“Who’s she?” he asked, motioning to the truck.
“Ella es de la familia.” She’s family.
“Sister?” Quin asked.
“Mi esposa.” My wife, he said, disinterested in her.
Quin, however, was very interested. He walked past the men through the waves of heat toward their truck.
“What are you doing?” Kruse said into his earpiece.
“You told me to follow my instincts.”
“Do not engage the cartel,” Kruse said. “Get out of there!”
He turned off the earpiece, ignoring Kruse and the commotion behind him; Lopez was arguing with the men as they followed Quin. When he reached the truck he saw a woman in the passenger seat with long black hair and a young girl, maybe five years old, in her lap. The woman was staring back at him intensely through the waves of heat rising from the desert ground. Was that Autumn? Or was his mind playing tricks on him?
A crack of gunfire brought Quin to a halt. He turned to see young Jefe holding the semi-automatic skyward before he lowered it, pointing it at Lopez’s chest. Quin looked back at the woman and girl, now hiding in shadow inside the truck, but they were watching him. He knew it.
“I could kill your partner,” Jefe threatened.
“Or we can all go our separate ways. Nobody gets hurt,” Quin said, slowly moving away from the Tahoe.
“Leave,” Jefe said, shoving Lopez forward. She walked quickly toward the Suburban and Quin joined her, never taking his eyes off the men until he was in the driver’s seat. He started the engine.
“What was that all about?!” Lopez asked. “Kruse is screaming in my ear.”
“Disconnect your gear,” Quin said, accelerating toward the road. They both removed their sunglasses and earpieces, tossing them in the back seat.
“They’re following us,” Lopez said, looking out the side mirror.
Quin had noticed it too, the white truck trailing them as he increased his speed to 80 MPH. But they never caught up, instead turning right off the highway. Quin slowed and looked back to see the truck heading south before he pulled over and parked on the side of the road. He opened the glove box and grabbed a pair of binoculars. The Tahoe turned toward a walled compound with six buildings.
“What are you doing?” Lopez asked.
“We need to know where they’re going.”
“Why?”
He watched the ravens soaring in the distance, above the compound. “Autumn was in that truck.”
Lopez sighed. “The heat is getting to you, Quin.”
“Dillon and Rachel said she was nearby. They were right.”
“That woman who Jefe said was his wife, she’s Autumn?” she asked.
He nodded, still observing the ravens soaring over the compound.
“How could you make a positive ID so quickly?”
“Got a feeling,” he said.
“A feeling?”
“There was something in her voice, and the girl in her lap looks a lot like Autumn did at that age.”
“You realize how bad this is? Jefe works for Sinaloa, he’s married to a woman who you think is your sister and they have a child. And now you show up to say ‘Hey, sis, it’s time to come home.’ What if it’s not her?”
“It must be her. I’m bringing her back.”
“Now? What if she doesn’t want to leave?”
That was something he hadn’t considered. He’d always assumed that if she were alive, she’d want to be rescued. But what if Autumn now considered this place home?
“I have to find out if it’s her,” he said.
“Maybe I can call in a drone to fly overhead,” she said.
“We’re not waiting. We’re going there now.”
“They stiff-armed us off their land and you want to go back for more?” she said.
He put the truck in gear and maneuvered it further off the road behind a dune. “We’ll leave the truck here and approach the compound by foot.”
“And if they see us we’re supposed to outrun them back to the truck?”
He thought about the distance, the heat, and terrain. Lopez would only slow him down. “Stay here and I’ll check it out. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, leave.”
“No, that’s not a good plan.”
He stepped out of the truck, ignoring her list of reasons why this was such a bad idea. He left her, jogging on the hard ground, his gun tucked behind his back. The terrain was small rolling hills and cacti, the perfect golf course—if it were only on the other side of the border. Was this what it was like to cross the border, to flee from one danger possibly toward another? Was the freedom of a better life the biggest mirage of all?
He walked up a small dune. Looking back, he couldn’t see the truck or Lopez anymore, and that could be a problem when navigating his return. He used his boot to draw a line in the sand, pointing in the general direction back. Ahead of him, a hundred yards in the distance, he saw the compound surrounded by a white cinderblock wall that couldn’t be more than seven feet tall. The buildings beyond the wall were houses with red tile roofs—a suburban oasis in the middle of nowhere.
He heard tires crunching on gravel and he kneeled low into the dune. It was the white Tahoe leaving the compound. He wasn’t sure if Autumn was in the truck but it looked like Jefe driving again, his skinny elbow sticking out the open window.
Caw!
Quin turned to the sound of the ravens circling over one of the houses. He walked toward them along the compound wall until he reached what had to be the back of the house in question. He listened but heard no voices, no TV coming from the house. Reaching up, he grabbed the top of the wall and used his boots as leverage to peek over it. On both sides of the yard were wood fences separating this yard from the neighbors’. He scaled the wall, checking for dogs. There were none so he leapt onto the other side. The backyard had a brick patio, teakwood furniture, and fruit trees. Life with Sinaloa couldn’t be all that bad.
He drew his weapon and walked toward a sliding-glass door, keeping his eye on the ravens as they hopped and fluttered along the roof. He reached for the handle but it was locked, as he’d expected. The ravens were calm, perched on the edge, but Quin’s heart pounded in his chest as beads of sweat dripped from his brow. He wasn’t chasing a skip on the run this time and there was no bounty at stake. If Autumn was inside this building, he was about to be reunited with this sister. Of all the doors he’d kicked in over the years, this one was different. It required a more civil approach. He did something he’d never done on any bounty assignment.
He knocked.
He heard voices and the shuffling of feet. His gun was low and to his side, pointed upward if he needed to drop someone. The voice behind the door was louder now, filled with excitement. It was the girl.
He quickly shoved the gun under his shirt behind his back.
The glass door slid open. Inside, the girl shielded her eyes from the late afternoon sun.
“¿Habla Inglés?” Quin asked.
She stared in confusion.
He smiled at her. “¿Dónde esta tú madre?” Where is your mother?
Before she answered, a woman stepped into the light and the girl blanketed herself in the safety of the woman’s dirt-stained white dress. She made a step forward with the girl. Both of them had sun-bleached auburn highlights and tan-freckled skin. They had to be mother and daughter. The woman in front of him was similar to the one in Dillan and Rachel’s sketches. What the sketches couldn’t capture, of course, was the woman’s state of mind, how she’d react when a stranger came knocking at her door. There was anger and suspicion in her eyes. He was having second thoughts; maybe this wasn’t her after all.
“Who are you? What do you want?” she said in perfect English.
“I’m looking for somebody.”
“Why not come to my front door?”
“I’m a bounty hunter. We don’t usually go to the front door.”
“You’re arresting this person?”
/> “No, I need to speak with her.” He soaked in her every detail, including the small scar above her eyebrow.
“What’s her name?”
He could see the fabric of her dress quivering, her knees weakening. She held her daughter closer.
“Autumn,” he said softly, studying the expression on her face. She had a prolonged look of surprise, something the human eye cannot disguise.
“What did you say?”
“Autumn.”
Her eyes locked onto his, as if she finally saw this stranger in a new light. He held his arms open, offering a welcoming hug. Instead, she stepped back with her daughter. There was no hugging Autumn; she acted cornered and frightened.
She whispered and the girl ran down to a bedroom at the end of a hallway. But she left the door open enough to peek out at them.
“It’s me, Quin.”
“My God, what are you doing here?” she said, without any hint of relief or appreciation.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“How did you find me?”
He thought about the months of mind-bending training with Agent Kruse back in Minnesota to reach this place in the foothills of Mexico. He remembered his promise to Rebecca Baron, that he’d look for his sister, and how it was really a promise he had made to himself. “It’s a long story, but we found you.”
“To bring me back to the States?” she said. “You’re a fed,” she said accusingly.
This isn’t the reaction of somebody who’s been held prisoner for twelve years. It was more akin to Stockholm Syndrome, where the captive bonds emotionally with the captor.
“How do you know I’m a fed?”
“We have Internet here. I’ve read about you.”
“And you never contacted me?”
“I wanted to many times but…” She looked down the hallway at her daughter. “I have a life here.”
Quin glanced around at the house. It was small, no more than two bedrooms, but it was clean. The furniture looked new, the view out her front window was of hills and saguaro cacti.
“You live here?” he asked.
“It’s not much, but we make enough.”
“You’re married?”
“No.”
“That man Jefe I met out by the meth lab, he said you were family.”
“He’s Marta’s father but we’re not married. Why does it matter?” Autumn said.
It didn’t matter. He was picking away at simple questions, making small talk to make sense of this bittersweet reunion, so utterly unlike the scene he’d always imagined. How could she have a life here and not have made contact with him?
“You’re taller than I had imagined,” she said, reaching out to touch his earring. It was the first sign of tenderness from her. “But you have to go. Jefe is coming back any moment,” she said.
“Come with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Jefe works for Sinaloa. He’d never let her go, and I’m not leaving without her.”
“Do you love him?”
“Jefe? No—”
“Forget him,” Quin said, imagining what this guy must be like.
“Jefe is a decent man. He got work through the cartel to provide for Marta and me. Sinaloa has jobs, security from bandits, healthcare when we need it.”
This was more complicated than Quin had expected—a hostage situation, and the hostages weren’t ready to leave.
“Do you work for Sinaloa too?” he asked.
She nodded, looking away. “In the meth lab. I clean it at night.”
“Who watches Marta while you’re working?”
“Jefe or a neighbor,” she said. “Or sometimes I bring her and she naps on a cot while I work.”
“Are you happy here?”
She sighed without answering.
“You don’t look happy, Autumn.”
“I have responsibilities…”
“How did you end up in this place?”
Up on the roof, he heard the squawking from the ravens. He looked up at a skylight and they were circling in flight, agitated. He knew there was a chance that if he left Autumn here, he might never see her again. She seemed nervous about returning to the States and when in doubt, most people on the run are more comfortable on the run. He was approaching his thirty-minute time limit when Lopez was supposed to give up on him.
“How often do you work at the meth lab?” he asked.
“Every evening around seven, until ten or eleven.”
“If I return later this week, will you come back with me?”
She hesitated, her eyes darting around the room at the life she’d have to leave behind. “Not without my daughter.”
“Bring Marta to the lab every night you work,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”
The sun had set behind the hills as Quin and Agent Lopez crossed the border back to the United States. She drove, peppering him with questions about his sister. What was Autumn like? How had she ended up with the cartel? He had very few answers for Lopez because his reunion with Autumn was so brief. They finally arrived back at the house, where he recognized Hawk’s truck in the driveway. They’d made the trip in good time. The old man must not have been driving.
“You expecting anyone?” Lopez asked with suspicion.
“Some friends from home,” he said, parking next to the truck.
“Did you clear this with the bureau?”
“No.”
“Where are they?” she questioned, stepping out of the truck.
“Probably inside. I left them a key and texted them.”
“That’s not your house anymore; it’s government property.”
Government property. How many times had he heard that phrase? The government seizes land, seizes property, and for what? To build walls, to protect its interests. He wasn’t about to argue about it with Lopez, though; she was just doing her job.
He opened the door and found Slim Jim snoozing on the couch and Hawk sitting at the kitchen table with Candace. She was eyeing him pretty good, as if she were relieved to finally see him again.
“We made it,” Candace said.
“Ahead of schedule,” he said.
“Jimmy has a lead foot.” Hawk smiled.
Quin stepped inside. “This is Agent Maria Lopez.”
Candace and Hawk stood and introduced themselves. Lopez walked over and shook their hands and Slim Jim continued his snoring.
“You drove all the way from Minnesota?” Lopez asked.
Hawk nodded. “Yep.”
“That’s a long drive,” Lopez said.
“Yep,” Hawk said, stretching his lower back.
“There are lots of direct flights from Minneapolis to Phoenix,” Lopez said.
“Are you interrogating them, Agent Lopez?” Quin asked.
She turned to him and the serious expression on her face softened. “Sorry, it’s a bad habit. I wasn’t expecting visitors other than you, Quin.”
“I had places I wanted to see, people to meet,” Hawk said to Lopez. “And I can’t fly. Gotta inner-ear problem.”
She nodded, smiling at him. “Well, there’s room enough here for you all to sleep. Be mindful that this belongs to the bureau. I’ll call you in the morning, Quin.”
Lopez turned and left, closing the door behind her. He waited for the sound of her SUV engine to come to life before he joined Candace and Hawk in the kitchen. “You two look worn out.”
Candace rubbed her eyes. “It was a long drive.”
“Rest up tonight because we’ve got a lot of work to do in the morning,” Quin said, checking his phone. He had three texts from Agent Kruse. He figured this was as bad a time as any to call him.
Kruse answered on the second ring. “What the hell happened down there?”
“Lost our connection in the field.”
“How?”
“We must’ve been between cell towers,” Quin said. “A gap in the signal.”
“Th
e bureau doesn’t use cell towers. You were on an encrypted satellite feed.”
“Maybe I bumped the off switch?”
“You turned off the connection and Agent Lopez did, too. Everyone here is worried about you.”
“Tell Dillan and Rachel they did a great job getting me this far. How are they?” he asked Kruse.
“Rachel is fine. Dillan is…struggling. He’s losing confidence.”
“Don’t cut him from the team. Give him some time off.”
“What happened down there?” Kruse said.
Quin described every detail as Candace and Hawk listened; what the compound looked like, how the woman and her daughter lived together in a small home there.
“Was it her?” Kruse interrupted.
“Possibly,” he said.
“Possibly? You’d know your own sister!”
“I haven’t seen her or spoken to her in twelve years,” Quin said. His biggest concern was that Kruse would call in more FBI agents to swoop in and take over once he made a positive ID. Quin didn’t want anybody to jeopardize the mission. “I didn’t have a lot of time with her. Call Lopez, she’ll back me up on this.”
Kruse sighed heavily into the phone. “Go back there, keep the video rolling, and make a positive ID.”
“All right, play this out for me. If it ends up being her and we get an ID on video, then what?”
“Then we have a monumental success for remote viewing,” Kruse said. “We’ll have demonstrated that we can find not only locations, but people.”
“But if she is Autumn, how do we bring her daughter across the border?”
“That would involve legal paperwork. We have a department for that end of it, but our part would be done.”
“Search and retrieve, mission accomplished?” Quin said sarcastically.
“Granted, the kid complicates it.”
“That kid could be my niece and I’m not leaving her behind without her mother. You hear what I’m saying? They’re a package deal. They travel together or they don’t travel at all.”
“Return and capture her on video. Make a positive ID and we’ll make a plan from that point.”
“Doesn’t anybody care about the case? Who killed my parents? Why did somebody take Autumn?”
“Of course, but it’ll be handed to another department to pursue, probably the Phoenix office,” Kruse said.
In The Company of Wolves_Follow The Raven Page 14
