by Rick Mofina
“Look at you!” Luna shouted. “Using a child as your shield in a church. You are a coward who will never see heaven!”
“Neither will you!”
As Angel steadied his gun to shoot Luna, Gannon saw a piercing sunray reflected from a window on the scope of a sharpshooter’s rifle as the muzzle flashed.
The sniper’s bullet smashed into Angel’s temple, tore through his skull and removed the back of his head. This was how Angel Quinterra-the sicario, the son of an alcoholic garbage picker from the shantytown near the Juarez dump-died. With his cranial matter splattered on the feet of the crucified Christ.
Tilly ran into Cora’s arms.
Luna and Gannon turned to the window where Esteban Cruz, Isabel’s stepbrother, lowered his rifle.
Numbed, the five of them moved to the front steps of the old mission.
They waited in the sunlight as Cora freed Tilly from her bindings and held her as she trembled.
“Mommy, he killed Lyle…he killed them all… I thought I was going to die!”
Cora hushed and soothed her as both of them sobbed softly.
Gannon called Hackett and told him what had happened. Hackett said they were already on their way.
“A priest in Mexico had called the task force. He was concerned about the safety of a reporter from Juarez, who he believed had key information on the case. Then we got a call from a Mexican cop on the case.”
Afterward, Gannon called Melody Lyon in New York.
“It’s over, Mel. We found Tilly. She’s traumatized but alive.”
“Thank God.”
“You can put out a story alert. I’ll file something over the phone later.”
“Thanks, but wait. Jack, how’s your sister doing?”
“She’s going to be okay.”
“And you?”
“It doesn’t matter about me.”
After hanging up, Gannon and Cora thanked Luna and Esteban and they looked to the horizon, saying little until they heard the sirens.
70
Arizona
It rained the day they buried Lyle Galviera.
The funeral was held about a week after the FBI and the County had processed the scene and the medical examiner released the remains to his family.
Cora and Gannon attended the service.
Mourners offered condolences and kind words to his mother. Later, at the funeral reception, they huddled in quiet groups and grappled with the tragedy, asking questions no one could answer.
“How the hell did he think he would come out ahead, doing business with a freakin’ drug cartel?”
Ed Kilpatrick, the operations manager, was among the last people to talk with Cora and Gannon at the gathering.
“How are you holding up, Cora?”
“Minute by minute, Ed. Thanks.”
“And Tilly?”
“She has nightmares and sleeps in my room. She wasn’t physically hurt, but the counselor said to expect stages of post-traumatic stress. He said that she might be able to progress through it all. Tilly told me she shut her eyes through the worst of it with the chain saw, but that she’d heard everything.”
Ed shook his head.
“Thank God you got her back.”
Cora nodded and touched a tissue to her eyes.
“Jack-” Ed turned to Gannon “-looks like the press had a big part in stopping the cartel. I see the police arrested quite a few people on both sides of the border. It’s a hell of a thing.”
“A lot of people, cops and reporters, worked on this and a lot of people got lucky when they needed to get lucky,” Gannon said.
“Forgive me, Cora-” Ed went back to her “-I know this may not be the proper time, but there’s a company out of Albuquerque that’s looking to take over Quick Draw, clear the debt, restructure but keep all the staff. In fact, they plan to expand. Looks like we’ll be okay.”
Cora patted his hand.
“Thank you, Ed.”
“Just don’t want you to worry about that.”
Cora and Gannon turned, surprised to find FBI Agents Hackett and Larson waiting to talk with them after Ed left.
“Our condolences,” Hackett said.
“And our prayers for Tilly, and you, to heal,” Larson said.
Cora nodded with a smile.
“Listen-” Hackett cleared his throat “-we’re sorry things got intense and we went hard at both of you. These things get complex, and no one ever tells us everything at the outset.”
“I didn’t help much at the start,” Cora said.
“What’s the latest on the San Francisco homicide?” Gannon asked.
“SFPD and our people in Las Vegas have issued warrants for Vic Lomax. So far no one’s located him.”
“Is he facing charges on Eduardo Zartosa’s death?”
“Yes, based on Donnie Cargo’s statements. Also SFPD processed the gun again. This time they were able to find a print that belonged to Lomax,” Hackett said. “By the way, if you need anything more for that story you’re working on, let me know. How’s that going?”
“Can we get the full deathbed statement from Cargo?”
“I’ll see what we can do.”
“Thanks. The WPA is writing a series on Tilly, cartels, everything. I’m working with Henrietta Chong, our bureaus and Isabel Luna. Isabel told me the priest, Father Ortero, was our link to Angel and that the Vatican has posted him to Spain.”
“That’s right. He’s retired.”
“What about Esteban Cruz? What kind of trouble is he facing?”
“The ex-SWAT team sniper. Yeah, he broke a few rules. But we heard that our State and Justice departments and the Mexican government have agreed to regard him as a zealous cop investigating a homicide who followed a complex lead here in hot pursuit. He ultimately saved lives.”
“No reprimand?”
“I doubt it,” Hackett said. “But there’s a lot of heat out of Washington about this kind of crime spilling from Mexico into the U.S. and that laws are being flouted.”
“Not all of them,” Gannon said. “The law of supply and demand is certainly being respected. We demand dope and cartels supply it.”
Several days after the WPA released its series, before Gannon was scheduled to fly back to New York, Jack, Cora and Tilly went to the Grand Canyon.
On their way, Gannon got a call from Hackett.
“That was a good feature.”
“Thanks.”
“Pruitt said San Francisco Homicide particularly liked your story on Eduardo Zartosa’s murder. It appears Samson Zartosa liked it, too, given that you spelled out exactly who killed Eduardo. Here’s a tip. This morning, Las Vegas Metro found Lomax’s corpse in the desert. They found his head on a stick next to it.”
“So Cora’s cleared?”
“Our intel indicates the Norte Cartel is satisfied that it exacted vengeance for the rip-off, but more importantly, for Eduardo’s murder.”
“What about things with Cora and San Francisco?”
“Clear. The D.A. will send her a letter, thanking her for her cooperation.”
“Thanks, Earl. I’ll alert our Las Vegas bureau about Lomax.”
Gannon told Cora the old San Francisco murder case was closed.
She turned to the horizon.
In their short time at the Canyon, he tried to get to know Tilly.
“I think it’s awesome that I have an uncle who’s a reporter in New York City,” she said.
“I think it’s cool that I have a niece who can text faster than I can write when I’m on deadline.”
Gannon stole glances at Tilly whenever he could, amazed at how she resembled Cora at that age. It warmed him, because something he thought he’d lost had come back to him. When he wasn’t looking at Tilly, he gazed across the great gorge. In their private moments, he and Cora had reconciled the gulf of time that had passed between them.
“I’m sorry for being a bad sister. I should’ve come home.”
“I was a terrible brot
her. I should have looked for you, but I was angry.”
“We lost so much.”
“Other people have it worse, Cora.” He shrugged. “Next to Mom and Dad, you were the most important person in my life. You changed my life, gave me direction. My bond with you never ended.”
“I was just so guilty and ashamed of the mistakes I’d made. I believed I had put my family in danger. I wanted to bury that, keep it hidden. I could never bear to face you, Mom and Dad again.”
“That was the biggest mistake of all.”
“I know and I was coming ’round to dealing with it. The fact I had Tilly and was getting my life on track was all part of it. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I did, the moment you called for help.”
Cora hugged her brother.
“Want to join us for Thanksgiving in Phoenix?”
“Sure. What about Christmas in New York?”
Acknowledgments
My heartfelt thanks to Amy Moore-Benson, Marianne Moore, Valerie Gray, Dianne Moggy, Miranda Indrigo and the scores of editorial, marketing, sales and PR teams at Harlequin and MIRA Books in Toronto, New York and around the world.
I am grateful to Eddie J. Erdelatz, San Francisco Homicide Detail (Ret.) and Wendy Dudley. A special thanks to Rob Galbraith for his expertise and guidance on digital photography that came into play in THE PANIC ZONE, the prequel to IN DESPERATION.
I would like to thank all of my journalist friends in and out of the news business for their help and support, in particular, John Kryk, Eric Dawson, Glen Miller, friends at Associated Press, Reuters, Canadian Press, Canwest News, Chicago Tribune, Wall Street Journal, Sun Media, Calgary Herald, Ottawa Citizen, Edmonton Journal, The Toronto Star, The Globe and Mail, Los Angeles Times and so many others. You know who you are.
Very special thanks to Barbara, Laura and Michael.
I would also like to thank Milly Marmur in New York, Lorella Belli in London and Ib Lauritzen in Denmark.
There are scores of others who each played a small part in making this book a reality; their number precludes my thanking them all here. I am indebted to sales representatives, booksellers and librarians for putting my work in your hands. Which brings me to you, the reader; the most critical part of the entire enterprise.
Thank you very much for your time, for without you, a book remains an untold tale. I deeply appreciate my growing audience and those who’ve been with me since the beginning and keep in touch. Thank you for your very kind words. And to you, the new reader: Welcome. I hope you enjoyed the ride and will check out my earlier books while watching for my next one. I welcome your feedback. Drop by at www.rickmofina.com to subscribe to my newsletter and send me a note.
Rick Mofina
***
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