by Jonas Saul
… Another man needed to die …
Maybe he already did. That unfortunate soul—Hank—who got run down and tossed aside could be dead.
The grill of the approaching vehicle was lost in the crunch of metal as it made contact with the Buick. Airbags shot out from the dash and the trunk of the car lifted at least four feet in the air before settling back down hard. Steam and a hissing sound emanated from the two broken cars.
Sarah moved toward the cars to see if they could pull anyone out safely. She picked up her step when she saw movement in the Buick. The driver of that car had slid across the front seat to get as far away from the vehicle about to hit him as he could, which probably saved his life.
Then who was supposed to die, Vivian? That man Hank?
Blair got to the Buick’s passenger door, grabbed the handle, and yanked hard. It didn’t budge. Five feet from the car, Sarah picked up a rock and continued forward. At the window, she cupped the rock in her hand and shattered the glass with the first blow. As she stepped back, Blair tended to the man inside the car. She had no strength to pull him out.
The driver of the other vehicle crawled out and limped around the back of his car. His face was a mask of blood where, as far as Sarah could tell, he had broken his nose in the crash.
Light from the parking lot overhead lamps reflected off something in his hand.
A gun.
An arm wrapped around Sarah’s waist and she was lifted to the side as the weapon discharged. Then it fired again and someone squealed.
Sarah couldn’t breathe with that arm around her abdomen, her diaphragm sealed. She was still above the ground, moving rapidly away from the scene. Whoever had her was very strong.
Wallace dropped the briefcase and put his hands up. Blair crawled under the Buick. Sarah’s feet touched the ground again. The arm released its grip and she dropped to one knee, teetered and caught herself before falling, panting like she’d swum five laps underwater.
At least a dozen white lights lit up the parking lot behind the damaged cars. The man with the gun fired again, taking a chunk of stone out of the brick beside Wallace’s face. As far as she could tell, the man with the gun hadn’t seen the bright lights and neither had Wallace.
“The briefcase,” the man shouted.
Wallace shoved the case away from him.
“Don’t shoot,” Wallace pleaded. “Take it. All yours. I won’t say a thing—”
The gun fired.
The man holding the weapon on Wallace teetered to one side. As if the gun in his hand was too heavy, his wrist went limp and he dropped it. A moment later, he fell beside his weapon, the last of the blood pumped by his heart oozing out of the new hole in his skull.
The gun that had fired was from the dozen lights. Some kind of a Mexican SWAT team approached from the other side of the broken cars. Armed men ran up to Sarah and the man behind her.
Protesting, exclaiming they had nothing to do with it, Sarah and her friend from a long time ago were manhandled and shoved into the back of a police van. Blair, Wallace and the driver of the Buick were put into another vehicle. Paramedics tended to the man who had been hit by the car—Hank—while the authorities surrounded the body of the shooter.
“This sucks,” she said as she turned back to her old friend.
“Yeah. But I know you. This is part of being in your life.”
“Gee, thanks. Cheers a girl up when she feels like shit.”
“I’m just happy we have this opportunity to talk.”
“With these guys, it’s probably better if you keep the talking to a minimum. Or let me do the talking.”
“In the state you’re in? Not sure if they’ll take your word as the truth that it is.”
“Just watch.” She snickered.
Is that it, Vivian? Am I done now? Vacation time?
She waited for an answer. As the van got underway, one came.
You’re just getting started, Sarah.
Chapter 15
Parkman ran into the lobby of the Beach and Casino Hotel to meet Aaron. The area swarmed with every imaginable police, ambulance and Mexican authority available. The casino entrance was blocked off, letting no one in or out. Something bad had happened in the short span it took him to get there from his hotel. Something very bad. It was like trouble followed Sarah wherever she went. Or haunted her.
He had asked one of the Mexican cops near the front of the hotel what had happened, but got only grunts in response. They were either being tight-lipped or they didn’t know.
“Parkman,” Aaron shouted from somewhere deep inside the lobby.
He bobbed left, then right, trying to see over the heads of everyone milling about until he caught sight of Aaron. They wended through the throng until they met by the couches on the west side of the cavernous lobby.
“Did you find Sarah?” Parkman asked.
Aaron shook his head in the negative. “This scares me.” He waved an arm in a semi-circle at the crowd of people. “What happened here? We’re supposed to be on vacation.”
“You don’t know what this is?” Parkman asked.
“No idea.”
Parkman pulled out his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Buck. We have no authority here and if Sarah’s in police custody, we need to know about it. Casper’s the kind of guy who can make that happen.”
He studied the crowd as Casper’s phone rang. On the third ring, it was picked up.
“Trouble?” Casper asked.
“Looks that way. But we need your help to find out.”
“What do you need?”
Parkman filled him in on what he knew and described the scene at the hotel at the moment.
“Absolute pandemonium. No one knows what’s going on. No one’s talking to us. We’ve lost Sarah and have no way of contacting her. She could be on her way to her room, or in police custody for all we know.”
“Leave it with me. I’ll make some calls. Go to Aaron’s room. Wait there in case she returns on her own. Keep your cell charged. I’ll call when I know something.”
Casper clicked off.
“Let’s go,” Parkman said. “Back to your room.”
They started for the back of the lobby. The elevators were sealed off so Parkman led Aaron to the left stairwell.
“What’d he say?” Aaron asked.
“That he’d look into what happened here tonight and get back to us.”
They hit the stairwell door.
“Hope he calls back soon. I feel like I’m losing Sarah. I can’t lose her, Parkman.”
“I know. Neither can I.”
On the third floor, Parkman stopped to catch his breath. “What floor are you on?”
“Sixth.”
“Great.”
He continued up the stairs. Aaron followed close behind.
Chapter 16
The holding cell had two overhead bulbs dangling from the ceiling. Only one worked. Dirt and grime had collected in the corners and on the baseboards over the years without the attention of a mop or cleaning supplies. Wafting through the air, a foreign smell came to her. Something like the smell of a dump site after rain. Wet, soggy rot.
Because Sarah was the only girl brought in from the parking lot, they had separated her from the rest of them and tossed her in a room with a brown-stained mattress on a wire frame. She chose the floor to lie on—instead of the bed—where she curled into a ball and waited for the shakes to pass.
This sucked. She could’ve stayed in her hotel room, under the warm bedsheets, curled up while Aaron took care of her. If she needed the bathroom, she had one. If the desire to take a bath came over her, she could. But no, she had to listen to her sister and try to buy drugs which would disappoint anyone who knew her.
She had changed. How much, she wasn’t sure yet. The run-in with the Enzo Cartel had altered something in her. Something that dealt with survival, mortality. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to suffer. As someone who was always in cont
rol and confident, this weakness in her body weighed on her. The urge for a fix was still there, making her sick with desire.
The door clicked then opened. She didn’t move. Not that she didn’t want out of this hellhole. She was just too damn weak to make the effort.
“Get up,” a man ordered.
Sarah moaned in response. If they wanted her up, they could get her up themselves. She had done nothing wrong. Was warning people of an oncoming car a crime? She didn’t even get to complete her drug purchase, so technically they had nothing on her. Zippo. Nada.
“Ramirez, Guzman, need a hand in here. Bitch don’t want to listen.”
Footsteps walked around her. Others bounded down the hall. Sarah took a deep breath, shivered with the cold clammy feeling on her skin and wondered if she’d vomit again.
Here we go …
One of the men wrapped meaty hands around each ankle. The other two grabbed a wrist each and lifted. She moaned with the strain, cried out with the pain.
“Easy,” she whispered.
They spoke in Spanish as they carted her down a cold corridor. A door opened. The men turned a corner and dropped her onto a cement floor harder than they needed to.
She curled into a ball, hating the weak body she inhabited, hating the weakened position she was in, and hating Vivian a little more for her part in this.
Make it all go away, Sis.
The door slammed shut. Sarah eased into a more comfortable position, then just lay there breathing, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat, listening to the sounds of the police station outside the room.
This was just one day. There would be a tomorrow. Then another. She would beat this. She would heal. Then she would regain her strength and be as valuable as she’d been in the past. She’d fight, run, and maim whomever needed it when she was well again.
A better smell came from this room. Cleaner, newer. The lighting had improved as well. Through the thin skin of her eyelids, she detected a bright light to her right. She angled left and opened her eyes to slits.
A cleaner room by far. She moved slowly to sit up and lean against the wall. The interrogation room. Or as some American departments now call them, interview rooms.
She knew the routine. They would come in, ask their questions, accuse her of something outrageous, claim they would charge her with umpteen criminal offenses and she would spend a couple of decades in a Mexican prison if she didn’t cooperate. This police business was like any other. It involved negotiations, deals, and master closers. The only way to beat the brilliant ones at this game was to be innocent. If they didn’t have proof of any crime, they had nothing. Whether she was guilty of something or not, always better to play the innocent card. It kept their sails windless.
The door opened. At least they didn’t make her wait as long as other police departments would. They didn’t want to sweat her. They wanted answers and they wanted them fast. Being eager showed their cards early. Next time, they might not want to be so eager.
Two men filed in the room. They closed the door and locked it. Both men removed their suit jackets revealing shoulder holsters and then, as if this was a performance worthy of a theater stage, they moved around the table and stopped on either side of her in perfect harmony.
“Impressive,” she managed to say. “You guys look like you could be in a stage show called the Nutcracker because I’m sure all that was set up to make me think you’re here to break my balls.” She looked from one to the other. “Am I right?”
The man on her left reared back and kicked her in the side of the ribs as the man on the right sucker punched her in the cheek.
She missed the rest of the show as she passed out on the first punch.
Chapter 17
Aaron had left the hotel room twice for coffee while Parkman kept his phone by his side. They had been watching the news on the TV the entire time, but nothing came on about the incident at the casino downstairs. Sarah hadn’t returned, and she hadn’t tried to make contact with Aaron.
In one scene, one accident, one slip-up, Sarah was gone and there were no leads. Nothing.
In an hour, the sun would rise over Mexico and they were no closer to learning Sarah’s whereabouts than they were the previous evening.
Parkman got up from his chair by the desk in the corner and paced the floor, glancing at Aaron on the bed a couple of times.
“I know we’ve gone over this again and again,” Parkman said. “But is there anything else you can add? Any detail? Anything she said?” Aaron sat with pillows propped up behind his back on the bed. “Do you know if Vivian was in her head?”
“She never mentioned anything about Vivian. She usually does.”
“When you got to the room and discovered her missing, you called me. Then what?”
“I ran back to the elevator, took it to the lobby and scoured the front looking for her. I knew you’d be at least five to ten minutes, so I checked the casino. I walked the aisles, back and forth, but nothing. She had disappeared in the short amount of time it took me to get downstairs and back up to the room.”
“You mentioned she thought a car was following you. Did you check that out?”
“When we first got out of the taxi. I headed toward the car, but it did a U-turn and took off before I could get close enough to identify the driver.”
“Okay, but did you go outside and see if that car had come back?”
Aaron shook his head. “No.”
“So far, that may be the key, the only connection.” Parkman shrugged. “It’s all we have to go on. We need to learn if that car is connected in any way.”
Parkman’s cell rang.
He jumped and lunged for it. When he hit the bed, the phone bounced and he missed catching it on the first try. As he fell sideways, he attempted to snatch it out of the air, but only succeeded in sending it flying to the carpeted floor. The ringing cut off in mid-ring.
“Shit and a fuck,” he shouted as he rolled sideways, dropped to the floor and retrieved his phone.
Everything worked fine. The power button must’ve been knocked when it hit the floor. He got to his feet and tried to search the recent calls menu when the phone rang in his hand.
Casper.
“Yeah, Buck. What do you have?”
“Everything okay there?” Buck asked. “I called a second ago, but it got cut off.”
“Dropped the phone. You have anything?”
“Nothing really. After what just happened a half hour’s drive north of you in Tijuana, the Enzo Cartel compound still smoldering, no one wants to cooperate with the American authorities right now. At least not me and on something they’re deeming a local car accident.”
“Car accident?” Parkman glanced at Aaron who had jumped off the bed and was pacing now.
“Yeah. Someone smashed two cars up in the parking lot in the rear of the casino at Aaron’s hotel.”
“You got this from the Mexican cops? Even though they’re not being cooperative?”
“No. They’re tight-lipped. I got this from the guy at the front desk of your hotel.”
Parkman shook his head. “Shit. We should have thought of that.”
“Got through to the night manager. Explained who I was and that I had interest in several Americans staying at his hotel. He relayed to me what he knew, which wasn’t much, but said he would open their cameras to you if you wanted to take a look. Maybe you’d see Sarah on one of them.”
“Yes. Great idea. We’ll head down right now.” At least they’d be doing something. Being proactive.
“Just one thing. He can’t authorize you to see the control room for the casino. Nor can he let you see any of the casino cameras. Just the lobby and some of the outside ones.”
“Understood. Better than nothing.”
“Parkman, you find something. You locate Sarah. Get back to me. I want to know.”
“Of course.” He clicked off. “We’re going to the front desk. They’ve agreed to let us see the hotel’s camera footage, j
ust nothing from the casino.”
“Fine. Let’s go. She’s bound to be on one of them.”
“She had better be.”
In their haste, they bumped into each other trying to get through the hotel room door.
Chapter 18
Sarah didn’t want to wake. The pain, the struggle, and the urge for heroin, all remained. Just the act of waking up cast a shadow on the day. The old waves of depression rolled in like distant clouds.
