Degüello Page 4

  “Well, I don’t guess we’ll get anything out of them, huh?” Norma said.

  “Not today. But I’m going over there tomorrow and see if I can find him, do some talking about his passengers and little kids.”

  “I have to work tomorrow.”

  “I know, but I’ll be okay. I won’t get into any trouble.”

  “I hope not.”

  Hunter winked at her, “Piece of cake.” She marked their GPS location on her phone, “I’ll line up on this tomorrow, and walk right on down to the old man’s boat. Easy-peasy.”

  “Keep an eye out for Solomon and his people, you hear? I think he’d like to make an Agent disappear, if he had a chance.”

  “Ten-four, head on a swivel.”

  They watched the river flow by for several minutes before returning to their vehicle. The first thing Hunter said as they turned on the AC was, “Where are we eating tonight? I’m starving.”

  “You have a tapeworm, don’t you? I’ve never seen anybody so lean who can eat so much. You’d beat the fat man from the circus at a buffet.”

  “Hah! No, seriously, where are we gonna eat? I’m about to pass out here.”

  Norma made a snorting sound as she drove to the highway and turned toward Del Rio, “How about Chili’s or Applebee’s?”

  “They’re close, and easy.”

  “And they have a bar, know what I’m sayin’? I need some refreshments this evening if I’m back in uniform tomorrow.”

  “Do you know where you’re working tomorrow?”

  “I’m teaming up with Brackettville. We’re gonna work some of the back roads, there’s reports of smugglers using the county roads to get around the checkpoint in Uvalde. They drive the county roads for several miles, then cut the fences and drive on ranch roads until they get far enough up, then cut the fences again and come back on a county road. They know there are sensors, so that’s why they started cutting the fences. One of the S.O. deputies will be there, too, Clay Sinclair.”

  “Always nice to double team the bad guys with state and federal laws to nail them. Plus, when livestock wanders on the road through the openings in the cut fences, they have that covered, too.”

  “You got it.”

  Norma pulled into Chili’s, and they spent the next hour eating, drinking, and talking, and all the while, Hunter’s thoughts kept returning to the boatman and the abducted child, Kelly. She felt sure he might be the next key…

  Hunter drove across the international bridge and into Mexico at nine the next morning. Stopping by a food cart, she ordered three breakfast tacos of chorizo and egg, and a bottled coke dripping with moisture as the vendor pulled it from a red plastic bucket filled with watery ice.

  He opened the bottle with a church key that hung from a kite string attached to the cart, and took her money, then handed the tacos and coke to her. She ate as she drove, sipping from the coke bottle occasionally, and finished two tacos in record time. The town was wakening, and there was vehicle and pedestrian activity, but it wasn’t crowded so early in the day. Most of the business was in the evening and at night.

  The road turned upriver, meandering along residential streets and, as she left the town’s buildings and houses, she saw more ruins of abandoned homes, and stray dogs running furtively through the overgrown brush and down the alleys.

  She checked her phone for the GPS marker and continued paralleling the Rio Grande. Across the river, miles into Texas, Hunter spotted the silhouette of the Sleeping Lady, a low mountain range that served as a guide for early travelers. Ten minutes later, the GPS marker showed she was directly across from the boatman’s spot. She drove fifty yards beyond, parking the vehicle in an open area on the side of the dirt road. She finished the last bites of taco and drank the last of the coke, burping slightly from drinking it so fast, then left her pickup.

  Walking the road gave Hunter a good look at the narrow trails going into the cane and brush toward the river. When she found one that looked more travelled, and had the same set of tracks overlaying one another indicating multiple use by the same individual, she went down it, into the tall green cane.

  Several other trails intersected with the one she followed, but she stayed on the tracks. When she was close enough to hear the river, she also heard someone coming up the trail. Hunter found a small break in the river cane and slipped through it, stopping about five feet from the main trail. She knelt and watched the trail. It wasn’t long before the old man shuffled up the trail, the man she recognized as the boatman from the other day. He had a stringer of catfish and perch slung on his back and carried it over his shoulder with his index finger through a slender loop of the stringer. He carried a weathered Zebco rod and reel on the same shoulder, holding the handle with his other fingers and his thumb.

  He held a phone to his ear with the other, saying into the phone, “Tengo bastante por la comida. Trae algún frijoles y tortillas, y serranos del jardín, por favor.” He listened a moment, then said, “Viente minutos. Bueno.”

  So, Hunter thought, the boatman was having someone over for lunch. She’d been close enough, and the phone’s volume loud enough, that she knew he’d talked to a woman. Rather than stopping and confronting him, Hunter decided to follow, see where he lived. That might be handy later. She could come back to check out the boat another time.

  He turned left on the main road, and Hunter waited a minute before going to her pickup. She started it up and followed the man, watching him until he turned in the first residential neighborhood, still walking and carrying his fish.

  His house was the second one up the road, and nicer than the others around it. It was a two-story home made of cinder block, painted a pale blue, with red tile roof. His yard had grass, which his neighbors did not. Hunter decided to find a place to watch the location for a while. She found a home half a block up the road that had banana plants overgrowing the fence and hanging into the caliche street. She slid into the overhang, crouching among the long, fat leaves, hiding from the boatman’s home unless he was seriously looking for someone.

  Fifteen minutes later, a midnight blue Cadillac Escalade parked in front of the boatman’s house. Hunter sat a little straighter, taking out her phone to snap pictures. Her first was of the Escalade’s plate. It was a Coahuila plate. The next ten photos were rapid fire as three women exited the Cadillac. Two were women in their forties, one in a red dress and the other in a maroon one, and the third was a muscular, twenty-something woman dressed in black workout gear. She resembled one of those elite Crossfit women in the magazines, not bodybuilder big like a weightlifter, but the ones who looked hard, strong, and very fit. She walked like her body weighed nothing, light as air.

  Hunter took several photos of each of them as the boatman came out to meet them and carry their wares into the house. She snapped three photos of him as well. She noticed the man almost bowed to the woman in red.

  Hunter recognized the one in red. It was the woman who threw the child off the bridge, only now her face and arms showed bruises as if she’d been beaten. “So that’s one of the boss ladies. Looks like she pissed somebody off big time.” She said to herself. “But she’s still hanging around.”

  When they entered his home, Hunter waited five minutes, then walked by the house and stopped at the corner. She thought about what to do next, and looked over the street and homes. Every yard was almost overgrown with bushes, trees, plants, and shrubs of all kinds, and they crossed the low fences between houses. She didn’t see any dogs, which was strange, but she did see several cats.

  Hunter took her time and strolled along the street. When she reached the boatman’s house, she saw the man and women sitting inside the screened front porch at a table, and the woman in red talked and gestured.

  Hunter decided to take a chance and move in beside the next house, staying between the bushes and plants on each side of the fence. She stopped near the corner of the boatman’s yard, and could hear voices coming from the porch area. She edged forward and could see thr
ough the branches to make out the people at the boatman’s home.

  The woman in red talked in English, which surprised Hunter. She wasn’t loud, and Hunter had to strain to hear.

  The woman said, “Paco, I want you to take the next ones yourself. Take someone with you to bring back the boat, and you can drive us all.”

  Paco said, “Por supuesto, of course. When will we do this?”

  “Be on the river tomorrow. We will come fast. They’ll hunt for us immediately.”

  “You want me armed?”

  “Yes.”

  “As you wish.”

  Hunter thought it might be drugs, but she continued to listen.

  The boatman said, “What about what we already have?”

  “Make the calls, have your helpers stage it somewhere north where we can combine the two loads and take it all with us. Makes for a big payday that way.”

  “And if there are any problems?”

  “You have a gun.”

  Hunter saw the older man nod, “I can do that.”

  “If it is necessary, do not hesitate.”

  “I understand,” Paco said.

  Chapter 4

  Hunter felt ice trace up her spine. They were talking, matter-of-factly, about killing someone, or possibly more than one person.

  Time to leave, Hunter thought, and she walked down the street, glancing back, avoiding small dry twigs in the street, keeping quiet all the way. Hunter picked up the pace and trotted to her vehicle. Once inside the truck cab and behind the steering wheel, she let out a sigh, started the engine and drove out of there.

  She was almost into downtown Acuña when a black Ford 250 stopped crossways in the street ahead of her, blocking her path. There was only one man in the vehicle, tall, wearing a ball cap and dark aviator sunglasses. He opened his door and stepped to the street.

  Hunter almost hit reverse and sped away, but something about the man’s walk stopped her. When he took off his glasses, she recognized him. It was the bodyguard, Ike.

  He walked to her driver’s window, “You need to get out of here.”

  “You stopped me or I would have been gone. Did somebody report me?”

  “You were spotted, let’s leave it at that.”

  “Thanks for letting me know. I’m headed to Del Rio as soon as you move.”

  He put his hand on her windowsill, “Be careful. People are looking for you, and not just Solomon’s gang.”

  “Why? What did I do?”

  “What I heard, people are watching you. And there’s an Ojinaga connection to it, somebody paying for it to be done. Sounds like you have some enemies out there.”

  “I probably do.”

  Ike said, “Since you saved Solomon’s kid, I don’t think he’s out for you, but somebody is. You’re a walking target right now in Mexico, with a big old bullseye on your back. I’m serious.”

  She nodded, “Thanks, Ike. I’ll go across. At least in Texas I can carry.”

  He tapped the door, “If I hear something, I’ll pass it on.” He returned to the black Ford and drove away.

  Hunter drove straight to the International Bridge and crossed into Del Rio, watching for anyone following her, but she missed the brown Ford three cars back, the one with the large woman behind the wheel. Hunter breathed a little easier when she was back in Del Rio, and drove to the Skillet’s Restaurant for lunch and to call Norma.

  As soon as she stepped inside, Hunter saw the sad face of Anna Hoyt. She sat in a window booth, nibbling on a triangle of dry toast, with coffee and water as her beverages. Anna spotted Hunter, and motioned for her to come to the table. Anna said, “You can sit with me, if you like. The place is kinda crowded today.”

  “Thanks.” Hunter slid into the opposite side of the booth as Anna pushed a menu across the table for her. As she browsed over the items on the page, she asked Anna, “You want anything else? I’m buying.”

  “I’m fine. Not much of an appetite these days.”

  Hunter nodded, and when she gave her order to the waitress, she said to Anna, “How are you holding up?”

  “Not too good. Day by day, sometimes minute by minute. I hope you’re still looking for her. Please tell me you are.”

  “I ran into some trouble in Mexico and need to stay on this side, at least for a while. But I was looking around.”

  “But over there is where her kidnappers are, and maybe her.” The anguish in her voice was restrained, but noticeable. Hunter wondered how terrible it must be to have a child taken, and not know what has happened to them. Were they alive, were they dead, are they in pain, or suffering? That thought made Hunter roll her shoulders from the tension. She said, “Tell me about Kelly. What’s she like?”

  Anna’s eyes brightened, “She’s so smart, Hunter, really smart. She’s quick, too, and funny.”

  “She sounds resourceful, and that may help.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but going to Mexico is out.”

  Anna took Hunter’s words, but there was disappointment in her eyes. Anna said, “Thank you for whatever you can do.” She gave a sad half-smile as she rose, and left Hunter sitting at the table.

  A huge Hispanic woman, maybe three hundred pounds, shielded her face with a menu when Anna passed her table, and Hunter saw the movement. Then the woman looked at Hunter, a faint sneer showing on her face. What the heck? Hunter thought. The waitress brought her breakfast, refilled her coffee, and Hunter ignored the sneering woman as she ate.

  Finishing the breakfast and the last of her coffee left Hunter feeling good, full of energy. She noticed the large woman was still there, watching her, but only occasionally now. The server brought her bill, and Hunter rose from her table holding it and her cell phone. As she passed the large woman, Hunter took several photos of the woman, who grunted, “Hey,” and began to rise from her seat.

  Hunter smiled and put one hand on her shoulder pushing down so the woman couldn’t rise, then she bent close to her and took several more photos with both their faces in the frame, like they were friends. The woman struggled, but couldn’t get out of the booth, grunting and breathing hard, and looking at Hunter with hate in her pig-like eyes staring out from the folds of fat on her face.

  Hunter let her go and said, “Have a good day.” She paid, then left, taking time to sit in her pickup to watch for the big woman, who finally emerged five minutes later, already on her phone and waving her free hand around in short, angry movements as she talked. Hunter watched the woman drive off in a brown Ford, and she followed until the Ford turned to go across the bridge into Mexico.

  She returned to Norma’s house and thought about things, and especially about the missing child, Kelly.

  That evening before sundown, she was still restless, so cranking up the pickup and driving through town seemed a good idea. She carried her .45 Glock in the concealable holster at the small of her back on the left side, her strong side, beneath the untucked tail of her western plaid shirt to hide it from casual lookers. A cop might pick it out, or a professional shooter, but that was it.

  Hunter drove west on Veterans Drive all the way to the lake, then made a U and started into Del Rio, stopping once to buy a bottle of water and some salted peanuts. Munching on peanuts as she drove, Hunter took the roads that meandered down to those bordering the river, and the few miles of border fence.

  There wasn’t much to see. Tall grasses up close, with here and there spindly mesquites, and farther from the fence, the tall, green river cane grew fifteen feet high and the white-tufted plumes swayed in the breeze. She turned left and crossed the road leading to the International Bridge, going slow and looking at the cars and people.

  She glimpsed Anna Hoyt starting up the pedestrian path to go over the bridge into Mexico. Hunter stopped in the street until someone honked at her. Anna was too far for her to yell and get her attention. “Dammit,” she muttered, then turned north and sped toward Norma’s house to retrieve her passport and drop off her pistol.


  She would return and go after Anna, and that made a queasy feeling in her stomach. Right now, bad men knew her face, and she wanted to avoid trouble, but knew she couldn’t allow Anna to walk into trouble, either. If she asked the wrong person about someone taking her daughter, Anna might just disappear.

  Over seventy thousand people had been murdered in Mexico in the last decade, with more every day. Anna could wind up another statistic, and that bothered Hunter a great deal. She put on her white and blue ball cap that had Austin Revolution Film Festival on the front, and her aviator shades. It was as much of a disguise as she had time for.

  If she could stop Anna before she got too deep into Mexico, Hunter felt sure she could bring her back safely, and then they could work to find Kelly, the daughter. It was a big “If”, because Hunter had a long way to go and a short time to return to find Anna.

  She chanced it and sped through the streets. When she returned to the bridge, Anna was nowhere to be seen. Hunter hoped she was just over the bridge’s midsection, which was higher than either end. She pulled into the lane to drive across the bridge, answered the man’s question at the booth, and pulled on the bridge behind a car with an elderly couple inside. They drove turtle-slow, and Hunter patted the steering wheel and ground her teeth, trying to will herself to calm down.

  By the time she reached the Mexican side, Hunter was twisting her neck to ease the tension, and Anna wasn’t in sight.

  She cruised the streets for ten minutes, but didn’t see her, so she parked at the Plaza, across the street from the Abbey Road Café where she and Solomon Chapa had their run-in.

  Hunter exited the pickup and walked at a fast pace, looking for Anna. Staying on Miguel Hidalgo, Hunter stopped at each small store and business to check inside for her. She’d covered two blocks, both sides of the road, when she saw the large woman from the Skillet’s Restaurant. The woman struggled with someone halfway inside a store’s door, and Hunter hurried to see who it was.