“And why would I care what a bunch of gringos think about how we handle our affairs? You’re in my country now. I’d advise you to have some respect, or you may find yourself on the receiving end of some of that Mexican justice.”
“Threatening reporters now, Inspector?” Pedro called out from behind Leah. She turned to where the big man was bearing down on them. “She asked for your name and rank. Is that so offensive to you? If so, why?”
“Stay out of this, Cruz,” Montalbán warned. “This isn’t your fight.”
“These are my friends, Inspector. That makes it mine.” He looked at Ana Maria, who was trembling. “Why cuff her? Do you expect her to attack you?”
“This is none of your business, Cruz. You’re not on the force anymore. Don’t go looking for trouble.” Montalbán’s tone changed to one that was slightly more reasonable. “I’m charging her with murder. She’ll have her day in court to prove she’s innocent. That’s all I’m going to say.” He removed a card from his wallet and flipped it onto the ground in front of Leah. “There’s my information, Miss American Reporter. Make sure you spell it right.”
“Montalbán…” Uriel growled.
Pedro took his arm. “Uriel, don’t. There’s nothing you can do out here on the sidewalk. We’ll take care of this soon enough. I still have considerable pull, even though the inspector here is under the impression I don’t. I’m not going to stand by and see Ana Maria abused by him.”
Montalbán laughed dryly. “Do your worst, Pedro. She killed your friend. She’s in bed with the cartel. That you’d keep company with the likes of her sickens me,” he spat, and then turned to the officers. “Get her down to the station and booked. I’m done here.”
They watched the inspector strut back to his car as the officers escorted Ana Maria to a truck and loaded her into the back, seated on a bench bolted to the bed. The nearest one slid a chain through her cuffs and secured it to a bar, and then the motor revved and the truck pulled away, roof lights strobing, the inspector’s car following it.
“We have to do something,” Uriel said, his voice strangled.
“We will,” Pedro said. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Arellano and see who he can recommend for a criminal defense case.”
“Can we get her out today? I can’t even imagine how foul the Juárez jail is.”
“We can try, but it’s unlikely. It’s Friday, and by the time they book her and process her, the courts will be closed, so they won’t have a bail hearing until Tuesday at the earliest. Monday’s a holiday, remember?” Pedro said.
“Damn it,” Uriel said. “That’s not good enough.”
“Let’s see what we can do,” Pedro countered. “Time’s working against us, though. We’re not going to accomplish anything standing out here.”
Uriel nodded as Leah knelt and scooped up the inspector’s card and slipped it into her back pocket. “He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?” she said.
Pedro shook his head. “He’s got a reputation as a hard ass, but he’s one of the honest cops. The problem Ana Maria has is that his father was a Federal who was killed by the Zetas cartel, so he hates anyone connected to the gangs. I suspect he’s allowed that hate to blind him in this instance.”
“Ana Maria…her boyfriend was with one of the street gangs that works for the Zetas,” Uriel said softly. “He’s predisposed to view her with suspicion because of that. And she had some arrests for drugs.”
Pedro grunted. “So he’s going after the easy collar. Gang related, no alibi, comes into big money when her dad dies. It’s the easiest case for him to make. Which doesn’t make it true, but it does allow him to mark it as closed, which may be all he’s after.”
“We have to get her out of there, Pedro,” Uriel said.
Pedro’s expression darkened further. “We will. Let’s talk to Arellano.”
Chapter 13
Forty-five minutes later, Pedro led Uriel and Leah from Arellano’s offices after holding a conference call with his recommended choice for a defense lawyer to represent Ana Maria. That attorney, Ramón Ortiz, had been reasoned and logical, but he’d underscored the same points Pedro had made, namely that there was no way a bail hearing would be possible before Tuesday, best case.
Ortiz had promised to go to the station that afternoon and try to see his new client, and had waived his requirement for a deposit when Arellano explained the probate situation. Arellano assured him that Ana Maria and Uriel were good for it, and Ortiz had seemed satisfied. Ortiz had also committed to see whether he could offer compensation for better treatment for Ana Maria while she was incarcerated. It was well known that money bought comfort in the prison system, and while the jail was smaller and therefore had less flexibility, with enough grease Ortiz felt that he could soften her time behind bars to something bearable.
They stepped outside into the sunlight, and Leah blinked in the glare. “Where to now?”
Uriel glanced down the street. “The house, right?”
“I can give you a ride if you like. My car’s over in that lot,” Pedro said, indicating a public parking area across the way.
“That would be great,” Uriel said.
“I’ll make some calls on the drive over. Like I said, I know a lot of the local force. It might help to have some people on the inside looking out for Ana Maria.”
“I really appreciate the help, Pedro,” Uriel said.
Pedro shrugged. “For my friend’s kids? Please. It’s the least I can do. That one of our own is subjecting Ana Maria to this kind of abuse is a travesty. Nobody reasonable would stand by and do nothing.”
“How long did you work together?” Leah asked as they crossed the street.
“Over a decade. Then León moved up, and I stayed on the street. A desk was never my style.”
They climbed into Pedro’s car, a navy blue Nissan Pathfinder whose clear coat was eroded away on its front fenders and roof, and he tossed the attendant a few pesos and pulled into traffic. He eyed Leah in the rearview mirror as he drove, and he twisted to speak to her.
“Uriel said you’re looking into the disappearances for your paper?”
“That’s right. His father reached out to me, but we never got a chance to really talk – he was killed just before we were supposed to meet.”
“So he didn’t get to tell you anything more about this file you’re looking for, besides that it existed?”
“That’s right. I wish I knew what was in it. Do you have any ideas?”
“No, but he was deeply involved in the original investigation in the nineties. And I know that even after he retired, he was still following the more recent ones. We talked about it sometimes, but León kept his cards close to his chest. I never heard anything about a file.”
“We’re hoping it’s at the house,” Uriel explained.
“It very well might be,” Pedro said. “We’ll soon know for sure.”
“We need to find it. If it’s related to my father’s death, it could clear my sister.”
Pedro nodded. “I wouldn’t get my hopes too high. It could be incriminating or explain why he was killed, but there are no guarantees.”
“What do you think’s going to happen to Ana Maria while they’ve got her in custody?” Leah asked. “I mean, I have no idea how the Mexican system works.”
“It’s the opposite of the United States,” Pedro said. “Here, you’re assumed to be guilty, and it’s up to you to prove you’re innocent. It’s based on Napoleonic law. The case is presented to a judge, who decides if it’s strong enough to proceed. If it is, then an arrest is made. So a judge has already bought the police theory that Ana Maria had a motive to have León killed, probably based on the will. Her arrest record would have counted against her, as would her relationship with a known felon. So as of now, the system assumes she’s guilty for those reasons. Whether it can prove that she is, is a different matter. Absent an eyewitness, the murder weapon, or a confession, they probably won’t be able to, so they’ll grind her
until they can get a confession. That’s their best hope. But they only have forty-eight hours to do so, and then she has the right to an attorney.”
“What? She doesn’t before that?”
“No. In fact, after the police are done with their questioning, the district attorney gets a shot at her, and attorneys are barred from the proceedings.”
“That’s crazy,” Leah exclaimed. “How can you prove a negative?”
“I agree it’s a strange system. But the good news is that a sentence can often be overturned on appeal. And of course, the system isn’t immune from bribes making that decision easier for judges that are so disposed.”
“What about bail?”
“She’ll be eligible for it unless a judge determines that she’s a flight risk or that the severity of the crime coupled with her record makes her a bad bet, in which case they would hold her without bail. You see that a lot with cartel bosses, for instance.”
“My sister isn’t guilty of anything but making bad decisions,” Uriel said.
“I believe you,” Pedro responded. “That’s why I’m helping.”
They reached the house, and Pedro parked in the driveway. The garage had an aluminum door, unlike many in the neighborhood, which only had car ports. Uriel unlocked the front gate, and they walked past a small yard and mounted two steps to the front porch. He tried the entry door handset before unlocking the deadbolt and was surprised when it opened.
Uriel looked to Leah and Pedro with a troubled expression. “That’s odd.”
Pedro nodded. “Maybe I should go first.”
Uriel stepped aside, and Pedro brushed past him into the house. They followed him in and then stopped at the small living room, Uriel’s sudden inhalation loud in the confined space.
“Oh, my God…” Leah said, hand over her mouth.
The furniture was destroyed, the sofa slashed open and the stuffing strewn across the floor. All the drawers in the armoire had been removed and dumped on the Saltillo tile, and even the seat bottoms had been slashed and gutted.
Pedro held a finger to his lips and whispered to them, “Stay here. I’ll check the rest of the house.”
They nodded, and he disappeared down a hall. Twenty seconds later he reappeared, visibly shaken.
“The whole place has been destroyed. They even tore out the electrical outlets.”
“We need to call the police,” Leah said.
Pedro glanced around the room. “Obviously.”
Uriel removed his cell from his pocket and dialed emergency. When an operator answered, he hurriedly described the situation and then hung up. “They’re sending a car over.”
“Let’s take a look in the garage,” Pedro said, and they trailed him to the door off the kitchen, stepping over the remnants of cabinets, which had been emptied onto the floor and the drawers dumped out. Leah noted that even the appliances had been dismantled: the oven was in pieces, and the refrigerator, its door hanging open, had been pulled from the wall so the back could be searched.
Pedro cursed loudly when he saw the Camaro, the hood and doors open, tires slashed, and upholstery rent open. The Tacoma had received the same treatment, and Uriel shook his head.
“Someone tore the entire house apart. Looking for something, clearly.”
“The file,” Leah whispered.
“That would be my guess,” Uriel agreed.
Pedro inspected the damage to his car and swore again. “Bastards destroyed it. It’s going to take a lot to get it back to where it was. I mean, it was perfect. The upholstery, the door panels, the dash…”
“Same for the truck,” Uriel said. “I wonder where the Honda is?”
“Probably parked on the street. If they knew about it, they probably stole it so they could dismantle it somewhere safe,” said Pedro.
“How did they get in?” Leah asked. “The windows all have bars on them.”
“My bet is they picked the lock,” Pedro responded.
Leah stiffened. “Oh, my God…”
“What is it?” Uriel asked.
“My apartment. Someone broke in the other day, but they didn’t take anything.”
The sound of a siren approaching jarred them into action, and they hurried to the front door to meet the police. A pair of local cops waddled in, clearly unhappy to be out of the climate-controlled cab of their squad truck parked on the street.
Pedro greeted them and explained the situation. They did a quick tour of the house, took photographs with their phones, and held a muffled conference with Uriel and Pedro in the kitchen. Fifteen minutes after they arrived, they left. Leah looked to Uriel expectantly.
“Well?”
Uriel bit his lip and grimaced. “They wanted a bribe to investigate. I refused, so they lost interest. Pedro said not to pay it.”
Pedro nodded. “That’s right. All they would do is pocket it and do nothing. Whoever did this was a professional. They’re not going to catch him.”
“How do you know?”
“Look around. Everything has been stripped and searched. When I see electric and phone outlets removed, light fixtures, the kitchen hood, the toilet tanks…this wasn’t some opportunistic burglar. This was a methodical search by a pro team. It would have taken hours. And nobody called the police, so they were quiet.”
“Then they probably found the file,” Leah said.
Pedro shook his head. “Not necessarily. They’d have started with the house and then moved to the cars last. That tells me they didn’t find what they were looking for in the house. And León was too smart to hide something in a car. No, if he didn’t want it to be found and knew it was dangerous to possess, it’s almost certain it wasn’t here.”
Uriel kicked a piece of debris in disgust. “Then where?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
Uriel looked around. “Any reason to stay any longer? I’m melting.”
“Not really. You’ll have to get a cleanup crew in and then talk to a contractor to find out how much it will cost to repair everything. Cabinets will be the most expensive,” Pedro said.
“Great. Something else to add to my list.”
“Let’s see if we can spot the Honda,” Pedro suggested.
They trooped outside and waited while Uriel locked the deadbolt. When he turned, he pointed to the bell tower of a church down the block. “I remember going there every Sunday with him when I was a kid. It’s about my only positive memory of our time together.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Leah said.
“It’s okay.” Uriel glanced at Pedro. “Shame about the Camaro.”
“I know some guys. It’ll be good as new after they get done with it.” He looked down the street when they reached the gate. “What color is the Honda?”
“Beats me.”
“Well, let’s take a lap around the block. If we don’t see one, they stole it. My money says they did, if they were that thorough with the house.”
“And if so? Where does that leave us?”
“Let me think while we walk. If something occurs to me, you’ll be the first to know.”
Uriel stared at the old cop for a couple of beats and then nodded with an exhausted sigh. “We need to find out what this is about, or my sister’s going to spend a long time in jail for something she didn’t do.”
“I know,” Pedro said. “Now let me think.”
Leah snuck a look at Uriel, who shrugged and took off after Pedro, his expression dour and his eyes blazing anger. Leah followed at a slower pace, wondering exactly where the elder Sánchez had been shot. It had to have been within a few feet of where they’d been standing. She tried to imagine what it must be like for Uriel to know his father was gunned down within spitting distance, and shuddered at the thought.
Whatever she’d gotten into, the apartment break-in had to be connected; and if so, a man had died at the hands of the people who’d been in her place.
She shuddered again in spite of the heat and picked up her pace to catch
up with Uriel, the empty street suddenly oppressive, her world a far more dangerous place than only a few days before.
Chapter 14
Arturo Arellano glanced up from the pile of paperwork on his desk. His receptionist had poked her head through the door and lavished him with a smile.
“I’m going to lunch. Did you want me to bring something back?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, thanks, Carlita. I have a late lunch meeting with the Caravantes brothers.”
She nodded. “Those are always…fun.”
“I don’t expect to make it back to the office the rest of the day, so hold down the fort in my absence.”
“Of course.”
Carlita left, the staccato snick of her heels on the marble floor like firecrackers, and Arellano smiled. His life could have been worse – successful practice, loving family, offshore bank accounts, two mistresses. He’d achieved everything he’d set out to do when he’d hung out a shingle thirty years earlier, and he had a stable clientele of heavy hitters that he could bill outrageous fees to and who never complained. Partially because they were almost all dirty to one extent or another. But Arellano didn’t mind. It was impossible to have a decent book of business without bumping up against the underground economy. That was just the way it was, especially in a border town like Ciudad Juárez.
León Sánchez had been one of his first clients, undemanding and honest, and it hadn’t hurt Arellano’s business to be able to say that he represented one of the city’s top police captains. The inference was that he could get things done within the power structure, and he’d played that card for all it was worth. Sánchez hadn’t required much out of him, just a few investment planning strategies to protect his assets and to care for his offspring and, of course, the will.
He looked down at his work and a vision of Ana Maria popped into mind. Unlike her elder half brother, she hadn’t turned out well, in spite of the clandestine financial support she’d received from her father. Instead of applying herself like Uriel, she’d spent her university years partying and hanging out with the wrong crowd, and when the arrests had begun, her father had cut the cord on her finances, unwilling to fund a lifestyle that could only end in ruin.
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