“I hope so.”
“I’ll do what I can, but going to Mexico is out.”
Anna took Hunter’s words, but there was disappointment in her eyes. Anna said, “Thank you for whatever you can do.” She gave a sad half-smile as she rose, and left Hunter sitting at the table.
A huge Hispanic woman, maybe three hundred pounds, shielded her face with a menu when Anna passed her table, and Hunter saw the movement. Then the woman looked at Hunter, a faint sneer showing on her face. What the heck? Hunter thought. The waitress brought her breakfast, refilled her coffee, and Hunter ignored the sneering woman as she ate.
Finishing the breakfast and the last of her coffee left Hunter feeling good, full of energy. She noticed the large woman was still there, watching her, but only occasionally now. The server brought her bill, and Hunter rose from her table holding it and her cell phone. As she passed the large woman, Hunter took several photos of the woman, who grunted, “Hey,” and began to rise from her seat.
Hunter smiled and put one hand on her shoulder pushing down so the woman couldn’t rise, then she bent close to her and took several more photos with both their faces in the frame, like they were friends. The woman struggled, but couldn’t get out of the booth, grunting and breathing hard, and looking at Hunter with hate in her pig-like eyes staring out from the folds of fat on her face.
Hunter let her go and said, “Have a good day.” She paid, then left, taking time to sit in her pickup to watch for the big woman, who finally emerged five minutes later, already on her phone and waving her free hand around in short, angry movements as she talked. Hunter watched the woman drive off in a brown Ford, and she followed until the Ford turned to go across the bridge into Mexico.
She returned to Norma’s house and thought about things, and especially about the missing child, Kelly.
That evening before sundown, she was still restless, so cranking up the pickup and driving through town seemed a good idea. She carried her .45 Glock in the concealable holster at the small of her back on the left side, her strong side, beneath the untucked tail of her western plaid shirt to hide it from casual lookers. A cop might pick it out, or a professional shooter, but that was it.
Hunter drove west on Veterans Drive all the way to the lake, then made a U and started into Del Rio, stopping once to buy a bottle of water and some salted peanuts. Munching on peanuts as she drove, Hunter took the roads that meandered down to those bordering the river, and the few miles of border fence.
There wasn’t much to see. Tall grasses up close, with here and there spindly mesquites, and farther from the fence, the tall, green river cane grew fifteen feet high and the white-tufted plumes swayed in the breeze. She turned left and crossed the road leading to the International Bridge, going slow and looking at the cars and people.
She glimpsed Anna Hoyt starting up the pedestrian path to go over the bridge into Mexico. Hunter stopped in the street until someone honked at her. Anna was too far for her to yell and get her attention. “Dammit,” she muttered, then turned north and sped toward Norma’s house to retrieve her passport and drop off her pistol.
She would return and go after Anna, and that made a queasy feeling in her stomach. Right now, bad men knew her face, and she wanted to avoid trouble, but knew she couldn’t allow Anna to walk into trouble, either. If she asked the wrong person about someone taking her daughter, Anna might just disappear.
Over seventy thousand people had been murdered in Mexico in the last decade, with more every day. Anna could wind up another statistic, and that bothered Hunter a great deal. She put on her white and blue ball cap that had Austin Revolution Film Festival on the front, and her aviator shades. It was as much of a disguise as she had time for.
If she could stop Anna before she got too deep into Mexico, Hunter felt sure she could bring her back safely, and then they could work to find Kelly, the daughter. It was a big “If”, because Hunter had a long way to go and a short time to return to find Anna.
She chanced it and sped through the streets. When she returned to the bridge, Anna was nowhere to be seen. Hunter hoped she was just over the bridge’s midsection, which was higher than either end. She pulled into the lane to drive across the bridge, answered the man’s question at the booth, and pulled on the bridge behind a car with an elderly couple inside. They drove turtle-slow, and Hunter patted the steering wheel and ground her teeth, trying to will herself to calm down.
By the time she reached the Mexican side, Hunter was twisting her neck to ease the tension, and Anna wasn’t in sight.
She cruised the streets for ten minutes, but didn’t see her, so she parked at the Plaza, across the street from the Abbey Road Café where she and Solomon Chapa had their run-in.
Hunter exited the pickup and walked at a fast pace, looking for Anna. Staying on Miguel Hidalgo, Hunter stopped at each small store and business to check inside for her. She’d covered two blocks, both sides of the road, when she saw the large woman from the Skillet’s Restaurant. The woman struggled with someone halfway inside a store’s door, and Hunter hurried to see who it was.
Anna pulled away from the large woman, who snatched a handful of hair and drug her towards the street. Hunter closed to within thirty feet when she heard a child’s voice call out, “Hunter! Hunter!”
It was Anita Chapa, waving and excited, running across the street toward her as her mother yelled at the child to stop. A car hit its brakes and slid toward Anita, but Hunter sprinted into the street to snatch her up and crossed to Ramona. The driver of the car silently cursed them, then drove down the street.
Anita said, “I’m sorry, Hunter.”
“No problem, mija.” She held the child, who hugged Hunter’s neck. Anita smelled like fresh soap and honeysuckle blossoms. She pulled back and smiled happily at Hunter. Those eyes, Hunter thought, wow.
Ramona said, “I owe you again, it seems.”
Hunter turned to look for Anna and the large woman, but both women were gone.
“Are you looking for someone?”
“Yes. A friend was fighting with another woman, a large one, over there.” She pointed. “But they’re gone now.”
“The large woman is called La Osa, do you know what the name means in English?”
“It’s a female bear, a sow.”
“A sow is for black bears. This woman is more like a grizzly.”