by Diane Kelly
KABOOM!
The propeller flew straight up into the air like a giant-sized whirligig, while smaller, blazing pieces of the helicopter and equipment flew through the air, falling into the canyon or to the sandy soil all around us. I ducked behind a boulder for protection and clenched my eyes closed, cringing at each whizzing sound that passed by. The explosion echoed off the mountains and through the canyon. Kaboom-boom-boom!
When the clinging, clanking, whizzing, and booming stopped, I popped my head up and peeked over the boulder. The faces of Agents Castaneda, Ochoa, Peña, and Armbruster peeked over other boulders nearby. Fortunately, all seemed to have intact eyeballs, and ears and noses remained attached.
Castaneda stood. “Anybody hurt?”
When everyone had responded in the negative, he pulled a radio from his pocket and requested another helicopter. “Just look for the smoke a few miles from the Boquillas Crossing,” he said. “You can’t miss us.”
While we waited for the aircraft and backup to arrive, we stepped closer to the edge of the canyon, stopping far enough back to ensure we wouldn’t fall in. Across the expanse, Salvador Hidalgo had backed up into the small sliver of shade against the canyon wall. He sat in what appeared to be an odd yoga pose with one arm wrapped around his knee, applying pressure with his forearm while clenching his injured hand in the other. His pants were soaked with blood, though not likely enough to cause him to lose consciousness.
Twenty minutes later, my ears picked up the whop-whop-whop of an approaching helicopter. We looked up to see another Black Hawk approaching. It made a wide circle of the area once as if getting a read on the situation, then set down not far from where we had crash landed.
“Agent Holloway!” barked Castaneda as he headed toward the helicopter. “Keep that gun trained on Hidalgo. If he tries any funny business during the rescue, shoot him again.”
“Got it!” I hollered back. I sat down in the sandy soil and scooted closer to the edge of the canyon, aiming the rifle at Hidalgo across the divide. Any funny business, and he’d find himself with a third fresh hole in his flesh.
Castaneda climbed aboard the other Black Hawk. As the rest of us watched, the helicopter eased out over the canyon, positioning itself directly above Hidalgo, hovering high enough that the wind created by the blades wouldn’t blow the guy off the ledge. A moment later the side door slid open and Castaneda appeared, a nylon harness strapped over his uniform. Hanging from a rope, he dropped slowly toward the ledge, his eye on Hidalgo all the while. When he was a few feet above Hidalgo, he stopped his descent and yelled something at the man that I couldn’t hear. Apparently it was an order for Hidalgo to raise his hands and turn around, because that’s the next thing the smuggler did, blood from his wounded hand running down the rock to form a small pool at his feet.
Castaneda lowered himself tentatively the rest of the way, a spotter from above watching carefully in case Hidalgo did something stupid and tried to harm the agent rescuing him.
When Castaneda’s feet hit the rock of the ledge, the spotter lowered another harness down. Castaneda stepped forward and fastened the second harness to Hidalgo. He said a few words, probably giving the guy instructions, before ascending back up to the helicopter. Hidalgo was pulled up next, like a limp puppet in a brutal, bloody show.
As soon as he was inside the aircraft, I lowered my gun, my services no longer needed. Through the open door, I saw Castaneda grab Hidalgo’s hands and pull them behind his back to be cuffed. He also said something to the guy, probably asking about the kidnapped girls. Hidalgo’s mouth never moved. If he knew anything about the girls, he wasn’t talking. Bastard.
While a few of the migrants had run south, evidently hoping to make it back across the border into Mexico before they could be apprehended, others had complied with the instructions they’d been given and were waiting for the agents. The Black Hawk set down near them. Two agents emerged and stood watch while half of the group was loaded onto the helicopter.
A second helicopter arrived then, picking up me, Ochoa, Peña, and Armbruster, as well as the remaining migrants. Though I attempted to make eye contact with them, to acknowledge their situation with at least a nod or soft smile, all of them stared at the bottom of the helicopter, their shoulders slumped in defeat and despair. Two of the females cried openly, their tears leaving a track in the dust on their faces. I couldn’t help but wonder what would become of them now. Would they be returned to their countries, where they might face danger? Would they be granted some type of asylum here? I suppose it all depended on their particular situations. The only thing I could be sure of was that I’d never take my relatively easy and secure life for granted ever again.
The pilot began to work the controls. As the helicopter lifted off, I glanced out the window. Off in the distance I thought I saw something moving. Of course, it could simply be the breeze, or an animal who’d been scared off by the gunfire, explosion, and helicopter noise.
I grabbed a pair of binoculars and held them to my eyes. To my surprise and delight, I saw three girls running in our direction, waving their arms over their heads. They had to be Nina, Larissa, and Yessenia. I looked up to sky. Thank you, Lord!
“Hold up!” I cried to the pilot. “I see the missing girls!”
He looked back at me, his eyes bright with hope. “You do?”
I pointed out the window and took another look. “Over there. They’re running this way.”
He grabbed his own pair of binoculars and looked through them. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He lowered the glasses, returned them to their placed under his seat, and shut off the engine.
While the pilot used the radio to notify Castaneda, I climbed out of the helicopter and stepped a few feet away to wait. Castaneda climbed out of the other helicopter and came over to stand beside me. When the girls ran up, they were dirty, exhausted, emaciated, and thirsty, their throats so dry and their voices so raspy it must have hurt to speak. After what had happened to me at Financial Force, I could relate. The sounds they made told me they were crying, but they were so dehydrated that the tears barely came. Castaneda and I quickly loaded them into the aircraft and brought them bottled water from the cooler.
The agents flew the girls to the hospital in Presidio for treatment, and took the other migrants to the Border Patrol station. Afterward, Castaneda returned me to the Midland-Odessa airport. Once he’d turned off the engine and we’d stepped out onto the helipad, he held out a hand. “Great working with you, Special Agent Holloway.”
“Ditto,” I said. “I’ll send your office a bill for my new teeth and spine.”
He chuckled and gave me a chuck on the shoulder before turning to head back to his aircraft. I went into the concourse, purchased a ticket on the next flight back to Dallas, and headed straight for the bar. I wasn’t sure if the drink would be to calm my frayed nerves or to celebrate surviving a close call in a remote desert, but either justification worked.
I laid a twenty-dollar bill on the bar. “A glass of your house red,” I told the bartender. “With a cherry.”
chapter thirty-two
Home Sweet Home
I received a lot of news over the next few days from Agent Castaneda. Fortunately, all of the news was good.
Based on the affidavits provided by the men who worked for Brett, as well as their willingness to testify at a later trial, Salvador Hidalgo was being held without bond. His days of luring people to their deaths in the west Texas desert and kidnapping vulnerable migrants were over.
The migrants that had been rounded up in the desert would likely be allowed to stay. All were shop owners whose livelihoods and very lives had been threatened by violent gangs in Guatemala. Because they could not return without facing possible harm or even death, the judge had stayed deportation pending a full hearing. As victims of crimes willing to testify against Hidalgo, the three girls would also be permitted to remain in the United States. They were united with their aunt and uncle in Dallas, where the younger girls had
been enrolled in school and Yessenia had begun helping out in her uncle’s custom cabinet business. Zaragoza was rounded up in the desert, not far from where we’d found the girls. They’d been trailing the other group of migrants being led by Hidalgo. When Zaragoza had seen the helicopters ahead, he’d abandoned the girls, turned tail, and run in the opposite direction. He just hadn’t run fast enough. Neener-neener.
Brett’s men asked around and finally determined the whereabouts of Julio Número Uno, his wife, and young son. Nick and I went to their new apartment to return the dog to the little boy in person. When his parents answered, he ran up behind them. Spotting the stuffed toy in my hand, he cried out in glee, “Pepito!”
He grabbed the dog from me as quickly as he could, and clutched it to his chest with both hands, turning side to side with emotion.
His mother, the woman I’d spoken to at the mobile home several days ago, gave me a teary-eyed smile. “Muchas gracias.” She said more, which Nick translated for me. “That little dog meant so much to my son. He’s been crying and crying. We appreciate this more than you could ever know. You’ve made three people very happy today.”
About time someone was happy to see me, huh?
Cassidy Briscoe was released, but only after her attorney and lawyers at the Department of Justice negotiated a deal whereby she would wear an ankle monitor and live with her parents under house arrest until her trial. A diary found in her apartment revealed her motivations for filing the bogus tax reports, all of which, like Isidora’s motives, were petty. Bethany Flagler had apparently failed to offer Cassidy any of the cookies she’d bought from the vending machine in the break room, even though Cassidy had shared her chips the day before. Amelia and Gwen had made plans to attend a rock concert without inviting Cassidy. Jocelyn hadn’t returned a compliment when Cassidy had commented on her cute shoes. As for Thomas Hoffmeyer, the diary simply said he’d acted like “an arrogant asshole.” She’d get no argument from me there.
Robin Beck never surfaced. Looked like she’d decided to forgo her final paycheck from the store in the mall rather than suffer the humiliation of returning to the store to pick it up. Or maybe she feared her boss might change her mind and decide to press theft charges. Who knows?
I cut back on the sweet potato fries, and my weight and complexion returned to normal. There’d be no need to resize my ring or order a wedding dress in a larger size. Nonetheless, I asked my mother and Bonnie to add sweet potato fries to the selections they planned to offer at our wedding buffet dinner. The two graciously agreed.
With my major cases resolved and Bonnie and my mother on top of the wedding plans, I was able to relax and enjoy a girl’s night out and frozen margaritas with Christina and Alicia, who’d just returned from their honeymoons. It was just what I needed.
* * *
The following Sunday evening, Nick and I pulled to a stop in front of his mother’s house. She’d invited us over for dinner and to go over some of the wedding ideas she and my mother had come up with.
As we climbed out of the pickup, Nick gestured to the house next door. “Would ya look at that? There’s a FOR SALE sign in the yard.”
I glanced over at the house. It was a single-story Tudor style with a two-car garage, mature Bradford pear trees on either side of the drive, and a row of yellow roses along the front and sides.
Before I could respond, Bonnie rushed out of her front door. “They’re moving!” she cried, pointing to the sign Nick had just pointed out. “I saw the realtor putting the sign in the yard this afternoon when I was watering the plants on my porch. You two should take a look. It would be great to have y’all so close! Aren’t those roses pretty? And that backyard is big enough for kids and a dog, too. Plus it’s got fresh paint and new carpet. I’ve seen the crews over there working on it.”
While many women might cringe at the thought of living so close to their mother-in-law, I wasn’t one of them. Bonnie had never butted into our business—well, until now, when she was trying to sell us on buying the house next door. She wasn’t critical, either, accepting both her son and me as we were without judgment. And she made a great glass of peach sangria and a delicious spinach lasagna. I bet she’d have us over for dinner all the time, and when we had kids she’d be a convenient babysitter. Yep, living next door to her could definitely have its advantages …
Of course, my motives weren’t entirely selfish. With Nick’s dad having passed on some time ago, Bonnie lived alone, which wasn’t easy for anyone, let alone a woman her age. If we lived next door, Nick would be able to take care of her yard and help her maintain things. We’d all be able to enjoy each other’s company more often.
Bonnie waved for us to follow her. “Let’s see if they’re home. Maybe they’ll let you take a sneak peek.”
We followed her up the driveway to the front door, where she rang the bell. Ding-dong!
A moment later, the door was answered by a man in his late fifties. He pushed his glasses back on his nose and offered us a smile. “Hello there, Bonnie.” He nodded to Nick, too. “Nick. Good to see you.” His gaze traveled to me. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Nick put a hand on my back. “This is Tara Holloway, my fiancée.”
The man’s smile became even broader as he shook my hand then clapped his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Congratulations! Now, what can I do you for?”
“Any chance they can take a look around?” Bonnie asked. “They haven’t yet decided where they’re going to live after they get married, but I think next door to me would be the perfect place.”
The man chuckled and took a step back. “Come on in. My wife’s around here someplace. She can point out the so-called features. But I can tell you about the equipment and systems. We had a new AC unit installed two years ago. Replaced the water heater six months back. It’s still under warranty. Everything else is in good shape.” He turned his head and called down the hall to his wife. “Hon? We’ve got someone here to see the house.”
“Already?” came an excited voice. The wife appeared a moment later, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “Why, hello Bonnie and Nick. How are you? And who is this?”
Introductions were exchanged again, as were offers of congratulations on our pending nuptials.
“So happy for you two! You’ll make a lovely bride and groom.” The woman started back down the hall, waving for us to follow her. “I’ll take you on the grand tour. We’ve been empty nesters for a while, but now both of our kids are married with homes of their own. We’re ready to downsize to a garden home or condominium.” She stopped at the first room, a small home office with French doors and built-in bookshelves and cabinets. “Lots of storage in there. Not sure if you bring work home with you, but it’s a quiet place to get things done.”
From there, she led us into a sizable living room with a fireplace and wide windows looking out onto a covered back patio and shady yard. “Plenty of space in here,” she said. “Plus you can keep an eye on your kids from here if they’re playing out back.”
Our next stop was the kitchen. While not as large as Bonnie’s or my mother’s, it was still plenty big enough and had a comfy breakfast nook. The wallpaper in the adjacent formal dining area was a bit out of date, but it would be easy and inexpensive enough to replace it.
“The bedrooms are back here,” she said, leading our five-person parade back across the living room to another hallway.
The master bedroom was sizable, with windows overlooking the front yard and a separate garden tub in the bathroom. It was the jetted kind I’d always dreamed about. And when the woman threw open the double doors that led to the master closet, I gasped in delight. Have I died and gone to heaven? The closet was a walk-in, four or five times bigger than the closet in my town house, and featured built-in shelves and shoe racks. For the first time ever, I would actually have enough room for all of my clothes.
“Uh-oh,” Nick said. “She’ll never be happy with a smaller closet after seeing this.”
The other bedrooms were sized well, as was the shared bath. The house had plenty of space for a married couple, a kid or two, and a few furry pets. Still, we weren’t ready to buy a house now, were we? I mean, we hadn’t even set a wedding date yet.
As the couple walked us back to the front door, the woman asked, “When’s the big day?”
“October second,” Bonnie answered for us, turning our way. “I planned to mention that to you later.” She looked at me. “Your mom called your family church in Nacogdoches and the pastor said that’s the first date they had available.”
The man and woman exchanged a glance.
I raised my palm. “It’s not a shotgun wedding, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just that things have been crazy busy for both of us at work so we left the planning up to our mothers.”
The woman smiled. “And I take it they want to see you two married off ASAP?”
“Of course!” Bonnie cried. “The sooner they get married the sooner I’ll be a grandma.”
Nick put a hand on her shoulder. “One thing at a time, Mom. One thing at a time.” He shot me a wink to let me know it might not be all that long before he’d be thinking of children, too.
I whipped out my phone and ran a quick Internet search. Sure enough, Mercury would be in retrograde on the day of our wedding. Madam Magnolia had been right about that. I only hoped she wouldn’t be right about the chaos. After everything I’d been through the last few days, all I wanted was some peace and quiet and normality.
Turning to the couple, Nick asked, “How much are you asking for the house?”
Their price was more than fair. Besides, mortgage interest rates were low, and we’d be able to use the tax deductions home ownership provided. I could tell by Nick’s expression that he was sold on the idea.
He turned to me, cocking his head. “You want to talk about this and get back to them later?”
“What’s to talk about?” I said, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. “Let’s do it.”