by Scott Blade
“Yeah. It’s gotta be the smallest town I ever heard of.”
“It’s got a judge and lawyers and everything?”
“No lawyers. There’s a judge, but he only does hearings and marriage licenses. They settle disputes among themselves.”
He stayed quiet.
She said, “It’s on the map. But I doubt it’s on Google.”
“How hard is it to get to?”
“Not hard. If you have a four-wheel drive.”
Widow changed the subject and asked, “What happened to his handler?”
Leon asked, “Who?”
“Jake’s master. You said he was a Marine in Afghanistan?”
“Yeah. He was. His master died.”
“In the war?”
“No. He died from cancer, I think. It was natural causes. He died in a hospital bed here in Texas. Jake was donated to us after. The family thought he should be with the police force, I guess.”
Widow looked at Jake and then back toward the road. He said, “That’s tough on a dog.”
“Yeah. It was hard for him to adjust at first.”
“I bet.”
“He went through three other agents before landing on me. Don’t know why, but he and I took together like we were old pals. He comes home with me every night and sleeps by my bed. We eat dinner together and we fight bad guys together.”
Widow said, “All every guy really needs is that one special woman to turn his life around.”
Leon smiled again, another big smile, all teeth and glow.
“You’ve got a nice smile. If I may make such a comment.”
Leon said, “Of course. Perfectly okay. Even a woman in uniform likes a compliment like that.”
“Not sure how Jake feels about it.”
Leon held the wheel steady, hands at the nine and three positions like she was being examined by a guy from the DMV. To Widow she seemed like a by-the-books kind of officer. Nothing wrong with that.
She said, “He’s fine with whatever I’m fine with. So don’t worry. If I didn’t like the compliment, you’d know it.”
“You patrol out here alone often?”
“I’m not alone. I got him.”
“Sure, but I mean without any other officers?”
“Agents. We’re not officers.”
“Sorry. Agents, I meant.”
“Yeah. I come through here every Tuesday and Friday. It’s my regular route.”
“What level are you? Patrol? ’Cause you don’t look like an average patrol agent to me.”
Widow looked at her and noticed how beautiful she was for a Border Patrol agent.
Agent Leon had tan skin, toned shoulders, and a nice smile. He couldn’t see her eyes because they were behind thick Oakley sunglasses that had a thin black neck strap. She wore simple jewelry and simple makeup. Not enough to garner attention, but enough so that there was no confusion that she was a female, not that there would be any. Widow could see she was female. A blind man could see that—and probably did.
Widow wondered how much shit she got on the job for being so attractive. Law enforcement tended to be a man’s world, and he was sure she must’ve seen her fair share of chauvinism. On top of her being in a male-dominated field, this was Texas.
She said, “I’m part of SOG.”
“What’s that stand for?”
“It’s Special Operations Group. We’ve got K9 units and anti-smuggling units and even dirt bike units.”
“Dirt bikes?”
Leon said, “Of course. Texas terrain toward the west is vast and rocky and mountainous and deserted. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and it’s rough. Dirt bikes are great for that.”
“Will I need a dirt bike to get to Romanth?”
“No, but you can’t get there by bus. Not that I’m aware of. You never told me what’s in Romanth.”
“I’m looking for someone,” he said. He didn’t want to say any more than that. So he asked, “Where are you from?”
She shrugged and said, “I was born in Houston. I’m a Texas girl through and through.”
Widow nodded.
“So tell me about yourself,” she said.
Widow stayed quiet for a moment and debated about what to say because his story was a long one, but in the end, he decided to share the highlights, leaving out killing bad guys and helping people and of course all of the women he had met. That sorta thing was better kept to yourself.
He told her about his military career and that he used to be a cop. He left out the redacted information and the undercover part. He told her about his addiction to the drifter lifestyle. He told her all of the things you tell a woman you just met and are attracted to and realize you will never see again. Probably.
KILL TEAM B was parked about a mile away. Its members stood on a slight hill and shared a pair of field glasses.
The man said, “He got picked up by a cop.”
“It’s not a cop. It’s US Border Patrol,” said the woman.
“What do we do now?”
“Nothing’s changed. We follow him.”
“We better tell Glock.”
The woman said, “No. No reason. Nothing’s changed.”
“We can’t follow a Border Patrol car.”
“We won’t have to. She’ll drop him off in the next town. She’s not going to drive him to wherever he’s headed.”
The man from Kill Team B nodded.
“Let’s go. We can wait for them down the road. Park at the first gas station.”
They got into the Dodge Charger, fired up the engine, and headed west.
LEON SAID, “Sounds like you’ve lived quite a life, Widow.”
Widow nodded and tilted in his seat. He felt the cold air blasting from the air conditioner on his neck and face. Which was nice, but it made the sweat on his torso sticky, and his shirt clung to his skin. But he didn’t complain. Being inside the SUV with Leon was much better than the alternative.
He said, “Yeah, it’s been a ride. What about you? How long you been with the Border Patrol?”
“I’ve been with the agency for five years.”
“Did you always want to be a Border Patrol agent?”
“Nah, I wanted to be a cop. But this actually pays better.”
“Really? Is that true?”
“Nah. I don’t know what cops make. I never tried out. This was more appealing. I actually want to be in the FBI, but it’s pretty hard to get in. I got a degree and can speak Spanish, so this is where I ended up.”
“You sound like you aren’t thrilled with it.”
“I do like it. There’s just not a lot of moving up in the US Border Patrol. Not for a woman.”
“It’s like that?”
“It’s not on the surface, but I see it. We have other women agents, but there aren’t many in the upper echelons. There are a lot of old men. Still hanging on to their jobs.”
Widow nodded and said, “Military used to be like that too. Change in America is a slow thing. You’ll move up.”
Leon said nothing and glanced in her side mirror for the third time in five minutes.
“What is it?”
“This car has been following us for a ways.”
Widow craned his head and looked past Jake and over the backseat and past the cargo space and through the rear window. He saw a white Dodge Charger about ten car lengths behind them. He said, “It is an interstate. There’s only one direction to go.”
“Yeah, but that’s a sports car.”
“So?”
“So normally people drive them fast. This is Texas. And they’ve been keeping their distance like that for miles.”
“Maybe they don’t want to get a speeding ticket. You got a light bar on the roof.”
Leon gazed over at Widow and then back at the road ahead of her. She said, “I’m not a cop. I can’t give tickets.”
“Maybe they don’t know that.”
“Maybe.”
Widow looked back one last time. Jake l
ooked up at him, ears forward and eyes wide.
“Can I pet him?”
“Sure. Just do it slowly.”
Widow put his palm out so the dog could smell it. Jake stretched his neck out like a turtle and buried his nose into Widow’s hand and sniffed for a long second. Then Widow scratched the bottom of Jake’s chin with his fingers. Within moments, he was ruffling the dog’s head and ears. Jake complied like dogs often did when they felt comfortable with someone.
CHAPTER 7
LEON AND WIDOW rode past the next town and didn’t stop like Leon had said they would. Widow said, “You passed the town.”
“I know.”
Widow stayed quiet.
Leon said, “I’m actually headed down south. It’s part of my route. I figure you seem like a nice guy, and being ex-military and all, the least I can do is take you part of the way.”
Widow stared at her. He didn’t know what to say.
She said, “Unless you want me to dump you out and let you take your chances with the buses. But that hasn’t worked out for you today, has it?”
“No, it hasn’t.”
She smiled at him.
He said, “Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Leon flipped on the turn signal, and they cut over and turned onto the off-ramp for fifty-five. She said, “I’m not going all the way, but we’ve reached Uvalde and I can drop you off here.”
“Sure. That sounds good.”
Widow looked at the touch screen interface located in the center of the dash, and he checked the time. It was getting close to sundown. He hoped he would be able to catch Hood and Jemma before they vanished. He hoped they were really going to Romanth.
Leon had told him it was a border town. He hoped James Hood didn’t plan to take Jemma across the border. Then he might never find them.
“So what are you? Like a private investigator? Or a bounty hunter?”
“Huh?”
“You said you were looking for someone. I figure a guy like you, military background and ex-cop and all, you must be hunting someone.”
“I guess you can say that.”
“Which is it? Private investigator or bounty hunter? You looking for a guy who skipped bail?”
“Nah, I’m looking for a deadbeat dad.”
“What? He owes his wife alimony or something?”
Widow nodded and said, “Something like that.” And then he changed the subject again. He didn’t want to have to lie to her. Better to talk small talk and not about Hood or Jemma. He said, “Sun’s going down. You work at night?”
“Yeah. My shift ends at midnight.”
“I see.”
“Why? You want to have dinner or something?”
Widow said, “I’d love to have dinner with you.”
Leon shot him a look and then said, “Not with me. I work. I meant are you getting hungry?”
Widow smiled, a little embarrassed, and then he said, “I could eat.”
“You got to eat. Food is fuel.”
“Right.”
“You can grab a bite in Uvalde. I know a great little place.”
Widow stared at her.
“I’m not eating with you. I’m just surveying the landscape. My job. I’ll drop you off there.”
“Sounds good. Do you want me to drive some of the way?”
Leon said, “Pointless. We’ll be there soon. Besides, it’s against regulations to let a civilian drive. Come on, Widow, you know that.”
“Giving drifters a ride is also not allowed.”
“That’s true. But you still can’t drive.”
Widow nodded. “Understood. Just thought I’d offer.”
They both looked forward. The horizon grew closer, and the sun breathed its last breath.
JAKE KEPT his eyes open and on Widow, but he stayed with his head down and in a relaxed position, like he was on standby. A well-trained dog without a doubt.
Widow and Leon had driven the better part of four hours and had just about exhausted every piece of possible small talk on the menu for common American strangers.
The night had set in, and Widow was actually getting hungry.
In his mind, he had pulled up all of the possibilities as to what he had gotten himself into, and they all led back to the same answer—Claire Hood and Jemma Hood and Lucy, who was dying somewhere in a hospital bed. Widow hoped that Claire’s intel on Jemma’s destination proved to be correct. Otherwise, he was wasting his time—and time was running out for any kind of rescue for Jemma. The FBI said that if no rescue was made in the first forty-eight hours of an abduction, it was considered a homicide and no longer looked at as a rescue. Which meant that if forty-eight hours passed, he was most likely looking at a recovery of the body.
Widow hated to lose. Right now, he was feeling that way. Part of him wanted to tell Leon. Part of him was screaming at him to tell her now. They still could get an Amber Alert out there. But he remembered Claire Hood’s words. Jemma and her mother were undocumented.
Where would Lucy go for care? Claire Hood had said.
Leon said, “Widow, what are you daydreaming about?”
“I’m just thinking.”
“We’re almost there.”
“Got it.”
Widow looked out the window at the city of Uvalde and was impressed to find it a much larger metropolitan area than he had imagined. It wasn’t a major Texas city or anything, not like Dallas or Houston, but its size was respectable. Tall buildings lined the terrain, not skyscrapers or anything, but plenty of tall enough places.
Widow asked, “How far is Romanth from here?”
“If I were you, I’d get a hotel room for the night and then rent a vehicle tomorrow. Get a truck. I wasn’t kidding around about the four-wheel drive. You’ll need it to get there.”
Leon turned the Tahoe toward the off-ramp on the cloverleaf, and they circled down with the flow of traffic and came off of 55 and merged onto the highway below.
Jake shuffled around in the backseat, trying to stay comfortable and maintain his balance so he didn’t roll off the seat.
Leon said, “Take 83 straight down toward Mexico and merge onto 35. When you get to Laredo, head north on Mines Road. Stay on it when it forks west. Somewhere along the way, you’ll pass 255. Cross over it and keep going. The way ahead looks like a forgotten dirt track. I can’t remember the name of the road, but it won’t matter because it’s not posted anywhere.”
She paused a beat and flipped on the left turn signal, moving the Tahoe over to the fast lane and then into the turning lane.
“You’ll be heading into the Rio Grande Valley. It’s rocky at worst and hilly at best.”
Widow nodded.
“Stay on course for about twenty miles, and eventually you’ll come to Romanth. It’s the only thing on that road. We patrol it occasionally, but I doubt you’ll see anyone else driving it.”
“How do they buy goods and such?”
“Oh, they group together and send folks into Laredo every once in a while, to get supplies. It’s not that far out. It’s just a pain in the ass to get there. Not a comfortable ride. Does a number on their vehicles too.”
Widow stayed quiet.
Leon drove him down one busy street, and then they turned past a Sheraton Hotel, which reminded Widow of the senator he’d read about. They pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant that looked expensive, not in the New York fifty-dollar-crab-legs sense of the phrase, but still out of Widow’s budget.
Leon parked the Tahoe in an empty space far from the other cars and left the engine running. She said, “Here’s as far as I go.”
Widow said, “This is the restaurant? You must get paid better than I thought.”
“Not this place, you numbskull. It’s the diner over there.”
She pointed to a tiny little store across the street. It had a big white door and a huge window with ugly green drapes.
Widow said, “Oh. It’s hideous.”
“Yeah, but it’s great
. It’s a family business. Everyone from the cook to the busboy is a part of the same family.”
Widow nodded.
“I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess so,” Widow said and started to get out. He opened the door and hopped out, but he stopped before he shut the door and asked, “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You’re an accomplished woman of Latin descent—”
“Of Latin descent?” she interrupted.
Widow nodded.
“What is this, politically correct nation?”
Widow shrugged.
“I’m a Latina. It’s okay to say it.”
“Right. So my question is, what do you think about the wall?”
Leon stared at him. Her face registered that she was processing the question. She leaned her head against her hands on the steering wheel, then she said, “Truthfully, as a Border Patrol agent, I’m glad for any help we get from the government, but the wall will cost billions of dollars. That money is better spent on more agents. More equipment. Better programs. Better software and sensors. We could use more drones. I’ve heard the wall could cost in excess of twenty-five billion dollars. That’s a lot of manpower and equipment we could use. The wall isn’t going to do the same kind of job we can do with a better budget.”
Widow nodded again and leaned on one side, his left hand gripped around the top of the Tahoe and his right gripped around the top of the door.
“As an American and a Mexican woman, I’m appalled at the building of the wall.”
“Really?”
“Yes! Absolutely! My job is to stop illegal immigration and to enforce the laws of our country. No question. When I catch illegals, I arrest them for breaking our laws. I round them up, and we ship them out. But as an American, it bothers me to waste my taxes on a big ugly wall. As a Mexican, it offends me that so many of my American brothers and sisters are so afraid of Mexicans that they want to build a wall. A lot of people here want to blame us and blame everyone but themselves.”
Widow said, “You feel that strongly about it?”
“Yes. It’s outrageous that this is even a real issue.”
Jake lifted his head and reared back on his hind legs like he was getting ready to launch at Widow.
Leon sat up straight and reached back and patted him on the butt. She gave a command in German. Widow had no idea what the words meant, but he could guess they were a command telling Jake to calm down and be at ease.