Coyote: Sometimes the wrong way is the only way

by Rosa Harrison

  Copyright

  Coyote

  Copyright ©2017, Rosa Harrison

  Editing by: Charise Bebout

  Book Design by: LJ Connell

  RayneStorm Publishing June 23, 2017

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, any incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously.

  Published in the United States.

  Coyote

  Rosa Harrison

  Coyote - One who smuggles or orchestrates the act of smuggling humans over the border for profit.

  Table of Contents

  12AM

  All In a Day’s Work

  Broken Glass

  Diving In

  Vegas Bound

  What Just Happened?

  Too Close

  Here We Go

  Time’s Up

  South of the Border

  Epiphany

  The End

  12AM

  The Greyhound bus screeched to a bumpy stop, ricocheting dust and pebbles from the dirt road unto the windshield of the car trailing behind it.

  “I can’t see shit!” TJ grumbled from behind the wheel of his Impala.

  “Relax. The bus is stopping right up there. Turn off your headlights and hang back until she gets off.”

  TJ followed his counterpart’s instructions and cut the lights. The Greyhound idled loudly in front of them for several seconds before the door slid open and passengers filed out.

  “Yo Jitter, I see her. Right there. She’s mine!” TJ pulled out his gold trimmed pistol and cocked it with venom in his eyes. “Bitch got me out here looking like a chump, like I can’t do my job. I’m tired of chasing her through all these bus stops. I’m going to get her ass and she’s going back, now!”

  Jitter calmly laid his hand on TJ’s gun, forcing him to lower it. He shook his head letting out a halfhearted laugh. “Look, ‘Grand Theft Auto’, we ain’t just gonna run up in a crowd with our heaters out with no masks. Your moms will have our balls nailed to a wall.

  TJ was disappointed but he kept his attention on Jitter who was reaching into the backseat. He unveiled a twelve-gauge shotgun and grinned. “Betsy here is all we need, youngster.”

  Both men smiled mischievously as Jitter loaded a single round into the belly of the shotgun and slid the release upwards to load the chamber. He applied a homemade silencer to the gun’s barrel.

  “Wait, you’re taking her out? That’s not what she told us to do.”

  They watched as the woman they were tracking tried frantically to get the attention of anyone who would listen. Her inability to speak English worked in the pair’s favor. Her fellow Greyhound travelers quickly dismissed her and so did the patrons milling around the dingy, run-down truck stop. She’d gotten the same results at the previous two rest stops. No one cared. Only this time, there were no border patrol or security guards anywhere nearby to interfere with the men’s plans.

  Jitter climbed out of the car with Betsy in tow. “It’s only a matter of time before someone actually listens to her. I’m making an executive decision. I’ll take the heat from Sage. Don’t worry.”

  “Man, I don't know about this. She’s already blowing a gasket because I let this chic get out of the Compound. She said to bring her back. I think we should do what she said, O.G.”

  TJ hadn’t been overseeing The Compound a full twenty-four hours when the young woman escaped. It was an assignment he’d begged his mother to trust him with since the day he turned 18 and, after six months of grunt work, she had finally conceded. All he could hear repeating in his mind was her warning to “fix it or feel it.” Her personal dictum. It mattered little that he was her only son; Sage’s threat was one that held an unimaginable weight. Granted, he’d been texting when the woman managed to shimmy her way through a vent to escape, but Sage was being unreasonable, he thought. Then again, reason wasn’t her strong suit.

  TJ was jarred out of his thoughts by Jitter’s deep voice.

  “I know you got something to prove, youngster’,” Jitter began, squinting into the shotgun’s scope. He planted his feet firmly in the dirt. “But this is life or death. Feast or famine. Your ass is on the line, my ass, your mom’s ass, Silas’…shit, we all have a lot to lose. If this little enchilada makes it back over the border, she can wipe out our whole operation. Maybe even the cartel’s. She’s seen too much. There’s no room for error here. So, relax. Trust me, you’ll get another to chance right your wrong.”

  With that said, Jitter squeezed the trigger. From fifty feet away, they watched the woman’s chest explode in unison with the clank of the shell hitting the ground. Her body crumbled before her face registered the bewilderment of what was happening. It was only after a second body dropped that TJ’s jaw dropped too.

  “Dawg, how did you miss your target?!? You never miss!”

  “I didn’t miss my target, I got her. Let’s ride.” Jitter picked up the shell and unscrewed the silencer as he stalked back to the car. “Pop the trunk, so I can put Betsy away.”

  TJ nervously obeyed and pressed the button on his keychain pad to open the trunk. Jitter lifted the carpeting, slid a compartment door from the left clear to the other side of the trunk and laid the shotgun inside. After putting everything back into place and hopped in the car with TJ. They sped off in the direction they had come.

  The two rode in silence for over ten minutes before TJ blurted, “Jitter, man, you killed that old guy!”

  “Casualty of war.” He answered, looking down at his phone.

  “Seriously? Since when do we kill old people?”

  “Since old people stand too close to my target. Conversation over.” Jitter turned on the radio and lit a blunt. “I sent Sage confirmation.”

  All In A Day’s Work

  “Miss Wright, I have Agent Bledsoe on line one for you.”

  Sage pressed the intercom button. “Send him through,” she answered.

  She picked up the receiver and was greeted by an off pitch rendition of the “Happy Birthday” song. She smiled at the attempt and allowed the singer to finish, then rested the phone on her shoulder and gave a round of applause.

  “You sure know how to woo the ladies, Dirk. No wonder you’re so beloved around here.”

  “Loved by everyone except you, Sage Wright.”

  “Not true! I have nothing but love for you.”

  “Yeah, right. But one day...one day I’ll steal your heart. Just watch.”

  Sage playfully rolled her eyes and, on cue, he pointed out that eye rolling was for contrary teenagers and guilty suspects. Neither of which she was, he added.

  Dirk’s discernment, even over the phone, was exceptional. He had a fascinating way of reading people and their behaviors. It was only befitting that he was assigned as special agent in charge of the Phoenix division of the DEA when his predecessor was killed in a car accident. Dirk transferred with the highest regards from the Philadelphia field office. He worked hard and earned every ounce of respect he was given, and his finesse and undeniable good looks didn’t hurt.

  They both laughed at his accuracy of her unseen mannerism, and chatted a few more minutes before wrapping up the call.

  “Dinner at eight, right?” he asked.

  Sage hesitated. “I don’t know, Dirk. TJ may have something planned and I…”

  Dirk cut in, “Then invi
te him along. It’s time I met your son anyway. Dinner. Six o’clock. No excuses. Meeting in ten. Goodbye, Agent Wright.”

  “Goodbye, Agent Bledsoe,” she huffed, defeated but smiling.

  Sage picked up her cell phone and composed a text to her son.

  Rain check tonight, TJ. Love you. Thanks for cleaning your room last night, btw.

  Sage stood up from her desk and unhooked her suit jacket from the rack behind her, sliding it on. A mirror hung beside it, and she stopped to take in her own reflection. She saw remnants of her twin brother. They shared the same cinnamon skin tone and brown eyes that twinkled hazel in the sunlight. She unwrapped the snug bun sitting neatly at the top of her head, allowing her hair to cascade down around her shoulders. Sage let out a slow, measured breath to let the tension flow from her scalp. She felt her emotions stirring. This was the first birthday in 37 years that she hadn’t spent with her brother, and it hurt not knowing when she would lay eyes on him again.

  After reapplying her bun, she took a final look. She needed little makeup on her flawless skin. She glossed her lips with her usual coat of the shade ‘Maverick’ by Bare Minerals and then headed to the main conference room.

  At the elevator, Sage was joined by three other agents, one of whom she disliked on a grand scale. The guy was a slacker and a complainer. He also had a disdain for women, often commenting that women didn’t belong in the field. He touted ridiculous jargon such as, “Assigning female agents to field work is as sensible as assigning a fat girl to a donut counter.” His brash comments were plentiful and had no boundaries. There were a few cohorts here and there who found comedy in his remarks but, for the most part, everyone had learned to just tolerate him.

  All three agents pointedly lined up behind Sage, gaping at the pull of her slacks and jacket across the firmness of her backside. They nodded and winked at each other while checking out her slender waist and the explosion of her curves.

  “Carter. Peters,” Sage acknowledged as they stepped into the elevator. She paused as the elevator doors closed, wrinkling her nose as if she smelled something offensive. “Chapman.”

  “That time of the month, Wright?”

  “Screw you, Chapman.”

  The other two agents laughed as the elevator ascended. When the doors opened again, they stepped out into the hall leading to the conference room, where the theater sized screen was illuminated with the photo and demographics of one Capo San Miguel. Head of the San Miguel Cartel, he orchestrated multiple turf wars resulting in the mass murders of numerous organizations. Known at large for boarding up homes and setting entire families on fire to ensure his enemies “died two deaths,” Capo San Miguel was merciless. He left trails of dismembered bodies throughout Central Mexico. He often posted Facebook Live videos to chronical the deaths. He not only used social media to intimidate his rivals but to also keep the locals in fear.

  To puncutate his savagery, San Miguel was known for his red “gift” boxes delivered to the families of his victims, filled with random body parts of the deceased.

  He was wanted in five different states for a variety of offenses ranging from drug trafficking to kidnapping to murder.

  All forty-two agents were in attendance and immediately sat down to begin taking notes. Sage opened her tablet and started typing as well. Her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her slacks.

  It was TJ responding to her text.

  Rain check fine, Ma. Did you know a glass got broken when I was cleaning my room last night?

  Code. Sage felt her blood begin to boil. She inhaled deeply, unable to take in any of the information being given on their suspect. She rapidly tapped her pen on the pad of paper in front of her before responding to her son.

  Be in front of the school in an hour.

  Sage pocketed her phone and felt Dirk's gaze on her.

  "I'm sorry...what was that, Agent Bledsoe?” she recovered.

  Dirk adjusted his tie. "I said, could you give us an overview of what your team found last month when you secured the location believed to be headed and funded by San Miguel."

  "Sure." Sage stood and straightened her jacket. "In total, eleven members of the San Miguel Cartel were indicted and arrested. With efforts from the Phoenix and Dallas PD, we confiscated roughly 5.6 million dollars in heroin, cocaine and MDMA, otherwise known as molly or ecstasy. These safe houses that we raided weren’t run of the mill project homes or what we'd call conventional. Many of them were multi-million dollar dwellings with trap doors and some of the most sophisticated technology we've ever seen. They were using mules to fly, drive and swim across borders. Shutting down this operation has forced traffic from underground, increasing our chances of flushing these cockroaches out into the open.

  “This bust shut down a major pipeline running between Arizona, Mexico and Texas, so charges are heavy and money is halted. It’s expected that at least two of the subjects will flip so we will keep all of them under 24-hour watch. We are confident San Miguel will try to prevent this.”

  *****

  "Is everything all right?” Dirk asked. You completely checked out in the meeting back there.”

  “Everything’s fine. I do need to run a quick errand though. If I’m not right back, I’ll see you tonight.”

  They said goodbye and Sage headed for the parking garage. “A glass got broken when I was cleaning my room.” She got into her unmarked Dodge Durango and beat the steering wheel with her fist over and over again until her hand throbbed. She dropped her head against the head rest and closed her eyes. She didn’t know just how bad the situation was, but TJ sending her code that someone was dead was catastrophic: it could only mean more trouble for Silas.

  She thought of the first time her twin brother, Silas, had killed someone. Sadly, it wasn’t self-defense or even done out of necessity. It was a declaration of manhood … of power. The ingrained predatory sense that some are born with. Exactly what her twin was born with.

  The image of her lying beneath her brother’s best friend with her scrawny arms and legs thrashing about played back in her mind in HD. At the tender age of 13, she was unable to process how wrong it felt, even though she’d had a crush on Mikey for years. He had repeatedly shoved his tongue into her mouth, then down her neck and into her ear. One of his hands caught both her wrists and held them above her head while his free hand roamed up her shirt. Just as he freed one of her breasts from her bra, she heard a loud cracking sound. It was impossible to determine the cause with her own heartbeat thumping in surround sound but then a stillness came over her aggressor. An expression settled on his face that would forever be engraved in Sage’s memory bank. It was death, she realized. And behind death stood her twin. He’d snatched the butcher knife from his best friend’s back and drove it in again, re-creating the awful cacophony of steel meeting flesh and bone. Sage’s screams at Silas to stop were all that kept the boy from total dismemberment. The blade came down again and again.

  Sage was covered in blood and rendered speechless by fear, but Silas was cool. In fact, after he’d killed the boy in the basement that day, he had helped himself to a can of Pepsi and a handful of Doritos. Thirteen years old, he’d committed a heinous crime yet felt no remorse. Twenty-five years later, Sage still wondered: if she hadn’t been flirtatious with Mikey that fateful day, would he still be alive? Would Silas somehow be different?

  From the time they were able to walk, Silas was incredibly protective of his twin sister and as they got older, the feeling had only intensified. Now it was her turn to protect him. She had to.

  A rap on the window startled Sage from the agony of her own thoughts. Her head jerked up and she found herself gazing into Dirk’s kind eyes. She slid the keys into the ignition and let the window down.

  “You sure you’re all right?” he probed.

  She smiled slightly. “I’m fine.”

  He slowly reached inside and wiped away a single tear that had escaped her bottom lashes.

  “Everything is fine, really. I’ll se
e you tonight.”

  “You just refuse to let me in.” He tilted his head to the side but decided to keep his next thought to himself. He handed her a large envelope. “Take a look at this. Just came over. Hope you haven’t eaten anything. Two of the perps from the raid, dead.”

  “Let me guess. Nunez and Demarteniz?”

  “You got it. The two that were going to flip. Slaughtered and dressed in women’s clothing … well, the pieces that could be clothed.”

  “What a shit show,” Sage sighed. “I’ll have security detail ramped up on the others. This isn’t good, Dirk.” She shook her head and backed out of her parking space.

  Now she had to deal with her son.

  Broken Glass

  “Cleaning your room” or “cleaning your house” meant completing your assignment. “Breaking a glass” while doing it meant there was an unplanned casualty. TJ knew his mother would be furious and his stomach lurched at the thought of her reaction. He hadn’t seen her since the woman had escaped during his watch. Now Sage had double the reason to release her fury. He hadn’t pulled the trigger so he shouldn’t have been in the hot seat. But he was. Awaiting his fate, he paced back and forth in front of the Compound, otherwise known as the School when referenced by phone or mixed company.

  He saw the Dodge Durango pull up and ignored the instinct to run. He watched as Sage descended from the truck and bounded towards him. When they were face to face, he held his breath until she finally spoke.

  “Inside. Now!”

  TJ hustled his 6’2 frame up to the door with his mother on his heels. He punched in the code and held the door open for her. She rolled her eyes and went inside to an office. At first glance, the location could truly pass for a small business. Sage had the space fronted as a housecleaning agency. In one section a couch and round table made up a small waiting area. Another section was set up as her “office”, with a desk, two file cabinets, a faux floor plant and a large painting on the wall opposite of her desk.