“Maybe you should sleep here tonight,” Uriel suggested. She gave him her best stink eye, and he shook his head. “Nothing like that. I have a big room, and there’s a sofa. You can take the bed.”
Leah was going to protest, but it manifested as a yawn instead. They both laughed, and he slipped his arm in hers. “We can hang a sheet between the couch and the bed if you want.”
“So I won’t peek?”
Another easy laugh, relaxed and slightly inebriated. “You might have a little headache in the morning,” he warned as they began their unsteady march to the room.
She didn’t say anything as he escorted her to the elevator, but a tiny voice in her head reasoned that if her head hurt tomorrow, it had been totally worth it.
The room was large and comfortable. After using the bathroom, Leah reclined on the bed with her shoes off while Uriel brushed his teeth, her heavy black-frame glasses on the nightstand beside her.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Leah was asleep, curled on her left side. Uriel moved to the bedside lamp and switched it off. His last vision as the room went dark was Leah’s unlined face, the years stripped away by sleep, the soft curves of the high school outcast who hadn’t quite fit in finally at peace and complete.
Chapter 23
Leah started awake, her cell phone’s trill a needle of pain in her skull. She groped for her purse and cracked one eye open. The light streaming through the gauze curtains was nearly blinding. Her fingers found the phone and she held it to her ear, head pounding, mouth dry.
“Hello?”
A male voice she didn’t recognize spoke in accented English. “I understand you were at El Matador last night.”
Leah sat up, ignoring the throbbing behind her eyes. “Who is this?”
A laugh. “You left a message for me a few days ago. Hector Saldaño. From the Libertador.”
She cleared her scratchy throat and swallowed what felt like road dust. “Oh, that’s right. The reporter.” Leah paused. “How did you know I was at El Matador?”
“I know many people in this town. It is part of, how do you say, my network, to have eyes and ears in all places.”
Leah thought for a moment. “Was it you that sent me the envelope?”
“Yes. I trust Sergio was able to help?”
“Why the subterfuge? Why not just return my call and email me the photo?”
“I cannot have anything connected to me. That would leave an obvious trail.”
“And this call?”
“I have several untraceable phones. This is one.” Saldaño took a breath. “Are you still in Mexico?”
“Why?”
“I would like to meet. I have more information you will find of interest now that your appetite is whetted.”
“I can be in Juárez in an hour,” she said, reluctant to confirm her whereabouts. “What do you have in mind?”
“There is a food court at the Las Misiones mall. It won’t be crowded in the morning just after it opens. I will be sitting in front of the hamburger place there. You know me from my pictures? I’m sure I can recognize you from yours.”
She repeated the mall name and checked the time. Already nine. “Give me until ten thirty. I’ll be there.”
“Very well. Come alone. This is for your eyes only.”
“What’s the big secret?”
“You are dealing with a dangerous network. I will explain when I see you.”
Saldaño hung up. Leah glanced at the bathroom door, wondering whether Uriel was in there, and got her answer when the main room door lock clicked open and he entered with two polystyrene cups of coffee in a cardboard carrier in hand.
“Well, good morning. How do you feel?” he asked.
Leah tried to push her hair into some semblance of normalcy and slipped her glasses on. “Like I drank a gallon of diesel fuel. You?”
“Great. I’ve been up for an hour.” He set the tray down and handed her a cup of coffee. “This may help.”
She accepted it gratefully and took a sip. “Thanks. I’ll be out in a second,” she said, and pushed off the bed and padded to the bathroom with the cup.
The mirror confirmed her worst fears, and she was mortified that Uriel had seen her like this – she looked puffy, her face lined with an impression from a fold in the pillowcase and her hair askew. She peered at herself, noting the bloodshot eyes and dry lips, and shook her head. “Cadillac, huh? Never again,” she murmured, and twisted on the shower with a resigned look.
She was rinsed and out of the bathroom in ten minutes, feeling only slightly more human.
Uriel smiled at her from his seat at a small table by the window. “Everything better?”
“I’m not expecting any miracles. Last time I felt like this was after a bachelorette party in Dallas. Do you have any aspirin?”
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
Leah sat on the bed and pulled on her shoes. “Do you know where the Las Misiones mall is?”
“Sure. It’s not that far. Why?”
“I have to meet a reporter there.” She told him about the call.
“He knew we were at El Matador?”
“That’s right.”
“Maybe he can provide the break you’re looking for. I mean, I’m glad for you, but some rich American being involved in the disappearances doesn’t really do anything to help my sister or find my father’s killer.” He paused. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No, he wanted the meeting to be private.” Leah hesitated. “Uriel, right now our best bet is following this thread. We identify who’s behind the missing girls, there’s a good chance we also learn who killed your father.” She tied her shoe. “If not, we hit the bank and see what’s in the box.”
He nodded. “After the bail hearing. I want to be there for it.”
“What time is it?”
“Ortiz says he’ll let me know. Probably late morning.”
“You mentioned last night that your ex still lives here – that she has a beauty salon near the factory district?”
Uriel looked uncomfortable. “I did?”
“When you were describing living in Juárez.”
“Ah. Okay.”
“I was thinking. Could you ask her what she’s heard about the recent abductions? See if she’s heard any rumors from her clients? You said she does a lot of business with the maquiladora workers…”
“That’s right. But what are you looking for, specifically? Can you narrow it down?”
“One of the things on my list is to interview the survivors – the relatives. See if there’s a common thread there. It’s standard procedure in investigative journalism. You look for commonalities others may have missed.”
“Do you have the names? All I can do is ask.”
“I can access it from my phone and forward it to you. There have been six recent disappearances in the last four months. Several of them were witnessed by their friends – the girls were snatched right off the street in front of them. If your ex can do anything to find some of the witnesses or the girls’ families, it would be a huge help.”
“Let’s say she does. Then what? We’re running out of time, Leah, and if we’re going to achieve anything that could help Ana Maria by Tuesday, we can’t wait for you to shuttle back and forth over the border.”
Leah thought about it. Uriel was impatient, which she understood. If it had been her sibling in jail, she’d have felt the same way. Given that he’d have to translate for her anyway, could she afford to delegate to him? He’d done a good job with Patricia, and he was obviously intelligent…maybe he could talk to some of them without her, to speed things up?
She nodded. “I’ll make out a list of questions. I’m mainly interested in whether the girls might have known each other or whether they hung out in the same places, worked together, that kind of thing. Some sort of connecting data, whatever it might be. Maybe they went to the same church or hit the same clubs or lived in the same neighborhood? Whoever grabbed them is targeting them somehow.
We figure out how and we’re way ahead. From there we can work back and see who had the opportunity.”
“It seems improbable, Leah.”
“Maybe. But don’t forget that whoever searched your father’s house probably broke into my apartment. They have to be connected.”
“Do they?”
“Uriel, they didn’t take anything. The only thing that makes sense is they were searching for anything I might have about the disappearances – that’s the common element between what your dad was investigating and what I am. The closer we get to whoever is snatching the girls, the closer we’ll be to figuring out who killed your father.”
“What about your millionaire?”
“I don’t know how he fits. But I hope to shortly.”
Uriel nodded. “Fine. I’ll contact Gabriela. She’s open half the day on Saturdays – all beauty salons here are. Send me the list and I’ll see if she’s willing to help.”
Leah smiled, and her face felt like it was cracking. “I appreciate it.”
Uriel glanced at the darkened television. “It will give me something to do, I suppose.”
“I need to borrow some money, too. I hate to bug you…”
He walked to the in-room safe, tapped in a code, and opened it and withdrew a folded wad of bills. “A thousand pesos work for you?”
She did a quick calculation. Cab fare would be maybe fifty, tops, to the border, and likely less than that if the mall was nearby.
“Thanks, Uriel. I really appreciate it. I’ll get some cash when I get home and give it to you when I see you on Monday.”
“On Monday?”
She held his stare. “Assuming you don’t mind me going to the bank with you.”
“Oh, right. I wasn’t thinking about the bank.”
“Thanks for the coffee, Uriel. And the bed for the night. You’re a gentleman.”
“Sorry I poured too much tequila down your throat.”
She smiled again and walked to the door. “No, you aren’t.”
The door shut behind her and Uriel grinned. “Guilty.”
Chapter 24
Leah arrived at the mall early and grabbed another cup of coffee and a muffin at a café near the main entrance that was doing a thriving business with retail clerks on their way to work. The locals appeared cheerful and animated, which did nothing for Leah’s head; each peal of laughter or shouted greeting made her wince. The muffin tasted like sawdust and the coffee like molten lead, but she felt better once she’d finished both, and for the first time that morning, thought she might make it through the day without vomiting.
She had a few minutes to kill, so she walked slowly along the storefronts, her thoughts on Uriel. He definitely had a certain charm to him, understated but there, and she wondered why some woman hadn’t snapped him up. He was bright, easy on the eyes, and interesting – a nice combination, she thought as she paused in front of a lingerie store called Woman’s Secret, an obvious Victoria’s Secret knockoff.
And Leah had just asked him to visit his ex-girlfriend, who was probably stunning.
She shook her head. It was none of her business what Uriel did. Their relationship, such as it was, was strictly business, limited to the story. Not that she would have completely minded if they’d met under other circumstances…
Leah studied her reflection with disapproval. She looked like a train wreck. The same clothes for two days, no makeup. Her aunt’s voice spoke in her head, telling her that men like Uriel didn’t date girls who dressed like Leah. She forced the sabotaging thought away, but it hurt just the same. The insecurity that had been her constant companion through high school was fresh that morning, no doubt brought to the surface by the hangover, and she vowed to flush it along with the rest of the garbage from her past.
Besides, she wasn’t in the market for romantic entanglements with a man from another culture who lived a gazillion miles away, although she recognized the slight pang of regret that the first guy she’d found attractive in ages was so completely impractical for her to even think about.
She continued past the boutiques and made for the food court, the mall largely empty as the stores opened. The air conditioning was welcome after the hot car ride, and she momentarily considered buying a fresh shirt, but dismissed the idea when she remembered how little money she had.
The food court was at the end of the north side of the mall, and the burger restaurant’s glowing sign was easy to spot. Only one figure was seated anywhere near it, and she recognized the reporter’s profile as she approached.
“Hector?” she asked quietly, eyes roving over the area to ensure they were alone.
“Yes. Leah Mason. A pleasure,” he said, rising.
They shook hands and he motioned for her to sit across the table from him. “Would you like some coffee?” he asked.
“No, thanks. I’ve had enough for today.”
“I see you found the mall with no problems.”
“The taxi knew exactly where it was.”
They stared at each other like adversaries on a playing field, and Leah felt a sense of unease. The man’s eyes bored into her with an intensity she found unpleasant. She overcame her instinct to speak just to fill in the uncomfortable silence and waited for him to make the first move.
“I wanted to meet in person because what I’m about to tell you is sensitive. It could get me killed in Mexico,” he began.
“Killed? Why?”
“I’m going to tell you about some very powerful people. They buy police and judges like soda. If I were to print the story, I’d be dead before nightfall, vanished without a trace. It’s happened before.”
“So why tell me?”
“Someone has to stop them,” he said simply. “What they are doing is…evil, for lack of a better word.”
Goose bumps rose along Leah’s arms.
“Warren Moore is involved in this?”
“More than involved. He’s the central figure.”
“The disappearances?”
“Of course.” Saldaño looked away. “The man is a monster, nothing less. The devil walking the earth in human form.”
“That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?” she said.
“You can judge for yourself. He invites friends, like-minded sociopaths, to Juárez for thrill killing parties. Snuff parties, you would call them. Money is no object. They hire thugs to kidnap girls, the younger and more innocent the better, and will pay whatever the cost is to get them. There are rumors of rituals, of sacrifices, of gang rape followed by dismemberment – no atrocity is too foul.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “They’re Satanists. They believe they are gaining power by their deeds. Blood drinking, orgies, murder. Young women are preferred, but sometimes even toddlers and babies.”
Leah was speechless. She shifted in her seat as she gathered her wits. “How do you know this?”
“I’ve been investigating them for years. And I have an informant, one of the people associated with the gang that supplies their victims. Even he is sickened by what they have done. And this is a man who has killed over a dirty look, has executed whole families of adversaries. But even he can’t abide the level of depravity Moore’s involved in.”
“You have proof?”
“I have testimony. But if you are asking whether I have them on film butchering the women, no. Their circle is a small one, and they’re careful.”
“Then how do I prove any of it?”
“The gang uses a white van for the kidnappings. They keep the girls imprisoned at a number of safe houses, awaiting Moore’s instructions. If you can find the van, you will find enough DNA to link it to the missing girls, at least the latest ones.”
“How can I find this van in a city of a million people?”
“I’m working on getting a plate number.”
“When was the last of these…ceremonies?”
“A month ago. The woman you spoke with at El Matador told you about her friend going missing. That was when it happened. She was o
ne of four who died at that party.”
“But you have no evidence?”
“I told you they are careful. They ensure they never use the same location twice. They sanitize it afterward so there is no trace. They prefer rural spots outside of town.”
“What do they do with the bodies?”
“They bury them in mass graves. The cartel disposes of them – for a price.” Saldaño removed a photograph from his jacket and set it on the table. It was a blurry photograph of Moore with a Mexican woman in her teens. “This is Patricia’s friend, who disappeared with Moore a month ago.”
“Can I have this?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I will send you a copy. The original is part of my insurance, in case they ever connect me to investigating them.”
“Are others besides the cartel involved? Police? The government?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say for sure, but the corruption runs throughout the system.”
Leah digested that. “You say you have testimony? From whom?”
“Girls like Patricia. From my informant in the gang that does the dirty work. From others I can’t disclose.”
“Can I meet any of them?”
“Absolutely not. It has taken me years to build their trust.”
“Then can you get me tapes? Something concrete? Because this all sounds…unbelievable.”
“He has been doing this for fifteen years. And he’s gotten away with it. Not because he’s dumb or careless.”
“Is that why he expanded into Mexico?”
“Probably. To give him an excuse for frequent trips here. The perfect cover.” Saldaño looked at his watch. “I have to get going. If you dig enough, you will start to find connections. I’ll do what I can to get you enough to hang him. But I can only do so anonymously. Any hint that I’m involved and the cartel will snuff me out within hours.”
“Which cartel?”
He shook his head. “That is none of your concern.”
“And you haven’t gone to the police?”
“They’re all in the cartel’s pockets. They sell them information.” Saldaño stood. “Research him and you will see that all is not as it appears.”
A Girl Apart Page 14