anymore.”

  As the realization of what Miss Lydia was planning set in, Arnulfo’s eyes widened. “No! You can’t just leave them! Not in this heat.”

  “They’ll be fine,” she told him. “Park patrol will probably be along soon and see them.”

  “But why lock them in?”

  “Because we need time to make it to the border. If we don’t, the girls will flag someone down and call the police. We’re not trying to hurt them, we just need some time.”

  But Arnulfo wasn’t buying it. “But there’s nobody else out here! Why not at least leave them at the campground, not here! There’s nothing here! They’ll die in there.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Miss Lydia assured him. “Come now, let’s be on our way.”

  “No!” he yelled, so loud that inside the truck the girls heard it, too.

  “Arnulfo?” Imelda asked. “What’s going on out there?”

  “Stop it, Arnulfo,” Miss Lydia hissed. “You’re going to get them all excited.”

  “Miss Lydia, please. We’re in the desert and so far from the trail. How will anyone find them in the next few hours? They won’t. You know they won’t. You can’t do this. We can’t do this.”

  “Get in the truck,” said Jose, walking up behind Miss Lydia.

  “I’m not going to leave them here,” said Arnulfo. “Not like this. Please, let’s just leave the door open. They can walk back to the park entrance or something. It’ll take them hours, at least. Why can’t we just do that?”

  Miss Lydia glared at him. “You’re just one of the girls, aren’t you?” she said maliciously. Arnulfo looked stunned. “Don’t think I don’t know,” she told him. “I’ve always knows about you. You don’t think I know the places you go when you leave?” Jose said nothing, confused at the exchange but ready to do whatever his mother wished in an instant. “You’ve forgotten your place. Which is it, Arnulfo? Are you going to be one of the girls or are you coming with us?” He said nothing. “Get in the truck,” she warned him.

  Arnulfo decided. He glared back her. “What’s the matter with you? You’ve always been a bitter old woman, but this is too much. We’re not going to leave these girls to die in this heat. Now open the trailer.”

  “Or what?” asked Jose, pulling his pistol from his belt.

  Arnulfo stared at him.

  “Hold on,” said Miss Lydia. “Let’s not get carried away.” She kept her eyes on Arnulfo. “It’s them or us, Arnulfo. You can come with us to the border, or you can be locked in with them. Think carefully.”

  He did. He knew Jose was fully capable of shooting him and he also didn’t want to be left here with the girls, either. There had to be a way. “Fine,” he told them. “We’ll leave them. But we have to call the park when we reach El Paso and tell them where they are . . . the moment we get there.”

  “Of course,” said Miss Lydia. But as she turned, Arnulfo saw the twinkle in her eye, as though she were almost winking at Jose. He knew it was a lie. Miss Lydia had no intentions of calling the park later. Not only did she know full well that it was unlikely the girls would be found that day, or possibly even the next day, the old woman was counting on it. She was getting rid of evidence. She wanted them to die in that trailer.

  As Jose turned to walk towards the truck, Arnulfo reached into his own belt to pull his gun, but Miss Lydia saw him and called out, “Jose!”

  Jose whirled around and saw Arnulfo pulling the pistol. He fired one shot and it hit Arnulfo in the chest. He fell to the ground, his ivory bolo covered in blood.

  “Why’d you do that?” Miss Lydia yelled at the dying Arnulfo, walking over and standing over him, “Idiota! Why!?”

  His only answer was the dying exhale.

  Inside the trailer, the girls had heard the gunshot. It seemed Imelda knew immediately what had happened. “Arnulfo!?” she tried to yell through the metal chamber. “Arnulfo!”

  “What happened?” asked Silvia. “Did they shoot him?”

  Jose could hear Imelda’s cries. “We should just get rid of all of them right now,” he told his mother.

  “No, someone may have heard that gunshot. Let’s just get out of here,” said Miss Lydia. And they quickly got back into the truck, desert sand taking flight as they sped away.

  “Arnulfo!?” Imelda yelled one more time, but only the silence answered. She began to cry, as did the other girls, both for Arnulfo who’d tried to help them, and because they realized they’d been left for dead.

  Catherine and Matt touched down in Cancun about two hours after leaving Mexico City. Ramirez and two other men they’d never seen before met them at the airport.

  “Oh, shit,” whispered Matt. “Let’s hope we don’t get arrested.”

  Catherine looked at the other two men suspiciously as they approached. One was an older, stern looking man in a military uniform. “This is Vice Admiral L
uis Alvarado,” Ramirez explained, “of our Navy.” The navy? Catherine thought. “And this is Agent Alberto Rojas of the Agencia Federal de Investigación, or AFI, as I believe you’re familiar with,” said Ramirez, introducing a short, thin man with not a single hair on his head.

  “Pleasure,” said Catherine, shaking hands in a professional manner. Matt said nothing, only stood behind her like a personal bodyguard. They eyed him curiously but accepted his silence without pressing.

  “These men are here at the request of our government,” said Ramirez. “It seems our president received a call from your governor of Texas. Ms. Woodall’s family has indicated that you would be arriving with information. They’ve been asked to review that information, and if confirmed, to assist in the arrest of Victor Arismendez.” She knew immediately Ramirez had not shared their previous exchange with the two men.

  Catherine turned and looked to Matt, who merely shrugged as if to say, you let Jim call them. It’s your gamble. She turned back to them, “I’m going to need a moment, please. We’ll be right back.” The two men with Ramirez stared at one another in confusion as Catherine grabbed Matt by the arm and led him to a nearby table in the airport’s lounge. They were further miffed when she said back to them, “Mr. Ramirez, would you mind joining us for a moment?”

  Ramirez appeared a bit flushed as he excused himself from his two superiors. The three sat down and Catherine quickly whipped out the book, going through the names in the ledger as quickly as she dared without missing any. “This is a surprise,” she told Ramirez, still checking to make sure the two men who had accompanied him were not in the ledger.

  “I agree,” he told her. “But it was not my doing. I got a phone call from an official in Mexico City. He said to expect these two men and they would accompany me to meet your arrival. I wasn’t sure how they could know of it. I must admit, I was worried the wrong people may have already been on to you.”

  “They might be yet,” added Matt.

  Catherine finished the list, “Well, I don’t see their names in here. Not that that doesn’t mean they’re not in another ledger someplace else, but I don’t think we have much choice here, do we?” she asked, turning to Ramirez.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “They know you allegedly have information that Arismendez is the man responsible. There’s no hiding it, now, it’s already out. But these two men are not your typical officials. They report to the President. I’m pretty sure you can trust them.”

  “Pretty sure?” asked Matt.

  Ramirez held his hands up slightly, “What can I tell you? We are dealing with a very influential man. I believe these men will help, but I’d be lying if I said I could guarantee it. I’m in as much of a predicament here as you are.”

  Catherine looked over his shoulder at the two grave men who were eyeing them impatiently. “I guess pretty sure will have to do.”

  She returned with Ramirez and Matt to the two men who were standing and talking together, both looking at the book Catherine held clutched in her hands. “I have here a ledger detailing the accounts of one Fernando Ortiz. I’m not going to explain where I got it or by what means, but inside is a list of names of corrupt officers and government officials. It is by the source of this ledger that we have learned Victor Arismendez ordered the kidnapping of Kelly Woodall and carried out the murder personally. It is my understanding that Mr. Arismendez was injured in the attack on the girl, that she bit his ear and wounded his eye. I believe we will find significant DNA evidence at the home of Mr. Arismendez. I further believe that officer Humberto Vargas of the Quintana Roo anti-kidnapping unit, whose name appears in this ledger, was paid to kill a witness in the case and that it is likely if he is arrested we can acquire his testimony in this matter.” The men stared at her, utterly dazed. Catherine handed the ledger to the AFI agent and waited for their response, her breath held tight in her chest.

  The man took the ledger, began looking through it, quickly scanning at first but then slower and slower, his finger running over the lines in the book as the Vice Admiral stood next to him, reading as well. When next he looked up he said, “We are in your debt, Ms. James. I have been trying to find evidence of Senor Arismendez’s crimes for quite some time. I will have a warrant issued for officer Vargas immediately based on the evidence contained in the ledger. Let us hope he can provide us enough information to arrest Victor Arismendez. Will you come with us, please? We have much to discuss.”As they walked with them Matt whispered to Catherine “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I’m improvising,” she said. “Remember?”

  Miss Lydia and Jose arrived in El Paso less than three hours after leaving the girls to die in the metal trailer. Jose wanted to drive the truck into Mexico, but Miss Lydia knew better. “Don’t be stupid,” she told him. “They’re just waiting for this truck to come through. We were lucky to make it here.” She couldn’t have spoken truer words. Little did they know they had come within an inch of being caught on their way to the border. The highway patrol had been sitting under an overpass observing the traffic, waiting for the truck should it come by. At just the right moment, though, they’d been pulled away by an accident, and the truck had escaped through their net.

  They parked on the edge of a lot tourists used to leave their vehicles on the North side while enjoying a day of shopping in Mexico. “Get our bags,” she told him, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  As she walked away and Jose began unloading the few things they’d brought with them, including the bag containing all of Miss Lydia’s money, a passing border patrol agent noticed the truck and checked its plate against the report they’d all been given. When he realized it matched, he quickly jumped on the radio. Just as Miss Lydia was coming out of the bathroom, a half dozen cars swarmed into the parking lot and surrounded Jose. Without more than a passing thought of remorse for her son being caught, Miss Lydia quickly disappeared into the crowd of people crossing into Mexico. Jose was just about to call for her, but was tackled to the ground. In all the commotion, no one seemed to notice one more little, old Mexican woman crossing the border.

  Less than an hour after they were arrested, Jose was under interrogation by the Texas Rangers, but he wasn’t talking. The authorities knew from Yesenia that the truck had left with the trailer, but had been found without it, so while they interviewed they had aerial units attempting to traverse the highways and they had troopers checking truck stations and rest areas, but so far were turning up nothing. Time was running out.

  “Look at the clock,” said one of the rangers. “With each passing minute, one of the girls might die. And if just one of them dies, Jose, that’s capital murder.”

  He was beginning to sweat. “I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t the one who left them.”

  “Left them where?” He stayed silent.

  “Do you understand what’s going to happen here, Jose? Are you aware of the penalty of capital murder? Are you aware we can pursue the death penalty in a capital murder case, Jose? Are you ready for that? Are you really prepared to face those kinds of charges because you’re stupid enough to sit here with your mouth shut while these girls are dying?”

  “You can’t,” he said. “I’m not a citizen. You have to send me back to Mexico.”

  “Oh, we can and we will, Jose. Haven’t you ever heard of Angel Maturino Resendiz, the rail car killer? He tried to tell us the same thing. Do you know where he is now? That’s right, Jose. He’s dead. We tried him, we convicted, and he was sentenced to death. Make no mistake. We’re going to charge you with capital murder for the death of Trooper Daniel Shoal. And if any of these girls die, we’re going to charge you with capital murder for them, too. You’re going to stand trial, and if convicted, you will face the death penalty. But it’s up to you. If you want to try and make a deal, you’d better speak up now, because pretty soon it’s going to be too late. If they die, you don’t have any bargaining chips and we won’t have anything further to talk about.”

&nbs
p; Jose dropped his head. “Okay,” he said. “Get me a lawyer.”