As a few of the townspeople hurry inside to collect the weapons and to search the house, Yolanda shuffles over to me. She leans heavily on her cane as she stares at me with renewed interest.
“Who are you?”
“I’m nobody.”
Antonio drifts over, a huge smile on his face.
“Is that it? Do you think it’s over?”
I turn to glance at Fernando Sanchez Morales’s large house on the hill a mile away. I shake my head and answer as bluntly as possible.
“Not even close.”
Thirty-Seven
Fernando Sanchez Morales disconnected the call, set the cell phone aside, and then leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. He hadn’t slept much in the past couple days and it was starting to catch up with him. Or no—days wasn’t right. It was more like months. Over a year since he’d started having restless nights. And it didn’t help that last night Araceli had locked him out of their bedroom.
Jose Luis said, “How bad is it?”
Fernando ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at his right-hand man.
“Very bad. They had a decoy convoy running through the Hot Lands this morning when it was attacked. Everybody was killed.”
Jose Luis frowned.
“Decoy convoy?”
“They tried to trap him. They put the word out that they were transporting her and the children, and they drove around, hoping that he would attack. Which he did. Three fucking SUVs, all of them loaded with armed men. It’s unreal.”
“And then?”
Fernando released a heavy sigh, shaking his head slowly.
“Then he managed to track down where they were hiding her and the children. They think he tortured one of the men from the convoy for the information.”
“He took them, didn’t he.”
Jose Luis didn’t bother making it a question.
Fernando nodded.
“Yes, he took them. Killed the five men they had guarding them. As of right now, they don’t know where he’s taken them.”
Jose Luis started to say something but paused.
Fernando said, “Go ahead and say it.”
Jose Luis hesitated again before he swallowed and blurted it out.
“You’re the only one left.”
Fernando glared back at his right-hand man. It wasn’t anything Jose Luis had done that suddenly raised his ire, but simply the realization that it was true. He was the only one left. Or wait—not him so much as his wife and son.
Fernando leaned back in his chair, tipping his face up to stare at the ceiling. Above them was the master bedroom, with Araceli and Ignacio locked somewhere inside. The last interaction Fernando had with them did not go well. He’d grabbed Araceli’s hair, had scared his son to the point that Ignacio had looked at him like he was a monster. God forbid, if something were to happen to them, he didn’t want that to be their last memory of him.
Only no, he wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t like the others. They had been stupid. Careless. Reckless to an extent. They hadn’t had what it took to keep their families safe. But he did. After all, his wife and son were still alive, weren’t they? The Devil hadn’t managed to get them yet. What was to say he would manage to get them at all?
Jose Luis said, “Maybe you should take them out of the country.”
Fernando thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.
“No. I’m not going to show fear like that.”
Jose Luis’s face tensed. It was clear his right-hand man didn’t approve of this line of thinking. But that didn’t matter to Fernando. There was a reason he was at the head of the family. There was a reason he had gotten this far. He knew when to take risks and he knew when to play it safe. He also knew, above all else, to never show fear. And it wasn’t just for the Devil’s benefit. It was for the benefit of the other cartels. He would be the last man standing. The one who hadn’t lost his wife and son to the Devil.
Fernando pushed back from the table and stood up.
“Get more men to patrol the perimeter. I want this place guarded to the hilt.”
Jose Luis nodded and watched his boss start out of the room.
“Where are you going?”
“Up to see my wife and son. Now do as I say.”
Seconds later he was upstairs and standing in front of the master bedroom door. Two of the bodyguards sat outside farther down the hallway. Fernando gave them a look, and they stood and shuffled downstairs to give him privacy.
Fernando tried the doorknob. It was locked, just as he had expected. He knocked quietly and whispered to the door.
“Araceli.”
No answer.
He knocked again, a bit louder now.
“Araceli, open the door.”
No answer, though he heard movement somewhere in the bedroom. He thought he sensed her standing right on the other side of the door.
“Araceli, I’m sorry about yesterday. It was wrong of me. But sometimes I feel you don’t understand how serious the situation is. Just this morning, the Escalante family was attacked. A whole convoy was taken out. And Escalante’s wife and children—”
He paused there, not bothering to say the rest. Besides, he had a feeling he didn’t need to say the rest. Araceli was a smart woman. She could fill in the blanks.
A couple seconds passed, and then he heard the soft click of the bolt turning.
The door opened just a bit, and Araceli peered out at him.
“They’re dead?”
Fernando nodded, though he didn’t know for certain whether or not they were dead. If they weren’t dead by now, they would be soon.
“Yes. He killed over a dozen men to get to them. He’ll stop at nothing. That’s why it’s so important that you and Ignacio stay in this house. It’s for your protection. Do you understand me?”
Araceli didn’t open the door any farther. She just stood there, staring out at him, and nodded.
Fernando said, “Can I come in?”
She seemed to think about it for
