“Let him finish, Cora,” Gannon said.
“We’ve had a lot of tips and this newest one is cross-jurisdictional-”
“Cross-what? What’s that mean?” Cora was frantic. “Is my daughter dead? If she’s dead, you tell me right now!”
“All I can tell you is that we have a lead that requires more investigation and it’s going to take time. I know it’s frustrating-” he glanced at Gannon “-but I’m sorry, that’s all I can release right now.”
“No, that’s not acceptable!” Cora said. “I have a right to know what’s going on! You tell me what’s happened!”
As Gannon and another detective tried to get Cora to rest, Gannon’s cell phone rang. He excused himself and went to a quiet corner to take the call, expecting Adell Clark or Henrietta Chong.
“Gannon.”
“Jack, it’s Isabel Luna.”
“Yes.”
“Something has come up near Juarez, something very important.”
“What is it?”
“Jack, it’s related to your niece’s kidnapping.”
“Did you find her? What is it?”
“All I can say is that it’s tied to the kidnapping. I’m sorry, that’s all that was revealed to me.”
“Was it the kidnappers who called you? Who’s your source?”
“I can’t tell you any more at this moment.”
Gannon shot Hackett a look over his shoulder, thinking the two matters were linked.
“Isabel, tell me what you know. Maybe I should pass it on to the police here.”
“No, tell no one about this! Because I have also learned that the task force investigating your niece’s case may have been infiltrated by a cartel.”
“What? I don’t believe this. Are you certain?”
“My sources here have heard this.”
“Jesus.”
“Jack, I think it’s very important for you to return to Juarez immediately. There’s something you need to see.”
18
Dust clouds trailed the white 1999 Chevrolet Blazer slicing through the eroded stretches and dried arroyos of scrubland some thirty miles outside of Ciudad Juarez.
Out here, the police scanner mounted to the dash was picking up mostly static. The driver, Arturo Castillo, a news photographer with
Jack Gannon was in the backseat searching the desolate expanse for a hint of what awaited him. After Isabel Luna had called him in Phoenix, he’d left for El Paso with Cora’s pleas echoing in his ears.
A few hours later, when his jet landed in El Paso, Gannon made his way across the border to the offices of
“How solid is your information?”
“My source is unassailable.”
Twenty minutes later, Castillo, guided by the odometer reading and directions Luna gave from her notebook, shifted the transmission of the Blazer into four-wheel drive and headed off road and over the parched grassland.
Two miles in, they came to a fast-flowing irrigation stream. Castillo chose a narrow bend and carefully forded it. The water rose to the running boards as the Chevy wobbled over the stony bottom.
After they’d gone another two miles, a small ranch came into view. As they got closer, Gannon discerned a rickety house that looked as if it was about to collapse and a ramshackle barn. The place appeared to have been abandoned for years…until now. A handful of police vehicles were concentrated at the barn, which was encircled with police tape.
Luna, Castillo and Gannon approached the four uniformed officers leaning on the cars just outside the police tape.
“We are from
A hot breeze kicked up grit as Luna stared into the implacable reflection of the first officer’s sunglasses. A long, tense moment passed before he spoke into his shoulder microphone.
A terse response crackled over the radio. Then, in a move that surprised Gannon, the officer lifted the tape for them to approach. Through the gap-toothed boards of the barn, he saw a car was parked inside.
A man in blue jeans, a polo shirt and cowboy boots, with a badge clipped on his belt near his sidearm met them at the entrance. As he handed over his ID, Gannon noticed the blue latex gloves he was wearing. Taking stock of Gannon, Castillo and Luna, the cop spoke in Spanish with Luna. Gannon soon figured that this cop was asking questions as Luna responded with string of
The detective was in his late thirties, about six feet tall with a firm build. He had a few days’ growth deepening the craggy features of his face, accentuating his piercing hooded eyes.
“Come inside,” he said in English. “Follow me on the path marked on the ground by tape.”
What was going on? This press access to a crime scene was astounding. As Gannon struggled to figure it out, he was assaulted by the stench of excrement mingled with putrid meat. Something was humming. Flies. Blinding beams of sunlight gleamed through the barn’s walls and Gannon needed a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. Several other men in plainclothes were reviewing notes and items by an open barn window.
Gannon saw that the car was a four-door Chevy Caprice, late model with Texas tags…a rental, maybe? The windows were tinted and reflected the flash from Castillo’s camera as he began taking pictures.
The detective opened the driver’s door. The keys were still in the ignition and the indicator chimed softly.
The outrush of foul air was overwhelming. From what Gannon could see, the driver was resting clumsily on the steering wheel and his passenger was leaning against the window.
As Gannon heard the buzzing of insects and studied the spaghetti-lace pattern of black and browned blood everywhere, he realized that both corpses were headless.
Flies from inside the car swarmed Gannon. One tried to go up his nose and he felt bile erupting along his throat.
