A Girl Apart

by Russell Blake

  “I figured he’d have his hands full dodging a worldwide manhunt now that it’s obvious he substituted a double – who conveniently got vaporized so he couldn’t answer any tough questions.”

  “That’s probably a good bet, but I don’t think you want to test it. Just lie low for now.”

  “I will, but I sure hate to miss Margaret’s smiling face.”

  “Now, now. I’m sure your mere existence is punishment enough. Trust me on that. She knows only a handful of people in the business could do what you just pulled off. That will stick in her craw forever.”

  Leah hung up and tried to go back to sleep, but she couldn’t. She switched on the television and quickly found a news channel covering the shocking attack on the prison vehicles. A Suburban lay on its side, pocked with bullet holes, behind it a twisted metal carcass almost unrecognizable as a vehicle. She listened numbly as the talking head described the carnage and then switched off the remote, her stomach churning. Leah took a quick shower and then placed a call to the hospital in Juárez. After a few bumbled attempts, she convinced the operator to put her through to Uriel Sánchez’s room, but the phone just rang. Frustrated, she hung up and checked her email, which contained a PDF file with her messages.

  She sorted through them, writing down names and numbers, and stopped when she saw one from Edward Benedict. She circled it and continued through, and then underlined another name that was familiar but she couldn’t place: Simon Garr, no company name, just a phone number with a San Francisco area code.

  Leah performed an Internet search for Garr, nodding as she read. He was an Internet billionaire whose venture capital firm had funded dozens of tech start-ups, including several household names. She debated returning the call right then, but decided she needed caffeine before she tackled anything more demanding than toast.

  She pulled on one of the tops she’d bought the day before, a six-dollar T-shirt with a decal of a unicorn that would have been at home on a playground, and walked down the block to a restaurant that had seen its heyday in the sixties. Leah ordered a large cup of coffee and scrambled eggs to go and drank a second cup while she waited, mulling over what to do next. The thought of talking to anyone while sleep-deprived and in pain wasn’t appealing, but she knew she couldn’t avoid the world indefinitely, and even if her story hadn’t caught fire yet, she’d have to answer questions from anyone interested enough to ask about it.

  Back in her room, she skimmed the list of names and decided to call Garr first. A receptionist answered the phone with a cool voice that spoke of moneyed professionalism and asked her to hold while she checked to see whether Mr. Garr was available.

  A male voice came on the line.

  “Leah Mason? Simon Garr. Thanks for returning my call.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Garr. What can I do for you?”

  “Please. Simon.” He hesitated for a moment. “I wanted to reach out and discuss your plans for the future. I have a start-up I’m putting the finishing touches on, and you’d be a perfect member of the team. Are you under contract with anyone at present?”

  “No. I mean, I have my job at the Examiner, but that’s…at will, I guess.”

  “Good,” Garr said. “I’ve created an Internet media outlet that’s going to focus on investigative journalism other sources won’t cover.” He paused. “I read your exposé on El Guapo this morning, and it’s exactly the sort of work I want to spotlight.” Another pause, this time longer. “Miss Mason, I’m in the recruitment process, and I’d like to invite you to become part of the team. Senior investigative journalist. As such you’d get founders’ share of stock, which could be worth a fortune if it does even half of what I think it will. And a salary and expense account, of course.”

  “Where will it be based?”

  “The East Bay. Emeryville. We plan to open in two weeks. I’ve lined up some heavy hitters from traditional media for the editorial board,” he said, and mentioned several names.

  Leah nodded. “That sounds like an incredible opportunity, but I’ll need to know more about it. Do you have a business plan? Anything formalized?”

  “Of course. I’ll send you an NDA and, once you’ve signed it, will send the plan. I think you’ll find the package we’re willing to offer is…eye-opening.”

  “I have no doubt.” She gave him her email address. “I appreciate you thinking of me.”

  The next call was to Benedict. When he answered, he sounded in good spirits.

  “Leah! I saw your piece on the wire.”

  “You’re about the only one so far,” she said.

  “Nonsense. It will get picked up. You just got pushed out of the queue by the Mexican news, but someone will eventually figure out what yours means, and then you’ll be off to the races. I wanted to say congratulations. To my eye, you knocked the cover off the ball.”

  “Thank you. Hope you’re right.” She hesitated. “I just had a weird call. Can you keep a secret?”

  “Of course.”

  She told him about Simon Garr. When she was done, his voice was soft. “I know of him. He’s got the juice to make it happen, and the web-based platform is the future of our business. Getting in on the ground floor of something like that would be perfect for you. You’re young, and you have the energy to help make it successful. Just see if you can get a clause in your contract that gives you final say over what you cover.”

  “Not a word to anyone, okay? It’s still just a discussion.”

  “Ah, to be your age again, Leah. The newspapers are dinosaurs. I don’t see you spending your career sinking in a tar pit.”

  The thought that she actually had a career again struck her with the force of a blow when she hung up. One article had caught the right person’s attention, and everything had changed for her – at least, if she decided to pursue Garr’s offer.

  The NDA arrived ten minutes later, and she went to the hotel’s dingy business center, printed it out, signed and scanned it, and sent it back to Garr, anxious to see what he was proposing. When the plan hit her inbox with a handwritten note inviting her to fly to San Francisco at the earliest opportunity, her heart tripped at how surrealistic her life had become in just a few short days. A couple of nights before she was being shot at on a slum rooftop, and now she was being invited to work for a legend.

  If it got much better than that, she wasn’t sure how.

  The rest of the day crawled by. A few outlets picked up her piece, but the major venues were focused on the putative El Guapo’s demise at the hands of rivals – a perfectly framed “dying by the sword” story ideal for widespread consumption. She returned the rest of the calls she’d received, mostly from fact-checkers with major publications, which gave her hope that once the attack piece lost traction, her article would be picked up and go wide.

  Two more attempts at the hospital in Juárez to check on Uriel only increased her agitation when she was disconnected both times, and she quietly cursed that she was only a few miles from the facility but couldn’t just go to check up on him. With her editor’s warning about El Guapo still ringing in her ears, she couldn’t risk crossing the border yet again – and given his cartel’s reach, she had misgivings about her safety even in the U.S. Until the story went viral, the heat wouldn’t increase for him, and the kingpin might just decide to eliminate the source of his newest troubles. She didn’t think it was likely, but sleep-deprived and after recent events, she wasn’t feeling lucky, so she determined to err on the side of caution, at least until she got a decent night’s sleep.

  Chapter 53

  Leah’s mind was racing when she awoke before dawn, her thoughts on her next big story now that the El Guapo one had been put to bed – that of the missing girls and the mayor’s role in the disappearances. She made a cup of instant coffee that she choked down with a grimace and began typing the rough outline of another article – this one exposing the disappearances as a sham, with the mayor playing a major part in the cover-up.

  What she lacked was the moti
vation, but she presumed it was money. Players like the mayor were always motivated by one of two things: power or money. She just needed to figure out what the angle was and insert it when she had proof.

  Light streamed through the curtains as the sun rose over Texas, and she dialed the hospital in Juárez again and asked for Uriel’s room. After five minutes on hold, the operator came on the line and told her that there was no such patient at the hospital – that he’d checked out earlier that morning. Leah stared at the phone like it had tried to bite her, and asked the woman to check again. She didn’t think it was possible that he would be released so quickly, but then again, her familiarity with the Mexican health system was nil.

  When the operator confirmed Uriel was no longer there, she tried his cell phone, but it went directly to voice mail. She hesitated before leaving a message, and when she did, her voice sounded tiny to her.

  “Uriel, I tried the hospital. They said you’ve been discharged? Call me as soon as you get this message. I want…I’m concerned about you, and I have some important news about the document your father had.” She left her cell number, just in case, and then hung up, the acid in her gut from the rank cup of coffee burning like an ulcer. She checked the time and realized she hadn’t eaten since the prior morning and reluctantly forced herself from her chair and into the bathroom for a quick rinse before she went in search of sustenance.

  Leah was toweling dry when her phone chirped from the other room. She almost fell in her haste to get to it and stood dripping, hair a soggy mop, as she raised it to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Leah! It’s Uriel.”

  “Uriel! Are you okay? You’re out of the hospital?”

  “Yes. They left it up to me, and I wanted to leave. All they were doing was monitoring my vital signs after the surgery. I felt decent yesterday and strong enough to walk out under my own steam today.” He paused. “Are you someplace safe?”

  “Yes. Back in El Paso.” She mentioned the hotel.

  His tone changed. “It’s probably not a good idea to go to your office, Leah. And I’d stay out of Mexico for the duration.”

  “I know. I need to tell you about the document…”

  “I saw it on the news. It’s all over the place down here. I can’t believe that’s what my father was holding onto. But it makes sense they’d kill to get their hands on it.”

  “He must have figured out the switch when the cartel started trying to get its hands on the file.”

  “That’s the only way it makes sense,” Uriel agreed.

  “How’s your mother? Any word?”

  “I called a few minutes ago. She’s out of her coma and stable, but they messed her up pretty badly.”

  “But she’s going to…be okay?”

  “That’s what they said.”

  “How about your sister? Did they let her go? Did Montalbán drop the charges? He has to at this point, doesn’t he?”

  Uriel took a deep breath. “Ortiz says the wheels of justice grind slowly, but he expects her to be released shortly.”

  “But he didn’t say when?”

  “So far, no. He’s hopeful that it’ll be no later than tomorrow.”

  Leah glanced at her computer and remembered the article. “Did you get a chance to speak to your PI yet?”

  “Yes. He got the girl shipped to Juárez and grilled her. You were right about the mayor. She said one of his staffers gave her five thousand dollars to pretend she’d been abducted and move to the other side of the country.” Uriel paused. “The investigator thinks it has something to do with land values – that the mayor and his buddies are trying to scare landowners out of their lots on the cheap with a restart of the disappearances. Makes sense, in a twisted way.”

  “Get me his contact info so I can stay in touch. Is he going to talk to the other women?”

  “I didn’t ask him to, since it looks like Ana Maria is getting out. Maybe you can work a deal with him. He seems to like money.”

  “I’ll reimburse you whatever you’ve spent so far, Uriel. As soon as I nail down the job. I promise.”

  “You’ll know where to find me. I’ll be staying with my mom until she can manage on her own, and then I’m thinking of flying her to live with me in Guadalajara. Things aren’t going to get better from here, and she’s not a kid anymore…”

  “She’d probably love that, Uriel. You’re a good man.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. But you’re welcome to come visit whenever you want, once all the hubbub over your story dies down. It’s a beautiful place. You’d like it. Nothing like Juárez.”

  “I might take you up on that,” she said, and meant it, the sense of unfinished business between them palpable.

  “I hope you do. The offer’s open.” He hesitated. “You’re still going to pursue the disappearances?”

  “I have to. In fact, that’s going to be my next article. I just need to figure out the motive, and I think you might have just supplied it. I’ll get the details from your man and then have legal vet it. What do you think will happen to the mayor when it breaks?”

  “Depends on the proof. He’ll deny everything, of course, but if there’s enough outrage and the evidence is convincing, the attorney general will get involved and he’ll be indicted. There’s been a big push to clamp down on corruption here over the last few years. My guess is that at least his career will be over, and he might spend some time in jail, although in Mexico there are no guarantees.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry I didn’t pick up earlier. My battery was dead. I’m charging it right now, but I should go. It’s beeping at me.”

  “Send me your investigator’s contact information,” she said, and then added, “and stay in touch.”

  “I will, Le–”

  The line went dead, leaving her to stare at the phone screen as water ran down her cheeks. She set it on the bed and retraced her steps to the bathroom, and then finished drying off, satisfying herself with finger combing her hair straight back before inspecting the slight discoloration beneath her eyes. They looked much better now that she’d gotten some rest, but she was still a long way from recovered – and it would probably be years before she could sleep without dreaming about being chased over rooftops in the moonlight.

  After dressing, she called Talbert and told him about the new article and what she’d uncovered about the disappearances. When she was finished, his voice sounded cautious.

  “We’ll have to get legal to go over it with a fine-toothed comb, Leah. But it sounds like another hit if it proves true.” He grunted. “I’d plan on taking a long vacation after that and not telling anyone where you went. Between pissing off the most powerful cartel boss on the planet and the neighboring city’s top brass, you’re going to have a bull’s-eye on your head for a while.”

  “Goes with the territory, right?”

  “I suppose. I’m just saying be careful, Leah. These are incendiary pieces you’re penning.”

  “That’s the job.”

  She agreed to send him a rough draft after she’d gotten more detail from the investigator, and signed off. Her hunger had been replaced by adrenaline after talking to Uriel, and she sat at her computer and fleshed out her story further. When her stomach growled loudly enough to shake the chair, she glanced at her watch in surprise – an hour had passed like a few minutes.

  Leah saved her work and made for the door, committed to getting a meal before she wasted away to nothing. The thought made her smile, and she could practically hear her aunt’s passive-aggressive voice offering the phrase. She dismissed the impression and walked briskly to the diner, which had been competent enough not to poison her the previous day. Leah ordered breakfast and sipped a cup of strong coffee as she checked the news feed on her phone. Her story had begun getting published by some first-string outlets, including her former employer in New York, which brought a smirk to her lips as she imagined her former editor’s expression when he read it and saw her name in the byline. It had to have kill
ed him to print it. The image made her pancakes taste all the sweeter, and she waved down the waitress for more coffee.

  When her hunger was satisfied, she paid the bill and ambled back to the hotel, reading headlines on her phone as she walked. Near the entrance, she almost collided with a man on the sidewalk and was in the process of apologizing when she looked up and her breath caught in her throat.

  “Uriel–” she exclaimed, and he returned her expression of shock with a pained smile.

  “Leah.”

  “Wha…what are you doing here?”

  “I rented a car. I’m headed to visit my mom, and I wanted to see you before I went.”

  She took in the sling that supported his arm and the laugh lines that crinkled in the corners of his eyes as he regarded her. He looked down at her hands and his brow furrowed.

  “What happened to your hands?” he asked, indicating the bandages.

  “Oh, after I dropped you off at the hospital, six cartel killers chased me into a slum and tried to kill me. Montalbán arrived just in time, and the police shot them. But I took a tumble.”

  He blinked. “Are you joking?”

  “It sounds way worse than it was.” She shook her head. “Actually, no – it was as bad as anything I’ve ever been through.”

  “But you’re okay?”

  “I’m bulletproof and invisible, Uriel. Superwoman. Didn’t I tell you?”

  He considered her for a beat. “So, with all the trouble you’ve stirred up over the border, are you going to stay in El Paso?”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.” She told him about the job offer in the Bay Area, and he nodded approvingly.

  “You’re going to be a star after this article, Leah. Congratulations. You deserve it more than anyone I know.”

  She couldn’t suppress a slight blush. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Uriel. This win is both of ours. You deserve a big portion of the credit.”

  He shook his head. “Not true. I was trying to clear my sister, that’s all. You’re the one who put all the pieces together and figured it out.”