by Rachel Renee
The next hour goes by slowly. Each Dominico I click on has at least a small file that needs read to know if he’s the one I’m dealing with. A little after 1:00 p.m., I grab my keys and decide to go out. I’m not really sure what I plan to do, but staying in the apartment any longer isn’t going to cut it.
My key is in the lock to secure my apartment and Selena’s voice rings out down the hallway. “Hey, Liam, where are you headed?”
It throws me off. For a moment, when she said my name, I heard Eliza’s voice. I turn to her and begin my journey toward the stairwell. “Just out for a bit. What about you?”
“I need to go to the store. Was going to walk down the street to grab a couple of things.”
I don’t need to go to the store, but maybe a conversation with Selena would be beneficial. “Me too. Mind if I walk with you?”
“Not at all.” I can hear the joy in her voice when she answers. I’m not certain why she doesn’t like to be alone, but it’s apparent she’d rather not.
We make small talk, side by side down the uneven pavement. She talks so easily about her home in Texas and her parents that I know at least part of her story will check out. She’s also passionate about being a nurse. She’s worked in a hospital in some aspect, since graduating high school, growing in the ranks, the more college education she received. She took a hiatus for the summer for her internship that fell through and regrets she decided not to go back to work.
“I feel like they will say, ‘I told you so,’ if I were to go back before the summer is over. They didn’t want me to travel out of the country. This is where I want to eventually end up, permanently. Maybe not Chihuahua.” She shrugs. “My history is in Mexico and my people could use some good nurses in this country.”
“Why don’t you try to find another internship here?”
“If I could travel to another city, I’m sure I could. I’m stuck here though. Free room and board,” she adds. “I can’t afford a place of my own for a few months and my parents can’t either. That’s why the spot in Chihuahua was so valuable.” Selena lets out a huge breath, defeat apparent in her action.
“Maybe it would be worth going home and facing the music. You’d be working toward your end goal, at least. And, it’s not your fault the internship fell through.”
“It is.”
“What do you mean?” We’ve stopped walking, the store a few feet from us but I can tell Selena is not ready to enter just yet.
“Well, not wholly my fault. Guilty by association, I guess. Miguel took me to the hospital for orientation my first day. I didn’t want him to walk me in, but he insisted. Said he knew some people and wanted to say ‘hello’. We stopped at the registration desk so they could direct me to where I needed to go. There was a look in the woman’s eyes, fear, I’m pretty sure, as she glanced up at Miguel. She pointed me in the direction I was to go and Miguel went the other way through the hospital corridors. I didn’t think anything of it. About thirty minutes into orientation, a security guard came in and asked me out in the hall. Then he asked me to leave.” She goes on to tell me the letter came after and the false reasoning for ending the internship. She knows it’s because of Miguel’s association with the cartel, even though they said it was due to the fact the hospital had made a mistake and the internship money was retracted by the state.
“All the more reason for you to get out of here. If you truly believe you lost that opportunity because of Miguel, you know you may lose others. You know what he’s into.”
There’s something else she wants to say, I can see her open her mouth and close it multiple times before she figures out her next comment. “Miguel is a good man. He’s caught up in something stupid. There’s a new reason to stay here. I want to get him out.”
“I don’t think it’s possible.”
“You don’t know me. I won’t give up.”
I believe it, but I’m not sure this is a quest that will have a happy ending. “I hope it works out for you. For him.”
“What about you? You’re involved with the same people.”
“Not really.” I try to make what I’m doing seem less.
“You know what happened to the last guy in your position. You can’t say you aren’t spun up in the cartel too.”
I put my finger to my lips. I’d rather her not talk so freely about that out in public. Who knows who’s listening. “How do you know so much?”
It’s so matter-of-fact for her. She doesn’t seem fazed by the situation at all. “Miguel.” She doesn’t skip a beat. “He’s too open about it. He and Thiago are constantly talking shop at the apartment. I asked him about it one night when we were alone and he didn’t mind airing it all. He doesn’t believe I would tell anyone. Here I am, telling you.” She smiles tentatively.
“Nothing I don’t already know.” If she believes that, maybe she’ll keep talking.
“You aren’t like them, though. You didn’t choose to be a part of their culture. Sounds like you were thrust into it just as I was. Now, we have to figure out how to get out unscathed.”
No truer words have been spoken today.
The two of us finally enter the store, our conversation on hold for a time. Since I don’t need anything because of my earlier trip to the grocery this week, I peruse the aisles for things to try. I’ve got a basket full of snacks and a couple of six packs of beer to test.
Selena peers into my loot as we begin checking out and she scoffs at my selection.
“Cookies. Chips. Beer. You’re a true bachelor.”
“Just got some new stuff to try. What do you have?” I attempt to peek into her basket but she pulls it out of view.
“None of your business,” she chides.
I turn away, not wanting to make her feel any more insecure. After paying for my items, I collect my bags and tell Selena, “I’ll wait for you outside,” so she can purchase her groceries in private.
With bag handles laid over my wrist and a six pack of beer in each hand, I stand against the brick wall and wait. Everyone who walks by looks at me like I don’t belong. I smile anyway, saying, “Hola,” to each of them. Not one greets me back. I wonder what it is about me that is turning them off.
Selena arrives a few minutes later with a brown paper bag in her hands. “Do you want to go anywhere else? Up for some lunch?”
“I could eat.”
“I bet you can always eat.”
“Is that a jab at my weight?” I tease.
“No. You’re a big guy. I don’t think you’re fat though.”
“I would hope not. I spend time trying to stay fit for someone to think I’m chubby.” She laughs and so do I. “Got something in mind?”
“Just around the corner. We can grab something quick.”
The two of us carry our groceries down two blocks before turning up an alley way. The area is super sketchy and I wonder what kind of establishment could be lurking down here. There are two dumpsters along the sides of the buildings, both overflowing with trash and spoiled food. The smell so bad it’s like someone died and the body was left out to rot.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Not here. This is a short cut.”
“Thank goodness. I’m not sure I want to eat somewhere that collects this much waste in a week.”
“Miguel says the trash men don’t come down this way very often. It’s not safe.”
I’m not surprised. And, also curious if there could be an actual dead body among the garbage. “Do you come here alone?”
“Always with Miguel.”
That makes me feel a little better. I’m hoping over lunch we can discuss a little more about what she knows. How Miguel is involved and her knowledge of Thiago. I hate using her, but if she has important information for me, I have to do it.
At the end of the alley, voices drown out the silence. The sidewalk on this part of the neighborhood is packed with people. So is the street. There are cars and bikes and pedestrians aplenty. “Wow. This area is popular.”
“Very. That small alleyway isn’t the safest, but you hit this street and you’re among one of the securest areas in the city. La policia patrol these streets, twenty-four hours a day. There are so many thriving businesses along this five-block radius they feel it is important enough to keep a constant watch over.”
“Why here, I wonder. What makes this street more important than where we just came from?”
“Besides the business bringing in revenue, your guess is as good as mine. Seems as if they enjoy the benefits of keeping this area safe, they’d do it in other parts.”
“I constantly see all those boarded-up buildings when I’m walking along the sidewalks on the other side of the neighborhood. If they had done a better job patrolling there, maybe more of those establishments would still be open.”
“It’s hard to keep the cartel and gangs out of the city. Miguel says this area has only been this way over the last couple of years. One block over, where the grocery is, used to be like this not long before that.”
“Why do the people let the cartel destroy so much?”
“Fear.”
Exactly. “How so many have come to power in history.”
Selena opens the door to a café. The whole outer façade is covered in a large glass window on either side of the entrance. Sweet breads, churros, and pastries sit atop display plates for passersby to salivate over. “They have other stuff too, and the coffee is to die for.”
The earthy, nutty smell hits me hard as I allow the door to shut behind me. I know for certain I’ll be having coffee. The sweet, yeasty aroma of bakery items assaults my senses next and I struggle to keep the drool at bay. Coming from what smelled like the dead just minutes ago, I’m overcome with hunger pangs at the new fragrances hitting at every step inside.
“What do you suggest?” I ask Selena as we approach the counter.
“If you want something warm and hearty, the Chilaquiles Verdes are amazing here.”
I’m uncertain what the meal is, but I’ll try it anyway. I order her recommendation and two churros, golden brown, that smell and look heavenly lying on the tray someone pulled from the back, along with a café con leche at the cashiers prompting.
Selena orders her meal and the two of us move to the other end of the counter where the lunch is to be prepared. “I’ll go get us a table. I see someone packing up closer to the door.”
She moves quickly to secure us a spot in the overcrowded restaurant. Once she’s settled at the table, I take my groceries to her and set them down so I can carry our lunch.
Selena chose the same dish she offered me, and I scrutinize the plates when they are placed on the tray in front of me. Looks like tortillas bathed in green tomatillo sauce, sprinkled with shredded chicken and small chunks of white cheese. Almost looks like nachos, less cheese, more salsa. The two churros are placed on my tray next, the cinnamon overtaking almost all the other smells I was getting from my plate.
I watch the barista make my coffee, which is the last thing I’m waiting on. The almost thick, black coffee is poured about halfway into a clear mug, and topped with warm milk swirling through the darkness the more she pours. The cereal I ate earlier is long gone and my stomach growls with the ache of the awaited food.
As the coffee is placed in front of me, I’m taken back to my last huge case. The caffé in Italy played such a huge role while I was there. The hours spent earning Santi’s confidence, the last place we talked after I received it. Will this place also become a sanctuary for conversation and betrayal? Thinking about my final day in Italy brings a smile to my face. Thoughts of Santi, Sophia, and the boys keep it there as I go to the table where Selena is sitting.
When I place our trays upon the table, Selena looks up at me and reciprocates my expression. “What are you thinking about?”
“Some old friends. We used to come to a café similar to this and all of a sudden I was reminded of the time we spent together so long ago.”
Her look softens even more, but she doesn’t respond to my comment. Instead, she places her fork in her meal and takes a bite. I do the same, and the moment is lost. Or so I thought.
After a minute, Selena begins talking. “Speaking of so long ago, or maybe not that long ago. Miguel wanted to be someone. He was going to go back to school, now, those thoughts are long gone.”
I begin to voice my opinions, to get her talking more about what she knows, when she looks me dead in the eyes and says, “I was hoping over lunch we could talk about what I know of the cartel and you could help me think of ways to infiltrate it and get my cousin back.”
How did she know what I wanted to talk about? My expression must portray shock because Selena bursts out laughing before saying, “Close your mouth, you’ll let a fly in.”
12
THINGS I’VE LEARNED about Selena. She’s a sweet, southern girl who wants to dedicate her life to helping others. She plans to start by getting her cousin out of the cartel’s grasp, and she’s willing to risk her life to do so. She’s contemplated planning an escape with him, but he refuses to leave of his own volition.
“Then, why not just let him stay in the cartel if he doesn’t want out?” I asked her.
“He does want out.”
“He’s told you so?”
“Not in so many words.”
She’s a good listener, picking up on subtle clues in conversation, and she watches everything Miguel does. Selena is prepared to go behind Miguel’s and Thiago’s backs to search their personal effects and listen in on phone calls. She even agreed to install cameras in the main rooms of the apartment, put trackers on their cells…whatever it takes to find out how to save Miguel. The seeds were planted, but she was already sowing them before we even met up today. It’s almost too convenient.
I leave her at the apartment door under the pretenses I’ll research how we can install the cameras and trackers and help her implement the plan of finding the best way to get Miguel out of his situation. After she shuts herself in, I run back downstairs to knock on Dom’s door. His truck wasn’t out there, but I want to check and make sure he didn’t just leave it somewhere and walk home.
I hadn’t noticed before now but there are two doors side by side, unlike the upper floor. One is hidden by the wall opposite it, but now that I’m closer, I’m uncertain which one is Dom’s. I begin with the one directly in eyesight from the end of the hall as he said that’s the one he lives in.
When I knock, I immediately hear footsteps coming my way. The door flies open and Natalia is standing on the other side. “Oh, hey.” I thought Dom said she was out of town for the weekend. “Is Dom home?” I feel like a kid who is asking if his friend can come out to play.
“How should I know?” the woman answers.
“Doesn’t he live here?” I assumed this was his wife Natalia, but…
“Next door.” She reaches through the threshold and points to the door next to us.
So he doesn’t live with his wife…Or, this isn’t his wife. “Thanks. Sorry for the mistake.”
Two little girls come running toward their mother. “Mama, who is here?” one shouts.
“No one,” Natalia answers her. “Take Ana and go color.” She looks back at me and tells me goodbye, shutting the door in my face.
I’m thoroughly confused at the moment. Dom said his wife’s name is Natalia and he has daughters named Ana and Maria. What is the likelihood the neighbor has the same names as his family? I’d say not likely at all. Either Dom is lying about his family, or there’s a story here I need to find the plot to.
I walk the few steps to the apartment next door, the one Dom supposedly lives in. Knocking brings no answer. I have to know though, so I travel to the other door once more. Natalia answers, the door flying open, and the woman shooting daggers at me for disturbing her again.
“I have to know. Are you married to Dom?”
“Why would you ask me that?” Her mood softens a little, but only because curiosity has her interest piqued.
“No. We may have the same last name but we are not married,” she shouts before I finish and the door is slammed in my face once more.
Why would Dom lie to me about that? It’s not important to this case. Or, is it?
Dom told me early on that Natalia, his wife, has family in Texas and he had been there many times. Could Natalia’s family be involved with the cartel? Was that Dom’s roundabout way of giving me a clue? Maybe I’m overthinking the whole thing. I won’t know until I find the man and confront him about it. And yes, I plan to confront him.
I go back to my apartment and crack open a beer and my laptop, needing to get a message to Thompson to send the items I need for the intel and inform him to send them in an Amazon package as I’ve noticed many being delivered here, so it won’t seem out of the ordinary.
The encrypted server is the next place to research. On a hunch, I’m going to look for a Natalia Sanchez. There are not as many as the name Dominico, but it’ll still take me time to get through the list, to find ones that are affiliated with the known cartel catalog.
It’s nearly dark when I come across the name with a connection. It would be nice to have a printer so I could have the documents in hand to read through the transcript provided. My eyes are tired from staring at the screen and the words are blurred as I scan the page.
I get up from the chair for a moment, stretching my back and legs, not realizing how long I had sat in one spot. The stiffness is apparent when I walk to the kitchen. Of course, my body wants to fight me just when I get to the good stuff. I’ll work through it. After grabbing a bag of pretzels, a water, and another beer, I head back to my spot and read again. Those few minutes have done wonders.
Natalia Sanchez, daughter of Jose Sanchez of Mexico City, currently living in El Paso, Texas. Known cartel affiliation since 2010. Switched sides a few times after the capture of the leaders he served. Unknown affiliation at time of last documentation but drug trafficking from Mexico to Texas has been noted as recent as two weeks ago. There is nothing denoting Natalia being involved with an actual cartel, other than the relationship with her father. If Dom mentioned her, my money is on the fact she’s a part of this in more ways than just association. Now, if only I could get in contact with Dom.
